Black Rain

“Right,” McCarter said, smiling. “But even in this somewhat decrepit state, they were viable, and according to the legend they grew prosperous and even powerful.”

“And this Seven Macaw,” Danielle said, pointing to the glyph on the slab. “He was one of the wooden people?”

“Absolutely,” McCarter said. “Their leader, in a sense. He was described as having eyes and teeth that shined like jewels. He had a throne or a nest made of metal, and the power to create light in the darkness. He boasted that he could light up the whole earth. But the Mayan writings also tell us he was a fraud, and though he could create brilliant light, it didn’t reach out into the great distance of the whole world, but only lit up his immediate surroundings. Despite this, Seven Macaw exalted himself, holding himself out as a god, forcing the others to worship him as if he were both the sun and the moon.”

Danielle seemed to understand. “I’m thinking the gods didn’t like that much,” she said.

“Not good to anger the gods,” McCarter replied. “Not in any culture. The outcome is predictable.”

“The wooden people were destroyed,” she guessed.

McCarter nodded. “The gods sent vicious beasts to attack them and even turned their own animals against them. And as if that weren’t enough, the sky god, Hurricane, sent a massive rainstorm to drown them like the sinners in Noah’s day. ‘Rain through the day and rain through the night. A rain of black resin that poured from the sky,’” McCarter said, quoting the Mayan text. “‘And the Earth was blackened beneath it.’”

“Burning rain?” Danielle asked.

“I’ve heard it described as a rain of fire,” McCarter said, “like hot oil or ash or napalm. And because the earth was blackened some think it might represent a volcanic event, with hot ash and fire falling from the sky, but the Popul Vuh definitely describes it as rain.”

“And Seven Macaw died in this rain?”

“Actually, he disappeared prior to the Black Rain,” McCarter said. “But the mythology of the work seems to suggest it was necessary to get rid of him to allow the rain to fall, as if his power could challenge the gods and prevent it.”

“I see,” Danielle said. “So what happened to him?”

“Two demigods were sent for him. They shot Seven Macaw with a blow dart when he was up in a tree, and after he fell to the ground, they removed the metal from his eyes and his teeth and took all his jewelry—the things he used to light up the night. Without these items he lost the power to light up anything, even the immediate surroundings. He went into hiding and never bothered anyone again. And then, with Seven Macaw vanquished, the gods sent the rain.”

She understood. “So the heroes killed Seven Macaw and then the rain came to destroy the rest of the wooden people. Take out the leader and then finish off the troops.”

“That’s one way of putting it, yes.”

She was gleeful. “This is good news. The slab certainly proves the Mayan connection,” she said. “No computer inkblots required.”

McCarter chuckled. “It does more than that,” he insisted. “It proves that these people were intimate with the particular mythology of the Mayan creation, a fact that not only connects them with all the other Mayan tribes, but suggests they were very early in the Mayan cycle.” He raised his eyebrows. “You may just be right,” he added. “Tulan Zuyua may be down here after all.”

Danielle smiled confidently and then turned back to the slab embedded in the wall. She looked at the other symbols—the big sad face, the dashes and swirls of the glyphs around it and the angry crocodilelike head with its bloody meal. “What about that one?” she asked.

McCarter’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. It was an important discovery. “That one is Zipacna,” he said. “The Destroyer.”

Later that night, sitting beside a flickering Coleman lantern, Danielle was pressing McCarter and Susan for more details. Hawker had joined them.

McCarter began by explaining the obstacles. “One problem we face is the condition of the find.” The glyphs on the Wall are in terrible shape, for the most part unreadable. The ones found on the great stone in the pit are better off, perhaps because they’ve been buried and protected from the elements for much of their life. The exposed tree roots and steep incline of the vertical walls suggest the pit to be quite a recent excavation.”

This response concerned her. She wondered if their adversary had somehow gotten here before them. McCarter, unknowingly, assuaged that fear.

“For whatever reason, the natives seem to be using it as a trap.”

“With all the bones we had to fish out of there, you wonder if they ever came back to check it,” Hawker said.