The End of the World Club

by J; P Voelkel

  “I told you! There is magic in the air in Polvoredo. Just remember everyone eh-speaks the truth here. It can seem a little eh-strange if you are not used to it. But Carmela will look after you until I can come back, tomorrow or the next day. And then I hope you will permit me to buy you dinner?”

  Lola stole a glance at Max. “Um, that’s so kind of you, but I’m not sure.…”

  “Lunch?”

  “It’s just that we have so much to do.…”

  “Ice cream? I know the best place in all of eh-Spain. It’s not far.”

  Lola’s resolve broke down. “Why not?” she said, laughing.

  There was a furious honking from the red car.

  “I will count the minutes,” said Santino. He bowed. “Hasta luego, señorita.”

  He drove off in a cloud of dust and exhaust smoke, with the red sports car on his tail.

  Lord 6-Dog doubled up in a fit of coughing. “A pox on thine infernal combustion engine!”

  “It’s an internal combustion engine,” Max corrected him.

  Lady Coco patted her son on the back, and hopped up and down with excitement. “My first hotel!” she said. “Let’s go in. I’ve heard they leave chocolates on your pillow!”

  “Hush!” whispered Lola. “It’s not safe to talk yet, Your Majesties; someone might hear you. Please wait till we get to our rooms.” She looked doubtfully at Casa Carmela and pushed open the rickety front door. “Here goes.”

  The door opened straight into the hotel restaurant. The musty room was dark and empty, but a clattering of saucepans could be heard from somewhere in the back.

  “Hola!” called Lola. “Buenas tardes!”

  Max thought he saw faces peeping out of the little round windows in the kitchen doors, but when he looked again they were gone.

  “Hola!” Lola called again. The noise of pots ceased abruptly.

  Lola marched over to the kitchen door, holding the bouquet of flowers in front of her.

  “Por favor—” she began, sticking her head around the door and offering the flowers to someone Max couldn’t see. She was interrupted by a blistering torrent of Spanish, the flowers were pulled from her hands, and the door was pulled shut in her face.

  She walked back to Max with a face like thunder.

  “That was Doña Carmela,” she said, “the rudest woman in Spain.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “She said she doesn’t like strangers.”

  “So why is she running a hotel?”

  “Who knows? She also said she doesn’t like animals, but Santino has promised to pay her well if she lets us stay, and he has more money than sense. Then she got really personal and said she doesn’t know what he sees in me, and he should marry a nice Spanish girl.”

  “Whoa,” said Max. “Santino wasn’t joking about people in this town always telling the truth. So did you tell her that you don’t want to marry him?”

  “It’s none of her business.”

  “But you don’t want to marry him, do you?”

  “I don’t want to marry anyone! What’s got into you?”

  “I’m hungry, that’s all. Did she say anything about food?”

  “She said they don’t open for dinner for another two hours, but she’d find some old leftovers and charge us a fortune for them because we’re tourists and we don’t know any better.”

  “Telling the truth must be very bad for business,” mused Max. “This place is a big enough dump as it is—”

  “Shh,” said Lola, “here she comes.”

  The kitchen door flew open and a hunchbacked old woman dressed all in black shuffled out. The expression on her wrinkled, weather-beaten face was fierce, as if someone had just stolen her false teeth.

  Lady Coco whimpered and hid behind Lola.

  Lord 6-Dog leapt onto the nearest table and snatched up a dinner knife, ready to fight this harridan.

  “No, no, no!” screeched Carmela, stamping her foot and waving her finger at him. As she was wearing men’s lace-up shoes that were several sizes too big; the effect might have been comic if she hadn’t been blazing with anger.

  “Get off the table!” Lola warned Lord 6-Dog.

  The monkey king vaulted up to a roof beam, where he hung by his tail, still brandishing the dinner knife, while Carmela waved her fists at him.

  “Tell him to behave,” Max whispered. “She’s going to blow a fuse.”

  Carmela swiveled around in the direction of his voice, took one look at him, and staggered backward, crossing herself and muttering dementedly.

  “Now what’s wrong with her?” asked Max.

  “Quick! Put your cap on, Hoop.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s your hair. She says Santino didn’t tell her you were a pelirrojo. She says she’s afraid to look at you. She says you’ll bring bad luck to her establishment.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember how Santino said that people with red hair were thought to be in league with the devil?”

  “But this is the twenty-first century,” Max pointed out. “And anyway, my hair is br—… br—… br—…”

  Lola and Carmela looked at him curiously.

  “Are you cold, Hoop?” asked Lola.

  “No. Just tell her my hair is br—… br—… br—…”

  Try as he might, Max could not form the word he was looking for.

  “Are you trying to say brown, by any chance?” asked Lola.

  Max nodded toward the old woman. “My hair. Tell her.”

  “It’s not allowed to tell untruths in Polvoredo, remember?”

  “What? You mean there’s some ethereal authority on hair color in this town? I demand a second opinion—”

  “Just put on your cap and stop arguing.”

  Max pulled his Red Sox cap out of his backpack and crammed it on.

  Meanwhile, Lola spoke calmly but forcefully to Carmela.

  The old lady got up quickly and, still not looking at Max, she gestured for them to sit at the nearest table. Then she hobbled back to the kitchen and shouted a stream of instructions to someone inside.

  “What did you say?” asked Max. “Why did she change her mind?”

  “I told her that, yes, you are working for the devil, but you would not make any trouble if she treats us well and charges fairly and brings us some decent food.”

  “How come you can tell a lie and I can’t?”

  “I didn’t tell a lie. You’re on a mission for Ah Pukuh and the Death Lords, aren’t you? Ah Pukuh is a devil, all right.”

  Max went quiet. He looked shaken by this analysis of the situation.

  “Cheer up, Hoop; we’re still the good guys.” She looked around the room. “Can you believe we made it, we’re actually here in Polvoredo? Lucky we met up with Santino. We’d still be waiting for a train if it wasn’t for him.”

  “I don’t like him. He has shifty eyes. And he uses too much hair gel.”

  “Like that girl in the airport parking lot uses too much makeup?” retorted Lola. “Her eyes were so black she looked like a raccoon.”

  They glared at each other across the table as Carmela began slamming down plates and glasses, taking pains to stay as far away from Max as possible.

  Lola called up to Lord 6-Dog. “It’s dinnertime.”

  The monkey assumed an imperious air, but his twitching nose betrayed his hunger. Suddenly he leapt down and landed on the back of a chair, just as a small boy emerged from the kitchen with a loaded tray. The boy took one look at the big black howler monkey and would have dropped the tray in terror if Lola hadn’t reached out a steadying hand and coaxed him forward.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on the table, the boy set down several little plates of food: sausages, salami, roughly sliced morsels of ham, bread, olives, omelet, and something stringy and brown in sauce, which could have been mushrooms or possibly stewed mouse, but was the one dish that sat untouched to the end of the meal. The monkeys dived on the foo
d without ceremony, spitting out one thing after another as they discovered it was not to their taste.

  In seconds, the table had turned into a battle scene.

  “Your Majesties, please!” Lola chided them. “If you behave yourselves, I’ll ask for some fruit.”

  As she helped the boy clear up the mess, Lola noticed his shaking hands.

  “Tienes miedo?” she asked him. “Are you scared?”

  The boy whispered something to Lola and ran back to the kitchen. Max watched him go. “I guess he’s never seen real live howler monkeys before.”

  “It’s not the monkeys,” Lola said. “It’s you.”

  “What?”

  “Carmela has told him you’re a fantasma.”

  Max brightened. “She thinks I’m fantastic?”

  “She thinks you’re a ghost.”

  Max’s face fell again. “Why would she say that?”

  “She reminds me of the old women back home. They’re so superstitious. They think everything is an omen. Just ignore it.”

  The boy returned with a bowl of grapes for the monkeys and a plate of miniature green peppers.

  Again Lola talked with him a little in Spanish. “He’s Carmela’s grandson,” she translated. “He thinks that most of her cooking is horrible, but we should try her pimientos fritos because they’re her specialty.”

  Lola took one of the peppers and nibbled it tentatively.

  “They’re good!” she announced to the boy, who ran off, smiling, to tell his grandmother.

  Lola passed the plate to the monkeys, who each took a pawful and ate them with relish.

  “Hey, save some for me!” said Max, spearing a pepper on his fork.

  As he lifted the fork to his mouth, he became aware of Carmela watching him through the kitchen door. He placed the pepper on his tongue, bit into it, and screamed with pain. It was as if he’d just eaten a firecracker. His head exploded. His face blazed. His tongue throbbed. His gums burned.

  He gulped down three glasses of water in quick succession. “You could have warned me those things were hot,” he spluttered.

  “But they’re not hot,” Lola protested. She took the last pepper, turning it around in her mouth to extract every bit of flavor. “Not at all.”

  “Very funny,” croaked Max, clutching at his throat. “Water! I need more water! Water, por favor!”

  It was Carmela herself who appeared with the earthenware pitcher. “Dile que todo el agua en el mundo no puede apagar el fuego del infierno,” she rasped.

  “She wants you to know,” said Lola, “that all the water in the world cannot put out the fires of hell.”

  “Charming,” said Max. “I bet she tried to poison me. Ask her about the peppers.”

  “Nos gustan mucho los pimientos, señora,” began Lola sweetly.

  Soon Carmela was gabbling away to Lola, her toothless mouth working at double speed. She used a lot of gesticulations and every so often she pointed in Max’s direction and crossed herself again. Since he couldn’t understand a word she was saying, Max amused himself by watching the hairy mole on her chin as it moved with her changing expressions.

  “So?” asked Max as the old lady headed back to the kitchen.

  “She said they’re called pimientos de Padrón. Most are mild, but one or two are so spicy, they blow your head off.”

  “I noticed that. Why was she pointing at me?”

  “She said she knew you’d get the hot pepper. She said you are cursed. She said that if Santino wasn’t the brother-in-law of the sister-in-law of the uncle of her second cousin, she wouldn’t allow you to sleep under her roof.”

  “I’m not sure that the hospitality business is her thing,” observed Max. “But she is going to let us stay, right?”

  Lola nodded. “For tonight, at least. Let’s go find our rooms before she changes her mind.”

  Lady Coco scampered ahead, and Lord 6-Dog trailed sullenly behind as Carmela’s grandson led them up a narrow staircase.

  The stair carpet was dangerously threadbare, the handrail was just a greasy rope, and the old wooden treads creaked alarmingly. “What a dump. It’s like the Hotel of Horror,” grumbled Max.

  The boy indicated two doors next to each other on the second floor and handed Lola two keys. She waited until he’d gone back down before unlocking the nearest door.

  “In here, everyone,” she said. “We need to talk.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?” Max yawned.

  “No,” said Lola, “it can’t. Please sit down.”

  Max and the monkeys sat side by side on the narrow bed, while Lola stood in front of them, arms folded, looking ominously like she was going to make a speech.

  “No chocolates,” sighed Lady Coco, examining the pillow.

  “The cockroaches probably ate them,” said Max, lying back.

  “Get your shoes off my bed!” snapped Lola.

  Max sat bolt upright. He’d heard that tone in her voice once before, at Itzamna, when he’d made fun of her friend and mentor, Hermanjilio. She was angry with Max then and she was angry with him now.

  In fact, she was angry with all of them.

  She looked down the line with distaste, like a sergeant major inspecting new recruits.

  “Grow up, all of you,” she said. “I’m not your mother. It’s not my job to look after you while you act like children. If you continue to behave like this, I’m catching the first plane back to San Xavier.”

  “How darest thou speak thus to a king?” asked Lord 6-Dog haughtily.

  “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” said Lola, “I will treat you like a king when you act like one. You’re the first Maya lord in history to cross the ocean in an airplane, but instead of marveling at the wonders of aviation, you sulk like a spoiled child. And what was that about, when you swung from the rafters in the restaurant? Would you behave like that in your royal palace?”

  Lord 6-Dog had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

  “Lady Lola is right, son,” said Lady Coco, swatting him on the head. “Your behavior was a disgrace. You could have got us ejected.”

  “As for you, Lady Coco,” said Lola sternly, “your table manners were appalling. I cannot believe a Maya queen would grab and spit like that.”

  Lady Coco hung her head.

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” said Max to Lola. “What’s got into you?”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  She turned on him, eyes blazing. “I’ll tell you what’s got into me, Max Murphy. All you’ve done since we got here is whine and moan and complain. You don’t like Santino, you don’t like the food, you don’t like the hotel.… Well, tough. This isn’t about you. It’s about rescuing Hermanjilio and Lucky Jim—”

  Her voice cracked and she turned away.

  Max stared at her in amazement.

  So much for teamwork.

  Who did she think she was?

  He was about to start arguing back, when Lady Coco whispered in his ear: “I don’t think this is about etiquette, young lord. I think she’s got cold feet.”

  Max tried to look sensitive and caring. “So what’s this really about?” he asked Lola. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Lola looked surprised at his newfound insight. “It’s just … well … I’ve got a headache from thinking too much. I don’t know the right thing to do anymore.”

  “About dating Santino?” asked Max, jealously.

  “No! About the mission. I don’t know if we should go through with it.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, of course, I want to rescue Hermanjilio and Lucky Jim and your parents. But I don’t want the Death Lords to have the Yellow Jaguar.”

  “But that’s the deal.”

  “I know. But it’s bad enough that Ah Pukuh is in charge of the next bak’tun. If his Death Lords have all five Jaguar Stones, there’s no knowing what’s going to happen. They’ll have the power to do every evil thing they’ve ever dreamed of. They’ll be like kids in a
toystore. They’ll send earthquakes, tsunamis, plagues, wars … disasters like nothing we’ve ever seen.”

  “So the End of the World Club might be right,” mused Max.

  “Who?”

  “That’s what Dad calls all the people who are freaking out about the end of the Maya calendar. The funny thing is that the end of the world might really be happening—but not for the reasons they think.”

  “That’s not actually funny,” said Lola.

  “It sounds to me,” said Lord 6-Dog, “as if Lady Lola is losing her resolve on the eve of the battle.”

  “I just want to do the right thing,” she replied.

  “Then stick to the plan,” barked Lord 6-Dog. “We will find the Yellow Jaguar, deliver it to Xibalba, and rescue the hostages.”

  “Even if we’re helping to bring about the end of the planet?” persisted Lola.

  “The planet is not in peril,” Lord 6-Dog pointed out. “Only its inhabitants.”

  “That’s not much consolation,” said Max.

  “What, young lord, art thou losing heart, too?” Lord 6-Dog was getting annoyed. “Have I not told thee that, when good battles evil, good always wins? It is written in the stars.”

  “Was it written in the stars, the day Tzelek took the life of your father?” asked Lady Coco.

  “Good eventually wins,” Lord 6-Dog corrected himself. “The day is coming, Mother, when I will avenge my father’s death. Tzelek and I will have our showdown, I promise thee. But all things are connected and the battle starts on the morrow, with the hunt for the Yellow Jaguar.”

  “You mean, we might be helping to save the world?” asked Lola.

  “I am sure of it. Let us see where this quest leads us.”

  “Right now,” said Max, yawning, “it’s leading me to bed.”

  The others murmured in agreement.

  “Good night, everybody,” said Lola. “I’m sorry I got mad.”

  “It’s been a long day,” said Lady Coco sympathetically. “We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

  The room next door was even smaller and dingier than Lola’s room, but it seemed clean enough.

  “I’ll take the bed and you take the armchair,” said Max to Lord 6-Dog.

  Lord 6-Dog stretched out on the bed and instantly started snoring.