A Kingdom Beneath the Waves

by Bowles, David;

  “Flip you for the window seat,” he told Carol as they struggled down the aisle. Luckily for him he won, and soon he was staring out over the glittering wing at the patchwork land, broken only by the twisting ribbon of the river, which connected distant mountains to the sea like a massive version of the tubes at El Chanal.

  Chapter Two

  The plane touched down in Guadalajara after 8:00 pm. Though their father urged them over the phone to stay there the night, he should have known better. Carol’s mom was a determined and highly impatient woman used to getting her way. She dug her designer heels in.

  “No, Oscar. I don’t care how late it is. We haven’t seen you for almost three weeks. I don’t plan on waiting any longer than I have to, so I’ve rented a car and I’m driving down tonight. It’s just three hours or so, anyway. That’s right. Mm-hmm. Just make sure the other room is ready. And ours better not be a mess when I get there. Sí, yo también te quiero, amor. But I’m on my way, got it?”

  Carol was still smiling at this exchange when she cried “Shotgun!” and slid into the passenger seat of the Nissan X-Trail.

  “Take it,” Johnny replied with a yawn. “I’d rather stretch out in the back, catch some zees.”

  “If you fit, you mean, giant boy.” She tried to hide her jealousy with these sorts of jabs, but it did irritate her that her twin now had about ten centimeters on her.

  Bet I could shift myself some shorter legs if I tried. You could probably stretch your bones, too, Short Round.

  I’ll have you know I’m the second-tallest girl in eighth grade…Oh, wait. That was a doofy reference to some old TV show or something, wasn’t it?

  “Mom, Carol doesn’t know anything about Indiana Jones.”

  Starting the car with a wry grin, Verónica shook her head. “It’s no fair if you’re going to have telepathic conversations around me. I miss the jokes. Pero, ya, with the dad you’ve got, Carol? You should watch those films.”

  Once they were past the city limits, it was generally too dark to appreciate the countryside. But as Johnny slipped into a light sleep, Carol let her tonal edge slightly forward, just enough to benefit from the night vision of her wolf eyes.

  Even the impressive countryside couldn’t erase her exhaustion, and Carol soon found herself in the midst of a strange dream. Her father was standing inside of some stone chamber carved with what seemed ancient Mesoamerican pictographs. At the center of the room, a dark pool of water began to bubble and overflow. Soon her father’s shoes were covered, and the level kept rising.

  When it had reached his waist, Dr. Garza looked right at her, but his eyes were wrong. The hazel had gone all glittery green. It took her a second to understand.

  They were Tezcatlipoca’s eyes, staring out at her from her father’s face. He smiled a twisted smile and spoke in that cool, sociopathic voice.

  “Are you ready, child? It is now your turn. Let us see how far you can be bent, Carolina.”

  The word echoed, mockingly. Carolina. Carolina. Carolina.

  “Carolina!”

  Carol snapped awake. “What, what?”

  “Look out the window, honey. It’s the volcano—it’s active again.”

  There in the north the silhouette of Volcán de Colima was backlit by an orange glow, and narrow streams of lava oozed down its southern face.

  “Johnny, you’ve got to see this,” she said, turning in her seat and shaking him awake.

  “That’s, uh, still pretty far from Manzanillo, though, right?” he asked as the volcano faded into the night behind them.

  “Oh, don’t be scared, love,” their mother said reassuringly. “You’ll be quite safe.”

  Carol gave him a motherly look. “Don’t worry, wittle boy.”

  “Dude, I’m not scared, I just don’t want my awesome vacation ruined by a natural disaster.”

  “Riiiiight. I see.” She winked at him and then stopped teasing. “No, I get you. I’m looking forward to ten uninterrupted days of surf and sand. We totally deserve it.”

  The quarter moon was dropping into the Pacific Ocean when they arrived in Manzanillo at a lovely hotel that overlooked Santiago Bay. Their dad, groggy but happy to see them, hugged everyone tightly and then showed the twins to their room.

  “I’ll be gone in the morning, but let’s meet for dinner down at El Arrecife. It’s a great little restaurant on the beach about a half-kilometer down the strand from here. Say, five o’clock?”

  With that, their parents kissed them goodnight and left them to their own devices.

  Vacation had officially begun.

  ~~~

  The next morning, after a light breakfast, Carol went down to the beach with her mother and brother. She fell immediately in love with the place, the curving sliver of beach overshadowed by thickly wooded cliffs and hills to which bright white buildings clung, precarious but stately. Johnny was predictably more excited by the engineering and architecture, but they both dove into the ocean as if born to it.

  Can you imagine grabbing a shark’s tooth or a bit of marlin bill and really exploring these bays? she thought at Johnny as they swam beneath the gentle waves.

  Whoa, Carol! Watch out, there, you might actually have some fun with your magical powers.

  Look, I know I get after you sometimes. But trust me—I want to explore our abilities more, too. I just don’t want to involve any actual people in those experiments.

  They spent most of the morning swimming and building (under Johnny’s strict direction and their mother’s keen eye) a vast castle of sand that towered like something from a fairytale, attracting many admiring glances from other tourists. But as they played, they continued to exchange ideas for how to get their parents to allow them to shift into aquatic animals at some point during the vacation.

  Exhausted and hungry, they had lunch on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant.

  “Why don’t you kids go shower and take a nap or something? I’m going shopping for a bit, but I’ll meet you in the lobby at four-thirty.” Giving each a quick peck on the cheek, their mother set off to engage in one of her favorite pastimes. Carol was tempted to join her, especially since she’d promised her friends cool mementos upon her return, but her muscles ached and she was crusted with sand and salt.

  There’ll be plenty of time for shopping, she thought to herself. No reason to rush things.

  ~~~

  Carol woke up around 3:00 pm. Her brother was still fast asleep on the other bed, so she quietly pulled out her tablet and checked her email and social media. After updating Nikki, Sabrina and the rest about the gorgeous beach and waves, she posted a bunch of pics to her accounts, knowing how jealous everyone would be, given how cold it was in the Valley right now.

  At 4:00 pm she woke Johnny and made him try to do something with his hair before they headed down to the lobby. Their mom was wearing an awesome new sundress and wide-brimmed hat, flipping through her smartphone apps as she waited for them. Together they walked along the beach, slipping sunglasses on to combat the glare of the setting sun on the Pacific’s glassy blue-green swells. They found El Arrecife easily enough, and Carol selected a suitable palapa; the palm frond roof of the gazebo casting a perfect oval of shade across the outdoor table.

  They had only just ordered their drinks when Dr. Garza came walking down from the parking lot and kissed them all on the crowns of their heads before dropping exhausted into his chair.

  Before he had a chance to say much, the waiter plopped glasses and bottles down, and the family started to order, from ceviche to grilled barrel fish. It was going to be a banquet. Carol’s mouth watered at the very thought.

  “So,” her dad began, “we spent most of the day with a bunch of high-tech equipment, mapping two new tunnels. You’ve seen the Mars rovers, right? Something like that. Don Cecilio was pretty dumbfounded.”

  “Don Cecilio?”

  Dr. Garza looked over the rims of his glasses at his wife. “Oh, the local viejito who stumbled across the tunnels. Pretty u
seful for an amateur, even if he is a little nutty. Swears there are pink dolphins in the lagoons. Very strange. But look, what I want to show you are these.”

  He pulled out his tablet and opened the photo app. “Pass it around, Carol.”

  She looked at the bas-relief carvings her father had photographed, and something in her mind stirred. The figures were goggle-eyed and surrounded with water motifs. Very familiar. She handed the tablet to Johnny.

  “So what are they?” she asked.

  “Well, among the Nahua they were known as tlaloqueh, water elementals, sometimes given the title of Ahuahqueh or the Lords of Water. They were a bit like angels or demons, children and servants of the rain god Tlaloc, bringers of showers or storms, depending on his will. Our working theory is that this temple, with its central pool, was a place of sacrifice to the tlaloqueh to ensure crops had enough irrigation.”

  Johnny had given the tablet to their mom, and he now chimed in. “Okay, then. What role do the tunnels play? Why would they want to bring water from the lagoons? To, ugh, bleed victims into them from a distance?”

  “Son, a year ago I would have probably theorized something along those lines. But now I know, we know, that these elementals are probably real. So I’m thinking that the tunnels are apiyaztli—divine conduits that allowed minor gods to actually travel into the temple itself to receive the offerings.”

  “I am definitely going to use these as the basis for my next sculpture,” their mother said, scrolling through the images. “They almost look like aliens.”

  “Don’t they, though? And today’s most exciting discovery is that one of the tubes stretches far beyond El Chanal, dozens of kilometers, in fact. We found a stone-and-mortar obstruction with human remains that seem to date back about 700 years. For some reason, the apiyaztli was deliberately blocked.”

  “Whoa,” Johnny said appreciatively. “Must’ve been hard to keep the seawater held back long enough to build that.”

  “I’m betting they waited till low tide each day,” Carol ventured. “What about the other tunnel? You said that you guys were working on two today.”

  “Ah, that one leads to Jabalí Lagoon, about thirteen minutes from the complex.”

  Carol heard her mother gasp softly. “Laguna Jabalí?”

  “Yes, Vero. Why? Do you know something about it?”

  “Well, when I was at the market near the town square, I asked around for stories of, uh, local monsters and so forth. A sort of heads-up, you see, in case there’s something here we need to be prepared for. An elderly lady selling embroidery told me the tale of a creature living in that lagoon.”

  Their food was brought to them, heaping plates that Johnny assured everyone he could help empty with ease. Once the waiter had stepped away, Carol urged her mother to retell the legend.

  “It might mean something, Mom. And you’re so good at stories.”

  “Okay, you don’t have to kiss up, silly. So here in Colima, near the town of Comala, the rivers that flow from the volcanoes and mountains have formed beautiful, mysterious lagoons like El Jabalí. From ancient times, apparently, weird tales have been passed down about supernatural things happening near these bodies of water—balls of fire, disembodied voices, flying witches. Lo típico. But the old woman assured me that strangest and most moving of these stories is that of the creature of Jabalí Lagoon.

  “Years and years ago, while people were enjoying a beautiful spring day by the water’s edge, a strong wind began to blow across the surface of the lake, sending unusual waves splashing against picnickers and bathers. The center of the lagoon began to bubble, and to everyone’s surprise a strange creature emerged. It looked like a young man, but with the gills and fins of a fish, plus skin that glistened in the spring sunlight.”

  “Dude!” exclaimed Johnny with his mouth full of fish. “Like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, huh?”

  Their mother laughed. “Pretty much, from what the woman said. It looked at the shocked humans with confused but equally astonished eyes. As it glanced all around, it was clear to the people of Comala that it meant them no harm. Maybe it had gotten lost. It didn’t appear to have any idea where it was. Most people ran away in fear and swore they would never return. But some remained, trying to reassure the strange, scaly being. Over the next few weeks, many of them returned to visit. You see, it didn’t leave. It had nowhere else to go, I guess. The oldest women, who still spoke the ancient tongues, claimed the creature was a, oh what did she call it? A tacami…tacamich…”

  “Tlacamichin?” asked Dr. Garza.

  “Yes! That’s it. What does it mean?”

  “It’s Nahuatl for, uh, ‘man-fish.’ A mythological creature of some sort. Here, there were some grouped around one of the tlaloqueh in the temple…” He pulled up the picture, showed it to them again. “Looks like Johnny nailed it with his cinematic reference, huh?”

  Carol recognized the creatures at once. “Johnny, aren’t those the things we saw in Xibalba, skewering scorpions in that first river?”

  "Oh, snap, you're right! I thought they looked familiar."

  Carol turned back to her mother, eager to hear more. “And then, Mom?”

  “Well, the elder women managed to communicate in a limited way with the stranger, and they learned of his deep sadness. He had lost his people centuries before, and in his endless searching he had forgotten his own name. When the children heard this, they began to call him Jabalí, after the name of the lagoon. A few parents who believed that Jabalí was good and meant no harm allowed their kids to splash around in the shallows close by. Their new friend taught them new ways to swim. As the weeks stretched into months, he became a deeply connected part of that community.”

  The fairytale rhythms of her mother’s voice took Carol back to her childhood, when both she and Johnny would beg for a bedtime story every evening. It was strange to think that the longing she had once felt to be part of those legends, had been fulfilled not even a decade later in real life.

  Still, something seemed to twist at the back of her mind, something she ought to remember. But her mother continued with the tale, and Carol ignored the nagging feeling.

  “Finally the autumn wind rose, moaning across the water. Jabalí began to spend hours standing still under overhanging branches, listening. The wise women swore they could make out whispering, burbled voices in the wind speaking a language no human knew. Then one day, as suddenly as he had appeared, Jabalí was gone. The young ones, saddened, grew into men and women, and they told this tale to their children and their children’s children. Now every spring boys and girls slip secretly to the lagoon to peer into its depths, hoping to see the creature. Many swear his face stares back up at them from the depths.”

  It was a sad and wondrous tale. Carol’s eyes misted a bit as she imagined the lost being, searching down the long years for his people.

  Johnny leaned forward. “Dad, maybe he found the apiyaztli. You guys should be careful, digging around in those tunnels. The man-fish might pop up and scare the crap out of one of your archeologist friends.”

  Everyone laughed at the mental image, then fell to eating and dissecting the legend in earnest, debating what connection there might have been before the Conquest among the tunnels, the tlacamichin, and the water elementals.

  The sun was just a smear of red on the horizon when Dr. Garza paid the bill. The family took a walk along the beach, hand-in-hand under the stars and lovely quarter moon (though Carol had to explain several times to her argumentative brother that it wasn’t called a half moon, technically, even though half its face was aglow).

  They were resting contentedly among some boulders when the sand exploded upward just a few meters away. Their mother pushed her husband behind her, eyes shimmering with her tonal’s eager energy. Carol and Johnny tensed up, ready to transform as well.

  “Wait!” came a familiar voice. A small, child-like hand emerged from the new crater in the sand, and the most unexpected figure pulled itself out into the moon
light.

  It was Pingo, one of the tzapame, the Little People. He brushed sand from his wild black hair and loincloth. He gave a slight bow.

  “Howdy, Garza family! Sorry to barge into your holiday, but we’ve got us a little problem. And by ‘us’ I mean ‘the entire planet,’ folks.”

  Chapter Three

  Johnny sighed. “Well there goes our fun in the sun, everybody.”

  Dr. Garza looked at the being that had just crawled out of the sand. “Wait, you’re a tzapatzin, aren’t you?”

  Taking her husband’s arm, Johnny’s mother nodded. “That’s Pingo, Oscar. He was one of my teachers, briefly.”

  Pingo gave a small smile. “It’s good to see you again, Verónica. Wouldn’t you know? Your orneriness has been passed down to your children.”

  “Hey, wait a minute!” Johnny objected. “Only Carol’s ornery, dude!”

  His sister ignored him. “It’s Tezcatlipoca again, isn’t it?”

  Johnny hissed involuntarily through his teeth at the name.

  Pingo’s shoulders slumped with chagrin, exhaustion, or both.

  “Can we sit down a spell?” the elven man asked. “I’ve been travelling for quite a piece. Even the tzapame need their rest.”

  That’s hundreds of kilometers, Johnny thought to himself. Whatever drove him to find us here must be pretty bad.

  There was a part of him that grew more excited by the minute—the part that had been itching for a new challenge. And if the Lord of Chaos was behind the threat, so much the better.

  I’d love another crack at the jerk.

  All five of them sat cross-legged in a rough circle, partially shielded from prying eyes by a tumble of boulders. Pingo pulled a small stone from a pouch. After he mumbled a few cryptic words, it began to glow, illuminating their faces creepily.

  “Now, to begin with, you need to know that out yonder,” he pointed at the Pacific, “carved into grottoes in the roots of San Benedicto Island, leagues beneath the surface, there is a merfolk kingdom called Tapachco.”