Chapter Eighteen

That surprising man, the President, had called a national news conference to read a letter from a fifteen year old girl, a mute, a child with no power, no influence, no political muscle. All she had going for her was the truth...truth that hurt. Occasionally, as she read the Times story, Willa's voice trembled...

After she finished, everyone in the dusky subterranean chamber was silent, as though listening for a shift in the axis of the planet. That's how I felt as I heard the letter, like a giant foot had just floored the cosmic clutch and the paradigm gearshift had upped the acceleration of everything. There was something about that Lioness...

We had left the vehicles miles behind us and were led for hours through the ragged wilderness before coming to an overhang along the side of a dry creek bed. The limestone had been undercut by the bite of flash floods over the millennia and shallow caves and hollows, varying in depth and darkness shadowed our path. From time to time, throbbing mounds of daddy-long-legs spiders would start vibrating at our approach and bring squeals from the kids. John, deep into naturalist mode, was having a great time.

"Look Thomas, a Mimosa biuncifera, they don't usually grow at this elevation. They call it a catclaw mimosa or a wait-a-minute bush. Isn't that delightful...ahh, E. antisyphilitica, see Thomas, this jointfir..." He pointed to a scraggly looking bush with weak looking spines on the top "...called the "erect" jointfir was used medicinally in the treatment of syphilis." He smiled. "We can also use it to make tea."

James, Na Na and the little Victorio led the way, the rest of the `chiefs' not far behind. The Apaches and the animals all moved as easily as if they were walking on a city park hiking trail. Even the gibbon, certainly not used to the terrain, rushed up and down mesquite lined cliffs as though he had energy to burn. It was rocky ground but the two horses seemed to have no trouble carrying the heavy packs the Mescaleros had burdened them with. They clambered over fallen logs and rock outcroppings with easy grace. For the rest of us, it was difficult going. Many of the children were exhausted and complaining after less than an hour. At one point, one of the prissy little twins who had showed up the night before we left Houston, Tricia or Felicity (I couldn't tell which) started crying, plopped on the ground and refused to go on. No doubt the closest they had been to the wilderness was a National Geographic television special. We adults were all carrying full packs and any excuse was a good excuse for a break, so we collapsed on the closest rock, and waited for the little fusspot to get over it.

As I was digging in my pack for a canteen, John pointed out a haphazard mound of sticks and dried cactus piled across the front of a crevice in the rocks. It looked like someone had unselectively collected kindling and dumped two bushels of it in a big pile. "Look Thomas, its the nest of Neotoma albigula, the whitethroat woodrat, they're such industrious little devils, packrats too, the ones that live by the highway use beer cans, cigarette butts, all kinds of things...."

As John began to expose the curious habits of little Neotoma, one of the little chiefs came skipping over the broken ground like a flat rock on water, heading straight for the little girl. It was almost like his feet weren't touching. If a five year old can look fierce, he did, and I was worried he might hurt her, so I started to get up. Dusty walked over and put her hand on my chest.

"Don't Uncle Tom. El Calvo won't hurt Felicity. He will just `gift' her." Sure enough, the tiny Indian sat gently beside the whimpering girl and placed his hands on her temples. As he closed his eyes, a sudden shudder shook the girl. In seconds, her face became a determined mask. She reached up and grabbed one of his hands and dragged him over to her sister. The same procedure was repeated. In no time, he had disappeared back up the trail and the two girls took out after him, traveling almost as fast as he did. It was an amazing transformation, that was to be repeated several times, with various children along the way. By the time we reached the high overhang above the creek bed, only a few of the children had not received the `gift' and those straggled along with the little herd of dog-tired adults. As John pulled my aching bones over the last jumble of limestone boulders, I could see the rest of our group, in a circle, well into the dim recess. James and Na Na stood together, near a dark, oval shaped opening in the wall. It was quite small, not more than three feet wide at its widest. As we walked up I could hear the old medicine man talking.

"The earth is our real mother. We are born from her and nourished by her. When you enter this door you will be crawling back into the belly of your mother, back before you came to this world. In the old days, the N'de came from the world below. When you enter Uzzen's Keep, you must forever leave the world that you know. You must leave your old mother and your father for they were not real anyway. They have only known you for a few years, but Spider Woman, the spirit of your earth mother, has known you forever." He paused, his eyes shining. "The way to Uzzen is long. You must pass through your fear. You must leave the old world forever. Once you begin, there is no turning back. If you enter this hole and you do not have the courage to complete the journey, you will die. If you make it, you are one with the N'de. It is as simple as that." He slowly looked from child to child, assessing, challenging. "If you are not brave enough, then go home to your mother now!"

I wondered if he knew the lives these children had come from. I suspected the threat of being returned to their parents, was much more frightening than the unknown test he laid before them. I saw some swallow, some hesitate or shiver. Joey rocked back and forth on his hands. Ricky Esquivel kept looking nervously at the dark hole.

After a few moments of silence, Joey stood up, his knees quivering. "I'll go first with the cats, they can see a little in the dark." I started to object but the old man cut me off with a chop of his hand and a vicious glare. I figured this had to be some kind of important ritual so I stuffed my apprehension and my angry words. "If they hurt my son..." I thought blackly.

Joey, his face a mask of fear, followed Benjamin and Joe the Frisby Cat into the dim passage. A nervous Jubie slunk behind him, obviously not relishing the task. The little chief Victorio followed close behind. One by one, the children and animals disappeared into the hole. Several of the dogs were terribly frightened, but somehow their bond with the children made them more afraid of staying behind. The gibbon whooped and darted around the camp until Zebediah called him, then the overbearing ape followed the boy into the dark tunnel without so much as a backwards glance. I could hear apprehensive voices and occasional cries of fear filtering back out of the darkness. It did nothing for my own nerves, and looking at my friends, I could see they felt the same. Finally, the last of the children were swallowed by the earth. Sister Willa was the first adult to enter. The three older boys, looking none to happy, followed. Sam and Mary threw off their packs, and with a grim kiss, crawled in after them.

I asked Na Na and James several questions about the length of the tunnel and what was on the other side but they only shook their heads. Variety put her arms around big John. I could see she was worried. Looking over at her husband, I could see why. The man's face was pale as a Swedish miner's.

"You okay big guy?" I asked.

"Don't like close places Tom...get claustrophobic." The man was terrified. It was disturbing. I had never seen anything make him afraid. I tried to reason with the Apaches but it was like talking to stone. I was starting to lecture them about the cruelty of this unnecessary pagan ritual when John grabbed my arm.

"Let it go Tom." His face looked like death. "I'm goin' in." Variety grabbed his cheeks in her hands.

"You sure baby...you don't have to do this." He pushed her hands away.

"Yeah I do." It sounded like a death sentence when he said it.

"I'll go first John." I said. My heart when out to my friend. "You just hold on to my size thirteens and we'll make it through this deal. No problem." I wasn't near as sure as I hoped I sounded. John is a huge man. The passage looked very small. I was worried about what would happen, if we reached a part of the passage that his huge bulk wouldn't fit through.

Everyone had gone in, except for the four Apache adults and the two horses. "What about them?" I pointed.

"Johnny Loco will use them to carry the packs to another place." He was stern and distant but he looked somehow relieved. "Na Na and I will see you there."

I turned one last time and looked at the dark opening, gave John a hard squeeze on the shoulder, then stuck my head into Spider Woman's birth canal. As I fought to pull myself through the tight passageway I noticed two things. One, there were small, shallow impressions every two feet or so that provided some opportunity for a handhold and two, the other end of the tunnel was clothed in darkness. I was surprised. I hadn't thought even these hard-nosed Apaches would put three-year-old children through a long and frightening initiation. It seemed cruel. I resolved to give James a piece of my mind when I got through to the other side.

I waited for John to crawl in after me, and fight off his first wave of fear, before I started to drag myself farther into the darkness. The light grew more and more dim as I writhed along, trying to keep my attention off my building fear by offering encouragement to John.

"We can do it big guy. No problem. Plenty of room up here. We'll be out in just a minute." I kept up the chatter for a few minutes until I had pulled myself twenty of thirty yards through the darkness. As the crypt swallowed us, it started to sound hollow so I shut up. I could hear John's raspy breathing behind me from time to time over the sound of my own exertion. Every time he caught up with me in the dark, he would squeeze my ankle. It was dark...deep down, black hole, locked-in-a-closet-by-your daddy dark, dark like no dark I had ever known, not just black to my eyes but black to my soul. I was terrified. I couldn't imagine how John was doing it.

The tunnel wasn't straight. It curved and bent like a snake, first to the right, then to the left but always slowly down. I realized after a few minutes, that we would have a real problem if John got stuck in here. Some of the downward grades were steep enough to make it impossible to backtrack since we couldn't turn around. At one point, the burrow made a radical left hand turn. I had to roll onto one side, with my arms stretched out over my head, to make it. As soon as I got most of the way around the tight corner, the floor fell away suddenly. I pulled myself to the edge and dropped my elbows over the side. I couldn't feel the floor.

For a second, I panicked. "What if it was a dangerous drop? What if we had taken the wrong passage?" I hadn't felt any opening that had promised another way out of the damnable gopher hole, but who knows what I could have missed in the dark? After a little while, I got my palpitating heart under control and slowly, leaned head first over the drop off. To my supreme relief, when I had pulled myself into the void just to the point of losing my balance, my wildly grasping fingers scraped against the rock floor. I lay there, resting on my palms, breathing like a bellows for a few seconds, then walked on my hands until I could drop my knees onto the floor of the small chamber.

For the first time, the ceiling was high enough to sit up. Even so, I still smashed my head against some protuberance on the ceiling while trying to turn around and talk John around the tight spot. I sat there cursing under my breath as I heard him pull his head around the corner. His breathing was short and desperate. He sounded bad.

"What's this Tom...TOM!" he shouted. His voice was about an octave higher than his normal low baritone.

"Yeah John." I yelled back "I'm right here. It's just a corner. Seems worse than it is. Just turn on your left side."

I could hear him talking to himself. It was not a good sign. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I gotta get out. I gotta GET OUT!" I could hear him struggling and shouting only a few yards from me but I couldn't touch him. I tried yelling back.

"JOHN, get a hold on yourself!" I screamed. His panic was touching off mine. I had been in that hell hole too long. I started cursing the dark and cursing the damn Apaches and cursing my traitor of a blood brother for ramming me up the ass of the earth. I kept yelling at John but I wasn't listening to my own words. I was spewing forth a paroxysm of anger and fear. I was lost in the underworld. I was going to die or maybe had already died. I shook all over. Now I knew for sure I had taken a wrong turn. John and I were stuck here forever. We would never be found, become food for albino maggots, our mummified skeletons left to horrify the grasping hands of future fools who went to their deaths trusting Apaches.

I felt John's hands on my face. I realized I was the only one screaming. "Tom," he said "It's all right. Shake it off Tom."

"John?" I felt myself crawling back into reality. "John is that you?"

"Yeah buddy. This is a real pain in the butt huh." He sounded a lot better. Only a slight tremelo in his voice betrayed his fear.

"Yeah." I was starting to get embarrassed. The claustrophobe was comforting me! I was supposed to be the together one. "Guess I lost it, John. Sorry." I felt myself slipping into a post panic depression.

"You ain't the only one son. When we get out of this joint, I'm gonna strangle the first Apache I see." I allowed that I shared his sentiments.

I felt around in the small chamber, trying to avoid another knot on my head, found the exit, and started off at a slow crawl. Less than ten feet later, the passage had shrunk so much, that I was once again edging along on my belly. I don't know how long this went on. It seemed like hours. I became so exhausted, I only kept going because I knew I would trap John and Variety if I lay down and died. I crawled past my fear, past my anger, past my disbelief at the impossible task the Apaches had set for us, past even a sense of my self. It was as though I no longer existed, that only the endless tunnel, going down forever had any substance. I became a figment of its imagination, not a living breathing being, not even a thing, more of a process like the wind, only noticed when in motion. As I forced my cramping and aching body through that stygian dungeon, I found a strange calm, a child born of my final surrender, that led to a forgotten bliss. I found myself laughing at the absurdity of not only the endless test, but of existence itself, all of the shallow, senseless world of meaning. My life seemed very far away, lost forever in the darkness, like a dream after awakening. Finally, even the laughter was gone. I was gone.

When I finally pulled myself out of the tunnel, and onto the limestone floor of a chamber lit by flaming torches, I was "no one" again, like that night on Enchanted Rock, no one and a part of everything. John and Variety tumbled out of the opening behind me. The three of us lay there gasping for air and staring at the stone wall in front of us. Two flaming torches lit the rough limestone hallway that stretched out of sight in two directions. Directly in front of the opening, where we had crawled like newborns out of the earth, was an elaborate and prominently displayed drawing of two, tall, stylized, Indian stick figures. One white and one blue. They held arrows and towered above a pueblo. A stick coyote stood to the right of them and there were symbols pointing in the four directions of the compass. Other symbols seemed to make some strange sense to me, although I could not understand why.

A figure walked out of the dim light towards us. It was one of the two Mescalero men. He motioned for us to follow him. We climbed to our feet and followed him in silence, for a short distance, down the torch-lit passage and into a larger chamber. It was also lit by torchlight, but the room was so large, that its outlines were lost in the dim light. In the center of the chamber sat the old medicine man, Na Na, James Purcival, and the last group to enter the tunnel. Three places were left to complete the circle. The Mescalero motioned for us to sit and fill them.

The old man stood, moved to the center of the circle, and raised his hands to the heavens. He began to chant rhythmically. After what seemed like a long while, he stopped and stood before us, arms still outstretched as though in supplication. He began to speak.

"The N'de people pray to Uzzen like warriors. We do not get on our knees and beg. Uzzen wishes his people to stand before him. He gave us Killer of Enemies that we might know courage and Child of the Waters that we might know power." He clasp his hands together, one up and one down, with elbows pointed straight to each side. "Uzzen carries the sun from the east and binds together with the mother of the earth. She who brings forth the game and the corn, she who watches over the people, she who blesses us with new children. In this way, we see that the soul of the people is both man and woman, both sun and moon, both life and death. Uzzen floats, like the sacred pollen, on the breath of the wind from which life comes." He faced us one by one. "You have crawled into the belly of your mother and have been born again, with great courage, great power."

He pulled a little leather bag from his side, dipped his fingers in it, and began to spread a double line of colored pollen on the face of the nearest child. "You are born again as N'de." He began to chant as he went to each of us, one by one, around the circle, wiping the pollen on our cheeks. As he reached the last child, a line of new lights entered from the far side of the cave. The little chiefs, each carrying a torch, walked towards us in a half circle. They began to shout and chant and dance around us. One by one, they put their torches in the center of the circle, until a leaping pyre burned between us, giving our painted faces a ghostly resplendence.

I do not remember much more of that night. James says, that is because I was in my spirit body. He says my mind can not agree with what happened so it refuses to tell the story. He tells me not to worry, that my spirit body remembers it all. I do remember one thing. After the ceremony was over, one of the Mescaleros was leading us to where the rest of the children were sleeping. I was walking with John a little behind the others. I remember asking him how he was able to overcome his fear at that turn in the passageway. I remember he looked a little sheepish.

"It was Variety, Tom. When I panicked, she tried to get my attention but I was too scared to listen." He stopped and leaned up against the wall, pulled his foot up and showed me a torn and bloodstained place on his white sock just above the line of his tennis shoe. "She bit the hell out of me Tom. It hurt like the dickens. When I quit yelling, she told me if I didn't get moving, she was going to start eating her way through me." He smiled shyly. "I believed her Tom...wouldn't you have?"

I looked farther up the passage at my gentle friend, Variety Smith. She had one child on her back and another in her arms. She turned to look back at John and me. The torchlight flamed in her eyes for a second. The double lines of pollen on her black face seemed to glow.

"Yes John," I said "I would have believed her."