The River of No Return

by Jon Voelkel

  “What about you?”

  “I’m taller than you, remember?”

  “Just so you know, I would have grown this year. My father is six foot two, so I probably would have been way taller than you in the end. If we’d lived.”

  Lola felt for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ve heard drowning isn’t so bad. It’s like going to sleep.”

  “I almost drowned in Venice. A giant octopus dragged me under. But you saved me.…”

  “Me? I wasn’t in Venice.…”

  “Yes, you were. In my head anyway. Although it was Fabio who—” The water reached his mouth and he couldn’t talk anymore.

  Lola let go of his hand.

  The water was nearly up to his nose when he saw her slip under the water.

  Max knew he had to follow her.

  Of all the stupid things he’d done in his fourteen-year existence, thinking that he could stand up to Ah Pukuh and his killer zombie had to be the most stupid of all. But, to his surprise, he realized that it wasn’t the thing he regretted the most.

  As he counted down the last moments of his life, his thoughts turned to a little Maya boy called Och. A boy who’d adored him and copied him and been the little brother he’d never had—until Max had done something idiotic—actually several idiotic things—and turned Och’s adulation into contempt. As he held his breath and waited to die, he could see Och’s face so clearly. The little boy seemed to be reaching out to him.

  A bright light shone into Max’s eyes.

  He heard a voice talking in Mayan.

  Lola was right. Drowning wasn’t so bad.

  But was this the Maya heaven or the Maya underworld?

  Och’s face was so close that Max could smell beans and tortillas on his breath.

  Max stared at him. “Are you an angel?”

  The little boy didn’t answer him, but turned and whispered in Lola’s ear.

  “Monkey Girl! What’s going on? Are we dead?” Max asked her.

  “No, we’re fine—thanks to this guy!” Lola ruffled Och’s hair. “He’s brought some workers from the site. They’ve let the water out and they’re taking down the wall. Och squeezed through the first little hole they made.”

  “Thank you, Och,” said Max. “You saved our lives.”

  Och bit his lip and stared at the ground.

  “What’s the matter with him? He speaks English. Why isn’t he talking to me?”

  “I don’t know. He won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  “He’s not still mad that I ate his porridge?”

  Lola rolled her eyes. “No, Hoop, I’m sure it’s not the porridge.”

  “He looks so sad.”

  “Maybe it’s about Chan Kan. He’s like a grandfather to all the kids in the village. Och says he’s dying and he wants to say good-bye to me. That’s why Och came looking for me, to take me back to Utsal.”

  Max tried to look sympathetic, but the truth was that the old man gave him the creeps. “Did you know Chan Kan was sick?”

  “I know he’s old.”

  “What is he, like, a hundred?”

  “Or more. But he’s pulled this trick before, just to make me visit.”

  “You don’t think he’s dying?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out when I get to Utsal.”

  “When you see him, you should interrogate him again. Try and get some answers.”

  “Interrogate him? You make him sound like a criminal. But maybe I’ll ask him again about the day I was found, see if there were any details he forgot to tell me. They say that when people get old, they start to remember the past more clearly.”

  Max could hear the singing of Maya workers as they removed more and more rocks from the wall. “How did Och find us, anyway?”

  “He saw the big hole where the ground had caved in and climbed down to investigate. Apparently my backpack is still hanging on the vine, so he guessed I was here. And he ran to the site to get help.”

  “So there’s no sign of Stink Pig?”

  “Skunk Pig. Och thinks he might have seen a few toes scuttling around.”

  “Ugh. That’s enough to give me nightmares.”

  As the next rock was lifted out of place, a face filled the void. “I see them,” said his mother’s voice.

  “Thank goodness,” said his father’s voice. “But this place could collapse at any moment. We all need to get out fast!”

  As soon as the opening was big enough, Max, Lola, and Och wriggled into the main cave—where the first thing they saw, dangling like a prize at a fair, was Lola’s backpack still tied to the vine.

  She waded over and untied it.

  Even before she gave him the thumbs-up, Max could tell from the weight that the White Jaguar was safe inside.

  “I can’t believe it survived,” she said.

  Max extricated himself from his mother’s arms. “I can’t believe we survived.”

  “Hero Twins, one; Death Lords, none,” announced Lola, as the workers helped them back up to the forest.

  Max’s stomach did a victory roll. Somehow, crazily, they had foiled the felons of the underworld yet again. But he knew Ah Pukuh would come back stronger.

  The battle for the White Jaguar had only just begun.

  Back at the camp, Max’s mother fussed around as if they were royal guests. She handed out towels, made hot tea, and broke into her emergency supply of Italian licorice candies (which nobody wanted). “I will get you both dry clothes,” she said, “then I will make some food.”

  “Don’t eat it,” whispered Max to Lola. “If Ah Pukuh can’t kill you, my mom’s cooking will.”

  Oblivious, his mother continued her ministrations. “We have a spare tent, Lola; you are welcome to stay here.”

  “Thank you, Professor Murphy,” said Lola, “but Och and I have to get back to Utsal.”

  “Can I go with them, Mom?” asked Max, keen to put as much distance as he could between himself and the vengeful remains of Eek’ Kitam. “There’s nothing for me to do here.”

  “Absolutely not,” said his mother. “No offense to you, Lola, but you two are a bad influence on each other. You are always getting into some kind of trouble.”

  “But Mom—”

  His protestations were drowned out by engine noise.

  Och pointed to the sky. A light aircraft was heading straight toward them over the Black Pyramid.

  For a moment, Max thought the Undead Army was launching an aerial attack.

  “What the …?” began his father. “Duck! Duck! Everyone get down!”

  They threw themselves to the ground as the small plane buzzed over and then turned, in a wide arc, to come back.

  “Its wheels are down—I think it’s trying to land,” said Lola.

  “It’s not going to make it,” said Max’s father. “There’s not enough space.”

  The closest thing to a landing strip was the patch of cleared earth between the pyramid and the camp. They watched between their fingers as the small plane came down lower, lower, lower … but just before landing, the pilot seemed to lose his nerve, and the plane gained altitude again. Then, with a decisive throttling-back of the engines, it suddenly swooped down and the wheels thumped onto grass. The pilot threw the engine into reverse and, with a squealing of brakes (not unlike the sound of the tapir), the plane bumped and skidded across the plaza until it came to a stop in the middle of the camp.

  As the propellers made their last, slow spins, the cockpit door flew open.

  Max shrank back, half expecting Ah Pukuh to step out in a flying helmet and goggles.

  But this was a thin man, in a cream linen suit and panama hat.

  He gave them a wave. “Hello, all!” he called, before jumping down to terra firma.

  “Ted? What are you doing here? That was quite an entrance.” Max’s father strode over to greet his brother.

  “I just thought I’d pop in and see how the dig was going,” said Uncle Ted, taking off his hat and mopping his brow with his pocke
t handkerchief.

  “What a nice surprise.” Max’s mother kissed her handsome, if slightly haggard, brother-in-law on both cheeks. “I did not know you had a plane, Ted.”

  “It belongs to a friend of mine, the chief of police. He lets me borrow it from time to time.”

  He turned to Lola. “I was worried about you, but I had a hunch you might be here.” He grinned at Max. “It’s good to see you, too, Nephew.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Lola. “I’m … I’m not used to people worrying about me. I didn’t mean to drag you all this way.”

  “You’re safe, and that’s all that matters. Between the two of us, I was looking for a reason to get away.” Suddenly he looked back at the plane, as if he’d forgotten something. “Excuse me for a moment, but I have to check on my passenger.”

  “You have a passenger?” asked Max. “Who is it?”

  “Someone you know very well,” Uncle Ted called as he ran back. “I thought he’d followed me out.”

  A light aircraft was heading straight toward them over the Black Pyramid.

  A large black howler monkey appeared at the cockpit door. He was massaging his temples with his hairy fingers. “Confound it, Lord Ted, I have decided that neither howlers nor Maya kings were meant to fly. Thou hast befuddled my brain and bruised my body. I am only glad that of all the great inventions of the mighty Maya, flying machines were not amongst them.”

  “Lord 6-Dog!” cried Lola happily. “You’re free!”

  The monkey-king jumped nimbly to the ground. “We have Lady Zia to thank for that. She stormed our quarters with a sheaf of papers and demanded our release. The quarantine officers were reluctant to comply, but in the end she wore them down.”

  Uncle Ted rolled his eyes. “I know the feeling. She’s at the Villa Isabella now. That’s partly why I had to get away. That woman is intense.”

  “Is Lady Coco there, too, Mr. Murphy?” asked Lola eagerly.

  “She’s renewing her acquaintance with Raul. The two of them have been cooking up a storm. Which reminds me, if you’d like to join me for refreshments, Raul and Lady Coco have sent something for you all.”

  He unloaded a large wicker hamper from the plane.

  Max looked anxiously between the Black Pyramid and the picnic hamper. With no movement on the pyramid, he decided to risk checking out the hamper. There were mango scones and buttery corn cakes and cocoa-nib cookies. The fresh-baked smell was heavenly.

  He waited impatiently as his mother arranged a little cloth on a camping table and decorated it with a jar of tropical flowers, snipped from a nearby bush. He was interested to see that she’d brought her flowery apron with her, and had instantly reverted to domestic goddess.

  “Isn’t this nice?” she said, as she set out fresh limeade and a large bowl of just-picked cashew nuts. “Would you care for a nut, Your Majesty?” she asked Lord 6-Dog.

  “In all honesty, dear lady, I would prefer thy flowers.”

  Without a second thought, she plucked the bouquet out of the jar and passed him the dripping stems. “Let me get you a napkin for those,” she said, with all the aplomb of a hostess passing round hors d’oeuvres.

  How strange, Max thought, that his mother in a housewife apron in the middle of the jungle serving a bunch of flowers to an ancient Maya king in the body of a howler monkey was the most reassuringly normal thing to have happened all day.

  “Could Och and I take ours to go?” asked Lola. “We need to be on our way. It’s three days’ walk to Utsal, and Chan Kan is waiting for me.”

  “But I only just got here,” objected Uncle Ted. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

  “Och says Chan Kan is dying.” She hesitated. “Again.”

  “Chan Kan? The guy who raised you? I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Uncle Ted, as Max’s parents murmured in sympathy. “Of course, you must go. In fact, let me fly you there! You’ll get to Utsal in no time!”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “It would be my pleasure. I’d love to see where you grew up, Lola—as long as you’ll be my navigator.”

  “It’s easy,” Lola assured him. “Just follow the Monkey River!”

  “I’m surprised you’ve never been there, Uncle Ted,” said Max.

  Uncle Ted smiled ruefully. “Back in my smuggling days, I was not exactly welcome in traditional villages like Utsal. Word got around the Maya that I was selling off their heritage.”

  “Which you were,” Lola pointed out sternly.

  “Well, I’m a reformed character now. And I’ve donated my ill-gotten gains to the Maya Foundation in San Xavier City, so I think I can walk into Utsal with my head held high.”

  “Please let me go with them, Mom,” begged Max. “We won’t get into trouble, I promise. And Uncle Ted will be there to keep an eye on us.”

  “Fine by me,” said his uncle. “The more, the merrier!”

  “Are you sure you know how to fly that thing?” Max’s father asked him.

  Uncle Ted looked offended. “I have a pilot’s license, you know, Frank.”

  “But it does not look safe,” put in Max’s mother.

  “Don’t be fooled by all the dents and scratches, Carla—that’s just the reality of bush planes.”

  “Besides, we’ll be flying low and we’ll have the tree canopy beneath us, like a safety mattress!” added Lola. She saw the appalled expression on Carla Murphy’s face. “I’m joking, of course!” She nudged Och. “You want to ride in the plane, don’t you?”

  He looked unsure.

  “We’ll get there faster,” Lola encouraged him.

  Och nodded straightaway.

  Max turned to his parents. “Please let me go with them. It’s important. Last time I was in Utsal, I was kind of a jerk. This is my chance to say sorry and show them I’ve changed. You’re always worried about my manners, Mom. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  “I don’t know, bambino.…”

  “Come to think of it, Carla,” said Max’s father, “it’s not such a bad idea. It sounds like it would be a character-building experience. And, like it or not, you and I have to go to San Xavier City to report the looting. Ted could look after Max while we’re away.”

  “I promise,” said Uncle Ted, “to make sure he cleans his teeth.”

  Max’s mother sighed. “Allora … all right. I hope I do not regret this.”

  “But no more caves,” added his father.

  Max nodded.

  And, just like that, he was free.

  Free to board a clunker of a plane that looked like it was held together with Band-Aids and chewing gum. Free to revisit the village that had mocked and humiliated him. Free to pay his last respects to the ancient shaman who’d scared him out of his wits. But free also to put as much distance as he could between himself and the Black Pyramid.

  “All aboard!” said Uncle Ted.

  “I will meet thee at Utsal,” said Lord 6-Dog, heading for the trees. “Nothing would persuade me to reboard that rust bucket.”

  “That’s the first sensible thing old 6-Dog’s said since he put on the monkey suit,” sneered Xibalba’s president of marketing.

  A titter ran around the room.

  “I am not paying you to make jokes,” thundered Ah Pukuh, at the head of the table. He clapped his hands, and a pack of slavering, razor-toothed hellhounds ran in. They took down the president of marketing and dragged him screaming out the door. “We are running out of time,” continued the god of violent and unnatural death, without missing a beat. “I need the White Jaguar and I need it now.”

  The Demon of Jaundice yawned so hard that his teeth fell out. It had been a long meeting and it showed no signs of ending anytime soon.

  The meeting was taking place in the deepest, darkest level of the Maya underworld, where Ah Pukuh had brought together his Death Lords and other close advisers to discuss the progress of what the Marketing Department had dubbed (making quote marks with their fingers) “the Jaguar Stones campaign.”<
br />
  That title was neatly printed in glyphs on all the files and binders and boards and charts that Ah Pukuh was now sweeping angrily off the table.

  “Eek’ Kitam has failed!” he yelled. “So much for your so-called hearts-and-minds initiative. If a charmer like Eek’ Kitam cannot win their hearts and minds, we need to bring on the big blowguns. So let’s have no more talk about brand values, or hypertasking, or reality sandwiches. From now on, we do it my way!”

  The vice president of marketing cleared his throat. “Lord Ah Pukuh, without going down the blamestorming route, I do think we should whiteboard a few—”

  Ah Pukuh clapped his hands.

  The hounds ran in.

  The vice president was removed from the meeting.

  Ah Pukuh nodded in satisfaction. “It’s time to show those brats who’s boss! We will release the entire Undead Army and tear them from limb to limb!”

  The Death Lords broke into applause. “Crush them! Crush them!” they chanted.

  A corpse so disintegrated that it was impossible to tell its gender put up its hand.

  “Who are you?” snapped Ah Pukuh, sitting back down at the head of the table.

  “I’m … I’m the new intern in social media,” stammered the corpse nervously.

  Ah Pukuh narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

  “It’s m-my job to exploit web-b-based technologies to b-build an interactive dialogue with your consumer b-base.”

  Ah Pukuh moved to clap his hands and summon the hounds.

  “Wait!” The intern swallowed nervously. “It’s just that … I was thinking … you could get a lot more bang for your buck if this thing went viral.” He had one eye on the hellhounds, which were straining to attack him. “You want all of Middleworld to quake at the sound of your name, right? So what you need is a promo that rams home your message.”

  Ah Pukuh stayed the dogs. “Go on …”

  “The Hero Twins are headed to Utsal. And you know what’s just upriver from there …”

  “I do know.” Ah Pukuh smiled. “So tell me your idea.”

  And when he’d heard it, he had to agree that it was a very fine idea indeed.

  “Now, this is what I call a hearts-and-minds campaign,” he announced to the room. “I win the hearts of those two brats on a platter, and I terrify everyone in Middleworld out of their minds! Someone bring snacks! I have some serious evil to plan.”