Finally, the to’bal-rib was hard. Still looking down, I slipped my left arm into the armbands. I took my machete from its scabbard, held it with my free hand, and brought the to’bal-rib up and in front of me so that it protected my whole body. I stood and waited. Nothing happened. I waited more. Still nothing happened. I took a step to my left side, the way I had decided to move along the wall. Red eyes began appearing and disappearing, not necessarily in pairs as I would have expected, moving rapidly in flight. Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Then the eyes started moving closer, but none entered the glow that surrounded me. I took another step and a large chikoop flew into the glow, its deep-set mucus covered brown eyes staring at me above its cut-off nose, its two large upper teeth shining brightly white in the rays of the choq’. It came from my left, flying at a slow rate, flying as I had never seen a bat fly before. My head and eyes began to follow it as it began to disappear into the darkness on my right. Do not allow them to distract you. I swung to my left, raising my to’bal-rib to cover my head but still protect my flank, just in time to hear the grating sound of fangs striking it. I pushed myself alongside the wall then swung as I slammed the to’bal-rib against it. I moved the to’bal-rib away and heard a thump as something fell to the floor having been crushed between the wall and the to’bal-rib. I lifted the to’bal-rib and brought my machete down. It sliced the largest chikoop I had ever seen in half. I quickly swung my to’bal-rib back in front of me. It didn’t sound like All hell broke loose, it was like All Xibalba broke loose.
Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Tympanic screams exploded in a frenzy of sound. I heard the wings of the bats beating furiously, but could not see anything as I held myself plumb against the wall, my to’bal-rib completely covering me. I knew I could not remain like that as I had to move and I had to see what was happening and what surrounded me. But there was something I had to do first. I moved a little to the left, slid down until I sat, protecting myself as much as I could with the to’bal-rib. Beside me was the dead chikoop. I hesitated to touch it, but knew I had no choice. I took my knife and cut out one of the fangs, securing it at the waist of my loincloth. I gazed at the evil and dead carcass of the chikoop and was hurled back again to the Hidden Valley Falls. Molly had struck the chikoop that had faced me and, immediately, as we began to run, many sotz’ and chikoops had swooped down and torn up the injured beast. I picked up the carcass and threw it into the darkness. Again, Eek-eek! Eek-eek! and shrieks erupted amidst the craze of the dead chikoop being torn to pieces.
I continued moving to the west along the northern wall and I suddenly cried out in pain for I felt as if the whole bottom of the foot I had placed down was pierced with sharp points. Immediately I cried out, Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! blasted everything around me. I pulled back my foot, canted my to’bal-rib so that the light from the crystal shone along the base of the wall. I looked through the small gap and saw sharp slender translucent spikes rising from the floor. I recognized them from caves I had been in before, but they were usually on the ceiling. Bas and I called them lemonade straws. The things you would normally find on the ceiling are on the floor; those you would find on the floor are on the ceiling and that’s where the sotz’ and chikoops perch and are well hidden. I remembered Kish’s words as I lifted my foot to try to brush off the pieces of fragile baby stalactites that had pierced me. I tried clearing ahead of me with my machete, being very careful as I walked. Once again, I was taken back to Expedition Bold and Anderson’s words, Look after your feet. I continued moving along, slowly, ignoring the small splinters that still pierced my feet and was soon at the first corner of Sotz’ Ja. I looked at the path ahead of me. There were rows after rows of waved, pointed, and jagged blades about three feet in height. I couldn’t climb over those. I would be circumcised, or castrated, and I was sure Tóolok wanted none of that. The blades had lines of contrasting colors ranging between brown and cream and, again, I recognized them. They were delicate like the lemonade straws and Bas and I called them bacon curtains since they looked like bacon. Normally, of course, they hung from the ceiling. Interspersed between them were sharply pointed ‘stalactites’ and an occasional column covered with white bumps that looked like popcorn. I would have no difficulty macheting through the curtains, I just had to be careful of sharp flying debris and the jagged edges remaining on the floor.
But that was not my only problem. The sotz’ were becoming more daring, flying in closer and closer, the sole sound being that made by the flying motions of their wings. I looked through the gap and saw that the darkness beyond my glow of light was filled with moving red eyes and luminescent fangs. Koal seed spread over me. Then a chikoop flew straight into my to’bal-rib and that was a signal for my enemies to rush into me, coming from all angles. I knew there was no strategy I could use to defend myself from the rabid sotz’. Well, ‘This Is It’, like the song Jim Reeves sang over the bus radio when I was drunk and on my way to Santa Cruz last year. I rarely felt fear. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t felt real fear for a very long time. This day, however, I felt fear as I remembered how chikoops had attacked the fallen chikoop at Hidden Valley Falls. That sotz’ was injured … probably already dead. I was alive. I would remain alive while they tore me apart. I would see them doing it. I felt hot piss beginning to seep down the inside of my legs. That was the ultimate humiliation I could suffer. It seemed the Lords of Xibalba had finally won. I was pissing myself. Your breath and sweat will carry the smell of the herb; your piss will have high concentrations of the herb itself. The strong smell of garlic and onion and other herbs began filling the space between my to’bal-rib and the wall. I pulled out Tóolok and continued pissing, splashing as much as I could over my body. Then I tried to stop, realizing that I would need some again and I had no fluids to drink. I squeezed Tóolok’s head and I was finally able to stop pissing. The sounds of the flying sotz’ were further away and I peeped through the gap of the to’bal-rib. Their eyes and fangs were deeper in Sotz’ Ja, but the flying was frantic for the eyes and fangs were appearing and disappearing rapidly. I also realized that as I moved from the area where I had pissed, the smell from there would not move with me. I had to sweat. How I would do that locked between my to’bal-rib and the wall, in an environment that wasn’t hot, I didn’t know. I had to think. I had to think of all the exercise programs I had done or heard of during my personal and military fitness training sessions. At the same time, I had to keep on moving.
I held the to’bal-rib in place, passing my right hand under my left in order to machete the bacon curtains. It was difficult to do, but they broke apart easily. Sharp jagged pieces were left sticking from the floor and I nudged my feet carefully along, finding the small recesses between the curtains. It continued to be strenuous, not only physically but mentally as well. I had to be aware of what was happening around me, and I had to decide how I was going to sweat. I stopped macheting and held Bas’ Green Scapular, thinking.
Slowly, the memory of a high-intensity Japanese program that lasted about four minutes came to me. A troop of soldiers and I used to do it for fun more than anything else, competing as we always did. It was called the Tabata Program and the only reason why I was able to remember that name was because it reminded me of tablayta, a local coconut sweet I loved. We used to do push-ups, squats, and sit-ups, since we could do those anywhere. The only thing I could do in my little refuge behind my to’bal-rib was squats. That’s what it would have to be.
Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek!
I kept on slowly moving, macheting at the fragile blades, stepping with care. The odor I needed was still with me as I had pissed all over my legs and splashed my body, but I knew it would soon start to fade. Kish had told me that the smell would help, but not completely, and he was then speaking of the sotz’ and the chikoop. He was not talking about the Camazotz and I didn’t know if the smell would help me against it … them.
Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek!
I quickly looked t
hrough the gap once more and the blood eyes and ghastly fangs were, once again, moving closer. It was time to sweat.
I leaned the upper end of my to’bal-rib on the wall and stood the lower end only as far out as I needed in order to do the squats. I leaned the machete against the wall, not scabbarding it should I need it quickly. I had to do the squats hard for twenty seconds, rest for ten, then repeat again for eight rounds. By the fourth-round I began to sweat and by the eighth I was pouring, smelling like a hot garlic soup. I was pleased with my stench and continued inching along the wall. It was a few minutes before I realized that the only sound in Sotz’ Ja was the macheting I was doing. I reflected on my jungle. When the sounds of the jungle changed, or disappeared, danger was often near. I was in Sotz’ Ja and knew I was in great danger. I stood against the wall, holding the to’bal-rib a little away from me so that I had some freedom to use the machete. I looked through the gap. There was nothing in front of me. Where are they? Where are they? Then Kish’s words came back, You will not see them until they have left the roof and are upon you. I swung the to’bal-rib up. Through the gap I saw rows and rows of red eyes lined up, moving up and down as if breathing heavily. Then they moved, amidst a cacophony of screams, cries, shrieks, screeches, and wails.
A wall of sotz’ descended upon me. If I pulled my to’bal-rib directly against me, I would be opened on either flank, so I placed the to’bal-rib as I had for the squats, keeping my left flank completely protected. My weak point was the right flank, but at least my front, rear, and left flank were shielded. I knew that when weak defensive points were in the flank and the rear, the enemy could exploit those and defensive capabilities were severely jeopardized. All I could do was swing my machete continuously and I felt its blade slicing through flesh and bone, repeatedly.
I was standing, fighting. I had to keep moving. I covered my right flank with rapidly shifting cuts of my machete and bombarded both the bacon curtains, and the sotz’ that attacked from that flank. I moved my fighting arm as rapidly as possible and began quivering my to’bal-rib. I began to sweat and the sweet smell of garlic, onion, and herbs floated around me. Yet, the attacks continued, but less of a barrage than before.
I reached the next corner where the southern wall began. My sweating was profuse, but I not only smelled of garlic, onion, and herbs, I smelled of raw animal blood, the blood of sotz’, and the blood of chikoops. The blood covered me, I tasted it in my mouth. The last time I tasted blood was at Ox Witz Ha when I fought the Warriors of K’uxaj, Ajawinel of Maxam, but that was human blood and that blood had sent me into a battle frenzy and I was lost to the delirium that surrounded me. I had killed without thought. But this was not human blood, but the blood of rabid sotz’ in a house called Sotz’ Ja, Bat House, in a city called Xibalba, in the world of the Underworld.
Once again, all was quiet. I raised my to’bal-rib and looked at the ceiling. I did not see any red eyes or ghostly fangs. I knew they were there, perched between the ‘stalagmites’, on shelf-stones, shields, and other features of the cave floor then the ceiling of Sotz’ Ja. I stared through the to’bal-rib’s gap at what lay ahead and gasped. It was incredible that even in a place of terror there was an embodiment of beauty. The entire southern wall, as far as I saw, was a rhinestone dam falling away in steps from a giant flowstone. It was brilliant white, as if it had its own source of light, some areas looking like bleached coral sparkling with pieces of crystals, other smaller areas had various shades of red. The base, where I was to walk, was covered with cave pearls. There was no obvious danger, only beauty, but I recalled Kish’s words, Do not let anything distract you, as I cautiously stepped forward. Nothing happened and I kept on going. In my awe, as I walked on the pearls, I wondered if the formation on the southern wall was in honor of Hozanek, the God of the South. The pearls were smooth and so did not hurt my feet any more than they were already hurt, the soles raw from their encounter with the lemonade straws. I kept looking at the rhinestone dam, enthralled by its beauty. I pulled away my eyes. I had to focus on my journey through Sotz’ Ja, a very dangerous place to be in. I approached the next corner, took one last look at the rhinestone dam, and turned to walk along the western wall.
There appeared to be few hazards along that wall. The floor had an undulating design mostly covered with colonies of small delicate and beautiful sculptures, varying in mild whites, pinks, browns, purples, and orange colors. Some looked like ribbons, others like saws, rods, butterflies, hands, and clumps of worms. I knew they were delicate because as Bas and I had explored the caves in our jungle, we had often seen them and had great boyish joy in crushing them between our fingers. After a while, the caves we frequented had no more of those forms within a boy’s reach. Of course, I wouldn’t do that again. That was another time. Bas was alive and we were youths.
I continued advancing along the wall, cautious, not liking the dead calm that filled Sotz’ Ja, knowing that the trial could not be over as yet. I took my knife out of its scabbard and placed it in my to’bal-rib hand. About half way along, I felt a gust of wing brush my hair. I stood still, bracing against the wall, pulling my to’bal-rib right up against me. Again, the melody of Jim Reeves’ This Is It sailed into my consciousness. Yet, unreasonably, I felt no fear and I had not surrendered into hopelessness. I did not anticipate death and I was going to fight to make sure that the Death Gods and Demon Lords of Xibalba did not get me. Do not let anything distract you.
A force smashed into my to’bal-rib and I felt the tip of two fangs begin to tear into my chest. I thrust the to’bal-rib away from me and turned it to my left, keeping that flank protected. I gripped my machete, bringing it up as another pair of fangs rushed down towards me. I continued with my upward thrust forcefully and felt the machete sever the beast that had approached me, each half of it falling to the opposite side. The fangs in my to’bal-rib began to withdraw and as they slipped out, I saw wings above me and felt claws sinking into my scalp. I cried out in pain and the whole of Sotz’ Ja responded. I let go of the machete and grabbed the knife from my to’bal-rib hand and cut at the claws that were sinking deeper into my head. There was a tremendous outcry, Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! as my knife slit through the claws and they fell. I pulled the to’bal-rib over my head, quickly placed the knife back in my to’bal-rib hand, stooped and clutched my machete.
I advanced slowly along the wall, my scalp on fire, and, once again, I cried out in pain. The sculptures I had seen were delicate, but also ridged and sharp. They cut deeply into me, my soles, my legs all the way up to my knees, and I felt warm blood draining from me. The screams of the sotz’ were all around me. Suddenly, I felt fear and hopelessness, that I really wasn’t going to make it. I sighed loudly, and felt a tear fall across my cheek. I would fail Molly. I would fail myself. I fought. I forced myself to remember that a soldier’s goal is to survive. I had to be determined that as long as I was alive, I wouldn’t give up. I threw away my sighs and bellowed. I am Ke’kchi … I am a soldier … and I am a Maya Warrior called Fuck. I’d go down like a soldier would, like a T’oit’ik-jolom would. The pain lessened a bit and I again remembered Kish’s words and warning about the drink I had been given: It places your consciousness of pain at a lower level so that you can fight anew. The pain is still there, but you are not totally aware of it. It is for this reason that you have to avoid new injuries for you will not feel the true pain and you will allow yourself to suffer much harm and be unaware of it. You could die. You will die.
I tried to avoid the vicious stone objects as I stepped. Once again, there was a rush of wind from my right against my hair. I instinctively pulled in the to’bal-rib, covering that flank. I turned the to’bal-rib slowly in order to look through the gap in that direction. Not far from where I stood was one Camazotz bathed in the dim light from the choq’. I trembled. It stood, almost my height. Its mouth kept opening and closing and each movement had its own horror. When closed, its two main fangs went downward from nonexistent lips, deviating
from each other gradually until they were on either side of the hideous cleft in the lower lip. On either side, two shorter fangs completed that horror. Forcing upward from the lower gum were very short, sharp, shark-like serrated black teeth. When the mouth was opened, I saw blood red flesh moving, moving in anticipation of the blood and flesh it would take from me. Above the mouth was an exaggerated cut off snout, pulsating rapidly with its breath, and large red and evil eyes draining viscous yellow pus. Ridges grew from the snout, becoming prominent above the eyes. Its entire body was hairy, covered with deep black fur and attached to its two muscular upper limbs were dark grey membranous wings. From its hands and feet protruded long and brilliantly shining black crystal talons. It kept its two lower limbs flexed as if ready to pounce, and between them hung its cock, a human looking cock. Above all that abomination, growing from its head was the same black crystal sculptured into broad curved pieces and arranged like a headdress. I felt fear again. How the fok am I going to fight a Bat God … and win?
I had to move quickly and, as if he knew what I was thinking, the Camazotz leapt. I acted with the expectancy that he’d think I would bring my to’bal-rib in front of me. I didn’t. I moved completely away from the wall, crushing the piercing sharp sculptures, feeling them tear into my already mangled feet. I held on to my concentration, bellowing the war cries of my people, just as I had done at Ox Witz Ha. My cries resounded throughout Sotz’ Ja, so deeply, so terribly, that I no longer heard the tympanic screams of the sotz’, the chikoops, and Camazotz. I no longer heard the evil and eerie Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek! Eek-eek!
Sisimito II--Xibalba Page 38