THE INSURGENCE of
CHAN SANTA CRUZ
BOOK SIX:
THE FIRST of the BOOKS of CHANGE
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Boleaga and
the Jackal had slung hammocks in the General's office, on his orders, and lay
deep in sleep, as did Bravo in a hammock beside Consuela's bed, upstairs, when
her moanings disturbed him out of a vacuous repose.
Springing up from the center of his dreamlessness, the General turned towards
the window, from which an unaccustomed chill had risen. The air was growing
noticeably darker and, as he stood, puzzled, darkened still.
"Ciclon!"
somebody called out from the plaza and there was a commotion of benches
overturned, plates banged together.
Bravo turned away and smiled,
thrusting a straw into the embers of Consuela's cooking-fire to light one
candle, then another.
"A fitting augur for our
end," he said. "Rain which washes our sins away - come, make this
place nothing... nothing..."
Consuela groaned again.
"What the hell?" he shouted.
"Niño!" cried Consuela from
the General's bed, her dark hair matted with sweat, her womb agape but dry...
dry as the badlands of the north, the deserts, with a white rocklike thing
straining at its lip, falling, finding a place among other such objects... four
of them, the General saw. Another orb filled the place of the last...
Eggs!...
One of these among the bedclothes
began to shudder; a crack forming on its surface and Bravo now observed that
two of the little spheres were dull and broken, empty of what they'd
contained... Consuela moaned and the General's eyes rose up her belly,
following the trail of something black and thin and straining towards her
breast, at which another black thing suckled...
A little snake that turned its viper's
head from mother's nipple and flicked its thin, forked tongue at its father.
Not exactly a viper's head...
Bravo started, disrupting a gourd of
hens' eggs suspended by a rope from the ceiling lurched and the eggs began to
tumble out. One struck the General upon the shoulder, another on the temple.
After them the rope snapped and the gourd itself crashed to the edge of the
General's desk... and small army of shells, knives and buttons upon its edge
flew upwards towards the face of Ignacio Bravo. Cowering, the General batted
these away from his face, uninjured, but shrieking, as if he had fallen into a
beehive.
"Not again! By God... by
Juan de la Cruz... not again!"
The cracked egg lurched, a triangular
head more like its mortal father than any tempter of ancient Eden poked out
from the shell. Another boulder rolled towards the tip of the desert cave.
"Witch!" cried the General.
The metal plate that had held their fire tumbled over and hot coals scooted
across the floor towards his boot. Still protecting his eyes, Bravo crept
towards his saddlebags and drew his machete. The candles quivered, then soared
towards his head, dropping trails of wax.
Bravo took two more steps towards
Consuela and her brood.
"Now get thee behind me,
Satan," called out the General, bringing his weapon up...
"Papa..." the creature at
Consuela's breast wheedled, in the voice of Tomas Bravo. The General's arm
began to sag but again the forked little tongue leaped from its berth and
snapped at Bravo.
"I am not your father!"
Bravo said, seizing the little snake in his left hand. The General's mirror cut
loose from its tether and began to advance, sliding down the wall as Bravo
slammed the serpent to the surface of his desk and brought the machete down, the blade flattening the infant's skull. The tremor caused
the mirror to falter in its course and to collapse, not splintering at his feet
as would be expected but instead seeming to burn without consumption, raising
oily billows of thick, black smoke.
Bravo hurled the tiny body down with
disgust. At its mother's breast, another little head poked up, weaving and
flickering its tongue; the General grabbed this one and dispatched it, also,
then gathered up the rest of the eggs as Consuela voided them - laying them
upon the floor and stomping on them until only a bloody trail of flesh and
shell remained. The rain began to lift and Ignacio Bravo stumbled towards the
window, reeled backwards towards the door and shouted down the stairwell...
"Cabo! Chacol!
Arriba!"
El Chacol, burst
from his slumber, tramping upstairs in his shirt and stockings and the General
pointed towards him with his eyes bulging, a froth bubbling from his lips.
Speaking softly, he ordered Consuela taken out into the monte
and put to death, and... tossing the beast his own
saddlebags, charged: "Bring something back of her to prove you have done
this thing, and then tell no one, never."
The Jackal's first thought was to ask
whether he could enjoy Consuela before killing her but, although a man of
little intelligence, he was not so stupid as to raise
that possibility with his General, who clearly was in the middle of a fit.
Bravo kicked as if his boots had been set afire, splattering what seemed like
eggs with broken glass and metal crunching as he executed his strange little
dance.
Consuela lay as one dazed, but with
her eyes open, clad only in one of Bravo's old shirts. El Chacol
lifted Consuela from the bed, light as an armful of twigs she sagged against
the big man, looking mutely upwards towards him.
Corporal Boleaga,
later in arriving for having dressed himself, appeared at the door. "Find Chankik and murder him!" ordered the General.
The Jackal looked towards Boleaga as if to shrug.
"Away with you both! Away!"
Bravo called out and the Cabo hustled downstairs, Chacol
following... hoisting Consuela over his right shoulder like a sack of corn and
dragging Bravo's saddlebags behind him.
"I'm the General!" they
heard Bravo shouting behind them. "I am Governor of the Territory, Jefe of
Santa Cruz del Bravo. Mine is the voice of Juan de la Cruz, scourge of
the Devil. There is no beast in the Territory that can defy my will..."
"Loco!" said Boleaga, as they reached the porch where they were hidden
from their mad commander's eyes.
"What do we do?" the Jackal
struggled. Consuela had thrown both arms around his waist, he felt her pressing
against him through his trousers. Something seemed to arise between them and
then he heard something fall and crack upon the planks that stood over the
earth of the Plaza of Santa Cruz, now otherwise a sea of mud.
"Obey!" the Cabo replied.
"Too bad for you... my duty will be a pleasant one, I've longed to snap
the old spook's neck since we arrived here. Hai! what
was that... did you see something by your foot? It moved... it wriggled
away," and Boleaga pointed towards the center of
the Plaza.
"I must go," said El Chacol, and swept the weeping Consuela from Bravo's porch,
dragging her through the empty plaza in the rain. Corporal Boleaga
looked down; on the boards lay two halves of a sphere which, when he prodded it
with a toe did not crumple like an eggshell but sagged like balls of rubber or
raw chicle.
"Bah!" the Cabo spat,
kicking the things into the mud and fingering his pistol. Where was Chankik?
First, he'd look around the church.
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