The River of No Return

by Jon Voelkel

  The elevator screeched, juddered, and jerked to a halt.

  Eusebio cautiously slid open the steel mesh door.

  “Hold it right there!” shouted a burly security guard.

  A man stepped out of the shadows and made a little tweeting sound. Max recognized him as the hotel photographer who’d carried a parrot. His call was like a siren song to the captive birds in the elevator who—glimpsing the moonlight and sensing forest—flocked out in a flurry of beaks, wings, and claws, and attacked the guard who stood between them and their freedom. He took off running.

  “There’s our getaway vehicle.” Eusebio pointed to a beat-up panel truck.

  The third photographer, the one with the snake, was waiting by the truck, impatiently opening doors and urging them to get inside.

  “Where’s your snake?” Max asked him.

  “I set him free, where he could make the most trouble,” answered the photographer.

  They heard screams coming from inside the hotel.

  “Let’s load up,” called Lola.

  “You can’t put a jaguar in with a tapir,” Eusebio pointed out. “That’s like trusting Max Murphy to sit next to a pizza and not eat it.”

  “Bahlam understands the situation,” said Lola. “He is my animal companion and I trust him with my life. But it’s your choice. We can load him in the back with the tapir, or he can sit up front with us.”

  “In the back,” said Eusebio without hesitation.

  “What happened to the African lion that was going to eat us?” asked Max.

  “I intercepted the delivery and refused to sign for it,” said Eusebio. “It’s on its way back to the circus.”

  “Poor thing,” began Lola. “Couldn’t we—?”

  “No! Don’t even think about it!” said Max. “Can we just save this lot first?”

  When the animals had staked out their corners in the truck, and Max and Lola had wiped off the last of the blue paint, Eusebio started the engine.

  “Ko’ox! Let’s go!” said Lola, She opened the cab door. “Hey! Look what I found!” She tossed an unused stick of dynamite to Lord 6-Dog. “Another boom stick!”

  The monkey-king grabbed it, and Max ran with him back to the elevator. He ignited the dynamite, waited for the doors to open, pressed nine, and tossed in the explosive.

  Max pulled the door shut, and, with a whine of electric motors, the elevator began to descend.

  Max and Lord 6-Dog ran for the truck. Eusebio had the motor running and took off the second they leapt into the cab. It was a tight fit with Eusebio at the wheel and Lola, Max, and Lord 6-Dog all squeezed into the passenger seat.

  The parking lot was scattered with branches and detritus from the hurricane, but the wind seemed to have died down. Now only the parking lot barrier lay between them and freedom. “It takes exact change!” yelled Eusebio.

  “Ram it! Ram it!” chanted Max and Lola.

  But the barrier soared up airily as they approached, and the poncho family, who were crammed into the booth, waved good-bye and flashed a thumbs-up. The normally moribund poncho children were whooping with excitement.

  As the truck turned out of the parking lot and onto the road, Max heard the muffled boom of an explosion. “Nobody will be using that elevator for a while,” he said with satisfaction.

  “It will delay them,” warned Lord 6-Dog, “but it will not stop them. Ah Pukuh will not rest until he has tracked us down.”

  From the outskirts of Limón they headed north on a highway that had recently been built to take tourist buses to Ixchel. At this late hour, there was little traffic, but their progress was slowed by fallen trees and other debris from the hurricane.

  Fortunately, Eusebio was an expert driver and he always found a way through. The old truck was less resourceful and struggled every time they climbed a hill.

  At first no one talked.

  They were just enjoying the sensation of being out and being alive.

  When they’d put some distance between themselves and the Grand Hotel Xibalba, Lola broke the silence. “I hope Bahlam’s okay back there. I don’t hear any fighting.”

  “That poor tapir must be scared to death,” said Max.

  “She has her secret weapon, don’t forget,” said Lola. “It was pretty effective against the Death Lords.”

  “It’s going to take more than tapir pee to save the world from Ah Pukuh,” Max pointed out. “He has all five Jaguar Stones.”

  “On that subject,” said Eusebio, “I have good news. Here, Ix Sak Lol, please take the wheel a moment.” Lola grabbed the steering wheel and kept the creaking truck on the road, while Eusebio felt around on the floor of the truck. He pulled up Lola’s backpack.

  Taking the wheel again with one hand, he passed it to her. “You left this in the green room.”

  “Thank you, but—” She frowned at the unexpected weight of the bag. “What’s in here?”

  “Is it food?” asked Max hopefully.

  Lola opened the bag wide to reveal a deerskin cloth. Then she folded back the cloth to reveal a Jaguar Stone of white alabaster.

  Max and Lola cheered and hollered and stamped their feet.

  “I can’t believe my eyes!” cried Lola. “I really thought we’d lost it this time! I was dreading telling Hermanjilio! You’ve saved my life!”

  “And the lives of the seven billion inhabitants of planet Earth,” added Max.

  Lola carefully wrapped up the stone. “It’s like magic, Eusebio! How did you get it away from Ah Pukuh?”

  Eusebio’s eyes were twinkling. “I made sure there was plenty of smoke. And of course, I only pretended to switch the stones.”

  “But the Five Headed Jaguar?”

  “Ah Pukuh’s White Jaguar head is still a carved gourd.” Eusebio chuckled. “Unless the tapir ate it.”

  So once again, the White Jaguar had been spirited away from under Ah Pukuh’s nose. Once again, just when he thought he’d amassed all five Jaguar Stones, his fiendish plans had been thwarted by a couple of kids and a talking monkey.

  As they put more and more miles between themselves and the hotel at Limón, Max and Lola considered this fact and couldn’t help smiling. But when they allowed themselves to picture their last glimpse of Ah Pukuh, his normally ashen face puce with rage as his shiny new ball court collapsed around him, their smiles gave way to nausea.

  They knew he’d be out for vengeance.

  And they knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “We’re toast,” groaned Max.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” said Lola firmly. “I’m not going to think about it.”

  “Thou canst not ignore the reality of thy situation,” Lord 6-Dog chided her. “The White Jaguar has slipped from Ah Pukuh’s grasp yet again, and his fury will be redoubled. This time, he will take the ultimate recourse.”

  “Which is …?” asked Max nervously.

  “He will awaken the Undead Army in its merciless entirety.”

  “We beat Skunk Pig,” said Lola with bravado. “Who says we can’t beat the rest of them?”

  “I do,” replied Lord 6-Dog.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” muttered Max sarcastically.

  “I will not give thee false hope. The warriors in the Undead Army are the most terrible fighting force in the history of Middleworld. Once awakened, they must battle to the death. And since they cannot die …”

  His words trailed off and Lola finished his thought for him: “It is always their opponents’ death.”

  “You mean we’re going to have a pack of moldering corpses on our heels for the rest of our lives?” Max groaned. “It will be like living in our own private, never-ending zombie movie.”

  “About that, Hoop. Do the good guys usually win in zombie movies?”

  Max grimaced. “They usually become zombies themselves.”

  “Great.” Lola sounded depressed.

  “Forget I said that. I’m sure there are lots of zombie movies where the humans win.”

 
; “Name one.”

  “Um … Zombie Wipeout.”

  “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

  Max nodded sheepishly.

  Lola rolled her eyes. “I wish we could end it, once and for all. We’re good at winning battles, but I’m not sure we can win the war.”

  “It is the battles that decide the war,” said Lord 6-Dog. “We must keep fighting.”

  “Count me in!” exclaimed Eusebio, who’d been listening to their conversation as he drove. “I am proud to fight by your side, Lord 6-Dog. But I never thought I would look to a howler monkey to save the world.”

  They drove through the night, heading for Bahlam’s old hunting grounds near the White Pyramid of Ixchel. It was a new road, still unpaved, and fallen trees from the hurricane were everywhere. Often they had to stop and clear the road.

  It was slow going for the old truck.

  The sun was rising by the time they entered the high country around the ancient city of Ixchel. Struggling up a particularly steep hill, the vehicle started to lose power. Eusebio spoke to it in Mayan, urging it along. In reply, the engine whined and clanked, and white smoke poured out from under the hood. When even Eusebio’s sheer force of will was not enough to propel it along, the truck shuddered to a complete stop.

  Everyone else had been dozing, but now the absence of engine noise woke them up.

  They piled out into the rainforest dawn and looked around.

  They were on a lonely stretch of narrow road bounded by walls of foliage and shaded by low-hanging branches. Insects swarmed around them, and within seconds Max was scratching like a dog with fleas.

  Eusebio lifted the hood to inspect the engine. “It does not look good.”

  Lord 6-Dog peered over his shoulder at the mass of wires, tubes, belts, plugs, valves, and greasy cylinder heads. “Dost thou have the sorcery to deal with it?”

  “I have a tool kit,” replied Eusebio, “but it will take time. We must free the animals, before it gets too hot.”

  Half dreading what kind of carnage they might find in there, they opened the back of the truck and let down the ramp.

  The jaguar lay sprawled asleep, seemingly without a care in the world.

  The tapir was squashed against the truck wall, her eyes two tiny orbs of terror, trying to stay as far away as possible from her most feared jungle predator. The spider monkeys were under and behind the tapir, using her barrel-like body as a shield.

  She gave a little whistle and waved her snout at Lord 6-Dog.

  “Ah, my trusty steed,” he said, patting her neck. “I hope our paths will cross again.”

  The tapir brushed his monkey cheek with her snout.

  “Go now, find thy family.”

  She ambled down the ramp and disappeared into the rainforest.

  The monkeys chattered in terror, unsure of what to do next.

  “Go!” Lola called to them, waving her arms. “You’re free! Go now!”

  But having been mistreated by their handlers at the hotel for so long, they were too scared to move.

  Lord 6-Dog took a deep breath, and allowed his massive howler monkey voice box to produce an earth-shattering roar that echoed in the valleys all around. Within two seconds, the truck was clear of monkeys. They ran down the ramp, flew up the nearest trees, and proceeded to pelt Lord 6-Dog with fruit, twigs, and, in one case, a small lizard.

  Back in the truck, the jaguar woke up.

  He surveyed his freedom and yawned lazily.

  “Come, Bahlam,” called Lola. “We are close to Ixchel. I am sure you can find your home from here.”

  As if he understood her, the jaguar got to his feet and padded out of the truck. But instead of vanishing into the forest, he rubbed against her legs like a gigantic house cat.

  “You have to go,” said Lola. “Go back to Ixchel and find your family.”

  The jaguar sat down in front of her. His green eyes held her gaze.

  The sound of a far-distant conch shell floated from the south.

  “And so it begins,” said Lord 6-Dog. “The Undead Army is massing.”

  Max started darting about in a panic. “What should we do? Where should we hide?”

  “Calm down, young lord. Let us assess the situation.”

  “The situation is that we’re about to be mown down by the Undead Army. We can’t just stand here waiting to die—”

  “Look, Hoop!” interrupted Lola. “Why is Bahlam staring at me like that? He’s trying to tell us something. I think he wants us to go home to Ixchel with him!”

  The jaguar stood up and growled softly.

  “He can look after himself,” said Max. “We have our own skins to save.”

  “But Bahlam is my animal guide,” Lola continued. “He is trying to save me.” She pulled open her backpack and rooted inside. “Let me look at that map.”

  “I trust this creature,” said Lord 6-Dog. “He has a noble soul.”

  “I don’t want to go to Ixchel,” argued Max. “That’s where all the trouble started.”

  “It is a good idea,” Eusebio told him. “Out here in the jungle, we are sitting ducks. In a few hours’ time there will be tourists at Ixchel. You can get a ride with them.”

  “Are you coming with us?” asked Max.

  “No, I will stay with the truck.”

  “But the Undead Army—”

  “It is not me they seek.” Eusebio pulled a machete from behind the seat of the truck. “Here, take this to … to clear your path.”

  “But Ixchel is still miles away,” complained Max, “on the other side of that mountain. Can’t we wait for you to fix the truck?”

  “Too risky.” Eusebio was adamant. “What if I cannot fix it? Better to start walking. Go now.”

  “Look!” Lola jabbed a finger at the map. “The road must wind around the mountain, but the map shows a trail that cuts straight through the jungle.”

  She held it low to show Lord 6-Dog.

  “Leave it to me,” he said, leaping into the nearest tree. “I will find it.”

  “This is good news,” said Eusebio. “You will get there faster on the trail, for sure.”

  “I see it!” called Lord 6-Dog from farther up the road. “I have found the trail! It starts at this ceiba tree.”

  “Good-bye then.” Lola hugged Eusebio. “I hate to leave you.”

  “You forget that I still have my camouflage,” he joked, holding out an arm to show her the faded jaguar spots from his disguise as the jaguar priest.

  Lola took a deep breath. “Okay, Hoop, let’s go.”

  “Can I just say that I don’t like this plan one bit?”

  “Objection noted,” replied Lola. “But it’s all we’ve got. Just remember the drill. Look where you’re walking, watch out for snakes, and don’t touch anything, especially tree trunks. Most of them are covered in spikes, or poison, or biting ants.”

  “I know all that. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

  Max instantly tripped over a tree root and narrowly missed cutting off his own leg with the machete.

  With Lola carrying the machete, Bahlam guiding them on the ground, and Lord 6-Dog scouting through the trees, they soon found themselves deep in the forest.

  “Notice how quiet it is?” whispered Lola.

  “Yeah,” replied Max. “I don’t like it. I feel like I’m being watched.”

  Lola laughed. “You are being watched. That’s the Bahlam effect. When a jaguar walks by, the forest goes silent. All the other creatures are frozen with fear.”

  “What I don’t understand,” said Max, “is why they sent the road to Ixchel all around the mountain, when they could have just sent it through here?”

  “It must be protected land. You often get wildlife reserves around Maya sites.”

  But that, as it turned out, wasn’t the reason at all.

  The chasm, when they came to it, was two hundred feet deep and fifty feet across, a gaping gash in the jungle floor that cut across their path and dropped straight do
wn to a sluggish, rock-strewn stream. In the distance, on the other side, they could see the pyramid of Ixchel rising above the rainforest canopy.

  “We were so close!” groaned Lola in frustration.

  “It might have been helpful,” said Max, “if they had marked this on the map.”

  Lord 6-Dog peered into the gorge. “This was not here in my day.”

  “So we know it happened in the last twelve hundred years then,” said Max sarcastically.

  Lord 6-Dog ignored him. “An earthquake,” he opined.

  “We’ll have to go back to the road,” said Max.

  The jaguar had been pacing around impatiently. Now he turned and roared at them, his tongue bright pink and his teeth creamy yellow against his spotted fur.

  Max backed away. “He looks hungry.”

  “If he didn’t eat the tapir, he’s not going to eat us.” Lola crouched down. “What’s wrong, Bahlam? Have you seen something?”

  The jaguar made a soft, throaty growl, then disappeared into the undergrowth.

  “Maybe he was saying good-bye,” said Lola, talking to herself as much as to the others. “It had to happen, sooner or later. He’s a wild animal, after all.”

  She shaded her eyes with her hands and pretended to be interested in the view of the pyramid.

  “He’s back,” said Max.

  And sure enough, the jaguar’s head was peering through the bushes. He roared at them and licked his lips.

  “I think,” said Lola, with a big smile, “that he wants us to follow him again.”

  The jaguar led them along the edge of the cliff for about half a mile.

  And then they saw what he wanted to show them.

  A tree trunk had fallen in a storm and formed a natural bridge: a naturally narrow, slimy, potentially rotten bridge, with no guardrail or posted weight limit, across what now looked like a bottomless abyss. It had fallen toward them, branches on their side, massive roots on the other bank. A colony of vultures perched hopefully midway, encouraging them with hungry eyes to try and cross.

  “Seriously?” said Max.

  The jaguar put one paw on the tree trunk, and the vultures took flight. Bahlam padded easily to the other side. When Max and Lola didn’t follow, he came back across and roared at them.