“We’ll take turns,” William said. “You go first. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.”
She agreed, lying down on the hard stone floor in the corner of the narrow room, practically falling asleep the moment her eyes closed.
William crept over to the chamber’s entrance and looked around the corner. Groups of peasants passed near the base of the pyramid carrying baskets of food, as they hurried toward the sounds of the festivity off in the distance.
“Oh crap,” William grumbled, noticing twenty or more guards standing around the perimeter of the courtyard. He wondered if they would be standing there all night, and he contemplated ways to sneak around them. While he considered the options, the scent of cooking meat drew his attention. His stomach growled, and he suddenly craved for his mom’s cooking.
Tears welled up in William’s eyes when images of his mom entered his mind, imagining the pain she had to be going through, thinking that he had drowned. He wondered if his girlfriend would even care that he was missing. When they moved from California, she was supportive at first. But he hadn’t seen her for over five months… since his dad died. He even had to finish his junior year through an online program. Her emails and calls had become distant, and less frequent.
William shook his head, deciding it was stupid to worry about those things right then. It wouldn’t matter if his head ended up on a stick on the outskirts of town! All he could do was try to survive. He moved back into the shadows beside Betty to wait for nightfall.
William woke up Betty by holding his hand over her mouth, to keep her from making any noise. “Everyone’s down there,” he whispered. “I think the whole freaking town is right at the bottom of these steps.”
“What’s happening?” Betty asked, rubbing her eyes as she stood.
“They’ve been preparing for some kind of ceremony over the last couple hours… chanting, banging drums, waving incense… all kinds of nonsense. The warriors… they’ve been herding all the people into the clearing. There’s obviously something they want everyone to see here.”
“What if they find us?” she asked.
William nodded, also worried about how the full moon and burning torches lit up their hiding place. “They don’t know we’re here, Betty. Hopefully, they won’t think to look in our direction. We’ll let this ceremony blow over, and slip out later.”
The sounds of chanting and drums beating in the distance created a chilling combination to the already spooky atmosphere, as five gruesome figures ascended the pyramid steps, creeping up like a dark fog.
“Someone’s coming!” Betty whispered.
Four of the men were painted in patterns of black and red; they wore odd devil-like masks. The fifth man in the center of the group had, what appeared to be, the actual head of a boar over his own head, with horns and long feathers jutting out the top. In his hand, he wielded a long black dagger. Spears were the weapon of choice for the four devil-men, and they thumped them against the stone platform in unison with the chants and drum beating below.
The boar-man set his knife down on the altar at his feet and began chanting. He moved over to one of the torches, lit a stick, and held it to an incense burner until the sweet smoke billowed out the top. As he continued his grunting chants, he waved the incense around the platform. He even made a complete tour through the chamber with his smoky jar.
William released an inaudible sigh, relieved that they were not noticed there, pressed against the stone wall in the shadows. He peered around the corner again to see what was happening.
The boar-man set the incense burner down on a ledge near the chamber’s entrance. He placed a shiny ceramic bowl on the altar, reached into his cape, and retrieved a shiny black needle. He stretched his arms high over his head, and then pierced his left palm with the needle. Blood dripped from his self-inflicted wound, making a pinging sound as it splattered into the bowl beneath him.
He stepped back, handed the needle to the devil-man on his right, and continued chanting, with animated and jerking motions.
The four devil-men each took their turn of bloodletting, followed by a couple dozen others. One after another, they made their way up to give their donation. Some cut their lips, some pricked their ear lobes, and many chose to let blood from their tongue. When they were done, they returned down the steps from where they came, like some bloody form of taking communion.
The boar-man reached into the bloody bowl with his fingers. He wiped the blood on his mask and on the masks of the four devil-men, painting zigzag streaks of red. He threw splashes of the blood all around the pyramid’s platform, and then lifted the bowl to the heavens, speaking in a loud voice that carried over the courtyard below.
William recognized the voice of the leader, the one who spoke earlier at the base of the pyramid, now concealed beneath the ghoulish boar mask. He leaned over to Betty, whispering, “He’s saying something about a divided family again. The Gods will… solidify the kingdom this night, ending the division with the needed sacrifice.”
The leader in the boar mask poured the remaining blood across the altar. He set the ceramic bowl aside and picked up his dagger, raising it with both hands to the sky. Blood trickled down his wrist and forearm.
The chanting from the crowd increased to the intensity of a football stadium during a goal-line stand, drowning out the cry of a single man being dragged up the steps. Three others rose into view; their bodies were painted with black and white streaks. They jerked one of the captives forward by the rope around his neck. The prisoner screamed as he approached the altar, begging for his life.
William and Betty watched from around the corner of the chamber as the four devil-men grabbed the prisoner by his limbs and flung him onto the altar, arching his back over it. His arms and legs flexed and convulsed as he tried to break free, but the hands that held him down were too strong.
The leader reached into his pocket and threw some powder into the air. “Chunbesah… kuxtal… kimil,” he chanted in a deep voice, raised the dagger high, and buried it into the man’s chest.
William winced at the sight of blood spurting forth, and he could almost feel the man’s pain through his agonizing screech.
The captive’s body convulsed like a fish pulled from the water, before going limp. A devil-man stepped forward and lopped off the guy’s head with a heavy stone axe. The leader displayed the head to the crowd, and he dropped it into a wicker basket held by one of his masked assistants.
The zebra-painted escorts dragged the headless body back down the stairway; the corpse thumped hard against each step.
William swallowed against the nausea, feeling a strong urge to vomit after what he had just witnessed.
The five executioners resumed their positions at the top of the steps, waiting for their next victim. A young boy, no more than thirteen years old, came into view. He did not put up any resistance to the men who held his rope.
“Oh no,” William muttered.
Betty put her hand over William’s mouth, with a warning look in her eyes.
The boy turned to face the crowd, and he raised his arms to the heavens. A loud collective gasp resonated, amidst some isolated cries from the women below. The boy lied back on the altar, and the four devil-men held his limbs to the stone slab.
Anger began to build within William, the likes of which he had never felt before. He pictured his younger cousin, about to be killed short by a gang of murdering psychos. Yet he had to be quiet. He had to let it pass. The sooner it ended, the sooner he and Betty could slip out.
The leader tossed up another handful of powder and chanted, “Chunbesah… kuxtal… kimil.” He raised the dagger above his head.
“Stop!” William yelled, as he bolted from the shadows and shoved the leader away from the boy, causing him to stumble backwards several steps to the edge of the stairway. William caught eye-contact with the leader through the eye-holes of his boar mask, and he could see his startled reaction. The leader took another step backwards, tripped, and toppled down the steep stairway, his mask flying off along the way.