The Tower of Il Serrohe (28 page)

“
It began at the top where a few looser abode bricks were moved about, reluctant to budge from their designated resting places. Still, the wind was relentless and the adobes were soon flying along with everything else as it whirled about from the valley floor. Layer by layer, the walls slowly shifted as more adobes took to the air while others arched like overburdened vultures only to slam down to the open village square.

“
Finally, great sections of the walls collapsed and, like dominos, brought down adjoining sections until the entire tower lay stretched in a cone shaped field of rubble with its base at the foot of where the Tower had stood moments before, tapering to a point on top of a kiva at the western edge of the square. Now only a memory, those who recalled the Tower had either high-tailed it out of town not knowing what had happened behind their backs or were crushed under its weight as they stood disbelieving in the center of the square.

“
Back at the Portal, Teresa had sensed a critical stretching of the rope that secured them in the whirlwind. Making sure it was still firmly wrapped around Pia and Pita’s limbs, she called out.

“‘
The rope is giving out! We must close the Portal. I will let you go and slowly play out the end of the rope until you can pass out of the Portal. I don’t think it’ll close entirely, but it should somewhat.

“
The sisters complied, their limbs aching so savagely they feared they would lose their grip entirely. Their feet couldn’t feel the ground because the wind was still too severe. Pia called mentally to Teresa. Though no words were conveyed, her sense of panic was clear.

“
After having released the grip on the sisters and feeling them clamp on the rope, she used both hands to pull her way back up the rope toward the cottonwood. She felt she might be cut in half by the coil around her waist as she strained to turn around to face the wind.

“
Fortunately, the wind from the Rio Grande Valley was weaker in comparison to what it became through the Portal. Suddenly, she was able to pull herself entirely out of the Portal.

“
Thus the Portal closed.

“
The sisters swung abruptly out of the Portal, whipped about by the grip of the rope tied to their old cottonwood. Like the hapless victims of a monster ‘crack the whip’ game, they were jerked in a half circle until their momentum gave out. They dropped to the ground on the south side of their Portal like a couple of hot yams.

“‘
Ow!’ Pita screamed. She sat up and looked at her equally startled sister who was tending to bleeding knees. When their eyes locked, they both began laughing and crying in pain at the same time.

“
Nothing ever hurt as good. As they looked to the west, they were astounded to see a flat mesa above the cliffs with a low mound where the Tower had once stood.”

fifty

A profound silence filled the casita after Nightwing finished that part of the story. Finally he spoke, “Don, are you still awake?”

There was a shifting in the bed as Don sat up. “Yeah. I’m just blown away—pun intended. I mean, I still think I’m slowly going crazy from grief and drink, but how could I imagine something like that? It isn’t even the kind of story that appeals to me but, somehow, it makes me want to do something.”

“
Are you ready to return to Valle Abajo and help?”

“
What can a hard-drinking English instructor and general chickenshit do?”

“
Do not doubt what you can do when you have no idea what you’re capable of. Others in circumstances you know nothing about have chosen you, but you must be the one to act.”

“
But… OK, so you know more than I do. That little guy Nersite and his friends seem to think I can help. Raquela, though, has doubts from what little she saw of me. Smart lady. And you, a little dark bat… Jesus, I’m already crazy. Why not go all the way.”

“
Good, then come with me…”

“
Not so fast, mouse breath, I need to rest and sober up.”

“
The passage through the Portal will dissipate the alcohol in your body.”

“
Really?”

And with that, the bat lead the way through.

Don found himself in a bright mid-day in the Valle Abajo with a clean spirit and a body free of alcohol. Naked as a newborn baby.

A new set of Nohmin-style clothes awaited him at the adobe hut near the dead cottonwood where a pottery jug of fresh water had been thoughtfully provided for the dehydrated Rio Grande man. The bat watched silently as Don dressed. He, flitting his ears to wave “good bye,” took to the air headed for
Lookgosee.

In the still, bright air the only sound Don heard was
whap, whap, whap.

After a few hours travel, out on a lonely expanse of Seared Meadow that stretched across the mesa above Valle Abajo, Don stood in twilight, transfixed by the approach of an odd figure: a tall, lanky man leaned so far forward his head seemed to glide just above the ground, a wide toothless smile at once singular and voracious, with arms apparently clasped so tightly behind he appeared to be armless.

A voice behind Don exploded in a harsh whisper.

“
Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Don’t just stand there staring at the Crotalmin, come on!” Sprouting hands in the semi-darkness, the voice grabbed Don, pulling him toward a hole in the ground.

“
No!” Don cried, wrestling himself away. “I’m not going into some Nohmin hole again! I’m staying here. What’s the big deal anyway; this guy looks OK. Sort of.”

“
That ‘guy’ is Sliktooth of the Crotalmin clan and he needs to feed,” Nersite hissed. “It’s into the hole or into his stomach—which would you prefer?”

Don peered at the hole. After the last time, he’d promised himself he would not willingly go again into the claustrophobic home of his new friend, Nersite. He raised his head and looked around. Sliktooth was approaching with surprising haste and the forest was too far away to make a run for it.

“
Trust me you don’t want to engage Sliktooth in conversation,” Nersite said. “It will be short and it will be your last!”

Don stared into Nersite’s eyes. He seemed different since the last time Don had seen him. As best as he could see in the fading light, those beady little eyes held fear, anger, and total sincerity. He knew the essential battle within himself would not be resolved this evening, so for now he would follow his instinct, trust the little guy, and go down into the hole.

Steeling his mind against rising panic, Don felt his shoulders brushing the sides of the tunnel He wound his way, awkwardly following the sound of Nersite’s movement.

He could hear other Nohmin scurrying through the tunnels toward hiding places.

The downward slant leveled out forcing Don to bend almost double to avoid the lowered ceiling. They continued on, twisting left and right through countless junctions. At last he felt Nersite’s hand on the top of his downcast head.

“
Stop,” Nersite whispered. “Reach out to your right. You will find a small hole in the wall, shoulder high.”

Don gingerly reached out to the wall, trying not to gain too much information in this cramped, humid tomb. He found the hole as its edges crumbled under his touch.

“
Climb up in there,” Nersite said. “It’s too small for Sliktooth.”

“
It’s too dammed small for me!” Don cried, suppressing a sob.
Not again!
How quickly can I get out of here? Can I even find my way out of here? I’m in too deep!

“
Sliktooth will eat you! There is no option,” Nersite added.

“
I’d rather be eaten and die than be alive down here,” Don mumbled. “At least it will all be over with quickly.”

“
Not with a Crotalmin,” Nersite said. “It’s a slow death in his stomach. This place is like the wide open plains compared to his stifling poison.”

“
Wouldn’t he kill me first?”

“
No,” came the reply. Don could swear he heard Nersite’s brain whirring as he thought about what to say next. “You don’t want to know, it’s too horrible for me to say. This hole is far better; this part was originally a
Loopohmin home, so it’s roomier
. I will stay with you. Now be quiet.”

Nersite sounded so confident that Don began climbing into the hole, Nersite boosting his butt with a push. Don
really
didn’t want to be touched.

Nersite slipped in behind him.

Inside, by Don’s reckoning, the hole was about two feet high, maybe four feet wide, and eight feet deep. In spite of the soft earth of the passageway, the ground here was hard with fist-sized rocks that pushed painfully against his ribs.

“
Move all the way back, away from the passageway,” Nersite said.

Don worked his way back, sobbing softly with each shallow breath.

Laying about three-quarters over on his face and stomach, he didn’t want to feel the wall or the ceiling. He could, of course, feel the constant rain of atoms and water vapor molecules as they piled upon him.

Nersite groped around, finding Don. Placing his hands gently on Don’s shoulders near his neck, he spoke calmly. “We’ll just relax here. Slow our breathing. You will hear him shuffling about as he passes in the tunnel. He will not be able to reach us.”

“
OK, fine, asshole,” Don whispered back. “Just don’t touch me.”

There was a long pause. Don tried to quiet his sobs and deepen his breathing.

Nersite added one more thing. “We must not talk or make any sound with voice or body.”

Don knew that was purposely misleading—as if Sliktooth would not
know
they were there even if they were quiet. Nersite was trying to give him hope.

Calming himself, Don brought back fond memories of playing as a boy in his big sunny backyard in Peralta: the towering sunflowers, bushes big enough to double for jungles in his childish playacting, with the over arching cottonwood spreading ancient branches almost as thick as its trunk as its cool shade fell in a dappled pattern of light and shadow across the spacious yard.

This calming reverie was rudely interrupted by a sound like dry cornhusks dragging across gravel. Sliktooth was coming down the tunnel!

He could hear the sound of slow breathing, not his or Nersite’s as both held their breath so deep inside, it would take a conscious effort to resume breathing, if the chance ever came.

Now the cornhusks were across from him, behind Nersite. Sliktooth must be testing the sides of the passageway. Don’s heart thundered in his chest, trying to pound its way out. Surely, Sliktooth could hear that!

Nersite patted his shoulders softly in reassurance.

I told you to NOT touch me! 
Don raged silently.

Just as Don’s lungs were about to burst, the sound of cornhusks began dragging away along the tunnel again, loud without stealth. Sliktooth may have found the tight entrance to their hiding place too hard-packed to crumble.

Don let himself breathe, but with short little puffs almost silent in their exhale and inhale.

“
He’s moving on.” Nersite whispered. “We must stay here for a while. A specially trained team of Nohmin will vacate him soon enough. They cannot kill him for Sliktooth is too big, but he will be appropriately discouraged. We will hear other Nohmin moving about once it’s safe.”

Don thought that through as they waited.
OK,
fine. But once I’m out of here, I’m never going back down a Nohmin hole!

Finally the “all clear” was given by the Nohmin team. He sought relief back up in the open air and took a closer look around.

On his way up from the valley it just felt so good to be sober and breathing cleaner air that he didn’t entirely realize how things had changed since he’d last been there. Although it had been a couple of days, it seemed years. The land had had a mystical quality the first time. And the people looked both unique and familiar.

But now, he thought the land looked tired and worn-down. It simply looked
real—
less like a setting for a fantasy or delirium induced hallucination.

Of course, his perspective had changed from hearing the bat’s story of Teresa, Pia, and Pita’s struggle to destroy the Tower. And his rude return to his Rio Grande valley and the gang violence had struck him to the core. Why was there this kind of hatred in both valleys?

And now, yes, he was ready to embrace his insanity and just go with it.

He studied Nersite more intently than he had a few hours earlier when Sliktooth had approached. He was still a young-looking guy, short, small boned with round cheeks, beady eyes, his body tanned—yet different. He no longer looked like a young guy Don might have met on any Albuquerque street.

He had an
unsophisticated
look about him. As if he wasn’t quite civilized—more like a clever peasant. But even that didn’t quite capture the sense of these people of the Valle Abajo who were certainly more primitive than those Don was used to. However, they had a well-developed culture and an intriguing lifestyle; yet… yet… there was an untamed quality Nersite exuded that Don hadn’t noticed before.