Downpour(II:4) The Book of the Dead

4. The Book of the Dead

     “Alright Nick, this is getting god damned ridiculous.” Albert had stood and was swaying side to side as if caught in a heavy wind.

     Nick moved to protect his drink, for he feared that at any moment, Albert could come smashing down on the table. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Take it easy Albert, come on, have a seat. We don’t want you paying for another table, do we?”

     “Fine,” he muttered, sitting down.

     Jimmy looked at Nick with an expression of thanks. His bar had been trashed one too many times, and he was almost never paid for the damages.

     “I’m jus’ sayin’ Nick. You’re being ridiculous. First the lost city of El Dorado, then you say Paul Mansen is alive, and now you’re telling me you found the Book of the Dead? Come off it.”

     “I know it’s improbable, but it happened.” Nick wouldn’t have believed the story if he told it to himself. Hell, he had hardly believed it as it was happening. “Well, my one reason for embellishing the story has left the bar, so tell me Albert, why would I lie to you?”

     He scratched his head, thinking about it. “No, I don’t suppose so.” Slowly, Albert returned to his seat at the table.

     Marcus, who had remained silent for a while suddenly perked up. “I thought the legend said that the book of the dead was buried somewhere in Egypt.” He was doing his best to sound intelligent through heavy slurs.

     “You’ve watched one too many movies Marcus. While there was one Book of the Dead buried in Egypt; it was by no means the only one. Each culture has their own, with their own set of rules.” Both men seemed a little lost at the statement. Albert was still glazed over, both in booze and deep thought, trying to think of reasons Nick would be lying to him.

     “It’s like I explained with death,” said Nick, attempting to simplify. “When you die, your soul returns back to the place of your birth. Well, each place of birth has its own special rules about death. The Land of the Dead might stretch beyond the boundaries of culture, but the laws of what can and can’t pass once you’ve entered are region specific.”

“If everywhere has their own book of the dead, what’s ours then?” said Albert, clearly confused.

Nick had always felt that American ideology surrounding death had ripped him off. The Native Americans had a wonderful culture surrounding animal spirits, but when the pilgrims came over, they brought their doom and gloom surrounding the event of death with them. In present time, most Americans believed in a court of moral judgment somewhere far up in the clouds, and that was what they got. It was the horrible dogma that was heaven and hell, created centuries back, and wreaking havoc ever since.

“Don’t you know?” asked Nick, excited to ruin the shiny veil of the afterlife for them.

“No,” both men said in unison.

“Ever heard of a little book called The Holy Bible?”

Both men screwed up their faces in protest. “You can’t be telling me that there’s some truth in that load of shite.”

“Maybe not the water to wine bit, but we really can’t tell much about the death part. The only people who know are those who have come back, and that’s a very small number. Our level of dogma makes it much more difficult to return after crossing over than most other places in the world.”

Neither of them seemed happy with the explanation. “Always with the dogma,” said Albert. “I bet the process is full of plenty of paperwork.” He made a rude gesture pointed at the ceiling, presumably meant for the god that he did not believe in. “What was a vampire in El Dorado doing with the Book of the Dead anyways?”

 

     “Where did you get that?” asked Mansen, looking at the book in astonishment.

     The vampire looked very pleased, looming in the dim light and holding the book out like a prized pig. “Off a traveler who was passing through. Turns out that he was awful at cards.”

Nick saw a hint of malice gleam in the vampire’s eyes. Probably hypnotized him for it. No rules about robbing someone blind in the city, so long as you don’t kill them. Even through his anger, Nick could not help but be distracted by the presence of the book. He had heard about the chronicles of life after death scattered throughout the world, but had never actually encountered one for himself. They were said to possess great power, and the keys to unlocking an escape from death.

The book itself was made from black leather, and etched with gold details. A gilded ring made of skeletons contorted in odd positions was embossed the center of the cover. Around the edges, Nick could see faces in the leather, but they were so slight that he was not sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him.  

The vampire removed two gold clasps from the sides of the book and opened it. The pages were thick, and like the cover, inlayed with gold. “This, is the ancient Aztec book of the dead. If your friend is here, this book will tell you how to find him.”

Nick tried to peer into the book, but the Vampire snapped it shut.

“Information does not come for free.”

For the first time since entering the city, Nick thought about the fact that he had no money. Most of what he had brought with him had gone down with the plane, and the rest had been lost in the rapids. He looked to Lopsang, as if hoping that some of the money had survived the plane crash.

Lopsang shook his head. “I would have tried to get our gear out, but the plane exploded.” The thought of his destroyed plane brought a look of pain to Lopsang’s face. “I had nothing but what didn’t burn in the crash when I entered the city. The gate appeared right as I was thrown from the plane.”

Nick had not even thought to ask how Lopsang had gotten out of the wreckage. Being a demi-god, he was never in any real danger, but it still could have been tricky to disentangle himself from a heap of burning metal. Nick turned back to the vampire. “We’ve got nothing more than what’s on us.”

“Well then it’s a pity that I’ve got nothing to share with you.” The vampire leaned back in his chair and rested his hands upon the book. He was enjoying himself.

“I’d offer to help, but I’ve got nothing, and I don’t want to,” said Paul.

Great, we found the information we need, but can’t get it from him. “There has to be something you want, or you wouldn’t still be talking to us.” Nick had found that most people in the world weren’t willing to navigate the minefield that was conversation if they didn’t want something. Everyone has a price, so what’s yours blood sucker?

“Well of course there is something I want, but I don’t think you’re going to like it very much.”

Nick saw the same glimmer as when the vampire had talked about cheating the traveler out of his book. “What is it?” he asked, knowing full well that whatever it was likely involved mortal peril. What is it with everyone and trying to get me killed these days?

“In the middle of the city, there is a fighting pit. I want you to enter.”

“Let me go instead,” interrupted Lopsang.

“Quiet demi-god,” said the Vampire icily.

Lopsang stammered.

“Yes, I noticed the second you walked through my door. Putting you in the fighting pit would be entirely uninteresting. If I wanted to watch people get eviscerated, I would return to my home in Boston. It has to be the hunter.” He returned his attention to Nick. “If you can survive one round in the fighting pit, then I will tell you how to find your friend, and give you supplies for the journey.”

The deal seemed too good to be true. One round can’t be so bad. “Who will I be fighting?” asked Nick, thinking that the trick might be to put a giant in the ring against him. Either way, Nick was still confident that he could do it. He had killed quite a few giants back in the early nineties to stop an uprising in the Midwest.

“The fighter will be a good friend of mine, and I will warn you, he’s never been defeated.”

“First time for everything,” said Nick, trying not to betray the fear he was feeling.

“Nick, this is not a good idea. We will find another way. James wouldn’t have wanted you to put yourself in harm’s way for his life.” Lopsang looked frightened as well.

Nick might have been able to be talked out of it, but the mention of James solidified his decision. I’m going to bring you back kid. “So when’s the fight?” he asked.

“I can arrange for it to be this evening if you wish it so.” William stood, looking very pleased with himself.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Nick, stonily.

“Splendid, I will need time to prepare my fighter. I’ll get you into the midnight match. You can see yourself out.” He went behind the moth eaten curtain again, leaving them alone in the darkness.

“Alright Paul, here’s the bricks. You’re going to tell me everything there is to know about these pits, in the next two hours, and do whatever it takes to help me get out alive.”

Paul looked positively delighted at the idea of Nick losing his life, and at the idea of giving another lesson. “Absolutely, follow me.” They stood and walked out of the shop. “The first thing you should know, is that under no circumstances should you have entered into this competition.”

“Helpful,” said Nick with a tone of utmost sarcasm.

Lopsang continued to look worried beside them. “You tell him how to survive, or else I’ll deal with you,” said Lopsang in a rare moment of anger.

“I’d feel threatened Lopsang, but as you both seem to be forgetting, no mortal harm within the city limits.”

“I can do plenty that you’ll regret experiencing without killing you.” Lopsang’s voice was flat. Nick knew it was true. On the few occasions Lopsang had chosen to fight, it had not been a pretty outcome for the men on the receiving end.

Mansen looked shaken. “Yes, of course. Well, I will do my very best Nick, but this was a fool’s proposition. The fighting pits are the only place in the city where you can die. It’s not a pleasant place.”

“Wouldn’t expect it to be, now can you please explain to me what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.”

Mansen stopped walking and looked out over the river, as if trying to find the right words. “Well, it’s really quite simple. Two combatants enter, and only one combatant leaves…”