Lady Coco didn’t want them to go. “It’s too dangerous under the water. The ocean is filled with vengeful ghosts.”
Lola laughed. “These days, I think it’s just fish and deep-sea divers.”
“You’re Maya, you should know this,” Lady Coco rebuked her. “Before the Earth was born, the ocean was a sea of blood where gods and monsters battled. We call it the fiery pool.”
“It’s not like we’ll actually get wet,” Max reassured her. “The sub is like a little house.”
Lady Coco was not convinced. “You have no business underwater. It’s not natural.”
When she couldn’t talk them out of it, she insisted on rising from her sickbed and hobbling down to the kitchen to bake batch after batch of cookies, muffins, and scones. Raul, too, came down in his dressing gown to ransack the store cupboards and find every possible household item that could be of use to the brave submariners.
Lord 6-Dog, on the other hand, received the news impassively.
He was stretched out on a hammock, dressed—incongruously for a howler monkey or a Maya king—in a pair of child’s blue-and-white-striped pajamas (castoffs from one of Lucky’s younger siblings) with a hole cut out for his tail.
“May the Jaguar Kings watch over thee,” he said.
“Don’t you wish you were coming with us?” asked Max.
“Into the fiery pool, the primordial sea of blood? No, young lord, I do not.”
“It’s just across the Gulf of Mexico, not far at all.”
“I care not for oceangoing vessels. My people lost many boats on trading expeditions.”
“Technology’s advanced a bit since then. They have radar and sonar now to avoid shipping hazards.”
“They cannot avoid the rocks of destiny,” said Lord 6-Dog darkly.
“Okaaaay.” Max turned to go. “Any last-minute advice?”
Lord 6-Dog thought about it. “Heed my words,” he said, sitting up in his hammock. “If the raging main should cause turmoil in thy stomach, be sure to void thy guts on the leeward side of the galleon lest thy puke should blow back in thy face.”
“It’s not a gal—oh, never mind,” said Max. “You really don’t like boats, do you?”
“Water is the realm of the underworld.”
“You could at least wish us luck.”
“I wish thee courage, and strength, and wisdom. I do not believe in luck.” He lay back down. “And now, if thou wilt excuse me, it is time for my nap.”
Loaded up by Lady Coco and Raul with more food than they could eat in a month at sea, Max and Lola said their good-byes. Then they climbed down the remains of the spiral staircase, now buckled and bent under Eek’ Chapaat’s weight, to the defunct HQ of Uncle Ted’s smuggling empire. They could hear the distant sounds of Lucky and Hermanjilio shouting to each other as they readied the sub and, by flashlight, they followed the echoing voices down the dark and dripping tunnels.
“Watch out for centipedes,” said Max.
“They’re gone,” replied Lola. “Lucky and Hermanjilio checked the tunnels. Ugh! Can you imagine how disgusting it must have been down here last night? Lady Coco and Raul were so brave.”
“I have my own bad memories,” replied Max. “Did you know that Lucky once arrested me down here?”
“Yes, you’ve told me that story a million times. He caught you trespassing.”
“It’s not trespassing when you’re a guest in your own uncle’s house.”
“It was for your own good. You’d been warned not to snoop around.”
With Max still seething at the injustice, they turned into a short tunnel that sloped steeply down into the water … and there was the mini-sub, bobbing on the tide. Suddenly, Max forgot everything but the vessel in front of him. It was smaller than he’d expected: about as wide and long as a school bus, tapering toward the stern. Halfway down the body, a fin-shaped bridge gave it the look of a sleek, blue shark.
“Ahoy there, me hearties!” called Hermanjilio.
“Okay, one thing, before we go anywhere, you have to promise to drop the accent. That pirate thing could get majorly annoying,” said Lola.
Hermanjilio saluted. “Aye aye, milady.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Something tells me this is going to be a long voyage.”
Voyage. Max liked the sound of that. It sounded exciting and adventurous, but with a hint of luxury ocean liner. He didn’t even mind Hermanjilio pretending to be a pirate. In fact, he kind of liked it. He viewed the sub approvingly.
“What are those for?” he asked, pointing to two pipes sticking up at the back of the fin-shaped bridge.
“Periscope cameras and air intake,” explained Lucky.
“How can you have an air intake under the water?” asked Max.
“Ah. I think I may have misled you. This sub is designed to travel just below the surface. That way, we stay hidden, but we can pump in fresh air.”
“Like snorkeling?” asked Lola.
“Exactly.”
Max’s face fell. “I thought we’d be deeper than that.”
Lucky smiled. “Sorry, Max. The engine needs oxygen from the air intakes.”
“What’s the point of a sub if you can’t dive? Uncle Ted was a smuggler. He must have needed quick getaways.”
“Diving is for emergencies only. This sub can go down to about sixty feet,” Lucky conceded, “but let’s hope she doesn’t need to. It uses up battery power and puts a lot of stress on the shell.”
Max tried to reboot and focus on the positive. “It’s cool that it looks like a shark.”
“She looks like a shark,” Lucky corrected him. “Ships are feminine. But the shark thing is good camouflage, eh? Mr. Murphy designed her himself.” He looked at Lola. “Did you notice the name?”
She shone her flashlight on the hull. “Lily Theodora. Dad named her after me!”
“He should’ve called it Monkey Girl,” said Max.
“He should’ve called her,” Lucky corrected again.
“I can’t believe you said that.” Lola took a swing at them with a bag of oranges.
“Hey! Stop using our rations as lethal weapons!” Hermanjilio scolded her. “Now, get those oranges stowed away. It’s time to go.”
“All aboard,” said Lucky, ushering Hermanjilio through the hatch in the fin.
Max and Lola followed and found themselves in a minuscule cockpit. Lucky and Hermanjilio looked like giants squashed into the two little seats.
“Go below and make yourselves at home,” said Lucky. “We’re about to launch.”
A metal ladder led down to a narrow corridor lined with storage lockers and tanks and banks of batteries. At one end of the corridor was the engine room. At the other end was a tiny bathroom, galley, and sitting area. Beyond that, Max and Lola found a bunkroom with four stainless steel bunks.
Max tried one out for size. He couldn’t straighten his legs.
“It’s like everything’s child sized,” said Lola.
“Or howler monkey sized,” said Lord 6-Dog, hanging upside down in the bunkroom doorway. He still wore his pajamas.
Max bumped his head on the top bunk as he sat up in surprise. “Lord 6-Dog! Have you come to say good-bye?”
“I have come to assist thee on thy quest,” said the monkey, jumping down.
“I thought you were afraid of the sea?”
Lord 6-Dog squared his shoulders in his little pajamas and stood as tall as he could. “A Maya king is afraid of nothing.” Even as he spoke, his eyes betrayed his fear.
“It’s good to see you, Lord 6-Dog,” said Lola gently. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“I know that.” He climbed regally up to the top bunk. “Is this my berth?”
“What changed your mind?” asked Max.
“I had a dream,” replied Lord 6-Dog, lying down. “And now I plan to have another one. Wake me when we make land.” With that, he turned his royal back on them and started snoring.
Max and Lola were still staring at him openmouthed when Hermanjilio came down the ladder. His frame filled the whole corridor. “Well, kids, looks like I won’t be coming with you after all. The sub takes four, and Lord 6-Dog will be a lot more useful to you than I could be.”
“But we need you! You’re an expert on everything!” Lola cried.
“What you need in Cahokia is an expert on the Jaguar Stones, and no one knows more than Lord 6-Dog on that subject. I know he’ll look after you. Just be careful, okay?”
“We’ll be fine. It’s not the jungle,” said Lola. “We’re going to a land of hotels, and hot showers, and round-the-clock pizza.”
“Even so, be on your guard. Don’t take any chances. If this plan fails, we’ll come up with another one. I just want you back safe and sound.” He passed Lola his wallet. “You should have enough dollars in here for everything you need. Just don’t let Max spend it all on food.”
Lola gave him a hug. “We’ll miss you.”
“Take care of each other,” he said, climbing back up the ladder. “Oh, and one of you better get up here and take my copilot seat.”
Lola’s reactions were faster than Max’s, and she shinnied up the ladder to the cockpit. “Here we go!” yelled Lucky.
The craft vibrated like one big engine room.
Down below, in the cramped cabin, Max looked out of the porthole but saw only thick black water. Hermanjilio had left guidebooks and maps on the little table, but he couldn’t think about reading. The smell, heat, and noise of the engine were dizzying. He’d expected the sub to glide silently through the water like a killer shark. This was more like riding inside a diesel lawn mower. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about puking.
He must have dozed off because the next minute, Lola was shaking him awake. “It’s your turn, Hoop! Wait till you get up there. It’s amazing!”
He climbed up and squeezed himself into the seat beside Lucky. The sub was close to the surface now, and the cockpit was filled with turquoise light. Bubbling streams rushed past the windscreens and sunlight danced on top of the waves. By squinting upward, Max could see a distorted version of the sky and the clouds. It was beautiful.
Then he turned his attention to the complicated array of controls, screens, and gauges on the console in front of him. “All this makes sense to you?” he asked Lucky.
“It’s simpler than it looks,” Lucky explained. “This screen shows our position, so you can see we’re approaching Puerto Muerto. There are a lot of reefs along this bit of coast, so we’re sticking to Morley’s route. Here, do you want to take the wheel for a moment?”
Max leaned in to steer the sub. “So how do I dive?”
“I told you, that’s for emergencies only.” Evidently not trusting Max to steer a steady course, Lucky took back the wheel. He pointed at two video screens. “That’s your job. Man the periscope. We’ve got cameras on the mast feeding in pictures from the surface.”
Max tried out the camera controls. “I’ve got a video game like this. Do we have torpedoes?”
Lucky laughed. “No.”
“So what am I looking for?”
“Planes or choppers that might spot us from above. Boats getting too close. Anything suspicious …”
Max zoomed in on a black fin cutting through the water. “Hah! That looks like a shark, but I bet it’s another sub in disguise! We should dive before it sees us!”
Lucky checked the screen. “Look at the curve behind the dorsal. It’s a dolphin.”
As if performing for the camera, the dolphin made a graceful leap.
Max watched it, unconvinced. “It still looks suspicious to me.”
“I promise you, it’s a dolphin. But if you’re worried, we have radar tracking as well.”
“Can other boats track us?”
“We have a few tricks up our sleeves. Our shell is fiberglass, which is harder to detect than metal. And we cool our exhaust before releasing it, so the heat isn’t picked up. The only thing we can’t disguise is the engine noise. The vibrations carry for miles underwater.”
“Who’d hear us down here apart from the fish?” asked Max.
“Never underestimate the San Xavier coast guard,” said Lucky ominously.
“That reminds me of one of Uncle Ted’s stories,” said Max. “He was dragging a crate of booty behind a banana boat one day, and the coast guard homed in on him. He had to cut the crate free and let it sink. But it had a radio-transmitter on it, so he went back another day and found it again.”
“I was with him the day he found it,” replied Lucky.
“In the secret cave? With the shipwrecked galleon?”
Lucky nodded. “I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. It felt as if we were meant to be there. As if something wanted us to find the cave.”
Max continued the story. “And besides Uncle Ted’s crate, you found a hoard of Spanish treasure—including two Jaguar Stones.” Max stared at him for a moment. “I’ve never thought about it this way before, but if the current hadn’t carried you into the cave that day, my dad wouldn’t have gotten his hands on the White Jaguar, and he and Mom wouldn’t have vanished into Xibalba, and I’d still be at home in Boston, and none of this would have happened.”
“Things have a way of happening anyway,” said Lucky. “Mr. Murphy bought this sub with the proceeds of that dive.” He tapped the nearest video screen. “How about less talking and more watching?”
As they passed the mouth of the Monkey River, Max spotted the Gran Hotel de las Americas. It was there he’d first encountered Count Antonio de Landa, the crazy, cape-twirling Spanish aristocrat who was buying a Jaguar Stone in a shady deal with Uncle Ted.
A sharp nudge from Lucky brought him back to the moment. “Radar! Behind us! Ship!”
Max rotated the camera and stared at the screen. At first it showed only a smudge on the horizon, but the smudge quickly grew into the shape of the one vessel they had hoped not to see.
“Coast guard!” Max exclaimed.
“Zoom in! Show me!” Lucky sounded frantic.
Max went to full magnification. His stomach flipped as he made out the silhouette of a gun mounted on the front deck.
“Have they seen us?” he asked Lucky.
“Only one way to find out.” Lucky pushed the throttle forward to maximum and pointed to a narrow peninsula on the GPS screen. “If we can get past that headland, we’ll be clear of the reefs and out in open sea. They’ll never catch us then.”
Max had thought it was loud before, but now the engine noise seemed to be coming from inside his brain.
“What’s up?” yelled Lola, climbing through the hatch.
“Coast guard!” Max screamed back. He jabbed at the camera. “They’re gaining on us.”
Ahead of them, he could see big waves crashing onto the rocks of the headland.
It was going to be close.
Lola looked at the screen. She narrowed her eyes to see better. The coast guard vessel was so close, she could almost make out the faces of the individual sailors on deck.
Then, suddenly, she could see nothing but a flash of light.
“They fired at us!” cried Lola in disbelief.
Lucky was flicking switches and pulling levers in a blur of movement. “Looks like you’re getting your wish, Max. We need to dive—and fast!” The engine shut down, the screens went dead, the lights cut out, and the emergency lights came on.
Straightaway, they heard seawater rushing into the ballast tanks to weigh them down.
Just as they started to sink—BOOM!—another shell hit them and the fabric of the sub screeched like it was in pain.
Max and Lucky were hurled forward. Lola lost her grip and fell down the ladder.
Max sat up and rubbed his head. “Are you okay?” he called down to Lola.
“I think so,” she said. “I’ll have a few bruises, though.” She climbed painfully back up. “How about you and Lucky?”
Max peered at Lucky through the gloom. He was slumped over the instrument panel. “Lucky! Are you okay?”
Lucky didn’t answer.
“He’s out cold!” cried Lola. She felt his wrist for a pulse.
All was dark outside the port-holes. The depth gauge spun around. The only sound was the creaking of the hull as the water pressure increased.
“He’s not dead, is he?” Max was panicking at the sight of Lola bending over a lifeless Lucky, both of them illuminated in the faint green glow of the emergency lights.
“He’s concussed,” replied Lola. “He must have hit his head really hard. I think he’ll come around in a moment.”
“Coast guard!” Max screamed. “They’re gaining on us.”
“We need him NOW!” wailed Max.
“There must be a way to stop it,” muttered Lola, inspecting all the switches on the console. “Why don’t they label these things?”
Max watched in despair as the depth gauge spun lower and lower. “Maybe it will stop on its own. Lucky said it goes to a maximum of sixty feet.”
At a depth of sixty-one feet, water started leaking in around the seal of the porthole.
“Lucky! Lucky! Wake up!” yelled Max.
By sixty-five feet, the ocean was streaming in. Max imagined that leaks were springing up all over the vessel. How long before the whole sub filled with water?
Seventy feet!
The walls of the sub made a terrible groaning sound, as if the sea was about to burst through.
At eighty feet, the depth gauge seemed to slow down.
All was dark around them. They were drifting at the mercy of the current.
Max was willing the coast guard to detect them. Far better to be caught red-handed than stuck in this aquatic coffin. How long would the air last? How long would it be before the sub imploded under the water pressure?
But, as it turned out, he had a much bigger problem, and it was right in front of his eyes.
“We’re going to crash!” Lola was pointing, terrified, at the windscreen.
Through the darkness, Max discerned the outline of the sheer wall of rock that stretched from the cliffs above them down to the seafloor. They were heading straight for it.
“Lucky!” screamed Lola. “Wake up!” She tried again in Mayan: “Ahen! Ahen!” His eyelids fluttered, but his eyes stayed shut.
The rock wall loomed nearer and nearer.
“What do we do?” yelled Max.
“I don’t know!” Lola yelled back at him.
“Cease this confounded racket!” boomed Lord 6-Dog, standing at the top of the ladder in his pajamas. His angry expression faded as he took in the situation:
Lucky slumped in the driver’s seat …
Lola and Max in full-on panic mode …
Water sloshing around on the floor …
A collision about to happen …
… All bathed in the unearthly green emergency lighting that gave the scene a ghoulish quality.
“Ah Pukuh is behind this, I’ll wager,” muttered Lord 6-Dog, squeezing into the already overcrowded cockpit. He peered out of the nearest porthole, as if expecting to see the god of violent and unnatural death swimming past.
“Brace yourselves!” yelled Max as the great black wall of rock filled every windscreen. But the impact never came.
They simply floated into darkness.
“What just happened?” Max hugged himself to see if he still had a body. “Did we vaporize through the rock? Are we dead?”
A school of fluorescent blue fish swam toward them.
“I think we’re in some kind of canyon,” said Lola.
“One that leads to the underworld, I’ll be bound,” growled Lord 6-Dog. “I command thee to stop this vessel!”
“We would if we could,” replied Lola. “But the current is carrying us forward. Only Lucky knows how to get us out of here.”
They all looked hopefully at Lucky.
“I command thee to wake up!” Lord 6-Dog barked at him.
Lucky was still out for the count.
“Maybe we should look for life jackets in case we have to swim for it,” suggested Max.
“Swim?” Lord 6-Dog looked appalled. “Who knows what infernal monsters may await us in these deeps?”
A small squid floated by, glowing pink against the dark water.
Max shuddered, remembering the giant octopus in Venice that had tried to drag him down to Xibalba. “Please wake up,” he begged Lucky. “We need you.”
Lucky opened his eyes blearily. He looked at Lola.
“We were diving to escape the coast guard,” she reminded him. “They fired at us. You got knocked out.”
Max quickly picked up the story. “We don’t know how to stop.… We’re eighty feet deep.… The water’s coming in.”
Lucky tried to focus on the controls. As he snapped on the exterior lights, they saw that they were floating down a narrow tunnel of rock.
“I know this place,” said Lucky.
“Where are we?” asked Max, but Lucky didn’t answer. Every bit of his energy was focused on steering the sub through the narrow space.
As the canyon walls opened up to a sea of black, Lucky relaxed. “It’s just as I remember it,” he said, smiling to himself. Then he looked around at Max and Lola. “Prepare to surface!”
“Surface?” repeated Max in alarm.
“No, Lucky,” protested Lola. “Not yet! What about the coast guard or whoever that was?”
“Not a problem,” said Lucky with a mysterious smile.
Four things happened in quick succession.
The control panels lit up.
The cabin lights came on.
The ballast tanks starting pumping out water.
The sub began to rise.
“It’s getting lighter,” said Lola after a moment.
Surprisingly quickly, they broke through the surface of the water.
Max monitored the video screen and the GPS. “I don’t get it.” He tried to make sense of the picture. “It says we’re inland.”
Lucky leaned over to throw open the door. “It’s an underground lake. But not just any lake.”
Max, Lola, and Lord 6-Dog looked out in astonishment.
“What is this place?” asked Lola.
Back aboard the coast guard ship, the crew of zombies cheered. Their mission had been a success. For once in their lawless zombie lives, they’d followed their orders to the letter; they’d driven the little sub into the ocean depths, for the current to carry it the rest of the way. The two brats and the fleabag monkey would find what they were meant to find. Tzelek would be well pleased. There would be feasting in Xibalba tonight.
