Middleworld

by J; P Voelkel

  “That’s quite an outfit, Mom!”

  “Isn’t it fun? Now come and join the party, bambino.”

  Max opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know where to begin. Taking an arm each, Carla and Lola escorted him into a large room lit by flaming torches. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to clean it out and decorate it to look like a lavish Maya palace. Woven rugs hung on the walls, and a roaring fire blazed in the hearth. All around the room, alcoves had been carved into the walls. If it had been a church in Italy, figures of the saints would have looked down from these niches. But in this room, each space was filled by a large owl. At first Max thought they were stuffed, but as he moved, he noticed their unblinking yellow eyes were following him. At ground level, men dressed as Maya lords reclined on cushioned ledges or stood around in merry groups, filling the air with their cigar smoke and raucous laughter. The festivities were evidently in full swing.

  On a raised platform in the center of the room was a stone table, laden with food and drink. Seated at this table, deep in conversation, were Lord 6-Dog and two other Maya lords. Lord 6-Dog appeared to be demonstrating to them the advantages of his monkey body. It was only when Max drew closer that he realized he knew one of the men.

  “Dad?”

  Like his wife, Frank Murphy was dressed in traditional Maya costume. He stood up when he heard Max’s voice and beckoned his son over to join them.

  “Max! What a wonderful coincidence! 6-Dog here has been telling me all about it! But you must come and meet our host! I know you’re going to get on famously!”

  Max had never seen his father so animated. He was usually a shrinking violet at parties, just looking for an opportunity to escape. But tonight he was smiling and talking ten to the dozen, like some cheesy TV presenter.

  Max guessed he’d been drinking elixir.

  Party on, dude, he thought. Tomorrow, we go home.

  The nightmare was over.

  It was over.

  He hugged his father and shook Lord 6-Dog’s hand, then waited politely to be introduced to the third Maya lord at the table.

  He was obviously supposed to be someone very important because his chair was bigger than the others’ and was draped with jaguar skins. He was enormously, disgustingly fat, and his chalky white skin was covered in hideous black bruises. He looked like a bloated body washed up on a beach, the corpse of a plague victim perhaps. To make the effect even more ghastly, he wore rouged cheeks and bright red lipstick.

  As if this character’s appearance was not striking enough, his tentlike tunic was covered in little bells that looked like they were carved out of real bone and jingled dully at their wearer’s every move. As a finishing touch, his thick black hair was tied in an elaborate headdress, decorated with dried human tongues and shriveled eyeballs that bounced on their nerve cords as he spoke.

  Max had never seen someone go to so much trouble for a masquerade costume. The fat suit alone must have cost a fortune, and the makeup was incredible. No expense had been spared. He’d even brought along five massive, vicious-looking dogs that sat behind him in a semicircle, growling and slavering.

  “Eat! Drink! Let us celebrate this joyous reunion!”

  “Max, I’d like to introduce you to our host, Lord Ah Pukuh.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Max, reluctantly going along with the joke.

  Ah Pukuh held up a finger, as if asking Max to wait a moment. Then he leaned to one side, lifted up one of his huge buttocks, and noisily passed gas—the most noxious gas that Max had ever smelled. He thought he might faint from the fumes. Meanwhile everyone else in the room was laughing, cheering, and clapping. Max’s mother was leading the applause. Was this the same woman who had a fit if Max drank from the milk carton? She’d evidently relaxed her standards since she’d been in San Xavier.

  Carla indicated that Max should sit next to their corpulent host, while she and Lola took chairs opposite.

  “Welcome!” boomed Ah Pukuh as Max sat down.

  Whoa! The blast of foul breath from the guy’s black hole of a mouth nearly knocked Max right off the chair. He tried, surreptitiously, to cover his nose with his hand as the fat guy continued to speak. “Eat! Drink! Let us celebrate this joyous reunion! What will you have, young lord?”

  “Nothing, thanks,” said Max, who was feeling queasy.

  “But I insist!” said Ah Pukuh. He clapped his hands. “Bring roast gibnut and hot chocolate for our guest!” he bellowed.

  Immediately, a servant appeared with a loaded plate and a pottery goblet. The gibnut still had its head and tail attached. It lay on the plate like a burned rat. Max surveyed it miserably as the servant filled his goblet with a viscous brown liquid the color of old blood.

  “Dig in,” urged Ah Pukuh.

  Carla screamed with laughter. “Dig in! It’s an archaeologist joke,” she explained to Max. “Do eat something, bambino; you don’t want to offend dear old Pookie.”

  Max gave the gibnut a desultory poke with his fork. He pushed back from the table in horror as the rodent opened an eye and turned its head toward him. “Aaaaagggghhhh,” he shrieked, jumping to his feet.

  The rodent sat up, looked nervously from side to side, leapt onto Max’s shoulder, and sprang from there onto the floor. With a nod from Ah Pukuh, the waiting dogs ran after it and gobbled it down.

  “Mom,” whispered Max, “can we get out of here?”

  “But why, bambino? The party has only just started.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  “Home? But, caro mio, this is our home now.”

  “You mean we’re going to live in San Xavier?”

  “I mean that Pookie has invited us to live here, in the Black Pyramid.”

  “Can we just drop the joke, Mom? I’m tired. I’ve had enough. You have no idea what I’ve been through. I thought you might be dead.”

  “Dead?” Carla threw her head back and laughed. “We will never die!”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Lola cackled as they clinked their goblets in a toast.

  “Mom, have you been drinking elixir?”

  “Yes, and it’s even more delicious than Chianti. Be a good boy and find me some more, would you?”

  Max went over to his father. “I think Mom’s had too much to drink,” he said. “I can’t get any sense out of her. Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Of course I will, Max. We have such good news for you.”

  “Good news?”

  “Yes, jumping into that cenote was the best thing we ever did.”

  “It was?”

  “If we hadn’t done that, we’d never have met Ah Pukuh and the gang. We made friends with them in Xibalba. They’re a great crew. And they’ll be running the world soon, so we’re in a good position. It’s all ours for the asking, Max … we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams.”

  “Thy father speaks the truth,” said Lord 6-Dog. “It pains me now to think of all the time I have wasted in pointless combat with my brother Tzelek. Far better that he and I should work together. The entire world will be ours to command.”

  “You’ve both gone mad,” said Max. “Why are you obsessed with money and power all of a sudden?”

  “Isn’t that what everyone wants, Max? It’s why we all go to work.”

  “No, it’s not. You love archaeology, Dad! You’ve always said you’d do it even if they didn’t pay you.”

  “I’ve had it with old pots! Be honest, Max, haven’t you ever wished that we led a more glamorous life? Or that we lived in a bigger house? What about a hot tub? An indoor pool? One of those plasma TVs you like so much?”

  “Dad, you sound like the shopping channel. I thought you disapproved of the consumer society.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Max. I’ve changed. Everything’s changed. From now on, we’re going to live like Hollywood stars. We’ll take our vacations in the south of France or anywhere you want to go. We’ll reserve a permanent suite at Disney World, if you
like. We’ll employ a chef to make you fresh pizza every day and all the homemade ice cream you can eat. How does that sound?”

  “I don’t want any of it, Dad. I just want our old life back.”

  “Oh, come on, Max, there must be something you want. What was that game you kept asking me to buy back in Boston?”

  “The new limited edition Hellhounds 3-D?”

  “That’s the one. Limited edition, my foot! We’ll commission the designers to create an edition just for you—starring you, if you like. Now that’s what I call a limited edition! And you’ll have all the time in the world to play it, because you need never go to school. You’ll have enough money to buy everything your heart desires, so you can just laze around for all eternity.”

  “Professor Murphy!” scolded Lola. “Life isn’t just about buying things.”

  “At last,” said Max, “the voice of reason.”

  “Life is also about the things that money can’t buy,” Lola continued, “like revenge. Think about it, Max. Chan Kan really made a fool of you with that pepper soup. Wouldn’t you like to give him a taste of his own medicine?”

  “And dost thou not hate the way Lord Hermanjilio orders thee around?” asked Lord 6-Dog. “Wouldst thou not like to turn the tables?”

  “What about that teacher who failed you in woodworking just because you sawed his desk in half?” put in his father.

  “And that girl who stood you up in seventh grade?” added his mother. “She’ll be sorry when she sees you driving around Boston in a red Ferrari. …”

  Max put his hands over his ears. “What are you all saying?” he cried. “I know I used to be greedy and materialistic—”

  “And selfish,” interrupted Lola.

  “And selfish,” added Max, “but I’m not like that anymore.”

  “Of course you’re like that,” boomed Ah Pukuh from his throne. “All boys your age are like that. And I’m happy to say that most of them never grow out of it. Why, I can remember …” His reminiscences were drowned out by a barrage of flatulence.

  “The question is, bambino,” said Carla, “are you with us?”

  “I’m your son, aren’t I?”

  “The continuation of that filial arrangement,” said Frank Murphy, “depends on whether or not you decide to turn over a new leaf.”

  “Is there something in particular you want me to do?”

  “Since you ask, there is. We would like you to sign in blood right now, committing yourself to the protection of Lord Ah Pukuh. He’ll be like a godfather to you and spoil you rotten.”

  “Just sign,” wheedled his mother, “and we’ll be together for all eternity.”

  “Obey thy parents,” commanded Lord 6-Dog.

  “It’s a good deal, Hoop,” added Lola.

  “I’m not sure,” said Max. “It sounds creepy. I need to think.”

  The mood in the room changed instantly. The light hardened from a rosy glow of flames to a cold blue ashy glare. The laughter died down. The dogs growled and licked their chops.

  “He needs to think,” said his mother, mimicking him.

  “He’s never needed to think before,” said his father. “Why start now?”

  “What a loser,” agreed Lola in disgust.

  “Make him breathe smoke from burning chili peppers until he obeys,” suggested Lord 6-Dog.

  “Why are you all picking on me?” asked Max. “What happened to the happy reunion?”

  “It might have been a happy reunion for you,” said his father pointedly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To be honest, son, we were happier without you.”

  “The truth is, bambino, we’ve never liked you, not from the moment you were born.” Carla leaned over to Lola. “You know the type,” she said in a stage whisper, “always crying and puking. The mess he made on my silk shirts! I used to pay strangers on the street to hold him so I wouldn’t have to. Then there was all the bed-wetting and the nose-picking and the whining. He made my life a living hell.”

  “Mom …?”

  His father put an arm around him. “The truth hurts, eh, son? But having you ruined our lives. We never risked having another child in case it turned out to be as boring as you. I know you thought I worked long hours because I was so interested in the ancient Maya. But, in truth, I just didn’t want to come home to you. Half the time, I wasn’t even in the office—I was at the movies or a ball game. Other fathers would be there with their sons, but not me. I couldn’t bear to be near you. …”

  Max’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his ears. Occasionally, when his parents had refused to let him stay out late or said no to the most expensive sneakers, he’d suspected he was adopted. But he’d never dreamed they hated him this much.

  “You need to start pulling your weight in this family, Max. Just sign the paper and we’ll make a fresh start,” said his father.

  “Yes,” said his mother, smiling. “We’ll forgive you for everything and be a happy family. It’s up to you, bambino.”

  It was tempting to sign and have it done with.

  He was afraid that, if he didn’t, he’d never see his parents again.

  Afraid that he’d be alone in the world …

  Afraid that …

  Afraid?

  They will use thy fears against thee.

  Max took a deep breath.

  What was he afraid of?

  That these sadistic bullies could possibly be his parents?

  That any parents were better than no parents?

  That his parents had never loved him?

  He considered the evidence.

  He remembered when he was little, sitting on his mother’s knee and waving to the moon Dog. He remembered all those Saturday-morning soccer games when his father had cheered him on in the rain. He remembered the night the laser printer broke down, and his parents had stayed up till dawn trying to get his fifty-page project on state capitals printed out. He’d gone to bed in tears. But when he came down for breakfast, there was his project, all fifty pages, tied up in a big red ribbon.

  Would they have done these things if they thought he was just a nuisance?

  Then he remembered his mother’s expression on the evening they left for San Xavier, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his parents loved him.

  He looked at the faces around the table and saw their hate-filled eyes for what they were. He’d let himself be tricked by the demons of hell.

  Mustering all his courage, he leaned over to Ah Pukuh. “Is that all you’ve got, fatso?” he said.

  Ah Pukuh laughed loud and long, like the sound of a saw cutting down trees. His multiple chins rippled and shook with merriment.

  Max felt very small and very crushable.

  “I’ve only just begun,” said Ah Pukuh. “I have the next four hundred years to torture you, Max Murphy. I know everything about you and I will make you suffer in ways you cannot yet imagine. Surrender now, or you will regret it.”

  “No,” said Max. He wanted to sound brave and manly and defiant, but his voice came out as a squeak.

  “Don’t do this to us, son,” cried his parents, as chunks of flesh fell off their faces and Max could see patches of white skull peeking through their peeling, shriveled scalps.

  Lola touched his arm with a skeletal finger. “Save me,” she said. “There’s still time to sign.”

  “No,” said Max.

  And when he looked again, she was a decomposing corpse.

  The stench was overpowering.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work,” said the corpse of Lola. “We should have just ripped out his heart, like I said. Come on, Pus, you lost the bet. Pay up.”

  “Not so quick, Scab Stripper. How about double or nothing?” said the demon of pus, who had so recently been posing as Max’s mother.

  “Let’s suck his brains out,” suggested the remains of Lord 6-Dog, who was now just random bits of fur and gristle.

  “Not for me, Blood Gatherer. I’m on a diet,
” said the skull of Frank Murphy. One of his eyeballs fell out, bounced on the table, and rolled onto the floor. An owl swooped down and carried it back to his perch.

  “Set the hounds on him,” ordered Ah Pukuh.

  “Perfect!” said the demon of pus. “Apparently, the boy likes to play a game called Hellhounds 3-D. Let us see how he likes the real thing.”

  The five massive dogs were snarling and foaming at the mouth, waiting for the signal to attack. Max was shaking. He was out of tricks. He was going to be torn limb from limb by a pack of devil dogs in the halls of Ah Pukuh, god of violent and unnatural death. It was certainly a fitting end for a gamer.

  And then he realized how to win. These guys were no more real than the characters in his games. They didn’t understand love or courage or truth. They were casebook cartoon bad guys, motivated by hate and greed. If he refused to play by their rules, he might be able to blow the cosmic circuitry.

  Ah Pukuh clicked his fat greasy fingers.

  The dogs leapt.

  “I know my parents love me.”

  Max saw the dogs’ yellow eyes and their sharp yellow teeth.

  “I am not afraid of you.”

  He smelled their foul breath and felt their burning saliva that dripped like acid from their foaming jaws.

  “Lord 6-Dog will protect me.”

  Their bodies barreled against him, and their claws knocked him down. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the first bite.

  All was quiet.

  He didn’t move.

  “Hoop?” said a voice.

  He opened his eyes slowly. He was back in the corridor, lying flat where he’d fallen in the dark. Lola was crouching over him, holding his flashlight.

  “Hoop!” she cried. “What happened to you?”

  “You won’t believe it,” said Max as she helped him to his feet. “I’ve just met Ah Pukuh. But I stood my ground. You would have been proud of me.”

  “You weren’t scared, then?”

  “A bit. But old Pookie is basically all talk.”

  Lola raised a sardonic eyebrow. “He’s not the only one,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Max, baffled.

  She pointed at his jeans.

  He looked down. There was a large wet patch at the top of his legs. Had he really been so scared of the dogs that he’d wet himself?