Human Sacrifice

by Cindy L Hull

  Claire scanned the tables, locating Madge seated with Paul Sturgess and his friend. Paul studied his laptop screen while his friend sat quietly, his eyes surveying his surroundings as if seeking a familiar face. The men held beer bottles, their hands curled around icy glass necks, while Madge, like herself, had switched to tequila.

  Madge’s pursed lips and squinted eyes betrayed an irritation with her companions, but her demeanor brightened as Claire joined them.

  Claire pointed toward a plate of tacos. “May I?”

  “Of course,” Madge said. Claire reached for a taco as she placed her drink on the table. She took a bite, savoring the rich corn tortilla and spicy meat.

  “I’m having a nice chat with Paul and his friend, Cody…um…” Madge paused, embarrassed.

  “Detwyler,” Paul said. “Cody Detwyler.”

  Madge shifted in her seat, reached down to the ground and fumbled with her cloth bag. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I need to find George.” She turned to Paul and then Cody. “It was very nice talking to you both.”

  She stood, pulling her skirt away from her legs and lifting her bag to her shoulder. She gave Claire a brief glance, her hat hiding her face from the view of the two young men. She raised one eyebrow and retreated as quickly as her legs would carry her, her skirt twirling around her ample frame.

  Paul leaned in toward Claire, speaking softly. “Doctor Carmichael told me about your husband. I am so sorry.”

  Claire sat back, stunned at his abruptness. “It’s been two years,” she said.

  Glancing briefly at Cody, Paul continued, “How did your husband feel about following you to Yaxpec? Did he resent it?”

  “He completed a medical fellowship in Merida while he was here,” Claire said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Anthropological research is difficult for spouses, especially if they each have a career.”

  “That’s true. I have friends whose marriages suffered or failed. But many became stronger, like ours.”

  “Did your husband follow you to Keane College too?”

  It seemed an odd line of questioning, and she noticed that Cody stiffened and gave his friend a pleading look. Claire suspected that he asked these questions for his friend’s benefit more than for his own edification.

  Claire replied, “Aaron was a doctor. He started a private practice.”

  Cody suddenly stood. “Can I get anyone a drink?”

  Paul nodded, but Claire shook her head. After Cody left, Paul turned to Claire. “He’s a little bored, I think. This is my gig, and he feels a bit out of place.”

  “Is he concerned about moving to Michigan if you get this job?”

  “Maybe, a little.” Paul fiddled with his laptop for a few seconds, then said, “I really liked your book.”

  “Which one?” Claire responded quickly, without thinking.

  He clicked a few keys on his computer. “Yaxpec: A Village in Search of an Identity. I respect your honesty about your research.”

  “What do you mean?” Claire wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly over the music. She peered at Paul over her glass. Perspiration appeared suddenly on his forehead.

  He stammered. “In the introduction, you admit to your discomfort about your own Mexican heritage and how it might affect your work in Mexico…and about your Catholic upbringing, how you have come to question Catholicism….”

  “We all take our experiences and beliefs into the field,” Claire said, interrupting him. “We are challenged to examine not only the culture we are studying, but our own beliefs as well. You know this, I’m sure.” She remembered Jamal’s comment about Paul’s interrogation technique, and she thought of the strange look on Madge’s face as she left the table.

  Paul didn’t make eye contact but took refuge in whatever was on his computer screen. He self-consciously wiped the sweat off his forehead. “What’s important is that we respect the indigenous history.”

  “That’s correct, but what are you saying?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing, nothing…I meant no criticism. I have always admired your work, and that of the other faculty members. I would love to work with you.” Flustered, Paul snapped his computer shut and looked at Claire, his blue eyes pleading. “Please forgive me if I said anything wrong. I wasn’t speaking about you.”

  Before Claire could respond, Cody returned with two beers. He sat down, pushing one beer toward his friend. She placed her empty margarita glass on the table and said, “My second book, Yaxpec Then and Now, considers the economic and social changes in the village over thirty years. I discuss the evolution of my thinking as well.” Claire regretted her comment when Paul’s face reddened. “It just came out recently,” she added

  Paul’s face brightened. “Oh, yes. I can’t wait to read it.”

  Claire stood to leave, but as she did so Laura Lorenzo approached their table, a large colorful Mexican woven bag hanging from her shoulder. The linguist adjusted the folds of her sundress over her muscular legs.

  “Doctor Aguila,” she said, thrusting her hand out to shake.

  “Call me Claire, please,” she said, taking her hand. “I hope you are enjoying the reception.”

  “Very much,” Laura responded, briefly glancing at Paul and Cody. Claire introduced her to the young men, wondering if she and Paul knew they had interviewed for the same job.

  Paul held his hand out to shake Laura’s, answering Claire’s silent question. “Can I assume we are competitors?”

  “I guess so, yes,” Laura responded. She smiled uncertainly, and Claire noticed that she might be older than she first appeared. Her dark hair framed a face marked by gentle lines and creases, not the look of a fresh-faced graduate student.

  Claire said to Laura, “I was about to socialize. Do you want to join me?” Laura nodded, and Claire noticed a look of disappointment cross Paul’s face.

  He quickly recovered and smiled. “Time to circulate,” he said, stuffing his laptop into his backpack. Cody reached behind him to grab his pack off the back of his chair. They picked up their beers and stood, awkwardly.

  “I look forward to hearing your paper tomorrow,” Claire said as she turned away from Paul.

  Paul smiled. “I hope you like it.”

  Laura and Claire strolled to a small clearing near the reception area where a poinciana tree stood majestically, its red flowers in deep bloom. The band still played, but they had lowered the volume, and the distance made it easier to converse. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you privately since your presentation this morning,” Claire said.

  “It has been a busy day,” Laura responded. “It must be exciting to have a new program and be able to hire faculty members…I understand you’ll be receiving a collection of artifacts from Doctor Ramirez. A program and a museum!”

  “We are fortunate,” Claire said. “Do you know Eduardo Ramirez?”

  “Not really,” Laura said. She pushed her hair behind her ears and Claire noticed her earrings, small Mayan jade posts. “He invited me to sit with him while we waited for the reception to begin.” She smiled uneasily. “He explained why he was here. I knew he must be important by the way he felt comfortable moving into the reception area…and then there’s his clothes.” She raised her eyebrows.

  Claire laughed, and Laura added, “Is he associated with Keane College?”

  “Just through Dr. Kingsford, and now the collection.”

  Laura’s gaze wandered away from Claire. “There’s Tanya…Doctor Petersen. I would love to talk to her. Do you mind?”

  Claire watched Laura stroll to Tanya’s side. Paul talks too much; Laura is cautious. What a contrast, she thought as she pulled her camera from her bag. Through her camera lens she watched Laura approach Tanya. They spoke for a few minutes, then Paul joined them. Tanya moved away slightly, staggering a bit and nearly spilling her margarita.
Paul ignored Tanya and continued speaking to Laura, saying something that caused Laura to frown slightly. Tanya laughed too loudly, drawing the attention of those around her. Something is wrong with Tanya, Claire thought, as she absently clicked the photograph and tucked her camera back in her bag.

  She watched as Paul took Laura by the arm and drew her away from Tanya. He smiled as he imparted some information to her, but Laura’s eyebrows furrowed. She recovered and smiled briefly, turning away from him and walking toward Madge and George, who sat together near the bar. Claire saw that Tanya also watched the scene. Catching Claire’s eye, Tanya winked at her, and moved in her direction.

  The music stopped, much to Claire’s relief. She saw Brad and Eduardo make their way to the buffet table. Claire turned to follow them, but Tanya appeared at her side.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Tanya said, holding her now-empty glass. She smiled at Claire and winked again.

  “Damn!” Tanya said, looking over Claire’s shoulder. Claire turned to see Jamal speaking with a middle-aged man with short gray hair and a square jaw.

  “Who’s that?” Claire asked.

  Tanya turned quickly back to Claire. “Someone…” Her response was interrupted when Brad spoke loudly, to get everyone’s attention.

  “On behalf of the Society of Mayanist Studies, I would like to welcome you all to Mexico, and to one of Yucatán’s premier Mayan sites. Isn’t this spectacular?” He motioned to the pyramids looming in the distance, and the participants applauded.

  “As director for the newest program in the Society, I am proud that the Keane College Mayanist Program of Westport, Michigan, has been asked to sponsor this year’s event. I would like to thank my colleagues for their tireless work in planning and bringing the conference to Merida this year.”

  Brad paused and motioned to Eduardo. “I am especially proud to present my friend, Doctor Eduardo Ramirez.” Eduardo bowed to the participants. “Eduardo and I earned our doctorates from the same great university…” Brad paused for laughter, “and he is an expert in Mexican artifacts and art. His family is renowned in Mexico and Texas for their galleries and museums, Galerías Indígenas.” Mild applause followed as Brad motioned Eduardo to speak.

  “I am very pleased to be with you this week,” Eduardo said, his English mildly accented and velvet-smooth. “It has been an honor to have Doctor Kingsford as a friend, and I look forward to meeting you all during the conference. I am hosting a reception on Tuesday evening at the Casa Montejo. I hope to see you there.”

  More applause as Brad put his arm awkwardly around his friend’s shoulder. He said, “I encourage you to hear Eduardo’s lecture tomorrow evening. He has a fascinating topic for us, ‘The Mayan Art of Murder.’”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sunday evening

  After the reception, the anthropologists dispersed on their own until the Sound and Light Show that evening. Shuttle buses transported conferees and tourists back and forth between the Cultural Center and the exclusive on-site hotels and restaurants. Students attending the conference took local buses into the small town of Uxmal where more reasonably priced food could be found.

  Later, Claire, George, and Madge stood in front of the Hotel Uxmal Restaurant, waiting for the next shuttle back to the archaeological site. Laura, Paul, and Cody had caught an earlier shuttle, and the rest of the Keane College group waited behind them.

  They boarded the shuttle and rejoiced in the blast of cold air. Madge and George took one of the long seats along the aisle behind the driver. Claire sat across the aisle, facing them. The bus followed a route between the on-site hotels, dropping off tourists and picking up others who wanted to attend the evening event. George tipped his hat over his face, and within moments, Claire could hear him snoring from under the hat. How do people do that? she thought. Madge leaned against the barrier separating her from the driver and closed her eyes. Claire relaxed her head against the window. Her mind wandered over the events of the day, and how nice it would feel to be in her hotel bed, this day behind her.

  At the Cultural Center, Madge opened her eyes and prodded George in the side. He snorted to attention as the children and others paraded past him and exited the bus. Inside the building, Madge and Claire visited the restroom, and rejoined George at the fountain where Madge sat on a bench and refused to move.

  “I’ll meet you at the Nunnery Quadrangle for the show,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” Claire asked, worried.

  “I’m fine. I need to rest a few minutes.”

  George stayed with Madge, and Claire set off by herself.

  The archaeological park had closed, admitting only those with tickets to the program. Claire followed the tourists who had shared her bus past the abandoned vendor tables. The park guards attempted to keep the tourists on a marked path around the Magician’s Pyramid toward a back stairway to the Nunnery Complex, but Claire and others circled away from the security guards to take photographs of the setting sun displaying a brilliant orange aurora around the pyramid. As she did so, a flash of maroon drew her attention.

  She recognized Paul and Cody just beyond her, at the foot of the pyramid. She lifted her hand to wave but hesitated and stepped back into the shadows. They were arguing. She could hear Paul’s tone rising and falling in the evening air, but she could not discern his words. He glared at his friend, his hands punching the air for emphasis. Cody started to speak, but Paul, making a horizontal swipe with his hands, silenced his companion. Cody slouched, his hands in his pockets, and looked toward the Cultural Center.

  Claire stepped back and retreated toward the Nunnery Quadrangle. She passed Brad and Laura, who stood near the pyramid, and joined the tourists climbing an ancient stone stairway leading to the first tier of the north palace. There, metal scaffolding and bleachers had been erected over the ancient steps to protect the deteriorating stairways.

  Seated in a middle row of bleachers, Claire spread her purse and camera along the bench to save seats for her colleagues. The sun had set, and the pyramid was cloaked in shadow. It had been a long day: several hours of interviews with the two candidates, an hour bus ride from Merida to Uxmal, traipsing around the site in the blazing heat, a meeting, reception, more traipsing, eating, drinking, the Sound and Light Show, and, after the show, another hour bus ride back to their Merida hotel. She once again thought longingly of her hotel room, or more ardently, for a hammock at the home of her compadres in Yaxpec, her goddaughter’s parents.

  Claire stood and waved when she saw George and Madge at the top of the stairs. They moved across the long row, sitting heavily onto the bleachers.

  “Damn it, Claire,” Madge said. “Couldn’t you find a more inconvenient place to sit?”

  “Well, you left me to choose.” Claire smiled as she moved down the row to save the place for others.

  The pyramid stood in deep shadow now, backlit by the floodlights that led to the Cultural Center. The evening air vibrated with energy as tourists settled into their rows. Cameras at the ready, they chatted among themselves as they waited for the show to begin.

  “Where is everyone?” Madge asked. She pulled her binoculars from her bag and stood to scan the audience.

  Claire was beginning to wonder if her colleagues had found seating elsewhere when she heard her name called. She turned and saw Tanya skipping down the bleacher steps toward them. She slid into their row and sat next to Claire with a heavy sigh.

  “Where’s Jamal?” Tanya asked. “He said he was on his way. Can I see?” She held her hand out for Madge’s binoculars, and Madge handed them over. Tanya’s gaze moved along the bench rows and toward the stairway leading up to them.

  “Probably too embarrassed to attend these hokey shows,” George said.

  “Aren’t we all,” Tanya said, distracted as she scanned the area surrounding the pyramid and the walkway by the metal stairs. “Whose idea was this
anyway?”

  Claire, whose idea it had been, said nothing. Perhaps a day at an archaeological site had been a little optimistic for this group.

  “Looking for us?” Brad’s baritone, coming from behind, startled them.

  Tanya jumped, nearly losing her balance as she turned to see Brad and Eduardo sit just above them in the bleacher seats.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Eduardo said. “I had to rescue Brad from Laura.” He laughed, and Brad followed suit.

  “And I thought she was the quiet one,” Brad said as he stuffed his hat into his backpack and pulled out a light jacket. He crammed his pack between his feet.

  As the floodlights dimmed, Jamal pushed past a large family that had settled in their row.

  “Sorry,” he said as he sat down. “I ran into Laura Lorenzo in line, and she wanted to summarize her academic credentials.” He reached into his backpack, pulled out a Bob Marley sweatshirt and pulled it over his head.

  “You don’t have to explain,” Tanya pouted, indicating that perhaps he did.

  “You too?” said Eduardo. “She’s a politician…and beautiful too.” Eduardo raised his eyebrows at Brad. Tanya turned back to Eduardo and scowled at Brad.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Brad said, blushing. “Eduardo’s the Latin lover.”

  Warning noises from their neighbors directed their attention to the program just beginning. The show depicted a complicated story describing the mythological origins of Uxmal. It involved a sorceress who managed to hatch a child from an egg. She sent the child, who in one year had grown to be an adult dwarf, to challenge the King of Uxmal to a series of tests that culminated in the king’s defeat. The king, in retaliation, demanded that the dwarf build a palace overnight, which he did, the result being the Magician’s Pyramid.

  A choreography of greens, reds, and golds accompanied the drama, highlighting carvings on the stone façades: warriors, the mythical feathered serpent, and the rain god Chac. Exclamations from the audience competed with the exhausted cries of numerous babies in the audience. When the narrator described how the dwarf was then proclaimed Magician and supreme leader, the pyramid lit up in a spectacular blaze of purple.