Xolotl Strikes!

by William Stafford

  Xolotl had struck.

  Chapter Twenty

  And so another adventure comes to its conclusion. There is very little left to tell other than our sorrow at burying Miss Pepper in the village graveyard. Her dream of bringing flight to humanity died with her. Perhaps those Wright boys she mentioned might make something of it - I decided not to tell them about the machine I had flown; I didn’t want them appropriating Miss Pepper’s invention. Let them find their own way, if they can.

  She deserves a better eulogy. She had a brilliant mind and her ideas were innovative. The coming century could have been shaped by her inventions. But she lies in a corner of some foreign field, to all extents, purposes, and the rest of the world, still missing. I would rather that than have her involvement in the cult of Xolotl exposed.

  Goodbye, Belle.

  Cuthbert and I begged a ride on a wagon to the Gulf where we wangled passage on a packet ship back to the States. Standing on the deck, there was nothing I wanted more than to hold the hand of the man for whom I had been through so very much. I am certain he was feeling the same. He looked sideways at me and winked.

  “Can’t wait to get you in private,” he whispered, adding “Sir” with a delicious grin. “I like the fact you ain’t never been with no woman. Sort of makes you all mine.”

  “Oh, Cuthbert...” My mood cooled. “I have a bone to pick with you, young man. I believed you were drugged insensible and yet you were dissembling. Explain yourself!”

  He laughed. “Oh, the stuff they gave me wore off but I didn’t let on in case they gave me some more. I knew you’d be coming for me, see. So I had to choose my moment, didn’t I? And I’m glad we put a stop to it, sir. That horrible cult. No more kids like Bobby will ever be hurt again.”

  I wanted to embrace him and shelter him forever from the evil that men do.

  We watched the Louisiana coast loom on the horizon. The water was placid and the sky devoid of cloud. Hector Mortlake had lived to tell another tale.

  But then, suddenly, commotion! A disturbance was underway below deck. The crew hurried around, yelling and screaming. Some of them jumped overboard, opting to make a swim for it rather than face whatever it was that was on board.

  Cuthbert and I exchanged panicked glances.

  “Sir?”

  And there was Trask! Still in his ceremonial robes, lashing out with his dagger, sending blood arcing and spurting from all those in his path. His eyes were unblinking and afire with madness.

  “He ain’t dead, sir!” Cuthbert stated the obvious.

  “He ate a bit of that old mummy,” I replied. “Perhaps he is immortal after all.”

  We were backed into a corner - well, the gunwale to be precise. Trask kept coming. I cast around for something to throw at him. Cuthbert altered his stance, preparing to fight. Well, I couldn’t have that. My mind raced for a solution and then, on a wild impulse, I put my thumb and finger in my mouth and whistled.

  It worked!

  Tommy was there! Marvellously and miraculously! He landed on the deck between the madman and us, and snarled menacingly. Trask, a slashing automaton by this point, continued his advance. Tommy pounced at his chest, knocking him to the deck. They rolled over and over. Trask was an unstoppable machine, his mind bent on a single purpose, i.e. killing yours truly.

  “Here, sir!” Cuthbert had located a large trunk. He dragged it toward the rolling couple. “Let’s get him in here.”

  It had a certain poetic justice. Trask had wanted to be at one with Xolotl, and now he was going to end up in a box like the one in which he’d stashed the king. I called Tommy off. He padded over for a stroke. Trask got to his feet and resumed his path toward me. Cuthbert legged him over. He toppled headlong into the trunk. The sacrificial dagger flew high in the air, plunging into the water like a knife into butter, I suppose. Cuthbert folded Trask’s legs in after him, slammed the lid shut and sat on it.

  “Phew!” he wiped his brow. “Talk about persistent. What are we going to do with him, sir? If he’s going to live forever, we’ll never be shot of him.”

  I perched on the trunk beside him. “He’ll have to be locked away, I suppose. We’ll take him to the police in Manhattan and say he was responsible for the deaths of Mahoney and his men - although I have my suspicions they were not real policemen. But just imagine, he’ll be trapped in his own madness for all eternity.”

  “I’d rather not, sir, if it’s all the same to you. Where’s the real one? The real king, I mean?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I shrugged. “I wrapped the old woman in his bandages but I left the bones on the train. They could be anywhere by now.”

  “That don’t seem respectful,” said Cuthbert. “Oh, well... And what about Tommy?”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, where is he, for a start?”

  I glanced around. Of the dog-headed youth there was no sign. I called his name and whistled. I even patted my thighs and said, “Here, boy.” He didn’t come.

  “Funny how he just turned up like that, wasn’t it?” said Cuthbert, but I didn’t answer.

  Overhead, a dark cloud sped by and thunder rumbled like the low growl of a gigantic hound. A flash of lightning briefly turned the blue to white and I gripped Cuthbert’s hand.

  I trembled. “Xolotl strikes!”

  THE END

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