Palenque ruins, Chiapas
“That went over well,” Chac said.
Camazotz watched the invaders keep picking up their seeds. He had Acan and Pok spread more seed over all the Mayan ruins.
“Can we feed from the fallen warriors now?”
The Mayan god surveyed the field. The city-father’s militia had driven Chalam Balam and his followers back into the depths of the jungle. The soldiers hustled the remaining Zapatistas to their feet and handcuffed them. The commanding officer marched them from the field and into the waiting square metal boxes on skull-balls. Dust and the foul odor of gasoline permeated the air as the metal boxes drove off down the winding road leading into the city of Palenque.
Tilting his head upward, Camaztoz’ eyes scoured the sky. He saw no sign of the spinning metal blades attached to a square metal box. The turquoise blue sky covered them, and its yellow orb bathed them in a fierce yellow light.
Francesca collapsed at Acans feet.
“Can we sleep now?”
Acan glanced toward Camazotz. Nodding, the god jerked his head to the side. Scooping up the girl in his wings, the boy-man flew toward the Temple of Inscriptions and landed outside a blackened doorway.
Camazotz stretched and watched as Sister Bagdona inched her way across the ball court and stopped three feet in front of him.
“No seeds, sister?”
“I have no need of them. I come to ask for shelter within your temple until I can get my bearings and decide how I can be of use to you.” The god inclined his head.
“Make as if you are Elena and go home with her husband, that’s what I ask. I can bend his mind to see you as his wife. Be careful of how he spreads his seed, Sister. I do not want any further claims against my land.” The sister bowed.
“Where’s Elena’s spouse?”
“He’s standing by that large deer with the boy Jesus. He will stay with Roberto and be safe from Chalam Balam.” Snorting, Sister Bagdona folded her arms across her chest.
“Safe from his enemies? I doubt it. Not with the counts busy with their seed gathering. Nor will Father Valorous go out on his own to protect the boy. He’s a most obedient creature of habit, as are the rest of our brethren. I’ll play wife to Roberto. Let me know when you need me.” Pausing for breath, the sister glanced back at the detective who stooped to exam the millet seeds.
“You don’t think he’s counting them, do you?”
Camazotz stared at the kneeling man.
“He is looking for something that he will not find. The Chalam Balam is a bit worldlier than Señor Cruz realizes. I will keep my eyes on him. He will search for Elena, I think as well, so it is good to keep him as your alley, Sister, as you play Elena Gonzalez. He will ask you of that.” Sister Bagdona – now Elena – smiled, twisting her hair with her left hand. She blew a kiss to the Mayan god, and then turned and at a trot hurried toward her husband.
“Roberto, where have you been?”
Elena’s sweet voice reached her husband’s ears. Turning, he let go of Jesus’ hand and hurried back toward his wife. Sister Bagdona blushed as Roberto, under the spell of Camazotz, caught her by the waist and lifted her up into the air. She screeched laughing as her hands pushed down on the Roberto’s muscular shoulders.
“Silly, everyone will see,” she said.
Roberto grinned. His face flushed with success. His wife was back. Taking her by the hand, he led her to his horse. Jesus tell to one knee and felt the heavy pressure of Roberto’s boots upon his leg, and then the weight was gone. Sister Bagdona stepped up on the boy’s bent knee. Reaching down, Roberto hauled up his wife’s avatar, who slid in back of him on the saddle.
Raising from the ground, Jesus walked to the horse’s head and grabbed its bridle.
The horse’s head reared as Roberto reined it in. Letting go of the bridle, Jesus watched as Roberto and Elena cantered off toward the dirt road running parallel to the concrete highway.
Alvarez strode up to the abandoned child.
“You can come home with me until Roberto Gonzalez sends for you. I’ve just the place where you can live and go back to school. School is very important if you wish to become involved with the land and our people. Ask the god, he’ll tell you. The more you know your past, the better to plot your future and live within the boundaries of your present.”
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, escauldwellWrite a Review