Richard Brockwell
The Forbidden Script
To my loving daughters
Janica and Amanda
And
To Janet, who encouraged me to write.
Prologue
The Mayan people were feeling the drought that has lasted for more than six months now. Crop fields were bare, and food rations were empty. Hunting was also in vain as wildlife migrated to richer grounds in search of food.
Children and the elderly were the first to feel the famine. Disease was everywhere. The people were in chaos and turned to their king for answers. The rulers people were now on the brink of survival.
King Piedras Negras summoned the high priests to call upon the gods in search of answers before his kingdom perishes. Just only a few days ago, he ordered the sacrifice of four of his people in an effort to please the gods.
But the high priests said, “the gods insist on more blood, and more sacrifices have to be considered.”
King Piedras has lost too many of his people to the drought and so ordered the priests to ask the gods for an alternative solution.
It was the first time a king had questioned the gods. Still the high priests were loyal to their king and dared not oppose the Mayan ruler.
So that night, unaware to the king, the priests gathered far outside the temple grounds. They were not planning to summon the heavenly gods, but went to a place forbidden to all others. They descended underground, where all twelve priests entered a sacred cavern and began the ritual for summoning the gods of the underworld. They had now entered Xibalba.
A fire was lit, and chants were sung. Each priest as an offering would draw blood either from their tongue or their wrists. With the fire burning and flames dancing back and forth, combined with the priest’s chanting, the cavern was transformed into a ghostly atmosphere. They continued late into the night, and after many attempts they had failed to make contact with the underworld spirits. They had failed their king, which they all knew failure would mean certain death to them all.
After a while of discussions, an elderly priest stepped out from among them, very old and fragile, leaning forward as he walked with the aid of a stick. He claimed he knew a definite way into the spirit world, but it would mean the sacrifice of someone royal, someone of pure blood, someone being the king’s daughter.
The priests argued among themselves considering the proposal made by the elderly one. They knew the king would never agree to their requests. Therefore, they decided the following night the king’s daughter was to be taken.
Later that night while all were asleep. Two of the high priests entered the royal temple. They crept past the king’s door and proceeded straight into his daughter’s chamber where she lay soundly asleep. One of the priests took out a piece of white cloth and carefully slid it around the young girl’s head gagging her mouth. With a sudden jerk, he pulled it as tight as he could, preventing her from making a sound. Instantly the young girl, barely twelve years of age began to struggle. Her eyes opened wide, confused and scared at what was happening. They carried her out of the temple and made their way down into the underground cavern where the other priests had begun the ritual.
With a fire blazing in the background, dark shadows came alive in every corner of the cavern. They tied down the young girl on the stone sacrificial table, forming a circle around her. The elderly priest then took out a bronze plaque that neither of the others had ever seen or knew of its existence. With a knife in one hand and plaque in the other, he drew blood from the girl’s wrists while reading aloud in some strange dialect.
Almost immediately, the whole cavern came to life. The fire roared and blazed high up into the stone ceiling, flames running down on all sides of the large walls. Next, an icy chill was felt all around them, while dark shadows flew from all directions, exerting screeching sounds that enveloped the cavern. The elderly priest kept on reading, lost in a deep trance. He began shouting out the underworld gods name 'Ah Puch', calling him again and again.
“Ah Puch! Reveal yourself! Take the offering we give to you, and in return redeem our people out of this dying land.”
As he continued to read from the bronze plaque, the dying girl’s body slowly began to levitate. Her bonds now untied she rose above the blazing fire as blood dripped from her slashed wrists. On seeing this, the elderly priest abruptly stopped chanting as the girl’s body was suddenly engulfed in flames.
After a few minutes, the fire died down to its original self. The cavern returned to its cold, damp state again as if nothing had happened. The priests overwhelmed at what they had seen, appeared to be frozen in time. It was something they had never witnessed before, something they would never want to witness again. They had seen the power of the great underworld god, the god of death.
The elderly priest then advised each one of them never to speak of what they had done. The sacrifice had been made, and the people will now live once again in prosperity. The priests turned towards the exit and one by one they made their way up the long flight of stone steps. All except the old priest, who stayed behind making sure the cavern entrance was sealed shut, leaving the dark figure behind, locked inside, never to be seen again. Or not?
CHAPTER ONE
Mid-June. Eleven fifteen p.m.
On the outskirts of Miami Florida. At a sleazy bar, with only a ceiling fan to provide some relief from the hot sticky air, sits a lone customer. He has just downed his seventh shot of whiskey.
Feeling slightly intoxicated, he manages to stand up while holding onto the edge of the bar. He decides to call it a night and pays the bartender. He then waits a few seconds to clear his head before heading to the exit.
As he opens the cowboy style swinging doors, a young skinny looking kid with ginger hair bursts in colliding into him. Being a strong, well-built guy that he is, and almost six feet three inches tall, he hardly feels the puny kid who on impact tumbles onto the floor.
“Hey kid! Watch it you dumb ass! You blind or what?”
The kid turns and looks up. “Sorry mister! My fault for rushing in.”
He leaves the bar and takes out his car keys to his black Ford Mustang. As he was about to open the car door, two Latin Americans rush past him armed with 9mm weapons.
They enter the bar shouting, “where is he? Where is that little shit?”
The sound of glasses and bottles can be heard being smashed against the walls. Outside, the lone drinker slams shut the car door, cursing as he takes a deep breath.
“Why me? Why now?”
He re-enters the bar to find one of the Latin guys pinning down the ginger haired kid with his gun pointed at his forehead.
“Where’s my money? Tell me before I blow your brains out!”
Over by the bar, the other Latin American is helping himself to a drink, his weapon laid down on the countertop. On seeing someone entering the bar, he quickly picks up his gun and aims it at the man standing between the swinging doors.
“Bars closed big guy! Turn around and leave!”
The stranger raises his hands in protest.
“Closed! I can’t see any sign saying closed!”
The guy with his gun aimed at the kid stands up and points his weapon at the stranger’s chest.
“We have a smart ass here do we?”
He slowly moves closer with his gun aimed at his target. Suddenly the ginger head kid gets up and runs for cover. That’s all the time the dark haired stranger needed. He was waiting for that split of a second diversion. Pulling out his firearm from behind his jeans, he swiftly, but precisely aims and shoots both men in their shoulders. As the bullets found their targets, both men are flung backward, their weapons flying from their hands. Shouting out in pain as they are being handcuffed, one of them yells out to the tall stranger.