Lola and Max stood side by side, staring at themselves in the mirror.
“You look good,” said Lola.
“So do you,” said Max. “Apart from the beard.”
Lola stroked the wispy hairs glued to her chin. “You don’t like it?”
The rest of her hair was tied back, and all her visible skin was painted in jaguar spots. She wore a brown cotton tunic.
Max’s skin had been painted in a leafy camouflage pattern. He wore a black bandanna tied around his hair and a pair of green baggy shorts.
Fay stood between them, watching their reactions anxiously. “If you’re happy with your costumes, I’ll take you to the greenroom. They’re bringing your monkey up. I can’t wait to meet him. He’s called The Dawg, right? Everyone’s talking about him.” She looked alarmed. “Will he need a costume? I didn’t think of it. We don’t have much to fit a monkey.…”
“He has pajamas,” Lola reassured her. “I just want to see him. Come on, Hoop!”
Max took a deep breath. “I think I’ve got stage fright. I keep getting flashbacks to my Thanksgiving play in first grade.”
He paused for Lola to make a snarky comment about Thanksgiving not being Thanksgiving for Native Americans, but she said nothing, so he pressed on. “I was a corncob. I had to hold hands with the fish that fertilized me. I didn’t get very good reviews.”
“It doesn’t matter, Hoop. We go on. We get off. We go home. It will all be over before you know it.”
“This way,” said Fay. “I’m sure you’ll both be amazing.”
She took them to another tent, nearer to the stage, where lots of extras in vaguely Maya costumes milled around.
“Do I smell food?” asked Max.
“Help yourself to the buffet,” said Fay. “The grilled scallions are delicious.”
Max didn’t need telling twice.
“Bring me something back!” Lola called after him as he made a beeline for the table. “I’m waiting for The Dawg.”
The guards brought him in on a stretcher—“Where do you want it?”—and tipped him and his blanket onto the couch. “He should wake up soon,” they said. “Lady Koo says he has to practice his dancing.”
“Like that’s going to happen,” muttered Lola. She wanted to hug Lord 6-Dog and tell him how glad she was to see him and how scared she’d been when he was shot, but she knew that a mighty Maya king wouldn’t approve of such an emotional display, so she just sat there, gently rubbing his fur as he slept and willing him to wake up.
“Here comes a runner with your script,” said Fay, taking a thick stack of pages from a backstage helper. “Still warm from the printer! Lady Koo’s been writing like a demon. She’s very excited about tonight’s production.”
Max returned with two loaded plates and watched as Lola weighed the script in her hand. “It’s like a book!” he said. “She can’t seriously expect us to learn all that?”
Lola flicked through the pages. “I hope they have plenty of fake blood. The stage directions are pretty gory. Listen to this, Hoop: Xbalanque chops Hunahpu into little pieces, then puts him back together again.”
Max put down his plate. He was feeling nervous. “How am I going to act that? This is going to be a disaster. It’s the Thanksgiving corncob all over again.”
“So what happened?” asked Lola, trying not to smile.
“I jumped up and down to welcome the fish and all my niblets fell off.”
Lola and Fay burst out laughing. The noise woke Lord 6-Dog, who opened one eye and commanded sleepily, “Stop torturing that toucan,” before going back to sleep.
“So, that’s the famous Dawg,” said Fay. “Did you know they’re selling little Dawg Dolls of him in his pajamas?”
“They are? That was quick!” Lola made a face. “I hate to contribute to the profits of this place, but will you get me one for his mother?”
“Sure. But isn’t his mother a monkey? Will she even know it’s him?”
“Howler monkeys are very intelligent,” said Lola.
“You should wake him,” said Fay. “It’s nearly sundown and—” The rest of her words were drowned out by a fanfare of conch shell horns and wooden trumpets. “Quick! The show is starting!”
Max and Lola woke Lord 6-Dog enough to be able to half carry, half drag him along between them.
“I have to check the dancers’ costumes,” said Fay. They were in the wings at the side of the stage, hidden from view of the audience. “Be sure to listen for your cue.”
This is what they heard:
—Above everything, the noise of the crowd, clapping and chanting for Great Sun to appear.
—Some taped background music with drums and wailing.
—A painful whistle of feedback from the PA system every time a stagehand walked in front of a speaker.
“There you are!” barked Lady Koo, coming up behind them and making them jump out of their skins. “Do you know your lines?”
Lola shook her head. “We only just got our script.”
“Then get to it!” Lady Koo’s forehead was wrinkled with worry under its thick layer of makeup. “Tonight is a very special night. The TV cameras have arrived. This could be huge for us! I don’t want any mistakes!”
“We’re going to be on TV?” Max looked terrified.
“Isn’t it amazing? I sent out a press release after our meeting, but I never expected such interest. All I said was that the Hero Twins would be performing, and the media have descended like locusts. For some reason they’ve got it into their heads that the Birdman will land tonight.”
“Will he?”
Lady Koo looked at Max like he was mad. “Of course not. But it means that you two need to be spectacular. We have to give them a show to remember.”
“There’s not enough time to learn all our lines,” Lola pointed out. “Can we take our scripts onstage with us?”
“And make me look like an amateur in front of the entire world? Give me those!” She grabbed the scripts out of Max’s and Lola’s hands and, with the immense effort of someone trying to rip up a phonebook, tore them into little pieces. “If you want those stones, you better not let me down,” she hissed, before hobbling away on her towering heels. “Someone put that monkey in roller skates for the big finale!”
Lord 6-Dog, who was slumped under his blanket in a director’s chair, paid no attention. Max and Lola stood there, shocked.
“I think her shoes are hurting her,” said Lola.
“That’s no excuse to rip up our scripts.”
“She’s just nervous. This is like a dream come true for her, to be on TV.”
“It’s my nightmare.”
“But it’s great for us, Hoop. If we can put on a good show, she’ll be so grateful, we’ll have our hands on those Jaguar Stones tonight!”
“How does she expect us to put on a good show with no scripts?”
“Improvise. She knows we know the story. My guess is that she’d rather we made something up than stumbled around reading off our scripts. Just remember the big finale where I chop you into pieces.”
“How do I act getting chopped into pieces?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just scream a lot. Whatever. As soon as this is over, we’re out of here.”
More trumpets, more drums, then a roar from the crowd as Great Sun was carried out on his litter from the opposite side of the stage. He wore the same black-and-white feathers and black face paint as he had that morning.
Lady Koo was carried out next on an ornate chair with carrying poles. When her bearers had set her down, they detached the poles and left her seated in throne-like splendor. She looked around for the cameras and smiled a fake smile for the viewers at home.
As Great Sun stood up and began his incomprehensible chanting (“At least now you know why you can’t understand him; he’s making it all up,” Max whispered to Lola), Lady Koo spoke her “translation” into a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the world-famous Sunset Ceremony at Old Cahokia,” she began. “We would especially like to welcome our television viewers from around the world and inform you that a wide range of souvenirs from this evening’s festivities is available on our Web site with free shipping.”
“I’m fairly sure that’s not what Great Sun said,” muttered Max.
Now Lady Koo stood up and tossed back her hair dramatically. “As the great fire jaguar of day prepares to dive into the sea of night, we gather here, as children of the stars, to celebrate our special place in the cosmos.”
From out of nowhere a man’s voice that somehow managed to sound smooth and gravelly at the same time boomed out across the park. “Here we are at the lost city of Old Cahokia in America’s heartland, home of the fabled Jaguar Stones and earthly base of the mysterious Birdman of Cahokia. Join me and millions of viewers around the world as we watch Great Sun, self-proclaimed king of Cahokia, attempt to summon back the Birdman from somewhere out there in the stars.”
“Who’s saying that?” asked Lola, straining to see where the sound was coming from.
“I know that voice,” said Max. “He’s a TV announcer. We must be going out live.”
A stagehand tapped Max on the shoulder and pointed to a monitor showing the TV audience’s view of the stage.
“We don’t know exactly what Great Sun has planned for us tonight,” continued the announcer, “but we’ve been promised a spectacular show. Social media is buzzing about nothing less than the return of the Birdman himself. That’s right, folks, tonight we are hoping to see the world’s first televised UFO landing!”
Great Sun and Lady Koo exchanged baffled glances.
There was a burst of music, the twirling dancers invaded the stage, and the altar bearing the Jaguar Stones began to rise.
The announcer dropped his voice to a loud whisper: “And it begins, as always, with the lighting of the Jaguar Stones. These legendary stones are the landing lights that will guide the Birdman home to Cahokia.”
When the altar was in position, Great Sun made some bogus magician-type moves, somebody somewhere flicked a switch, and the Jaguar Stones glowed into life. Now five dancers came forward, hoods pulled up so that, from the side, they looked like monks. To a sound track of monastic chanting, and with great solemnity, they processed forward with the stones, placing them at even intervals along the edge of the stage.
After some banter with a female colleague about the value of the stones and the designer of Lady Koo’s dress, the TV announcer leapt into the fray again: “So what surprise does Great Sun have planned for us tonight? Will the children of the stars be returning to their celestial home? Join us, after these messages, as we watch the skies in southern Illinois and wait for the messenger of destiny to arrive.”
“This is all so stupid,” said Lola. “I can’t believe anyone would watch this trash.”
“I bet Raul’s watching it,” said Max. “And Hermanjilio and Lucky and Lady Coco.”
He wished he was safely curled up on a sofa with them at the Villa Isabella. (Assuming, of course, that new sofas had been delivered by now.)
“Okay, so remember to smile into the cameras, Hoop. Let them know that we’re okay.”
Max imagined their friends at the villa clapping and cheering when he and Lola walked onstage. It made him feel a lot braver. “What about Lord 6-Dog?” he asked her. “Do you think we should warn him about Lady Koo’s plans for a roller skate solo?”
Lola shook her head. “She has zero chance of making him do it. Let him sleep. Whatever they shot him with was strong stuff.”
“Silence in the wings!” snapped a stagehand. “You’re on in Five … Four …”
“As our ancestors believed that blood kept the wheels of the universe turning,” Lady Koo was saying, “so tonight we will reenact the ancient ritual of sending our blood to the stars. And here to help us—for one night only!—are two very special guests from the world of ancient myth, the Hero Twins!”
“… Three …”
“What did she just say about blood?” asked Max, suddenly remembering some dicey experiences on other pyramids when villains had tried to sacrifice him.
“… Two …”
Lola read his mind. “Relax! This time it’s all fake blood, remember? They have gallons of it backstage.”
“… One!”
The stagehand gave them the thumbs-up.
“Okay, Hoop, this is it! Hold on to your niblets! We’re on!”
The conch shells and wooden trumpets went crazy and, over the noise, Lady Koo could be heard assuring the crowd that it was not too late to make donations.
As Max and Lola walked onstage, Lady Koo opened her arms in welcome. “Hail to the heroes of the Maya creation story,” she yelled over the mic. “Welcome Xbalanque and Hunahpu, the Hero Twins.”
She thrust her mic under Max’s nose. “Thank you for having us,” he said politely.
Lady Koo rolled her eyes and gave the mic to Lola. “Act!” she whispered.
Lola thought for a moment, then said with authority: “The Hero Twins salute Great Sun and praise his solar greatness.” She passed the mic back to Max and he repeated her words.
Lady Koo nodded approvingly, but Max knew that if there were any critics in the audience, his performance would score worse reviews than his grade-school interpretation of the corncob.
On the other side of the stage, Great Sun bowed to them.
Max and Lola bowed back.
“Go to him!” whispered Lady Koo. “There’s an X on the stage where you stand.”
As they walked across the stage, Max decided to go further off script with a cheery wave to the camera for the guys at the villa. He could feel death rays from Lady Koo’s eyes piercing his back.
Great Sun was waiting for them in between a wood-burning brazier and a small table. The table had been neatly laid with two footed bowls containing strips of bark paper, sachets of fake blood, and, next to them, a small dagger. His lips were mouthing Great Sun gobbledygook at them, but Lady Koo provided the translation.
“Advance, Hero Twins,” she said, “and give your blood for the universe.”
Great Sun picked up the dagger. Its steel blade glinted in the light of the flames from the brazier.
“I should speak to Fay about the props,” muttered Lola. “The Maya had flint and obsidian knives, and Native Americans had wood and stone tomahawks. Either way, these guys could try to be authentic. Children are watching.”
“How about a rubber knife?” said Max. He eyed Great Sun’s dagger. “Something that doesn’t look very sharp and extremely lethal.”
As the dancers twirled in reverence, a strangled howl from behind the altar followed by a yelp of pain made Max and Lola turn. In the shadows, Max could see a scuffle involving a leg in blue striped pajamas, a hairy foot, and an empty roller skate.
“I think he bit the guy who’s trying to put skates on him,” whispered Lola, trying to keep up her stage smile. “Should I go and help him?”
“He can defend himself,” Max whispered back, secretly looking forward to seeing a monkey on roller skates. “You don’t want to make Lady Koo even angrier.”
“I guess.” Lola was so intent on watching what was going on behind her that Great Sun had to cough to get her attention. His arm was shaking from holding up the dagger. They could see the sachets of fake blood hidden in his hand.
“Now Great Sun will nick the earlobes of the Hero Twins and let their blood drip onto paper strips. We will then burn the paper and send their blood to the heavens,” announced Lady Koo.
The dancers knelt in reverence.
Lola nudged Max to show him that Lord 6-Dog had escaped the stagehand and was now snuggled up to his blanket and attempting to sleep on the altar. “Looks like he won the fight,” she whispered, turning back to the ceremony. Max didn’t mention that he could see the stagehand gathering rope, presumably to tie the monkey down and attach skates to his sleeping feet. He guessed that Lady Koo’s commands were not easily disobeyed.
“The excitement builds,” enthused the TV announcer.
As Max and Lola held up their bowls to catch the fake blood, Max whispered: “What excitement? It’s not exactly the Super Bowl, is it?”
The next moment, his bowl was knocked out of his hand.
“If you want entertainment,” said Lady Koo, “I’ll give you entertainment!”
She grabbed the dagger out of her husband’s hand and headed for the altar. By the time Max and Lola had registered the fact that she’d kicked off her high heels and was limping severely, one leg dragging behind her, she was holding the dagger over Lord 6-Dog’s chest.
“Tzelek! She’s Tzelek!” yelled Lola.
“Prepare to die, brother!” shouted Lady Koo, in Tzelek’s devilish voice.
“Quick!” Lola yelled to Max. “We have to save Lord 6-Dog!”
Max met Lady Koo’s eyes and Tzelek’s red orbs glared back at him. “You’re next, boy,” he said.
Max heard himself scream.
Then an even louder noise than his screams filled the air.
The stage was bathed in a ghostly blue-green light.
Tzelek stared up fearfully through Lady Koo’s eyes at the massive spaceship that was descending from the sky.
Max thought he might save Tzelek the trouble, and just die of terror.
“He’s here! He’s here!” the TV announcer was shouting. “The Birdman of Cahokia has returned!” The muffled thud and radio silence that followed his words suggested he’d fainted.
The dancers and extras scattered. The cameramen and the stagehands cowered in the wings. Great Sun looked from his wife to the spaceship and back again, before tearing off his headdress and running offstage in the direction of the escalators.
Only Max, Lola, and Tzelek stood rooted to the spot.
“What’s happening?” whispered Max. “Is this another special effect?”
“I hope so,” said Lola. “I really, really hope so.”