Lotería

by Karla Arenas Valenti

  The room was sunny and bright yellow. A bed was piled high with cushions and soft blankets. Shelves held different-shaped jars of colorful liquids. The floor was carpeted in a plush rug that appeared to be made of fur. A wooden chest sat open, overflowing with toys, but Esteban’s attention was quickly drawn to a slick black remote-controlled car on the desk.

  “Yes,” the man said. “I thought you’d like that.”

  He looked at his watch. “Now, we don’t have much time. The Mercado Rojo is already open, and the king will be arriving shortly. He is expecting you at five o’clock, not a moment later. Is that clear?”

  “Me?” Esteban asked. “Why is he expecting me?”

  The man’s smile spread even as his eyes hardened. “The king loves children, but he cannot have his own. So I help him by finding children who are sad and lonely and need new homes. The king’s castle is full of wonders and toys and everything you could ever want to eat.”

  “And my mother?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course,” the man replied. “Now, the next few hours are yours to spend as you choose. At three o’clock food will be brought to you and you will be cleaned and dressed. Do you understand?”

  Esteban nodded.

  Swiftly the man turned and walked toward the door. Without a glance back at Esteban, he stepped out of the room. As soon as he did, the yellow door reappeared behind him. There was no doorknob, no keyhole, no way out.

  There was no question: Esteban was trapped.

  He turned and looked around the small room. The calm he’d felt earlier was beginning to dissipate, and Esteban felt unsettled. The dull ache in his stomach grew into a cramp that he recognized as trouble. Doubt rose within him.

  Something—a lot of things—didn’t make sense. For instance, his mother’s song had seemed so close, and yet she was nowhere to be seen. And who was this king, anyway? Esteban had never heard of him. And why was his mother with him? Why hadn’t she told Esteban she’d be coming here?

  The man in red seemed friendly enough, but Esteban couldn’t ignore the feeling that he was hiding something important.

  And why did he have to lock the door?

  Esteban’s doubts multiplied. Had he been tricked?

  As the thought put down roots, his stomach cramped, splintering into shards of pain. Tears clouded his vision.

  It was at that moment that a small box on one of the pillows caught his attention. Nestled inside the box were more small polvorones. Esteban eagerly reached for one of the cookies.

  It melted on his tongue almost instantly. As it made its way into his bloodstream, it warmed him up and dulled his growing apprehension.

  A second cookie flushed away his sorrow. The third and fourth cookies were simply an indulgence. After he’d gobbled them up, Esteban was more than happy to explore his surroundings.

  He approached the wall of jars, taking down the closest: a vial with a silky pink liquid that swirled in ribbons. He uncorked the bottle, and the liquid rose like a gas, then playfully wrapped around his arm. He waved his arm, and the pink dispersed into a million tiny drops. A second jar held a blue-gray smoke that slipped out onto his palm and formed a tight silver ball. An orange-yellow liquid exited another bottle as soon as he uncorked it and zipped under the door before he could catch it.

  Esteban turned to the toys and his new remote-controlled car. The only evidence of his previous sorrow was a thin line of salt on his cheek where his tears no longer flowed.

  Clara was dragged up the grand staircase to the castle entrance. The moment she reached the top step, the pink stone structure transformed before her eyes.

  Where before there had been empty rooms yawning into the jungle, now there were walls of cold dark stone dripping with black water and slime. Tattered squares of cloth whipped in the wind on flag posts atop the castle and from twin poles flanking the entrance. The door was heavy iron, covered in sharp rusted spikes. A guard stood sentry at the door. He didn’t even so much as glance at Clara as she was led through the foyer into the great hall.

  The chamber they entered was circular, with walls towering up into darkness. Cold daggers of artificial light cut through the air, and shadows raced between them. A heavy fog lingered at her feet, carrying the stench of decay.

  An upward-sloping path pushed up against the wall as it wound its way past dark openings lined with steel bars. Guards were stationed at various points along the rising path.

  An opening on the ground in the center of the chamber boiled with black water, oozing into three canals that led into different wings of the castle. Moans and whimpers mingled with the incessant dripping of water, and the wind whispered warnings as it raced through the catacombs of stone.

  “Where are you taking me?” Clara cried. Her anger at the rose’s betrayal burned through her veins and gave her a strength she didn’t know she had. But the guards were stronger, and they held her in a tight grip.

  In silence they pushed her forward, following the black canal to the right and beneath a cracked archway to a second chamber, identical to the first but smaller. Something heavy shuffled in the darkness, chains rattling across the cold stone. A shiver ran down Clara’s back as she considered her options.

  Fleeing was out of the question. Two guards held her fast, and more kept watch. She wouldn’t get far. Even if she did manage to slip free of them, escape seemed unlikely. This place was obviously a fortress.

  Persuasion might work, if she could get any of the guards to talk to her. But what could she say? They didn’t have any decision-making power; they were just following orders. No, she needed to talk to whoever was in charge.

  “I want to see the man in red,” she said. “El Diablo.”

  The guards continued to ignore her.

  “Did you hear me?” she yelled. Her words echoed back at her full force. And something howled. “I want to talk to El Diablo!”

  The guards moved in lockstep, dragging Clara between them up the sloping ramp that ran along the chamber wall. She dug her heels, trying to slow their progress. But the floor was slippery and gave her no traction.

  Before she could come up with a plan, they stopped at a door made of rusted metal bars. One guard took a key out of his pocket. It was a long metal cylinder with a triangle at one end. The cylinder fit smoothly into the round keyhole, and when the guard turned the key, the door opened, revealing a pitch-black cave.

  Clara was shoved into the darkness. Tripping on something, she fell onto the slick and slimy floor. Despite the sudden jolt of pain that coursed up her arms and legs, she quickly scrambled to her feet. But by the time she turned around, the guards were gone, leaving her imprisoned behind thick metal bars.

  “Hey!” Clara called. “Come back!” Her voice bounced off the walls in a series of echoes.

  But nobody came back.

  She was stuck in a dark cave in a sinister castle hidden within a magical jungle in a kingdom that was completely unknown. And she was all alone.

  If ever there was a time for hopelessness, this was it.

  Life and Death had just made their way down the winding road that led from Monte Albán into the city when the sound of merriment caught up with them.

  “A calenda!” Catrina smiled. “A splendid way to spend our last day. Let’s meet up with it.”

  “Very well,” Life said. “Which way shall we go?” The companions were at a crossroads.

  “You choose,” Catrina replied, a hint of laughter in her voice.

  “Ha! A test of free will. I see. But how to choose?” Life turned to Catrina. “Tell me, you who have known me for so very long, what does my past tell you I’m about to do? What is my inevitable choice?”

  Catrina considered his question. They could head down the road to the right. It was paved and heavily trafficked, full of honking horns and rumbling exhaust pipes. The road to the lef
t was unpaved—a dirt road that ran behind houses. Dots of weeds and wildflowers sprouted among the many puddles. There was no traffic and only one stray dog in sight.

  “The road to the left,” Catrina replied, knowing Life had never been overly fond of the city bustle and noise.

  “Wrong,” Life said, and he held out his arm for Catrina. “I choose the road to the right.”

  “You just did that to prove me wrong!” Catrina laughed as she took her friend’s arm.

  “No, I actually chose the path before I asked for your opinion.”

  “Oh?”

  “I would have preferred to stroll along the quiet back road.”

  “I knew it!”

  “But,” Life went on, “I am well aware of the hard work you put into your gown, and it would surely be damaged if we attempted to navigate all those puddles.”

  “Nothing I can’t mend,” Catrina replied. “But thank you all the same.”

  The friends walked along the paved road, moving aside when traffic overtook them.

  “Wouldn’t you say I exercised my free will just then?” Life asked. “I acted contrary to what my past suggested I would do.”

  “True, but there is a reason you made this choice,” she said.

  “Because I care about you.”

  Catrina returned Life’s smile. “And I appreciate it. Especially because it proves my point.”

  “How is that?” Life’s silver walking stick clicked softly on the road.

  “It’s simple. When we care for someone, we have no choice but to follow our heart, regardless of whether or not we want to.”

  Life chuckled. “So, given that I care for you, I am forced to make a choice in your best interest.”

  “Exactly! There is no free will where love is involved,” Catrina said. “It’s like night and day. You cannot have both at the same time.”

  “An interesting choice of words,” Life said. “Considering you have a pendant in your purse that proves the opposite.”

  “Well…that’s different.”

  “Is it, though?”

  “It is,” Catrina replied. “There is no escaping the commands of the heart!”

  The friends waited for the stoplight to give them the right-of-way. The chaos of morning traffic bustled around them.

  “But consider this,” Life said. “I may be forced to make certain decisions, given that I care for you. However, I am not forced to care for you. That is a choice.”

  “Hmm.” Catrina was considering her response when a wave of music drifted toward them.

  “Oh—there!” Catrina indicated a narrow street ahead.

  A group of revelers in colorful dresses carried wicker baskets on their heads. The baskets were laden with flowers woven into the shape of stars and moons, crosses and harps. Draped around the revelers’ arms and shoulders were beautifully embroidered scarves.

  Behind them were musicians playing trumpets and banging on drums. After them came men in white linen shirts and pants carrying enormous papier-mâché figures dancing like giants at a party. And indeed, this was a party.

  Calendas were street festivities organized to celebrate any and all occasions, from weddings to the birth of a child to a graduation or a religious holiday. The dancers and musicians moved down the streets, spreading their cheer across the city.

  Life and Death joined the parade. The music and laughter were infectious. A young dancer took Catrina’s hand and pulled her into the crowd. As she twirled, her skirts fanned out around her, releasing a shower of blossoms. The crowd cheered, and the children ran about collecting the flowers.

  The parade took many turns, up and down the winding cobblestone streets. The sounds of the drums bounced against the walls, beckoning people out from their homes, stores, or restaurants to join in the merrymaking.

  Life and Death lost themselves to the music and dance, until one of those turns took them past La Casa de Juana. A lone customer peered through the shuttered window. Usually busy at this hour, the restaurant was empty while the family searched frantically for the two missing children. The customer sighed and turned away.

  Life sighed as well.

  “Alas,” he said, “I suppose it’s time to resume our game.”

  Catrina thanked her dancing companion, releasing one more shower of marigolds. The party moved on without them.

  “So that is what it feels like to be alive!” she said, breathless and almost glowing.

  Life smiled.

  “What a gift!” Catrina added.

  The two friends made their way to the small park across from the robin’s-egg-blue house. They set up their table in the shade of a tree and placed their black beans in position. Catrina removed the small mirror from her bag and set it between them on the table.

  “I’m ready,” she told Life.

  Life spoke the riddle for the top card. “Atarántamela a palos, no me la dejes llegar.”

  “Beat it silly with a stick, do not let it near me. That’s easy,” Catrina said. “The spider.” She placed a bean on the image of the spider.

  Life did the same.

  “It appears we are now tied,” Catrina told him. “Three in a row!”

  In the suffocating darkness of her prison cell, Clara crumpled to the ground.

  A heavy sob bloomed inside her, tumbling out in a flood of tears.

  “I should have gotten help….”

  Even as she uttered the words, she knew they were a lie. Had she gone to fetch help when she first saw Esteban disappear, the passage would have closed before she returned.

  “And I should have tried harder!”

  This, too, was a lie. She had done everything she could to find and rescue Esteban.

  “And now we’ll never get home.”

  Before Clara could indulge another thought, something scraped against the stone in the darkness behind her.

  A chill ran down her neck, and her next breath froze in her lungs. Trembling, she turned around to face the gaping hole of the cave.

  A wave of heat washed over her as a body moved in the darkness. She took a few steps back, and then some more, until she could feel the cold metal bars pressing up against her shoulder blades.

  “Help!” she called out to the guards. “There’s something in here!”

  She pounded on the bars. “Do you hear me!”

  Her voice grew louder and more high-pitched, matching her growing panic. “Help!”

  The silence in the catacombs was dreadful, but not nearly as terrifying as the vision forming before her. Out of the darkness a figure emerged—a shadow within the shadows.

  The creature was visible only in spectral contours, but Clara could tell it was enormous by the way it pushed the mass of air toward her. Heat radiated from its body in waves that reminded her of a heart beating furiously.

  “Help!” she cried again, frantically pulling on the bars. This time she heard a response, but there were no guards coming to her aid. Instead, there were grunts and groans and growls from other creatures entombed in the many caves surrounding her. It seemed there were hundreds—thousands!—of cells just like hers. And whatever was in them responded to her plea with growls and hisses and claws scraping on stone. She sensed their desperate hunger.

  And then Clara realized her mistake. She wasn’t a prisoner.

  She was lunch.

  Clara gasped as the dim light from the corridor revealed the contours of the shadowy creature emerging from the depth of her cell.

  What she saw first were two long hairy limbs reaching toward her. These were followed by more limbs and the unmistakable pincers of a massive spider.

  Panic flooded her body, lodging in her throat and preventing her from breathing. Her lungs burned as the beast approached.

  She pressed herself against the bars, pu
shing back as far as she could. But it did nothing to distance her from the approaching monster. Behind her the catacombs echoed in hisses and roars, the rumbling of restless creatures.

  One of the spider’s hairy legs touched Clara, and her body could no longer hold her up. She fell to her knees.

  “Please,” Clara whimpered. “Please…”

  There wasn’t anything in particular she requested; she simply uttered the only word within her otherwise blank mind.

  Clara kept her eyes shut tight, the air around her growing hotter as the spider approached. It made a rapid clicking sound.

  It’s getting ready to eat me!

  A cramp gripped her stomach; her heart raced wildly. The stone floor seemed to be rolling beneath her. The clicking continued, and the spider crept closer.

  Clara took a breath, then another. When she took a third breath, something happened. A small thought sparked within her, so small that she almost missed it.

  Esteban.

  The thought lit the way for another, brighter thought.

  He needs me.

  Leading finally to the one that burned like a fiery torch.

  I can do this.

  And she remembered the rules that governed this place.

  A message traveled to her brain, and as the spider’s second, third, and fourth legs found Clara, she found the words to change her fate.

  “W-wait!” With her head tucked between her knees, she delivered her proposal. “I’ll give you something—in exchange for my life. Anything.”

  The spider towered above her. The shadow of its enormous body forced Clara into an even tighter ball.

  “I eat ’em,” Clara heard from within her crouched position. Goose bumps prickled across her skin.

  “Eat who?” she whimpered.

  The spider clicked nosily, then said, “Eedom.”

  Clara swallowed, forcing herself to push past the lump blocking her throat to make way for the words she needed to say. “I don’t understand you.” Her voice was muffled by her posture.