Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  It was 0720 hours when we left the camp, continuing out journey through a closed canopy with a moderate undergrowth. Taat and Choc were looking in the bushes for signs of the Kechelaj Jupuq, but they looked a bit exasperated. Finally, they came over to me. “Stop a minute, men. Briefing!”

  “We’ve lost the tracks,” said Choc. “I’m not missing them. I’m too good for that, but it’s been difficult finding them since we approached the Nascario Perez area. If they have left tracts, they’re completely hidden.”

  I frowned. “Hidden?”

  Choc nodded. “There are some tracks, but those are from other packs probably sent to confuse us. Those are normal tracts.”

  “Their tracts are just not there anymore,” said Taat. “I think we lost them immediately after crossing the Poctun Trail yesterday.”

  “Poctun Trail.” I rubbed my forehead, seeing the map before me. “At the point where we crossed the Poctum Trail it continues northwest for about two miles then it branches, one trail going west, the other going northeast to Burgos.” I frowned, thinking, knowing that the Kechelaj Komon leading the Kechelaj Jupuq was not only mean and dangerous, but intelligent as well. “Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e and Kitam Ajchaq’e are leading them,” I reminded Choc. “That isn’t good.”

  “What do you think is happening?” asked Robertson.

  I looked at Robertson and wanted his input. “What do you think, Robertson? Do some police work for us.” The men began fidgeting. They were aware of the uncertainties we faced and did not like it.

  He frowned, thinking. “The route we are using is taking us to Burgos. The northeast branch of the Poctun Trail also goes to Burgos. They’re trying to confuse us with the normal animal tracts.” He clapped his hands loudly. “They’ve taken the other route to Burgos. They’ll be waiting there for us, when we arrive.”

  “Yes, Robertson! That’s what they are doing,” I concurred. “That is the first aggressive move they have made since they left Santa Cruz. That may mean that whatever is about to happen is about to begin.” I studied my men. They were all looking back at me, thoughtfully, getting ready to become the soldiers they were.

  “Well, I have some good news,” declared Teul. We all stared at him, puzzled, as he stood there grinning. “My piss isn’t burning anymore and there’s no more koropshan189 coming out of my toon.190 My cock, Medic.” No one responded, we just kept staring at him. “What happened? Don’t you believe me?” He reached down to his fly and started opening it. “If you don’t believe, let me squeeze it and show you.”

  “No! No! No!”, the men hollered, then we all started laughing. I shook my head, accepting that I could always rely on Teul to ease whatever tension that arose.

  “Well,” acknowledged Robertson. “Good for you, Teul, and that proves that Taat is the real Medic here. But no more purges, Taat.”

  Jut-jut.191

  “That is …”

  “Shut the fokmi up, Medic,” uttered Choc. Robertson shut up.

  I allowed the men a few more minutes of levity then gathered them around again. “We’ll continue as we’re doing. Try to find the trail going north to Burgos. Try to find water. As our bottles are low, drink sparingly.” I chuckled. “That reminds me, we still must all smell of shit. Anyway, when we get near to where we think Burgos is, we’ll have another briefing. In the meantime, I want every one of you to be aware of what is about to happen and what we will do as a section. I regard all of you as soldiers and most of you are trained soldiers. Keep all of your senses alert. Safeties off. Now, ko’one’ex.”

  It was already 0830 hours and we hadn’t tabbed any significant distance. Choc took the lead, using his machete almost constantly. Rhys took up the rear and, with the rest of us, kept looking into the jungle for any signs of upcoming trouble. I estimated it would take us about five hours to reach Burgos, taking into consideration the difficulties the jungle was presenting to us. If we found the trail going north, it would cut down significantly on the time spent to arrive there.

  At 0945 hours, we found the trail, but we were not certain at what point we had reached it. It wasn’t much of a road that remained and the only reason we found it was that a logger, most likely, had dumped a pile of river rocks into a hole, probably to get his truck over it. From that point, as we continued northward, we were able to follow deep ruts made long ago. Also, although the canopy had almost reestablished itself over the road, there were breaks which allowed for clumps of thicker jungle floor growth and this further guided us. Rhys also used his compass to confirm that we were going north.

  The truck pass avoided the very steep mountains and deep gorges so we began to increase our forward march. At the bottom of one shallow gorge, we found a dry creek bed. It was the dry season and that was to be expected. Nevertheless, we were disappointed for not having found any water. We were in the mountains, however, and I knew we would soon find a creek or river. I was concerned, however, as the maps did not show any in that area and it would have been sensible for the truck passes to avoid and not have to ford deep streams.

  There was no more laughing and talking from the men. Even the way they held their rifles showed that they were alert and ready for whatever came. We were still going under the thick closed canopy and the humidity, warmth, and our sweating continued to increase. Robertson asked Rhys to give us another salt pill as he was worried about the profuse sweating and that we had all suffered salt and water loss from Taat’s purging that morning. We were holding up very well, however, whether due to Taat’s purge or our training and physical conditioning, or both; it really didn’t matter. We were tabing strong.

  The trail suddenly began turning to the northeast and so we knew that we were only about one mile from Burgos. The jungle was also changing. We were beginning to pass through areas of shrub land, the trees being only about fifteen feet tall, allowing more light to filter to the jungle floor. There were many wild cotton trees192 covered with their rose like yellow flowers. I recalled how Nah’ collected the stamens to use in cooking and how Taat and I stripped the tough fiber to make rope. My jungle was beautiful, but as I gazed at the yellow flowers I recollected the time I watched yellow flowers continuously falling from the yaxché tree in front of Sisimito’s cavern. I removed myself from there and concentrated on the area around me. I was surprised to find chacalpec193 and wild sage194 shrubs mixed in with the taller trees. As kids, before going hunting, Bas and I used to crush the wild sage flowers and rub our bodies with it, providing our skin with a cover of strong odor. We had the belief that the animals would not be able to pick up our human scent and so our hunting would be very successful.

  We tried to go around the wild cotton trees, as much as possible, for they had many woody stems at their base. At times, they grew close together and we had to clear a passage with our machetes. That was tiring and time consuming. Then, suddenly, we were back again under tall trees with a relatively sparse jungle floor. Shade tolerant trees with large leaves, reaching about ten feet in height, mixed in with the smaller shrubs. Many woody vines reached upward to the high canopy as they searched for light. The men kept cussing as sharp reverse spines from the tie-tie195 vine kept hooking on to our cloths, often scratching us. The vines grew up to the canopy and some reached as much as a thousand feet in length.

  Our discomfort just got worse. We lost the trail again and going down a gorge we came across a large area of waari cohunes,196 palm trees that reached about fifteen feet in height and were covered with sharp spines that resembled the bristles of the waari, the hach-k’ek’en. There was no way that we could cut through that. Most likely, the trail we had lost was east of where we were so I took the section east of the waari cohunes. That proved a good decision for we soon found the trail again. Water, however, we still did not find. I was getting concerned, not only for drinking purposes, but we needed to bathe and clean the many scratches we had gotten and were still getting, some of them being quite deep … and, of course, there was the shit.r />
  At 1500 hours, I called a halt and the men surrounded me. They were tired, frustrated with our progress, itchy, dirty, stink; yet, I saw only irritability, no fear in their eyes for whatever we were about to encounter.

  “Men …”

  Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. I turned, stared into the jungle in the direction the call came from. I glanced back at the men. They were still looking at me.

  “Men! We should be about quarter-mile from Burgos. We haven’t been able to find water, but here’s a lot of water in these jungles; we just haven’t found it. The maps show no water in the area, but as we all know, these areas are not well known and the only rivers marked are the main ones. No rivers are shown until we meet a tributary of the Chiquibul Branch River, about three miles north of Burgos. I believe there will be a creek near Burgos as the loggers always wanted a fresh water supply near their camps. I’m not sure what we’ll find in Burgos. We will prepare for a fight. Check your SLR’s,197 the box magazines and anything else you will need in battle. You know that your box magazine carries thirty rounds. Do not waste them. How much do we have Rhys?”

  “Four additional magazines per soldier, Sarge.”

  “We’ll do selective firing, one bullet per trigger pull. You need only one bullet to kill an enemy. Choc, you have your 12 Gauge shotgun. Holds two cartridges. Right?” Choc nodded. “How many more do you have?”

  “I brought three boxes, that’s sixty cartridges. I used three cartridges so far. One for each game I took out.” He grinned.

  “Boo!” jeered the men.

  “It’s true,” bragged Choc.

  I intervened. “Robertson. You have both your pistol and an SLR. How many bullets do you have for the pistol?

  “I have about three hundred.”

  “All of us with SLRs will be given the additional four box magazines. They will be your responsibility from now on. Remember what I told you. Don’t waste the ammo. You also have your machetes and knives. You may have to use those too.” I looked at Taat. “Taat, you have only your machete. You should have brought your gun.”

  “I have my slings,” he corrected me. “They are quiet. I have killed a kitam with one stone.”

  I nodded. “Each of you will have a buddy to look after you and for you to look after. I will be alone; not alone, as we all look after each other within this section. Choco will buddy with Choc.”

  “Sarge!”

  “Rhys with Taat.”

  “Sarge!”

  “Teul with Robertson.”

  “Sarge!”

  “Choco and Choc. You will go to the right side of the trail, a few feet into the jungle. Teul and Robertson. You will go to the left, also in the jungle. I will be on the trail itself, five or six paces behind you. Rhys and Taat will split, one on either side of the trail, just inside the jungle, about ten paces behind me as the rear guard. Taat, you take the left. Rhys the right. That is the formation with which we’ll approach Burgos. If information needs to be passed, our runners will be Choc, Taat, and Robertson, one from each group of buddies. We will move forward quietly. If anything starts, or you see anything requiring action, or if you have started action, everyone come to me. We are to be together. I want no casualties due to friendly fire. If we reach Burgos without incident, we will come together at the edge of the camp; Teul and Choco will then reconnoiter the camp. Is everything clear?”

  “Sarge!”

  “There’s one thing we’ve neglected. If there’s no action tonight, we clean our rifles, one soldier at a time. Now, proceed. Make sure you always know where I am. When I stop, you stop. When I walk, you walk.”

  “Ka xi’ik teech utzil,”198 said Cho, looking at me.

  “Ka xi’ik teech utzil,” I answered.

  Within seconds, I was alone on the old overgrown truck pass, standing beneath an a’kl, my men having disappeared into the jungle.

  We advanced slowly, quietly. I did not hear or see the men and if there were the crunch of a dry leaf or the break of a twig, the continuous loud chirp-chirp of the xirs hid them. The sun was beating down on me as the canopy above the old road was broken and I was sweating, not only from the sun, definitely not from fear, but also from the tension that I, we, were in. If Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e, Kitam Ajchaq’e, and the Kechelaj Jupuq were at Burgos, we had to survive their assault. If we didn’t, Molly would be Sisimito’s forever. As his spells began to work, Molly would forget who she was, forget who I was, forget that we were to be married, and she would take her place as Sisimito’s wife among the Kechelaj Komon. I would not fokin allow that, so we had to survive and rescue her.

  The canopy was less dense and the shrubs thicker. I couldn’t machete as it would have been too noisy. There was a helpful aspect to heavy jungle floor cover, however, as I was partly or wholly camouflaged by the leaves and branches most of the time. Occasionally, I had to leave the road and circumvent a woody shrub as I was then doing, going around an ix-chal-che199 with its many branches. The trail continued north and about two hundred yards ahead of me was a giant yaxché or ceiba tree reaching over two hundred feet, forming a crown over where I believed Burgos Camp was. The yaxché tree, the earthly symbol of Yaxché, was sacred to my people and I hoped that it’s sacred strength was enough to keep away the evil of the Kechelaj Komon from us.

  Nothing happened as I kept moving forward, but the jungle was quiet. Too quiet. I saw no butterflies. The xirs had stopped their chirp-chirp. There were no birds. I came to the outer edge of a large area of secondary growth at the edges of the branch span of the yaxché tree. That was a ‘disturbed area of the jungle’ and I concluded that even though there were no structural signs of the old camp, Burgos must have been there. Wild cotton trees were plentiful. There was also a bukut200 tree covered with pink flowers, several tsu-jipox trees growing in a row, and two rum-p’ok201 at the distal end of the site. Tall grasses covered everywhere where there were no trees or shrubs. There was a wind and the grasses were moving slowly, silently. I got onto the kneeling position and cradled my SLR. It was too fokin quiet.

  Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. It was a distant call, but a knowing call, and my eyes sought every shadow, looked behind every shrub, every leaf. Then came the far roar of the batz and my jungle was alive. There was barking, grunting, purring, woofing, and coughing. I was suddenly enclosed in the penetrating, animalistic, earthy, and woody odor of musk.

  “Kitam,” shouted Teul. “About fifteen of them, behind me.”

  “Stand still,” I ordered, as loudly as I could. “Don’t threaten them and they’ll go away.”

  Suddenly, all was again quiet and I began to reconnoiter the area around me. The silence was short lived as the sound of clacking teeth came from the left of me. I stood up, embracing my SLR. Moaning sounds erupted near the yaxché tree, followed by barks, then the tall grasses and shrubs were moving as if in panic.

  “Come in,” I shouted, and within seconds the men burst through the trees and surrounded me. I looked around quickly. A dense thicket of pokono-bwai202 was to my right, at the edge of the camp site. Follow me, I shouted. Sometimes, a thicket of trees would have an empty central area and, even if that one didn’t, it would offer some cover as we’d put our backs towards it and have only our fronts to protect. That position allowed us to shoot at anything threatening us, at the same time not having to worry about having a rear guard.

  There was no central space and we barely had time to put our backs against the ticket when the tall grasses of Burgos unleashed its frenzied animals. Tens upon tens of hach-k’ek’ens rushed past us, bumping and falling over each other, but not one turned to face us. The men were cussing almost continuously then there was silence except for the sound of the hach-k’ek’ens fleeing deeper into the jungle. In a few seconds, even that had stopped.

  “Thank God!” said Robertson, as he began to step away from the thicket. I put up my hand to stop him. Immediately, my men crouched and looked around. I did not like the si
lence, but the silence was soon broken by a faint whistling sound. Choco, Teul, and Choc immediately tensed. Taat furrowed his forehead. Rhys and Robertson carried puzzled frowns. The whistling was followed by a deep chesty cough.

  “Cover me,” I said.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Rhys.

  We walked cautiously around the edge of the pokono-bwai, Rhys following close behind me. I put out my left hand, touching him as I halted. Moving within the tall green grass was a yellow and tan coat covered with rosette-shaped patterns along its side and back. The large ek baläm stepped onto the track we had just marched, its powerful jaws holding the crushed head of a hach-k’ek’en. It walked slowly and gracefully, its compact body, sturdy and muscular, tight and tense. The ek baläm’s yellow and black eyes stared at me from its broad head and spoke to me, reminding me of its power, not only its physical strength, but also of its dominance as one of the most important and sacred beings of my people.

  “Fok!” whispered Rhys. “Jaguar.”

  The large ek baläm did not stop walking. I felt Rhys lifting his rifle. “No!” I said.

  Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

  The call came from a tall quamwood203 tree. I looked up momentarily at the tree that grew at the corner of the track and the camp. It was covered with bright yellow flowers. I looked back. The ek baläm was no longer there.

  Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. That time the crazy call of the kos came from further away.

  Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

  “Men!” They were immediately by my side. “Teul and Robertson. Choco and Choc. Reconnoiter then report back here.” They disappeared into the jungle, Teul and Robertson going to the left, Choco and Choc to the right. “Taat and Rhys. We remain here.”