Bones, who was looking over his shoulder as he reeled in the rope tied to the gear bag, said, “Maybe ‘pus’ meant something else to the Maya?”
“You think so?” Miranda said. “Ever heard of a little thing called a staph infection? Or candida or aspergillus? That black dust is on everything. I’ll bet you fifty bucks it’s some kind of fungus. Even if we could get through that without a scratch, we’d probably breathe in the spores. Dad is especially vulnerable because of his COPD.”
“Could a fungus even survive down here?” Angel asked. “I mean, it’s been hundreds of years, right?”
“There’s evidence that some fungal spores can remain dormant for at least a quarter century. And even if they’re dead, they may have produced toxic or carcinogenic chemical compounds. Not many people realize it, but fungal diseases kill more people every year than malaria, and they’re extremely hard to treat.” She realized they were all staring at her and shrugged. “I had to take a course in infectious disease. Work related.”
“So what are we looking for here?” Bones asked. “Do we need to make another sacrificial offering? Trip some switch and make a bridge across this sucker?”
Maddock shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to be another test of faith for the pilgrims. To get to Xibalba, you had to be willing to walk through that stuff, risk getting infected by… whatever that is.” He glanced at Bell for confirmation, and got a nod.
“That’s not an option for us,” Miranda said. “There has to be another way.”
“Maybe we could get a gigantic can of athlete’s foot spray?” Bones suggested.
“We’ll burn it out,” Maddock said. “Remember how those spikes broke off? Even though the air is damp down here, the wood is old and brittle. Those thorn bushes down there will probably go up like matchsticks.”
Bell grinned. “A solution worthy of the Hero Twins.”
“Whose?” Bones said. “His or mine?”
“Because hot smoke is so much easier to breathe than fungal spores,” Miranda said, her tone thick with sarcasm.
“We won’t be breathing smoke. We’ve got a SCUBA rig with a couple hours’ worth of air. With the main line and the octopus, we can buddy breathe until the air clears, which probably won’t take that long.”
Miranda offered no further protest, but her disapproving frown remained fixed in place as Maddock began talking them through buddy breathing procedures and other precautions to safeguard them from the heat and smoke. While Bones and Angel worked to fashion a fire shelter from a reflective space blanket, Maddock created a tinder pile from pocket lint and bits of shredded paper, and when everyone was set, he used a fire-piston to set it alight. He could have just used one of the waterproof matches included in the survival kit in the gear bag, but he’d been looking for a chance to try out the fire-starting device, which used compressed air to ignite the tinder. As soon as he coaxed a small flame to life, he tossed the tinder out into the thorn-filled channel and then ducked under the shelter with the others while the fire did its work.
CHAPTER 20
Aside from a layer of gray ash and the lingering smell of smoke, nothing remained of the obstacle described in Maya lore as the River of Pus. Nevertheless, Maddock instructed the others to breathe through damp cloths and kept Bell on the SCUBA regulator as they ventured down the steps into the trough. The fire had burned quickly, consuming the dry fuel in a flash, without raising the temperature of the stone beneath, and what little heat it had created was already dissipating.
Maddock swept his boot across the ash layer at the base of the steps, revealing the first of several paw prints carved in the stone. The prints took a left turn at the base of the stairs and headed down the channel to the stairs leading up the other side. Those stairs brought them to a third stone platform, this one bordered with a row of elaborately carved columns, which unlike the ruins at Copán and Chichén Itzá, were in pristine condition, untouched by wind and weather. A line of paw prints, spaced just a few feet apart, led them between the columns and onto a balcony overlooking another vast subterranean chamber.
Bones shone his light down a wide staircase that descended into the dark unknown. “What’s next? River of Crap? Hey, why can’t there ever be something like a River of Dos Equis?”
Bell shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, but if we’re descending again, I suspect it means that we’ve completed the preliminary tests.”
“So this is it?” Miranda said. “We’re entering Xibalba?”
Bell spread his hands in a gesture of ignorance, but his giddy expression told a different tale. But as they made their way down the steps, his enthusiasm ebbed.
“I’m not really sure what I was expecting,” Bones said as he swept his light across the floor of the chamber, “but I’m sure it was more… ” He shrugged. “Hellish?”
Instead of the Maya version of Dante’s Inferno, the only thing waiting for them at the bottom of the steps was a large courtyard. There were devils — or more precisely, demonic-looking Maya deities, but they too were carved of stone. Ten elaborately carved stelae, of a style even more dramatic than what Maddock had seen at Copán, each one at least ten feet tall, stood in pairs in a loose ring at the center of the courtyard.
“Watch where you step,” Maddock advised, searching the elaborately carved stone floor tiles for more paw prints, but finding none.
“The stelae,” Bell gasped, shuffling out across the plaza, seemingly heedless of Maddock’s warning. “They’re the Lords of Xibalba. Miranda, come here. You need to record all this.”
He moved around the circle stopping in front of a pair of twisted figures. “The Lords of Xibalba are always described in pairs. This is Xiquiripat — Flying Scab — and Cuchumaquic — Gathered Blood.”
Bones stared at the archaeologist in disbelief for a moment then shook his head. “And people make fun of American Indian names.”
“Most Maya deities are similar to those of other ancient people,” Bell went on. “Natural forces, storms, heavenly bodies, war and fertility and so forth, but the Lords of Xibalba seem to have been inspired by a different sort of deadly force: Disease.” He pointed to the other stelae couplings. “Ahalpuh — Pus Demon — and Ahalgana — Jaundice Demon — who cause people's bodies to swell up. There’s Chamiabac — Bone Staff — and Chamiaholom — Skull Staff — who turn dead bodies into skeletons. Ahalmez — Sweepings Demon — and Ahaltocob — Stabbing Demon — who hide in the unswept areas of people's houses and stab them to death. And Xic — Wing — and Patan — Packstrap — who cause people to die coughing up blood while out walking on a road.”
“Those are oddly specific descriptions,” Maddock observed.
Bell nodded. “It has been suggested that perhaps these deity-pairs represent the very disease outbreaks that decimated the Maya at the end of the Classical period.”
“But this place predates that cataclysm, right?”
“By at least a couple centuries, I should think.”
“So the Maya knew about these diseases before they were wiped out. They even built this temple.”
Bell inclined his head, confirming Maddock’s train of thought.
Bones, who had been following the exchange, spoke. “You’re on to something, Maddock. Spit it out.”
Maddock took a moment to organize his thoughts. “The ancients built temples and made sacrifices to their gods as a way of trying to control the natural world. What if the Maya were trying to control this disease?”