The River of No Return

by Jon Voelkel

  Lola stepped forward. Wearing the deerskin tunic, she looked like a figure from a Maya stone carving. “But they’re not the Hero Twins, are they? And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Way back in the mists of time, you lost a ballgame to the Hero Twins, and now you want revenge?”

  Lord Kuy’s owl eyes blinked rapidly. “It is more than that. The ballgame between the Hero Twins and the Death Lords marked the start of this creation. So what better way to usher in Lord Ah Pukuh’s reign? For once, our marketing department has come up trumps. We are all very, very excited.”

  “Did you build this hotel just to lure us here?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, mortal; that would be excessive even by Ah Pukuh’s standards. This place is to be his new base of operations. He wanted something a little more high-tech than the Black Pyramid. It was an intern who realized you’d be in the area. Apparently the video will go viral.”

  “What video?” asked Max.

  “You’re going to be movie stars,” replied Lord Kuy enigmatically.

  Lola found the nearest camera and spoke into it. “So you want a rematch, do you, Xibalba? Well, get ready for another humiliation. I am Xbalanke the Undefeated, and this is the mighty Hoop, short for Hunahpu. The Hero Twins have returned!”

  Max heard her voice piping through the corridors of the hotel, booming out of loudspeakers in the stadium, surely even echoing down to the halls of Xibalba itself. He looked at her with pride and nodded his support.

  “Call off this ballgame now,” she continued, “or we will crush you. You do not stand a chance against our magic. You never did and you never will!”

  Lord Kuy spread his winged cape across the camera to cut her off. “Save it for the ball court.”

  “Oh, we will,” said Lola. “You have made the biggest mistake of your featherbrained life to bring us here tonight. Because what you don’t know is that we are ballgame champions, just like the original Hero Twins. And we have been studying magic. We will literally slay you! Get ready for humiliation.”

  Lord Kuy put a clawed finger to his tufted ear and winced in pain, as if people were yelling into his earpiece. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, sweeping out the door.

  “What was all that about?” whispered Max.

  “Game talk. I was trying to psych them out.”

  “You’ve psyched me out. We’re toast.”

  “I know.”

  “And we didn’t even rescue the jaguar.”

  Mention of Bahlam seemed to kick-start Lola. “Get your tunic on and start warming up. We can do this. We are lucky. We have always been lucky. With a little help from the Jaguar Kings, we can totally win this thing.”

  Max was still shaking his head in disbelief when there was a soft knock at the door and in walked one of the street photographers, the one with the sloth. This time, in place of the sloth, he held a large envelope.

  “Your VIP gift,” he said, bowing and presenting the envelope to Lola, “compliments of the Grand Hotel Xibalba.”

  “Thank you.” Lola opened it and pulled out a folder marked Souvenir Photograph.

  “Here, Hoop, you look.”

  So he did.

  And there it was, the truth of the matter.

  The truth that Lola had been trying to tell him all day.

  The photo showed Max and Lola posing in front of the hotel with the sloth, the parrot, and the snake, completely surrounded by the Death Lords—who were making faces and doing rabbit ears.

  “I should have listened to you,” he said. “You warned me about this place. And now we’re going to die.”

  “Wait, there’s something else,” said Lola, shaking out the envelope. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked it up and carefully unfolded it. “It’s a map of Ixchel, the site of the White Pyramid! And there’s a cross and the word Bahlam!”

  She turned excitedly to the photographer. “Is this where he was found? Is this Bahlam’s territory?”

  The photographer nodded. “You have friends here,” he whispered, before he slipped out of the door.

  Lola’s eyes were shining. “We may have lost the White Jaguar, but if we get out of here alive, at least we can save our real jaguar and get him back to his home.”

  Max made a face. “To Ixchel? That’s where my parents jumped into the cenote and ended up imprisoned in Xibalba. That’s what started this mess.”

  “We won’t get involved in anything like that, I promise,” replied Lola. “We’ll just set Bahlam free and say good-bye to him.” She carefully refolded the map and put it in her backpack. “Some good has to come of this day.”

  “Places, people!” Lord Kuy swept in again. “Hero Twins, listen for your cue. On my signal, you will start dancing.”

  “Dancing? You mean this is a dance-off? It’s not a ballgame?” Max was half relieved that the game was off, and half terrified about dancing in public.

  “No, Hunahpu the Halfwit, I mean that you will dance onto the ball court. The Hero Twins danced, and so shall you. It is the respectful way to approach Lord Ah Pukuh and his retinue. The audience expects it.”

  “Can this day get any worse?” groaned Max.

  Lord Kuy raised a winged arm.

  “Three, two, one … action!”

  He pointed at Max and Lola expectantly.

  A minion opened the doors to the arena, and a roar went up from the crowd.

  An orchestra of wooden trumpets, conch shells, and drums began to play.

  Max hung back, not even pretending to be brave.

  The security guards pushed him forward.

  “It’s okay, Hoop!” Lola whispered. “Just do what I do!”

  But when she started moving in short rhythmic steps, Max found it impossible to copy her—mainly because she was graceful and lithe and dancing in perfect time to the music. He, on the other hand, jigged around jerkily like a child at a wedding reception, and tried not to meet the eyes of anyone in the audience.

  On one side were the Xibalbans, a mass of twisted, jeering faces that gave new meaning to the phrase an ugly crowd. They had rotting skin, bones sticking out of wasted sinews, dangling eyeballs, and skulls sprouting little tufts of hair. Yet for all their physical repulsion, they were colorfully dressed in rich arrays of exotic feathers, jaguar pelts, woven fabric, shells, and jade jewelry.

  Facing them, on the other side of the arena, the strip miners sat grim and dour in their plaid flannel lumberjack shirts.

  Lola had danced her way down to the end of the ball court, where the Five-Headed Jaguar awaited its transfusion of blood. Max hung back, at the end where Ah Pukuh and the Death Lords sat in a courtside box, flanked by a platoon of bodyguards armed with flint-tipped spears. Ah Pukuh had changed into his ceremonial finery. Gone were the suit and the spiky bleached hair. Now he wore a heavily embroidered loincloth, an intricately woven necklet of eyeballs and optic nerves, and a massive headdress of shrunken heads, human bones, and sharp flint blades. The heads and eyeballs jiggled along to the music.

  For still it played.

  And still Max and Lola danced.

  For Max, the worst thing was that his every move was broadcast on the video screens over the center of the court. And he’d run out of moves approximately five seconds after the music started.

  After what felt like an eternity of self-conscious twirls and random leaps, he was relieved to see Lord Kuy striding onto the court with a microphone.

  Finally, the music stopped and Lord Kuy addressed the audience. “On behalf of His Heinous Highness, Ah Pukuh, and Their Malevolent Majesties, the Death Lords, it is my pleasure to welcome you on this very special occasion. Thank you for joining us as we celebrate Ah Pukuh’s forthcoming accession to the throne of Middleworld and the better days that lie ahead. For too long, we have had to sit idly by and watch the erosion of all that we hold dear. Abominations such as kindness”—boos from the audience—“recycling”—more boos—“and charity”—outraged boos and catcalls—“have run rampant in the m
ortal world. But even as I speak, the seeds of hopelessness have been sown. Soon, soon, the dark days will come again. So put your hands together, ladies and gentlemen, for the malefactor of the moment and the boss of the bak’tun … let’s hear it for Lord Ah Pukuh and his new age of evil, suffering, and naked greed!”

  As Ah Pukuh took a bow, the F.A.T.S.O. miners and loggers leapt to their feet and cheered.

  Lola looked around in disgust. “The world is in big trouble, Hoop, if this lot are taking over. Even without the power of the Jaguar Stones, they could do a lot of damage.”

  “Lord 6-Dog says that good always triumphs over evil. Eventually.”

  “We may not have time for eventually.”

  Lord Kuy waited for the applause to die down, then signaled for Max and Lola to join him in the center of the ball court. The lights in the arena dimmed, until the three of them stood in a single spotlight. As the owl-man talked, scenes from ancient Maya paintings appeared on the giant video screens.

  “Many moons ago, at the start of creation, two upstarts from Middleworld were summoned to Xibalba to play ball against the Death Lords. Their names were Hunahpu and Xbalanke, the Hero Twins. Before the ballgame could begin, the twins were tested in other ways: by deadly trials of darkness, cold, jaguars, bats, knives, and fire. The twins somehow survived … and by unfair means went on to win the game. Long have we tasted the bitterness of that defeat. Now, at last, our day of vengeance is here.”

  The audience went wild. Motioning for them to calm down, Lord Kuy pushed Max and Lola forward. “Tonight the role of the Hero Twins will be played by two more upstarts from Middleworld who have tried—and failed—to outwit the Death Lords. Ladies and gentlemen, representing Hunahpu and Xbalanke, I give you the New Hero Twins!”

  Blinded by the spotlight, Max and Lola shielded their eyes, and tried to turn away as the audience booed and jeered and showered them with chewed corncobs.

  The band started up, the monkeys did cartwheels across the court, and the audience gave Ah Pukuh a standing ovation. In close-up on the giant screen, his fat chins wobbled with pleasure, like the blubber on a sea lion.

  “Let the games begin!” he roared.

  The video screens began running a cartoon sequence of Max and Lola, like the titles to a cheesy game show. “And now,” came an announcer’s voice, “while our Hero Twins get ready for the ballgame, let’s watch some hilarious highlights of their day at the Grand Hotel Xibalba. As you’ll see, they had quite a testing time! Let’s see how they got on.…”

  A night-vision shot of Max’s head filled the screen. His eyes glowed white in the infrared beam.

  “The party started in the Dark House,” said the commentator, “with an uninvited guest.”

  Max seemed to be talking to himself in the empty room. The audience went wild as a cockroach crawled up his chin and tipped itself into his open mouth.

  “Next came the Cold House, where hell literally froze over and our VIPs received a frosty reception!”

  And there were Max and Lola dodging icicle spears in the giant ice-cream freezer.

  “But never fear, a visit to the Jaguar House soon had them hot under the collar.”

  Max winced as he saw his head crushed in the sawdust under the jaguar’s paw.

  “In the Bat House, they said ‘Fangs for the Memory’ to the star of stage and screen Mr … Ray Love.”

  Now it was Lola’s turn to cringe, as she and Loverboy filled the screen, he baring his vampire fangs and both of them soaked in blood-colored ketchup. The audience oohed and aahed, impressed by this macabre brush with celebrity.

  “When our dynamic duo descended to the casino,” continued the announcer, “they faced the tests of knives and fire.”

  “Score!” roared the crowd, leaping to their feet.

  The audience roared with laughter to see Max’s jeans being sliced by holographic knives and Lola holding her burning ponytail in horror.

  “So how was your day?” asked the announcer, a question that was evidently his catchphrase. “And now lords and ladies, friends and fiends, give a big Xibalba welcome to the Hero Twins!”

  “Los-ers! Los-ers! Los-ers!” chanted the audience, now whipped up to a frenzy.

  All this time, Max and Lola were standing stock-still, like racing cars at a pit stop, while the Death Lords’ minions quickly fitted them with padded headbands, padded wristbands, kneepads, and thick padded belts around their waists.

  A conch-shell trumpet sounded.

  “And playing for Xibalba,” announced Lord Kuy, “put your hands together for the all-time champions of the underworld, those down and dirty cheats, One Death and Seven Death!” The crowd went wild as the two Death Lords came running into the arena. Like Max and Lola, they wore thick padding. What flesh they had was covered in red war paint.

  Just like that, with another blast from the conch shell and a furious drumroll, it started.

  Boom!

  The heavy rubber ball hit the court hard and bounced directly toward Max’s face. Instinctively, he launched himself to the right to avoid it, shielding his face with his arm. The ball whizzed past, almost grazing his cheek, and landed far behind him.

  “Score!” roared the crowd, leaping to their feet.

  “You’re supposed to return the ball, not run from it,” shouted Lola. “Get ready for the next one!”

  “I don’t want to play!”

  “You have to play!”

  “We can’t win, so what’s the point?”

  “The last Hero Twins tricked them, and maybe we can, too!”

  “So tell me the rules!”

  “Two teams—like doubles tennis, but no net and no rackets. Use your hips; no hands, no feet. Got it?”

  Max pointed at a stone ring high up on the side wall. “Is that the basket? Because that looks impossible!”

  “No, that’s just a marker. Think tennis, not basketball. You score if the other side can’t return, or if they hit out—”

  Her voice was drowned out by the trumpet and drums. The crowd picked up the rhythm, and the frenzied stamping of their feet echoed through the ball court.

  Lola gave Max a thumbs-up sign and bounced on her toes, ready for action.

  A skeleton in a crimson tunic, evidently the referee, stepped onto the court, holding the next ball. At a signal from Lord Kuy, he lobbed the ball toward them.

  Lola sprang forward into the path of the ball.

  Just before impact, she turned at her waist and hit the ball square and hard with her right hip. The ball shot low and deep into the opposite side.

  One Death planted one arm on the ground, pivoting his body and swinging his hip under the ball. He connected with a satisfying thud, and the ball flew in a high arc directly toward Max.

  “Go for it!” shouted Lola.

  Max paused to gauge the trajectory, then jumped up, thrusting his hip toward the ball. He misjudged the angle and it smashed him in the chest, hard as a cannonball. Winded, he flew backward and hit the ground flat on his back like a deflated balloon.

  “Score!” yelled the crowd.

  The boos of the crowd were deafening. Tamales, fruit, and corncobs rained down on Max as he lay there. Ah Pukuh, the Death Lords, and the shrunken heads were wiping away tears of laughter.

  Lola helped Max to his feet. He winced as a hard-shell taco hit him between the shoulder blades. “Come on, Hoop! You’re a gamer; can’t you pretend this is a video game?”

  “No,” he said. A mango bounced off his head. “We’re doomed.”

  Lola’s optimistic façade drooped. “I hate losing to these bullies.”

  The referee walked on court with a new ball.

  “Wait!” Max gripped Lola’s arm. “Maybe video games are the answer!”

  Lola brightened up. “Tell me!”

  “What we need are … special powers!”

  Lola’s shoulders slumped again in disappointment. “Oh. I thought for a moment that you’d actually had an idea—”

  Max was
running down the court, waving his arms. “Time out! Time out!”

  The crowd reacted angrily to this delay, and the volley of missiles increased. Dodging a bunch of bananas and skirting the skeleton referee, Max didn’t stop until he was standing in front of Ah Pukuh’s throne.

  The god of violent and unnatural death was drinking a gourd of foaming hot chocolate. He paused, and held up a bloated hand to bring the crowd to silence. “Have you come to surrender?”

  Max shook his head.

  “No? I am sorry to hear that. Because this is the dullest ballgame I have ever watched. I, for one, would like to stop right now, and move on to the main event.”

  “What’s the main event?” asked Max.

  “Your slow and painful death,” replied Ah Pukuh.

  The crowd erupted in cheers.

  “I think you’re going to like my idea,” said Max. “Have you ever played a video game?”

  A dreamy look came into Ah Pukuh’s eyes. “Yes, in Spain, on the tour bus with the band.”

  “Remember how in games you unlock special powers to use against opponents?”

  Ah Pukuh nodded enthusiastically. “My character had X-ray vision!” The shrunken heads chattered excitedly at this thought. “I was unbeatable!”

  “So,” continued Max, “let’s give the crowd what they want! A ballgame of mythical proportions. We’re playing by Xibalba rules now, so anything is possible. Why play against a couple of kids when you can play against great ballplayers like the real Hero Twins! Allow us to unlock special powers, and we’ll give you a game to remember!”

  A murmur of excitement went around the crowd.

  Ah Pukuh passed his empty drinking gourd to an attendant. Hot chocolate dripped down his jowls. With his powdery white skin, stained by rivers of chocolate the color of old blood, he looked like a zombie at a feast. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let loose a loud volley of gas that echoed through the ball court.

  The entire audience covered their noses.

  Max clamped his hand over his face and tried not to retch.

  Ah Pukuh summoned Lord Kuy and the skeleton referee.

  “Shall we allow this?” he asked them.