Camazotz

Contains mild horror/violence

Once upon a time, I died. No, really. Dead as a doornail, they said. I know who killed me. You will too, eventually. The villagers? No skin off their noses. Though entertaining, stoning the unwelcome outsider on the rare occasions he ventured onto their sacred soil wasn’t their main source of fun. Nasty bunch—men, women, children—even animals. One whiff of the bat guano that wallpapered my cave sent snarling, biting dogs chasing after me, as if I were a giant vampire bat swooping down to suck the life out of them. I’m smart, though. Or I was, until….

***

This ain’t no child’s fairy tale. More like the darkest of the macabre Grimm’s stories. But, like many tragic narratives, it didn’t begin this way. I didn’t come looking for trouble. I just wanted to save something worth saving. Funny how things work.

Mountbatten, the small village at the base of Chimney Mountain, was founded by bat worshipers. These folks believed that bats were sacred protectors and brought wealth, prosperity, and good health to those who revered them. Littered with deep caves populated with multiple species of bats, the area surrounding the mountain was a perfect place to settle. Despite the poor native soil, crops thrived due to a seemingly unlimited supply of bat guano fertilizer. The little community prospered for many years. Strangers were rare, and never stayed long if they ever happened upon the settlement. Me? I stayed.

***

I am…I was a chiropterologist. I specialized in studying bats—their migrations, habitat loss, and diseases. Weird, some people said. But I’d loved the furry little creatures who could “fly” since I was a boy. And they were disappearing. As a native of Northeastern New York, I was most interested in the colonies around Chimney Mountain. Hiking up the mountain with my fifty-pound backpack evenly distributed between my shoulders, I carelessly strayed from the beaten path. Trudging through several inches of pine needles, I navigated a forbidding forest, devoid of light. When I came to a clearing, I saw something that shouldn’t have existed, at least according to my map. The village I stumbled upon was silent, eerily so. No barking dogs, no children laughing. Every face turned toward me. What is this? I approached a young woman who was standing in front of a log cabin. When she saw me coming her way, she screamed and ran into the house. Baffled, I continued walking. I saw a man saddling a horse in front of a building and headed toward him. This time, I waited for him to approach me.

“What do you want, stranger?”

“Name’s Jacob. I’m just passing through. I’m a scientist—I study bats. I didn’t know this place was here. It’s not on the map.”

“Bats? What’re you gonna do with them?”

“Uh…study them. Find out things about them to help us make sure they thrive here in the Adirondacks.” I turned and pointed toward the mountain. “I plan on staying for the summer in one of the caves. Is that okay?”

“For now. But don’t get in our way, and don’t stay too long. Don’t like no busy bodies pokin’ in our business.”

I don’t have a great feeling about this. Nobody seemed curious. They looked disturbed.

***

I strode to the edge of the village and began the climb toward the iconic rock chimney that gave the mountain its name. Pausing after the mile-long hike, I scanned the rocky terrain, searching for an accessible cave opening. Finding none, I turned to the west. Luckily, there were several small to medium-sized caves along this route. Curiously, I saw no evidence of bats in any of them. I pondered that fact as I continued. Finally, hidden behind a large boulder, I found a promising aperture. The moment I got within a hundred feet of the opening, I was assailed with the pungent odor of ammonia, which indicated that bats were indeed in residence. Dropping my backpack, I covered my nose and tiptoed inside. My caution didn’t matter. Thousands of screeching, fluttering mammals roared like a freight train out of their home. I instinctively covered my head with my hands and backed away. I decided that this was the perfect colony to study. I found a smaller cave close by that would serve as my base for the duration of my research. I started making camp, but was overcome with a sense of dread. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was about to change. Little did I know just how right my intuition would prove to be.

***

The next day, I went into the village to see what goods I could purchase from the residents. The building where I encountered the surly man yesterday seemed like a good place to start. I climbed the steps and knocked on the door. No one answered, so I tried the handle. The door opened. I took one step and was pushed back outside with the end of a broom handle. Holding the weapon by the bristles was the woman I frightened yesterday when I arrived. I raised my hands in surrender, and she lowered the broom, closing the door behind her.

“What do you want, mister?”

“I’m sorry I scared you yesterday. I’m Jacob.” I said, extending my hand.

She ignored it and instead raised her broom menacingly.

“Ok, I get it.” I turned around and descended the stairs. “I thought this was a store where I could get some supplies. I mean no harm.”

She dropped the broom and pointed across the street. “There. But there ain’t much. Times are bad.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

She hesitated, muttering to herself. Apparently coming to some decision, she leaned closer to me, and looking around as if to make sure no one was looking, she said, “Mara. We’re all Harvesters here, mister. Ain’t been no one outside of our Flock here in years. I like your looks. Are you hitched? Would you stay here?”

Harvesters? Flock? Who are these people?

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

I staggered back into the middle of the road. Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I hustled toward the building she said was a store. “We can be friends, okay?” I called. She cackled like a witch, and I ran the rest of the way.

Two cabins down from the store, I caught a glimpse of a large gray head ducking away from a window.

***

The woman was right. The “store” had a few items I might need, but its shelves were mostly bare. Disappointed, I resigned myself to making bi-weekly trips into the nearest town to replenish my supplies. As I walked through the center of the village, I saw several people milling about, but no one spoke. All of them had numerous bat tattoos and wore jewelry made of black gems. I observed strange symbols painted or carved into the doors of the houses—red droplets dripping from crescent moons. I continued toward the dense forest on the outskirts of the village. There, I saw the man I had spoken with the day before, deep in conversation with someone I recognized.

“Martin? Martin Larson?”

Nodding, my college lab partner countered, “Jacob Ross. What are you doing in Mountbatten?”

“I secured a grant to study the bats in this area. Their population is dwindling. I want to know why. I didn’t know about this village; I’ve made camp in one of the caves near the mountain.”

“Nudging me out of earshot, Martin hissed, “Jake…you have to leave.”

I laughed. “Why? I have a permit and a right to conduct research in these parts.”

“I’m serious,” Martin whispered, tilting his head toward his companion.

“What is this, a cult or something?”

“The less you know, the better off you’ll be. I can’t stop you from doing your work, but stay away from the village—and the people. Now get out of here. Please.”

***

I don’t always follow unsolicited advice, but as I’ve mentioned, I’m not an idiot. Though curious as hell, I took heed of Martin’s warning and hustled back the way I came. No one stopped me or even looked my way until I crossed paths again with Mara. I ignored her and kept walking. I almost made it out of the village when I was struck in the arm by a golfball-sized rock. Turning, I saw Mara grab hold of the culprit—a dirty, skinny boy of perhaps eleven years old—and shove him into the nearest cabin. She reappeared and stomped over to where I stood rubbing my arm.

“He won’t bother you agin, mister. But I can’t say the same for the others. This is a bad place.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” I asked.

“He won’t let me. Now go.”

Not wasting another minute, I ran the first half mile of the climb and collapsed when I reached my camp. I had planned to begin my research that night, but thought better of it and went to sleep instead.

***

I woke to the sound of footsteps near my cave. I picked up a rock and crept outside. I saw nothing. Emboldened, I stepped around a tree and stifled a scream. There, in a heap, was Mara, bleeding and motionless.

“Oh, my God! Mara, what happened?” I shook her gently.

She moaned and opened her eyes. “Jacob? Where am I?”

“On the mountain, near the Chimney. Someone must have carried you here. Where do you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

“I don’t think so. They beat me. I think they left me here for you to find as a warning.”

“But why? I don’t understand.”

I helped her sit up, and she asked for water. I brought her a bottle from my stash and sat on the ground next to her. She shuddered and told me a story I found hard to believe.

“Do you know what Camazotz is?”

“No.”

“The mythical Mayan bat god. Death. Sacrifice. We’ve been told we’re his chosen.”

“But who are these people—the villagers?”

“Once, they were normal people. They worshiped bats, but it wasn’t like this.”

“Don’t seem normal now. What changed?”

“The bat colonies disappeared, the crops failed, and people started leaving. That’s when High Fang came.”

“ Who? What does this Camazotz have to do with all of this?

“High Fang is a man who says he is the supreme leader and interpreter of Camazotz’s will. The remaining villagers embraced him, swept up by his charisma and his promise to bring prosperity back to Mountbatten.”

“So, he’s a cult leader. He tells the villagers what Camazotz wants, and they obey him?”

“Yes.”

“Mara, do you know who did this to you?”

“I was blindfolded. My father was there, and at least two others whose voices I didn’t know.”

I helped her up and took her to my camp. After I checked for broken bones and gave her something to eat, I said, “You were punished because you helped me.”

“Yes.”

“I have one more question. Just now, you spoke as if you were educated, but not when we first met. Is that true?”

“My mother taught me…until they found out.” She looked away. “Then she disappeared. I never saw her again.”

I seethed. “You’re not going back there. You’re coming with me. Can you walk?”

Mara nodded. We left right away. When we arrived in the town, I brought her to a shelter. If Martin is right, I’m dealing with more than just unfriendly neighbors. These people are crazy. I used the gun permit I’d had for years and bought myself a pistol.

***

Now that I had a weapon, curiosity got the best of me. I should have remembered that I wasn’t a cat. I didn’t have nine lives to play with. Hindsight…. Anyway, I spent my days analyzing data and writing up my research notes. Nights were when the bats were most active, and that’s when I conducted my field research. But now, I had another mission. So, for a couple of hours each night, I crept close to the edge of the clearing to try to figure out what this cult was all about. Days passed. I went into the village only once after the day Mara helped me. I was out of bottled water and decided to try the store. On my way back, I was surrounded by people who pelted me with various projectiles and dogs that nipped at my heels. I ran away as fast as I could and managed to escape with only minor injuries. After that, I stayed away.

Finally, when the moon was new, my nightly vigil paid off. From my hiding place, I saw twelve figures dressed in crimson robes and wearing bat masks with large ears and fangs. They carried torches and walked single file, chanting in a language I didn’t recognize. The last two worshippers dragged a violently struggling person between them. I followed as stealthily as I could. They entered a cave and formed a circle around an altar. After more chanting and the sound of drums coming from somewhere, they placed the now whimpering victim on the altar. Then, the chanting stopped. The leader raised an obsidian knife. I waited for someone to stop him. To my horror, no one did. The ritual sacrifice completed, they silently filed out of the cave. I sprinted back up the hill, stopping twice to empty the contents of my stomach. Panting, I crawled into my hole and hugged myself, rocking to and fro, trying to get the image out of my head. What the hell do I do now?

***

Well, my common sense flew out the window, and I did the stupidest thing yet. After several days of hiding, I decided I had to find out more details. I knew I had to alert the authorities, but I needed more information. Who would believe a scientist claiming to have witnessed a human sacrifice? So, with my pistol in my waistband (I forgot to buy a holster), I made my way to a spot where I could observe the village without being seen. And I waited. Four hours later, I saw three men go into the building where Mara attacked me with her broom. One was Martin, who kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other; one was the man with the horse, and the other was the grey-haired man I’d seen watching me. I snuck down to the back of the cabin and crouched beneath a window.

***

They were discussing the ceremony I’d witnessed. From what they said, I think the boy they sacrificed was the one who threw the rock at me. They also speculated about what had happened to Mara. They knew she had disappeared from the spot where they’d dumped her. The grey-haired man was apparently her father. How could he? Then they said something that chilled my bones.

“What are we going to do about that Jacob feller?” asked Martin.

The other men conferred, and said to Martin, “Keep an eye on him. As long as he’s just hanging with the bats, he’s no threat to us.”

Nodding, Martin walked out the door. Oh, shit.

***

I hurried back to camp, frantically trying to figure out how to notify the cops without getting myself hurt…or worse. Maybe I’ll just continue my research, as usual, so they don’t suspect anything. Then, when it feels safe, I’ll head down the mountain and tell the authorities what I know. I attempted to write up my research observations from the night before, but I couldn’t concentrate. The thought of food gagged me, so I skipped supper and started up the path to the bat cave. As I came around the side of the boulder, someone grabbed me from behind and slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Shhh….” Martin dragged me into the cave. “Ugghh, how can you stand the smell?”

When he removed his hand, I said, “Mask. What are you doing?”

“I’m supposed to spy on you. You were seen running away from the meeting house earlier. What did you hear?”

“Nothing. Something about someone called Mara. That’s all.”

“Even if that’s true, you gotta get out of here. I can’t protect you. They’re fanatics. These people ain’t right anymore. Please. Go. They’ll kill you if they think you know.”

“I…never mind. All right. I’ll gather my stuff and leave in the morning.”

Martin grabbed my arm and started pulling me down the hill. When he got to my camp, he picked up my backpack and shoved it at me. Giving me a push, he said, “No. Now.”

Finally convinced that staying any longer would be extremely foolish, I jogged down the mountain, tripping over brush and stones, fear driving my pace. I had no idea where the police station was, so I stopped at the shelter where I had left Mara to ask for directions. Unexpectedly, it was Mara who answered the door, pale but apparently healed.

“Jacob! What’s wrong?”

“Mara. I need to find a cop. Do you know where the station is?”

“Yes, but why?”

“Those people are crazy, Mara. I saw them kill a boy in a ritualistic sacrifice. They cut out his heart, for God’s sake. I have to tell the authorities.”

Stepping outside, Mara sighed. She came toward me, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed me. When she pulled away, regret clouded her face.

With my pistol aimed at my heart, she said, “No one will believe you.”