Shaman, Healer, Heretic (36 page)

Even so, SK believed it–an unbroken line of shamans that went back centuries, the accumulation of knowledge and wealth, and their hyper desire for secrecy after the Spanish conquistadors. And here, right in front of him, stood one of their members, improbably dressed in the ethnic clothing of the Peten, sipping what appeared to be guava juice. How many Nahual were there? Were they all like this one? She had the calm poise and ease that he had come to associate with shamans of great power. Her recommendation that Livvy simply stop her heart had been almost casual.

Livvy had gone into the house at some point and he and the Nahual were alone on the back deck. He had tried to talk Livvy out of it and he had tried to get shaman help, but he hadn’t succeeded at either. If he couldn’t stop it, then he had to do whatever he could do to help it, to make sure that Livvy didn’t die.

“What does this
process
entail?” he asked, as he took out his cigarettes.

“The goggles are useless for this,” she said, not without some satisfaction. “Drugs are too dangerous since Livvy has never used them. I would not be able to determine what to give her or how much. Here, I think our best route is going to be drowning.”

“Best route…drowning,” he whispered. He had taken a cigarette from the pack, but his hand stopped as he visualized Livvy drowning.

“Many drowning victims are rescued, resuscitated, and suffer no lasting effects.”

“And you know how to rescue a drowning victim?”

“Of course. I have done it many times. More importantly, though, I know how to drown someone.”

“Great.” Remembering the cigarette, he brought it up to his mouth.

“She will smell that,” said the Nahual.

SK paused and glanced at the house. With a small groan of protest, he put the cigarette back in the pack and the pack back into his pocket.

“Unless you can get another shaman,” said the Nahual, “or you have a doctor who makes house calls, we can get started any time.”

SK’s thoughts ran back over the other shamans, yet again, but he knew there would be no help there. Then, he thought of the paramedic.

“What was that look for?” asked the Nahual.

“Well, we just might know someone who’d make a house call–for Liv, that is.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, that is up to you. I am not opposed and will be disposing of the house anyway.”

“Disposing of the house?” he said, not understanding the turn in conversation.

“You have seen it, she has seen it,” said the Nahual, nodding in the direction of the house. “It would only be a matter of time before others knew about it.”

He absorbed that information without a word. There was a reason no one believed these people existed. They were careful. Livvy exited the screen door with a tall glass of what looked like thick, pink lemonade.

“You found the guava,” said the Nahual. “That is a good one.”

“Make your call,” she said to SK. “I will turn off the heat in the Jacuzzi.”

Livvy watched her as she went back into the house.

“Jacuzzi?”

“Yeah, apparently she wants you to drown, not boil.”

It took Livvy a moment, but then she understood. “Oh,” she said quietly and looked down at her drink.

SK kicked himself for having said that. For all her calm talk, he could see that she was afraid.

“I’m wondering if your friend, Joel, would make a house call?”

“Joel?”

“Well, the Nahual is sure she’ll be able to revive you, says it’s no big deal at all, says lots of people get resuscitated and are fine…”

“But?”

“Well, I thought it might not hurt to have some backup on this, maybe someone trained in just that kind of thing.”

She thought about it and nodded. Various emotions played across her face, impossible to read. “That’s a good idea,” she finally said. “I’ll give him a call.” She set her drink down on the railing and went back inside to make the call.
 

With any luck
, thought SK,
he won’t be able to make it today
. Then, she’d have time to think this thing through and decide not to do it. Unfortunately, Joel was available right away.
 

“I THOUGHT YOU weren’t going to use drugs,” said SK.

Livvy watched as the Nahual removed a hypodermic needle from a medicine bottle.

“I would hardly call it a drug,” she said, and showed the bottle to Joel. “Just helps you to sleep.”

He took the bottle from her. “A mild sedative,” he said, looking at Livvy. “Nothing more.”

“Believe me,” said the Nahual. “Even the experienced ones will sometimes panic at the bottom.”

Livvy looked down to the bottom of the Jacuzzi. The water was crystal clear and the Jacuzzi incredibly clean. Her heart started to race as she looked at the needle.

“It’s probably best,” said Joel, but Livvy looked over to SK.

Unlike the Nahual and Joel, who seemed to be taking things in stride, SK looked worried. She gave him a questioning look across the Jacuzzi. Without words, she knew what he was thinking–how could he stop this, how to help her, about maybe never seeing her again. He slowly nodded.

She offered her arm and felt the small prick. She’d never even asked what it was.

“You can leave your clothes on, but take off the shoes,” said the Nahual. “Same for you,” she said to Joel. She slipped out of her own shoes as well.

“We’re getting in now?” Livvy asked.

“Yes,” said the Nahual, stepping in. “It will be easier than trying to move you around later.”

Livvy pictured herself unconscious under the water and hesitated. Nobody seemed to notice except for SK. Both the Nahual and Joel were still making their way into the water. Joel had emptied his pockets and taken off his watch, placing them next to his emergency box and heart paddles. The Nahual was taking stock of the Jacuzzi, looking at the space that she’d have to work with. SK had squatted against the far wall of the small room and had seen her hesitate. Embarrassed, she smiled at him and, he smiled back, despite what it cost him.

She waded into the water. It was still warm.

“Have a seat,” said the Nahual. “Joel, you sit on that side and I will sit on this side.” She pulled over a small inflatable pillow behind Livvy. “Lean back and close your eyes.”

Livvy did that. Whether it was the warm water or the sedative already having an effect, she felt as if she wouldn’t have been able to keep her eyes open anyway. She heard the water lapping and felt it seeping through her clothes. Everyone was so quiet. In fact, there wasn’t any sound at all.
 

• • • • •

“She’s asleep,” whispered Joel.

He looked at the Nahual, who shook her head. “We will wait,” she said quietly.

SK stood up and came over to the rim of the Jacuzzi.

“When the deepest sleep comes and most of the drug has worn off,” said the Nahual. “That is when we will submerge her. It will be easier for her to make the transition and it will be easier for us to wake her.”

“How long will she be…gone?” asked Joel.

“Here? Only moments. There,” the Nahual shrugged. “Time has no meaning.” She looked at SK. “We will resuscitate her before there is any permanent damage.”

So they waited, for about thirty minutes. The Nahual watched Livvy’s eyes moving back and forth under her eyelids.

“Respiration has slowed,” whispered Joel.

She nodded.

The Nahual and Joel had been holding Livvy lightly by the arms to keep her from slipping into the water.

“Just let her slide in,” said the Nahual. “But be careful, she may flail. We need to keep her from hurting herself and also keep from being injured ourselves. Whatever happens, she has to stay submerged.”

Joel hesitated.

“If you prefer, I can do this myself,” said the Nahual.

“No, I can do this.”

At that, the Nahual let Livvy drift further into the water, moving the pillow under her head as she went, until finally only her face was above the surface. Then the Nahual tugged gently down and the water washed over Livvy’s face. Her hair swirled in the small eddies and also disappeared.

They waited, but Livvy didn’t struggle. Joel stared into the water and then looked up at the Nahual. She simply looked down at Livvy, watching and waiting.

Finally, the Nahual felt for a pulse at Livvy’s wrist. Then she checked the jugular.

“No pulse.”
 

AS LIVVY DRIFTED off, she felt a vague urge to wake up, as though she had forgotten something. If she thought about it long enough, she might be able to remember it, but instead she drifted. She drifted in soft, warm water that buoyed her. As the water slowly meandered, she became aware of a tunnel.
Ah
, she thought lazily,
the tunnel. Here it is, so soon
.

The glass of the walls was so dark it might be polished marble but small, multicolored points of light shone through it. As she drifted further, it was the light at the far end that drew her attention.

She became aware of a strange pressure building in her chest but, luckily, it was easy to ignore. What she really felt like doing was rolling over to burrow into the most comfortable, most relaxing bed she’d ever been in–when, without warning, she tumbled down a grassy hillside.

She sat up, blinking in the bright sunshine. Green grass stretched out in front of her to the horizon. A small, nearly round stand of trees crowned a hill in the middle distance. Brightly colored field flowers dotted the landscape.

Off to the left, there appeared to be a village of mud huts with thatch roofs. A few columns of smoke rose from it, but she couldn’t quite make out any people at this distance.

Then, as she stood and turned around, she saw it–the ziggurat.

I made it
, she thought, surprised and then elated.
This is the Upperworld
. She checked the sky. The few puffy white clouds there were drifting in the direction of the ziggurat. She looked down at her body, dressed as usual, but remembered that in the real world she must be submerged under water right now, and, in a clinical sense, dead. The elation vanished as quickly as it had come. She took off at a trot in the direction of the ziggurat.

Like an enormous clay wedding cake with slightly diagonal layers, the ziggurat dominated the terrain. She saw that every level had doors and windows. It was tall, no doubt taller than anything in this idyllic landscape, but not tall by skyscraper standards.

She slowed her pace as she got nearer, looking for a main entrance or gate, a way of going in. But the doorway eluded her as she circled the structure to the right. Instead, she found herself at the edge of a large vegetable garden complete with corn, a potting shed, and even a gardener. The man in dirty coveralls and large black rubber boots was bending over in between rows of green leafy plants. She glanced around. No one else was in sight and there still didn’t appear to be a door for the ziggurat.

She came around the edge of the garden, circling the man until she was in front of him. She was about to say something to him, when he stood up with a trowel in his hand and looked right at her.

“It took you long enough,” he said.

Livvy blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

With a flick of his wrist, he planted the trowel, point first, into the ground. “I said, it took you long enough,” he said, louder. “Where have you been?”

“Well, I…”

He had a bald head, with a small fringe of white hair that circled the equator. He looked as though he was elderly, but as he stood there with his legs apart planted in the dark soil, he seemed quite at ease.

“Come on, out with it. I don’t have all day.”

“I’m looking for Marduk,” Livvy said. “Is that you?”

“No, I’m Santa Claus,” he sneered. “Yes, I’m Marduk, you’re the Lightning Shaman, and Tiamat is loose and needs to be shut down.”

“Right, right, “ Livvy sputtered.

“About time,” he said, as he picked up a large bucket of soil and headed toward the edge of the garden.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for–”

“Why do you think I sent the kachina?” he snapped, dropping the heavy bucket with a thud on the grass.

“The kachina? Tawa?”

He exhaled loudly. “Yes, Tawa, the kachina. What does it take to get the attention of you people? Were you expecting stone tablets with my address to drop into your living room?”

Livvy hadn’t known what to expect, but somehow this wasn’t it. Marduk, the high and mighty, she might have understood. Marduk, the hidden and inscrutable, sure. But Marduk, the grumpy old man, not really.

“Well, I’m here now,” she declared.

“Congratulations.”

She threw her hands up. “I don’t get it,” she said, exasperated. “What do you want from me? You say you sent Tawa, you say you’ve been–”

“You’re right,” he said, cutting her off. “You don’t get it.” He took out a large bandana and wiped his bald head with it. “As for what I want from you? Sacrifices and logistical support.”