"I am sixty meters in height. There is no cover."
"When I was small, I would hide under a tree when it rained this fiercely," Lujan said.
"I see no tree taller that my present form."
"El drbol del Tule!"
"Explain. "
"There is a magnificent tree only a mile or three from here. A cypress, heavy with age, for it is said to be two thousand years old. The tourists flock to see it always. Go there. Stand beneath its Zapotec branches. It will protect you, if protection is necessary."
Picking up one gargantuan foot, Coatlicue slowly and ponderously reoriented herself toward the southeast as black rain sluiced down her armored hide. She was slow and deliberate, and her slowness suddenly filled Rodrigo Lujan with a cold dread.
For if Coatlicue feared the lightning, then it was truly something to be feared. And the circle of the horizon was ablaze with devilish pitchforks of electricity.
"I will lead the way, Coatlicue," said Lujan, who dared not voice the selfish thought rising in the back of his mind.
If he remained in the shadow of his Mother, any angry bolt that sought him would be drawn to Coatlicue herself. If by some black fate she should succumb, it would be a terrible tragedy, of course. But Rodrigo Lujan would carry on.
For what was a god without priests to guide the faithful?
Chapter 47
The Mexican army utility chopper was sluggish. Winston Smith had to skim just above treetop level to make the flight to Oaxaca. But that was good, too. Too high made him subject to a sudden shootdown.
The green hills and valleys of Mexico rushed beneath them. The Plexiglas bubble swam with a streaky dark rain.
"Hope we can recognize Verapaz from the air," he muttered.
"He moves with a mighty army. How can we not?"
"Good point."
Assumpta looked over pensively. "Why did you leave those two behind? I still do not understand."
Smith frowned. He had dodged the question once already. "Okay, you deserve to know the absolute truth."
"Yes?"
"They were CIA killer agents."
Assumpta's mouth became an oval. "Even the old one?"
"He was the deadliest of them all. Knows super kung fu."
"They did behave strangely at times."
"You saw how they treated me. Like a kid. Me, the wild-haired warrior. Nobody treats the Extinguisher like a chump."
"If they are CIA killers, why did you vouch for them to me?"
"I couldn't be sure. But I got them to sorta admit it back when we were humping along the trail."
"Romping?"
"Military slang. Forget it."
"I like this word homping. I would homp with you anywhere, Blaize."
"Call me Winner. It's my real name. Short for Winston."
"Would you homp with me anywhere, Weener?"
Smith winced. Her pronunciation sounded too much like weiner. "Yeah. But first-we have to hook up with Verapaz."
"Did I tell you that Juarezista women are allowed to take whatever man they choose, without asking permission of anyone?"
"No, you didn't."
She inhaled sharply. "I would take you."
Smith swallowed. "You would?"
"Si. And I am not ashamed to admit that if I were to make love to you it would be my first time."
His hands trembling on the collective stick, Winston Smith muttered under his breath, "Mine, too."
And deep in the pit of his stomach, he got a very ugly feeling; he didn't know what to do with it.
Chapter 48
Comandante Efrain Zaragoza kept one eye on the TV as his unit rolled toward Oaxaca. The evil rain came down, making reception difficult. If it wasn't the rain, it was the interference from the mountains. It didn't help that he was hunkered down in the back of a jouncing armored vehicle.
Through the rain that was black, and the white snow on the screen, he could see his objective lumber on through the very strange rain. Coatlicue the animate.
Lightning blazed. It cracked and crashed.
"Santa Madre de Dios!" he cursed. "Why does the lightning not strike the demon and save us all from the terror of confronting her?"
"Perhaps if we pray," a sargento suggested.
"To whom?" Zaragoza spit. "To whom do we pray?"
"Let half our number pray to the old gods and the other half to the saints. And let the most powerful gods prevail."
It seemed reasonable, and so straws were drawn and, with the hammering of the rain from hell against the hulls of their APCs and LAVs, the unit prayed silently, nervous eyes on the horizon. Zaragoza monitored the screen.
The monster Coatlicue made her painstaking way onward. She seemed like an unstoppable juggernaut of steel, her torso bearing the haphazard military markings of the armor she had absorbed. The very same insignia marked their own machines. It made one think terrible thoughts about the fate of their crews.
Abruptly the screen exploded in a flash of fire.
"Our prayers are answered!" Zaragoza cried.
When the screen cleared, they saw Coatlicue standing stock-still, electricity running up and down her metallic skin. It evaporated with a spiteful snap and crackle.
Then ponderously she continued her march.
"No," said the sargento unhappily. "Ours were."
The order was given to pray to saints, not the ancient ones whose loyalties were in question, and as their lips moved silently, all eyes were fixed on the monster they sought to fight but hoped never to behold through their very own eyes.
Chapter 49
It had been too easy, Alirio Antonio Arcila felt.
His Juarezistas had filtered up from Chiapas to Oaxaca without hindrance. It was as if the army was allowing this.
After some thought he realized this must be so.
"They wish us to fight the monster Coatlicue," he told Kix as they paused to rest.
A rain was falling. It was filled with black particles that made their brown uniforms clammy and gritty at once.
"And we will. For are we not Maya?"
The portable TV was brought out of its waterproof carrying case and turned on.
The monster, now plated and scaled like an armadillo, lumbered toward an unknown destination. They fixed its position on their plastic recon maps.
"We are less than thirty minutes' march from the demon, and it is moving steadily our way," he decided.
"We will defeat it," Kix said. He sounded very sure of himself, so right then and there Antonio decided Kix would be the first to attack the monster.
"But where does it go?" Antonio wondered aloud.
"There can be but one destination," Kix muttered, tapping a point on the map. "The cypress of Tule."
Antonio frowned. "Why would it go there? It is but a tree."
"To get out of the fierce rain?"
No better explanation presented itself.
"We will move out now," Antonio announced, standing up. The moment of truth approached. If he defeated the stone mother, his image would be unshatterable. El Presidente himself would doubtless plead to join the Juarezista cause after that.
Chapter 50
High Priest Rodrigo Lujan tramped through the black rain along Highway 190 to Santa Maria del Tule.
They were passing through hills luxuriant with vegetation that was turning an ominous black under a pelting rain. But he had no eyes for their ruined splendor.
For one, he could hardly see. Two, he was having to lead the way through the rain, for Coatlicue did not know the route.
But most difficult of all, he walked without his sheltering cloak and headdress. He had been forced to leave them by the side of the road when the black rain made them too heavy to bear.
It was fortunate that he had discarded them, because the only warning he had of the impending lightning strike was the faint ozone tang and the rising of the hairs on his bare arms.
The knowledge that an electrical connection had been made between earth and sky galvanized him. Panic took him. In his alarm he leaped between the legs of his great stone Mother.