A man approached them ahead of the others, his intense, lined face clear in the light of the torches. He was a native. Wearing pants and a ragged shirt topped by a tattered straw hat, he also carried an old rifle. When he saw them with the pitiful, unconscious girl, his eyes filled with horror and then rage. He screamed at them, aiming his rifle.
They let go of the girl and raised their hands.
The man screamed orders to his men, who immediately pushed through the brush toward them, brandishing their weapons. Two grabbed Jacob Cooper, putting a knife to his throat. Two more grabbed Jay and held him, taking away his father’s gun. Two others gently picked up the girl and carried her aside. One more helped himself to the Coopers’ flashlights.
Dr. Cooper spoke, though he was careful not to move or give his captors any reason to use the knife. “We were trying to help her. She was being attacked.”
The man seemed amused. “You like to make up stories?”
Here was a little hope. “You know English?”
The man cocked his head and smirked as if he’d heard a dumb question. “I pick up a little here and there. Yours sounds very good.”
“Sir, we rescued your daughter. She was being attacked—”
“By you!” the man hollered, gesturing with the barrel of the rifle. “You cannot fool me! You are mukai-tochetin!” His eyes darted about the ruins for an instant as if looking for hidden dangers. “You are everywhere! You want to scare us and kill us. Why? We are Kachakas! We did not violate the tomb!”
Uh-oh. This could be serious. “You are Kachakas?”
“You know that. Mukai-tochetin know everything. You know I am the chief, and you know the girl is my daughter.” He raised his rifle and appeared to be seriously considering pulling the trigger. “And that is why you tried to kill her, yes? To hurt me!
”
“Sir . . . I am Dr. Jacob Cooper from America, and this is my son, Jay—”
The chief aimed the rifle directly into Dr. Cooper’s face. Dr. Cooper could see right along the barrel into his eye. “No more lies! You only want to scare us, to kill us, to kill my daughter and hurt me!” He pulled back the hammer. “But I think I hurt you first!”
SIX
Another man shouted at the chief and then spoke hurriedly, as if trying to reason with him. It must have been a good argument—the chief uncocked his rifle and lowered it. The two talked a moment, throwing suggestions and counter-suggestions back and forth and pointing at the Coopers.
Finally, the chief gave in and spoke in English. “We take you to our village.” He jerked his thumb toward the man who argued with him. “Manito says if you are really mukai-tochetin, it will do no good to shoot you. But he thinks you are not mukai-tochetin. He thinks maybe you are just stupid Americans. We find out.”
With some not-so-gentle prodding from their well-armed captors, Jay and Dr. Cooper started walking through the ruins toward the unexplored jungle on the other side.
Jacob Cooper’s anxiety was obvious as he told Jay, “We sure don’t need this right now. Lila’s still out there, probably dying.”
“So how do we get out of it?” Jay responded.
The chief was walking just ahead of them. Dr. Cooper called to him, “Uh, Chief . . .”
“Chief Yoaxa,” the chief informed him.
“Thank you. Chief Yoaxa. Listen, my daughter is lost somewhere in these ruins and in great danger. We were trying to find her when we found your daughter instead. Your daughter was being attacked by a, uh, a wild man. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
The chief gave Dr. Cooper a good, long look and then smiled craftily. “Oh yes. A wild man. A mukai-tochetin!”
“Mukai-tochetin.” Jay was getting sick of the word. “What is that, anyway?”
The chief grinned as if being joked with. “You mukai-tochetin are very tricky. You try to test me, yes? But I know. When the great king Kachi-Tochetin was buried in his tomb, his best warriors were buried with him so their spirits would guard his treasure. You see? I know what you are.” His eyes narrowed with bitter anger. “But why are you out of your tomb? Why do you bother us? We do not like to be scared and screamed at and attacked! We have never bothered your treasure! We have not even seen it! We do not deserve the curse!” He gestured with his rifle, making his message clear. “You should go back to sleep in your tomb. Leave the living world to us!”
Dr. Cooper and Jay exchanged a glance. This was the Kachaka explanation for the toxin-induced madness!
“Chief Yoaxa, listen,” said Dr. Cooper. “I have good news for you. These people who are wandering about in the ruins are not the warriors of Kachi-Tochetin, not at all. They are explorers from America who have . . . well, they’re sick and dying. They’re out of their minds because—”
“Because they are ghosts.” The chief pointed his finger right in their faces. “And you are ghosts, dead warriors, just like them!”
“Chief, we are not dead warriors.”
The chief was getting impatient. “You attacked my daughter!”
Dr. Cooper was also getting impatient. “We did not attack your daughter! We saved your daughter from—well, from one of the sick Americans. He almost killed us and your daughter shot poison darts at us . . . If anything, we deserve your thanks!”
The chief got angry when he heard that. “See? You lie! Kachaka children do not shoot poison darts. We forbid it!”
“Well, that may be true but—”
The chief held up his hand. “No more talking! When we get to the village, we find out.”
They continued along a well-beaten path through the jungle. Eventually they reached a small village where at least two hundred men, women, and children waited anxiously for the return of their chief and his men. The village was an odd mixture of old and new, of civilized and savage. Grass huts stood alongside crude, wood-framed dwellings; there were campfires but also cookstoves. Both torches and oil lanterns lit the narrow corridor between the dwellings. A few folks didn’t seem to mind wearing little or nothing while they worked, yet most of the people were fully dressed in white garments, some skillfully embroidered.
As for the Kachakas’ choice of weapons, almost every warrior carried a blowgun on his belt, but many also carried rifles, pistols, and knives.
Some of the women in the village looked especially anxious, as if they had been dreading this moment. When they saw the limp body of the girl being carried by the two men, they threw up their hands and wailed in fear and anguish. With tears and rapid-fire babblings of concern, they gently took her from her two carriers and bore her into the nearest wooden shack where they laid her on a cot.
The chief stopped just outside the door of the crude dwelling, watching the women work to revive the girl, then turned to the Coopers. “See the pain you have brought? She has been missing since early evening, and we looked for her until it was a long time dark. We told all the children, ‘Don’t go into the ruins, there are mukai-tochetin there.’” The chief shook his head as he peered through the doorway at his unconscious daughter. “I think that is why she went. She has always wanted to see one.” He looked at Dr. Cooper. “Well . . . now she has.”
Jacob Cooper couldn’t help sighing in frustration. “Chief Yoaxa—”
“Follow me,” the chief said, waving his hand and leading the way.
The men holding the Coopers prodded them forward through the village, past the humble grass huts, clapboard shacks, firepits, and milling, curious people.
Jay noticed a man wearing a strange, disk-shaped charm around his neck. Then he saw another one. Then Dr. Cooper spotted two more.
The Kachakas were wearing the dried, stretched skins of caracoles volantes as jewelry!
“Carvies!” Jay exclaimed.
That made the chief turn his head. “You should be happy. We wear carvies to please you, but . . . I guess not today.”
Jay tried to win a few points. “Oh, but we’re very pleased.”
The chief brightened. “Then you ar
e mukai-tochetin!”
Jay made a sour face, mentally kicking himself.
Jacob Cooper coaxed some information. “I understand they’re poisonous.”
Chief Yoaxa enjoyed answering that question.
“Oh, yes, they are poisonous. They will kill you just by touching you. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you catch them in the morning. Then they don’t hurt you. We play with them, we cook them and eat them, and there is no trouble.”
Dr. Cooper nodded. “Yes. We’ve been told that.”
They came to the end of the village and turned a corner. Directly ahead of them was what looked like a row of rabbit hutches and a large chicken pen, all made from poles and wire mesh.
The Coopers stopped short at the sight of the cages. The men behind them poked them forward.
The rabbit hutches and the chicken pen were full of carvies—yellow, angry carvies. The slugs came to life the moment the group approached. Flapping about in the cages, hissing, and chirping, they flitted from wall to wall, their little black eyes devilish and threatening.
“These carvies, they are special,” said the chief. “We caught them in the morning, so it was easy, but then we kept them in these cages until night. You do that and they get dangerous. Just watch.”
The chief pulled a small, sharpened dart from a quiver on his belt. Sticking it through the wire mesh, he rubbed its tip against a yellow carvy’s slimy back. When he withdrew it, the tip of the dart glistened.
Dr. Cooper eyed the dart carefully. “So this is the poison dart of the Kachakas?”
The chief held it up proudly. “Yes. We make them ourselves! Now watch.”
He skillfully inserted the dart into the blowgun that hung over his shoulder, then looked for a target. Some pigs were grunting and rooting in the grass nearby. He put the blowgun to his mouth, gave it a strong blast of air, and the dart shot like an arrow, sticking a pig in the flank.
The pig did more than squeal; it shrieked, twirled, grunted, scurried in a little circle, and then flopped to the ground, legs twitching. In only seconds, it was dead.
The chief grinned. “It works quick, you see? It can kill you. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Dr. Cooper asked.
The chief smiled jubilantly. “Unless you are dead already.”
Dr. Cooper’s heart sank. “Oh. Of course.”
“We have a legend: The carvies belong to the mukai-tochetin. Together, they guard the treasure. If you are one of Kachi-Tochetin’s warriors, the yellow carvies will not hurt you.”
Dr. Cooper could see where this was leading and did not like it one bit. “But as I’ve been trying to tell you, we’re not ghosts, or warriors, or anything else. We’re living, breathing American explorers.”
The chief shrugged again. “We’ll find out. If you are dead already, the yellow carvies won’t hurt you—so we’ll take you back to Toco-Rey and bury you where you belong. If you are just stupid Americans, the carvies will kill you—and I’ll admit I was wrong.”
Suddenly, the chief’s men had a much firmer grip on Jay and his father. They meant business.
Dr. Cooper tried to remain calm and rational, though being only a few feet from a swarm of yellow carvies made that difficult. “Chief, does it make any sense for the warriors of Kachi-Tochetin to have white skin, speak English, and dress like Americans?”
This time the chief sighed. “The warriors we have seen in the ruins have green skin, they don’t dress much at all, and they don’t speak English. They yell and scream.”
Jay objected, “So what about us? We have white skin, we’re dressed, and we speak English! I mean, come on . . . !”
The chief thought about that for a moment, but he was a stubborn man, and all his men were watching. “Like I say, mukai-tochetin are very tricky.”
“Chief Yoaxa!” Dr. Cooper talked slowly and deliberately, trying to spell it out. “Listen to me: Those green, screaming warriors are Americans who have come in contact with the slime from the carvies. The slime has made them crazy, and it’s killing them. We’ve seen it. There’s a dead man in the ruins right now—and my daughter is still out there, poisoned, mad, and dying. Instead of killing us, why don’t you help us?”
The chief’s face lit up and he pointed his finger in Jacob Cooper’s face. “Ah! You see? You think you can fool me. Carvies don’t make you crazy. They kill you.”
“But—”
“Listen, I’m giving you a good deal. You should take it and be glad.”
Dr. Cooper looked at the chief, then at Jay, then back at the chief, thinking it all over. Then, strangely, he relaxed and nodded. “All right. You’ve convinced me. We’ll take your test.”
Jay did not agree. “Dad! You can’t let them do this!”
Dr. Cooper straightened his spine, drew a deep breath, and put a consoling hand on his son’s shoulder. “Son, there comes a time when we simply have to face our destiny like real men.”
“We do?” Jay looked up and read a message in his father’s eyes. “Oh. Uh, yeah, you’re right, Dad. Yeah. Like real men.”
The carvies in the big cage were drooling and hissing at Dr. Cooper even as he looked at the men guarding him. “Gentlemen, I agree to the chief’s offer. Shall we proceed?”
Dr. Cooper no longer resisted them, but stood there relaxed, willing and ready. He could tell they were impressed by that; their grip on him eased up a bit. He stepped forward to the cage door. “I only hope that once I’m dead, you’ll go out and find my daughter.” He looked at the chief. “And I believe your daughter will be all right. I think she only fainted.” He gently raised his left arm to remove his hat. The man holding him allowed him to do so. “Let justice be done.”
He turned to hand his hat to the men behind him. They were impressed by his gentle compliance; they actually released him.
The man who took his hat was the first to see a huge fist, and then stars. The other man caught Jacob Cooper’s left hook a fraction of a second later, and then he saw only grass.
Jay was expecting his father’s move and made some quick moves himself, first planting his foot behind the man on his right to trip him. Then he spun and planted his foot in the groin of the other man to give him something to think about.
“Run!” his father shouted, taking on three Kachakas while ten more closed in on him.
With his father holding back the Kachakas, Jay turned and ran like the wind. Out of the village and into the cover of the jungle, he had little idea of which way to go except toward the ruins. Tomás and Juan had to be out there somewhere. They had rifles and could help, if only he could find them! He could hear the struggle going on back in the village: the shouts, the blows. Then his father yelled one more time, “Run, Jay, run!” Jay tried to hold back his tears. In the dark of the jungle, he was nearly blind as it was.
By now, Dr. Cooper could see nothing but Kachaka faces, bodies, and arms. He was floating in a mob of angry, shouting natives. They held his arms, his legs, his hair. He couldn’t struggle or trip or punch or even move. It was over. From somewhere he could hear the chief yell an order. The mob started moving as one man toward the cage.
Dear Lord, he prayed. Just let Jay make it out of here. And remember Lila, wherever she is.
He could hear someone fumbling with the cage door. The carvies were going absolutely wild.
And then the crowd fell quiet. He could hear the chief’s voice now, not yelling but talking to someone. The someone was a woman.
The voice of a young girl joined them. He couldn’t understand the language, but she was speaking clearly. The chief’s daughter? It had to be!
The Kachakas carrying Dr. Cooper eased their grip and set him on the ground. Many of them actually let go and backed off. When enough of their bodies were out of the way, he could finally see that the chief was talking to a lovely woman, most likely his wife, and . . . oh, praise God! The chief’s daughter! She was still wearing Lila’s droopy, billed cap, and she
pointed at Dr. Cooper, rapidly explaining something to her father. He kept objecting and trying to argue, but apparently she would not change her opinion.
Finally the chief straightened up, looked at Dr. Cooper with disappointment and embarrassment, and gave his men an order. They all let go of Dr. Cooper and gave him some space. One even returned his hat.
“My daughter says you did not attack her,” the chief admitted. “She says you . . .” He really hated to say it. “She says you saved her from a mukai-tochetin.”
Dr. Cooper exhaled a sigh of relief. His shoulders relaxed as he returned the girl’s gaze. Her eyes were clear and beautiful. He could tell her mind and memory were intact.
She must have learned her heavily accented English from her father. “Gracias, Señor American, for saving my life.”
Dr. Cooper removed his newly returned hat to show his respect and gratitude. “You’re most welcome. And thank you for saving mine.” He stole a quick glance at the chief to make sure he was correct in saying that.
The chief was reluctant, but finally nodded yes. “You are not mukai-tochetin. One mukai-tochetin would not fight another.” He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “This is María. María, this is . . .”
“Dr. Jacob Cooper.” He took just a few steps toward the girl, reached into his shirt pocket, and brought out her small blowgun. “I believe this belongs to you.”
She took one look at it and shook her head. “Oh no,” she said emphatically. “That is not mine.”
Hmm. Interesting. Dr. Cooper played along. “Oh. Well, it must belong to one of the men here.” He tossed it to the nearest Kachaka warrior, who looked it over, shook his head, and then passed it to the next. It began circulating among the men in search of an owner. “But please, can you tell me if you’ve seen my daughter? She’s about your age and height, with fair skin and long, blond hair. She’s lost somewhere in the ruins.”
The girl’s eyes betrayed some kind of knowledge, but she was hesitant to speak.
The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey Page 6