The End of the World Club

by J; P Voelkel

  The officer hustled Max through the scrum and handed him over to a young policeman.

  “There’s been a mistake, I’m innocent,” Max said to him.

  The young policeman shrugged. He seemed more interested in the fracas at the desk and, after taking Max’s fingerprints and confiscating his backpack, he escorted him into a side room, bare except for a table and two chairs, took off the handcuffs, and left, locking the door behind him.

  After what felt like an age, the Officer Gonzales entered.

  He was holding Max’s passport.

  “Massimo Francis Sylvanus Murphy,” he said, “you are in big trouble. What is going on?”

  “You tell me,” said Max dully. “You’re the murderer.”

  “If you are referring to that wild beast, it was a danger to the public.”

  “He’s a he, not an it! And he wasn’t a wild beast. He was Lola’s friend, and you shot him in cold blood.”

  “It was self-defense. The brute was about to attack me. It was rabid.”

  “That’s a lie,” said Max.

  The officer looked surprised. He flexed the muscles around his mouth. For the first time in his life, he had told a lie. It felt strange. But good.

  “It was not a lie,” he said, telling another one.

  Max made a little snorting noise to show his disgust.

  “Tell me,” said the officer, “why is a boy of”—he checked Max’s passport—“fourteen years of age here on his own, in Polvoredo?”

  “I wasn’t on my own, was I? I came here with Lola.”

  “Do your parents know you are here?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Let us see if they can help us, shall we?”

  Officer Gonzales flipped through the passport to the emergency contacts page. “Bueno, Frank and Carla Murphy, Boston, Massachusetts.” He picked up the phone.

  “No!” blurted Max, remembering how Lord Kuy had forbidden him to ask his parents for help—and how they’d suffered when he’d disobeyed.

  “You don’t want me to phone your parents? It seems that you have something to hide, Señor Murphy.”

  “I don’t want to worry them. They’ll think something’s happened to me.”

  “Something has happened. You have been arrested for murder.”

  Officer Gonzales dialed the number.

  “It is ringing,” he said.

  Don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t pick up.…

  Someone picked up.

  “Señora Murphy? Señora Carla Murphy? … This is Polvoredo Police.… I am calling about your son, Massimo.… He needs your help to confirm—”

  At the word help, everything changed.

  “Señora? Qué pasa? I just want to ask you—” The officer held the phone away from his ear as Carla screamed in agony. Max could hear her shrieks from across the table. Another voice evidently came on the line. “Ah, Señor Frank Murphy, bueno! I have your son Massimo here, and he needs your help to—”

  An anguished bellow echoed out of the phone, followed by sounds of vomiting.

  The officer shook his head and put down the phone.

  “It seems that you come from a disturbed family, Señor Murphy. But that is no excuse for murder. Now tell me, in your own words, how you did it.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t do it.”

  “The witness says you did.”

  “What witness?”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Adelante!” called the officer. “Come in!”

  The young policeman entered and jabbered something in Spanish. Through the open door, Max could hear a pitched battle in full swing at the desk.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  The officer shook his head in bafflement. “For the last five hundred years, the citizens of Polvoredo have told the truth. But now, tonight, an epidemic of lying has broken out.” He stood up slowly. “It is as if a spell has been broken.”

  “But don’t you see,” insisted Max, “your witness is lying, too?”

  “It is going to be a long night,” sighed Officer Gonzales as he left the room.

  The young policeman came back and took Max to a holding cell. It was empty apart from a low wooden shelf for a bed, and a bucket in the corner. Max threw himself onto the shelf and lay there, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the sight of Lord 6-Dog’s lifeless body out of his mind.

  How did things go so very wrong?

  He didn’t for one second believe that Lola was dead—but where was she?

  And where was Lady Coco?

  Max felt a flash of anger.

  How could Lola be so irresponsible? She and Santino were probably looking dreamily into each other’s eyes right now, while Max moldered in a jail cell, accused of her murder.

  Some friend she turned out to be. They were supposed to be a team, and she’d abandoned him the first chance she got.

  Well, he’d show her.

  Alternating between sorrow for Lord 6-Dog, resentment at Lola, and pity for himself, Max fell asleep and dreamed about gliding with Nasty Smith-Jones through the Boston Public Garden in a swan boat pedaled by Vince Vermin.

  He was woken next morning by the sound of jangling keys.

  “Tienes visita,” the young policeman called through the door. “You have a visitor.”

  “Lola?” Max jumped up in delight and relief, all plans of revenge forgotten.

  The policeman fumbled with the keys, and Max waited impatiently for him to unlock the door. As it opened, a wave of noise rushed in from the rumpus still in progress at the front desk.

  But it wasn’t Lola who came through the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  ADIÓS, FOREVER

  Santino?” said Max. “What are you doing here? Where’s Lola?”

  The law student looked very different from the sharp-suited, clean-cut young man Max had met at the airport. Today he was unshaven, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and he’d evidently forgotten his hair gel, for his bangs flopped down over his forehead.

  “I will ask the questions!” shouted Santino. He seemed close to tears. “Were you jealous, is that it? You murdered her because she wanted to be with me?”

  “What? No! Why do you think I murdered Lola?”

  “Doña Carmela says so. She has made a eh-statement.”

  “But it’s not true. Why would she do that?”

  “Because you are a pelirrojo. You have the red hair.”

  “But why does she think Lola’s been murdered?”

  “When she did not turn up at the police station, Officer Gonzales sent men to the hotel. They told Doña Carmela that Lola was missing, and she put two and two together.”

  “Wait—so she’s the witness?”

  “Yes.”

  “But she’s just making it up because she hates me.”

  “Are you accusing the second cousin of the uncle of the sister-in-law of my brother’s wife of lying? No one lies in Polvoredo.”

  “They do now. What do you think that racket outside is about?”

  Santino opened the door slightly and listened to the insults flying at the front desk.

  “They’re accusing each other of lying, aren’t they?” said Max. “Officer Gonzales said it’s like an epidemic.”

  Santino shut the door. “The fact remains that the señorita is missing.”

  “That doesn’t mean I murdered her.”

  “What is your alibi?”

  “My alibi?”

  “What were you doing at the time she went missing?”

  “I was …” Max hesitated. He could hardly say that he was breaking into the castle of Polvoredo, being attacked by a phantom army, and talking to the ghost of a Maya princess. “I was sightseeing.”

  “Sightseeing? In Polvoredo? Now I know you are lying.”

  Max sat down on his hard little bed and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s true myself anymore. Just get me out of here, Santino, so I can help you
look for her.”

  “All I want is to find her,” sighed Santino, sitting down next to him. “I have never felt like this before. I must know if she feels the same way, but now it is too late.…”

  “It’s not too late,” Max pointed out. “I didn’t murder her, remember?”

  “Please, tell me everything. Eh-start from the beginning.”

  “I’ve been over and over it in my head. The last time I saw her was yesterday afternoon in the square.”

  “Why did you eh-split up?”

  “She went back to Casa Carmela to get her passport. We arranged to meet later. But she never showed up.”

  “And you have no idea where she might have gone? Does she know anyone in eh-Spain, anyone at all? Think!”

  “Um, she met Antonio de Landa in San Xavier once, but they didn’t exactly hit it off.”

  “What about the last time you saw her? Did she seem unhappy?”

  “Not at all. Why?”

  “I checked her room. Everything was gone—her passport, her toothbrush, everything.”

  “What?” Max stared at him, openmouthed.

  “You knew nothing of this?”

  “No.”

  Santino began to pace back and forth. “Is this my fault? Did I frighten her away? I should not have asked her to meet my parents. It was too soon. She was the girl of my dreams, and I let her eh-slip through my fingers.” He paused as if he’d made a decision. “Wish me luck,” he said, heading for the door. “I am going to find her and win her back.”

  “Wait! Don’t leave me here!”

  “I must find the señorita. She needs me.”

  “I need you. Lola would want you to help me.”

  “She has such a big heart,” sighed Santino.

  “So will you speak to Officer Gonzales? Tell him I’m innocent?”

  “It is not possible. I should not get involved.”

  “Please, Santino. Be a hero. Do it for Lola.”

  Santino relented. “Perhaps if I explain about Doña Carmela’s eh-strange eccentricities, he will drop the charges. I will try, but I make no promises.”

  As Max waited for Santino to come back, he tried to think things through.

  Lola and Lady Coco had packed up and left town.

  Lord 6-Dog was dead.

  He was on his own.

  And even if he was acquitted of murder, the police would surely find the necklet in his backpack and add grand larceny to his rap sheet.

  Then he realized that it didn’t matter.

  If he couldn’t take the Yellow Jaguar to Xibalba, he had precisely three days left to live.

  The door flew open and Santino ran in. “Here!” he said, producing Max’s passport and backpack, “I rescued these.”

  “That’s great,” said Max. “Did you talk to Officer Gonzales?”

  “He was too busy. He is arresting the whole town for eh-slander!” Santino shook his head in bafflement. “Yesterday Polvoredo was the most honest town in eh-Spain. Today it is a nest of thieves and liars.”

  “That’s good news for you lawyers, isn’t it?” asked Max, surreptiously eyeing his backpack.

  Santino focused on him in surprise. “Why, yes! I had not thought of that. I will be rich! I will be able to buy my Lola everything her heart desires. Tell me, what does she want? A big house? A fast car? Pretty clothes?”

  Max slid a hand into his backpack and felt around for the Yellow Jaguar. “Um … she’s very into saving the rainforest, that sort of thing. Or you could build eh-schools for little Maya kids. She’d like that.”

  “Save the rainforest? Build eh-schools?” Santino looked horrified. “But I saw us holding parties at our country estate, mixing with the cream of eh-Spanish society. Surely that would make any woman happy?”

  Max’s fingers found the cold yellow beads. He breathed a sigh of relief. In all the chaos of the day, the police had not yet had time to search his backpack. He became aware of Santino staring at him, waiting for an answer.

  He couldn’t remember the question. “Sounds good,” he said.

  “I thought so,” said the law student happily. “Thank you for your advice. So now, if you will excuse me, I must go and make my dreams come true.”

  “What about me? You can’t leave me here.”

  “You are under arrest.”

  “You know I’m innocent. All you have to do is get me to the airport. I’ll catch the first plane out and no one except Lola will ever know you helped me.”

  “But I could lose everything—and for what? You are my rival for her hand, are you not?”

  Max blushed. “I don’t know.… We’re good friends … but we’ve never … that is … I mean, I like her a lot—”

  “Here is the deal,” Santino cut in impatiently. “If I eh-smuggle you out of here, you must promise to forget any ideas about you and Lola. You will be a wanted man in eh-Spain forevermore. If you break our deal, I will turn you in.”

  Max crossed his fingers behind his back. “Deal,” he said.

  Santino took off his sweatshirt and passed it to Max. “Wear this and put up the hood. Hold your wrists together as if you are handcuffed. If anyone eh-stops us, I will say I am taking you for questioning. Now walk.”

  In fact, the escape was easy. It seemed like the whole town was crammed into the front office of the police station, as five hundred years of compulsory truth-telling erupted into a free-for-all of lies, deceit, and falsehoods. There were scuffles and screaming matches in every corner, as fists and accusations flew. Officer Gonzales had his hands full and he didn’t even notice the handsome young law student hustle a hooded delinquent straight out the door.

  It was another hot morning in Polvoredo.

  “Notice anything different?” whispered Santino as they walked quickly to his car.

  Max peeked out from under his hood.

  Same dusty streets. Same shabby buildings … but wait, there was something different. Where yesterday, in pots and windowboxes and cracks between cobbles, there had bloomed a riot of yellow flowers, today there were only dried-out brown stalks.

  “The flowers have all died. It is eh-strange, no?” said Santino.

  Max tried not to look guilty. “Don’t ask me; I’m not a gardener.”

  “So you know nothing about this?”

  “Lola’s missing, and you’re worried about flowers?” Max feigned outrage.

  “I feel it is all connected in some way.” Santino paused in the act of unlocking his car. “I must ask you again: is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “No,” answered Max, quite truthfully, getting into the passenger seat.

  Santino pointed to a plastic supermarket bag at Max’s feet. “Your things from Casa Carmela.”

  Max looked inside. A chewed toothbrush, three smelly socks, and Lord 6-Dog’s matador suit. Max’s stomach lurched as he remembered the brave howler monkey who gave his life trying to protect him from a bully.

  “That moron shot one of Lola’s monkeys last night,” he blurted out.

  “Which one?” asked Santino.

  “Officer Gonzales.”

  “No, which monkey?”

  “The male, the big black one.”

  “The señorita will be sorry to hear that. She will need me to comfort her.”

  “But the body … it was in the gutter.… We have to see if it’s still there.…”

  “No! It is too risky—”

  “Please,” begged Max. “Lola loved him. Do it for her.”

  Santino sighed. “I am a fool for love,” he said. “Quickly, show me the way. And keep your hood up. No one must eh-spot me with you.”

  They drove up the narrow streets toward the castle.

  “Stop!” said Max, when he saw the drinking fountain on the corner. “It was around here somewhere.…” His voice trailed off as he saw the dark stain of blood on the cobbles.

  Lord 6-Dog was gone.

  “I have to find him,” Max insisted.

  “No!” Santino looke
d at his watch. “You have to leave eh-Spain. If we hurry, you will catch the express bus to the airport.”

  Max hesitated.

  What would Lord 6-Dog want him to do?

  Look for the body or get on with the mission?

  It was no contest.

  “Where’s the bus stop?” he asked.

  Santino drove him out of town, to a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. “That is the eh-stop,” he said, pointing to a rusty metal sign with an airplane symbol. “The bus will be here any moment.”

  Max got out of the car. “You will find Lola, won’t you?”

  “I promise you, I will never, ever eh-stop looking.”

  “Good-bye then—and thank you.”

  “Adiós forever, Max Murphy!”

  With that, Santino Garcia zoomed out of Max’s life and left him sitting by the roadside, waiting for the bus.

  Turned out Lola had been right, thought Max. Santino was a good guy, after all. If anyone could find her, he could.

  But maybe, Max told himself, she’d be waiting at the airport.

  He pictured her standing in line for the plane to San Xavier.

  He smiled to himself as he imagined them running to each other in slow-motion. They’d hug; they’d laugh; perhaps they’d continue the happy reunion over pizza.

  Pizza?

  A growl from his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since … when? He couldn’t even remember.

  His stomach growled again, more loudly.

  That wasn’t his stomach.

  He looked behind him.

  It was a hellhound.

  A whole pack of slavering hellhounds was coming over the hill toward him. He tried to stay calm. He remembered how they’d attacked him once before, in the Black Pyramid. He’d survived unharmed by simply refusing to believe in them.

  “To believe in something gives it power over you”—that’s what Uncle Ted had told him.

  These dogs were looking horribly real. And extremely powerful.

  Max grabbed his backpack and started to run.

  He ran for his life.

  He could hear the dogs gaining on him.