Whiteout (III:2) A Procession of the Dead

2. A Procession of the Dead

     Nick woke in a cold sweat, and looked at Lopsang, who was staring wide-eyed at the canvas around them. A low green glow was permeating the surface of the tent, and unearthly music wafted in from outside. Nick’s mind whirled with the possibilities of what it could be. There’s an army outside, they’ve found us and we’re trespassing on their land. The vampire put together a hit squad and they’re here to claim his prize… Each was worse than the last.

As Nick began to crawl toward the front of the tent he noticed that he could see his breath in front of his face. The air around them had grown colder, causing Nick to shiver. Great, we’re dealing with a supernatural entity, he thought, and carefully unzipped his bag to remove one of the crosses the vampire had put in it. Nick did not like dealing with the supernatural, as it was always harder to kill what had already died. Clutching the cross in one hand, he carefully unzipped the tent flap with the other.

     The scene outside caused his blood to run cold. The air outside was even colder than in the tent, but Nick felt ice in his veins. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, almost in time to the music. That’s a lot more of them than I was expecting, he thought, gulping.

      A procession had formed outside the tent. Semi-transparent, green-glowing Aztec warriors in various states of death and dismemberment were walking through the forest. Ghostly escorts beat on drums and played mournful music on various instruments. They did not seem to notice Nick, and instead were clapping each other on the back jovially, yelling loudly, and marching forward together.  

     They’re having the time of their afterlife, thought Nick. A warrior passed him, clad head to foot in armor made from interwoven wooden dowels. His left arm had been severed at the elbow and he carried his head in his right. The head laughed from his side and yelled at one of the other ghosts who then took off its own head, laughing. They passed so close to the tent that Nick thought they might touch him.

     He felt relieved when they did not. The feeling was evaporated, as what felt like a cold bucket of water was dumped over him. Nick looked behind him just in time to see one of the drummers passing right through the tent, and so, right through him.

     Lopsang was hiding in the back of the tent, pulled up in the corner. He looked at Nick, as if asking for an explanation of what was happening.

     “We need to follow them,” whispered Nick, not wanting to disturb the procession.

     Lopsang mouthed ‘no’ and shook his head vigorously.

     Nick shrugged and crawled out of the tent. Immediately, he regretted his decision, as a rather large soldier was walking right towards him. He rolled to the side and fell into the ditch next to the mound they had made camp on. The man held two war axes and walked out of the mound like it had steps leading up from within it.

     The answer hit Nick in a flash. Funeral mounds. How could I be so stupid? Many of the early cultures in South America had buried their dead in funeral mounds in the jungle. Oftentimes there had been temples to surround them, but the humid weather and the sands of time had caused them to decay. Nick looked at his side and saw pieces of clay pottery sticking out of the mound, covered in dirt. They would have been nearly impossible to spot at first glance, but their presence confirmed it. We camped on a burial site. He cursed himself for being so stupid, but also felt fortunate at their luck.  

     A moment later, there was a grunt as Lopsang came rolling into the trench next to him. He looked livid, and Nick feared for a second that he was going to be punched again. “It’s fine Lopsang, these are pleasant spirits.” He motioned to the line that seemed to be endless. They continued to step out of the mounds on all sides and follow the rest into the jungle.

     “These are undead warriors Nick,” hissed Lopsang. “I don’t exactly think of entities carrying war axes as peaceful.”

     “They may be warriors, but they’re happy, because they don’t have to face death’s trials, and are on their way to the greatest party they’ve ever had.” Or at least so they think. The myths about a warrior’s Valhalla didn’t particularly resonate with Nick, and he thought they were likely to be mostly false. “We’re following them, because they’re on the way to the Warrior’s Temple.” He raised his eyebrows.

     Lopsang seemed to finally comprehend, but did not say anything for a minute. When he did speak, it was to simply say: “Why here?”

     Nick unceremoniously pulled one of the clay shards from the mound next to him and handed it to Lopsang. “Funeral mounds. Should’ve known better. This was far too good of a place to camp to be true.” Nick had begun to think that every camp site he would ever pick would be infested with some sort of otherworldly presence. There are worse things to be cursed with I suppose.

     Lopsang quickly discarded the shard as if it had burned his hand. It broke upon hitting a root sticking out of the jungle floor. He winced as an Aztec warrior turned its head.

     The man was shaved bald and carried a long sword that looked as though it were meant for execution. He yelled something in a language that neither man could understand, but clearly conveyed a tone of annoyance. The ghost shook his fist and fell back into line with the others.

     “Maybe we don’t break the sacred funeral items?” asked Nick sarcastically.

     “Yeah, fair point,” muttered Lopsang.

     They had to wait a full fifteen minutes before the funeral mounds stopped emptying and at last they reached the end of the procession. The last two men in the group carried large flags emblazoned with what appeared to be a drawing of a skeletal snake head. As they began to fade into the jungle, Nick grabbed his bag from the tent, and got up hurriedly to follow them.

     “Come on,” he shouted back to Lopsang.

     Lopsang winced at the sound of the noise, but followed, not wanting to be left alone in the jungle.

     “And stop being such a baby,” added Nick.

     “I’m just,” he paused, “not very fond of ghosts.” He was clearly embarrassed about it.

     Nick did nothing to help, and laughed at him. “How were you planning on going to the Land of the Dead if you were afraid of ghosts?” He continued laughing and walked after the warriors, motioning for Lopsang to follow.

     “I figured I would just deal with it at the time,” said Lopsang, hurrying to catch up.

     “Well, spoiler alert for you Lopsang; this is just a taste of what the Land of the Dead holds. I might also remind you, that we are here to retrieve a friend that is currently a ghost,” he trailed off. The thought of James as a ghost was an odd one, and made him wonder if he was prepared to see him again. The last time they had met eyes had been in a freezing cave atop one of the world’s tallest mountains. James had been shredded to pieces, and there was nothing Nick could have done to help him.

     They followed the procession into the jungle. Nick had thought it would be rough going, as the underbrush around the campsite was thick, but wherever the dead marched, a glowing stone pathway emerged beneath them. The air was also pleasantly cool, due to their ethereal energy sucking the heat from it. It was a unique property of the deceased when they came into the realm of the living.

     They continued to walk for some time, but Nick felt as though it passed quickly. He spent most of his time gazing at the crowd of men marching before them, entranced by their macabre sense of dignity as they walked together to meet death. Never once did they look back at Nick or Lopsang, but he was sure after the breaking of the clay pot, that the dead could see them.

     Overall, the procession seemed to pay no mind to the intruders following behind it. The mournful music echoed through the jungle air, reverberating back at them. After a while, Nick stopped trying to keep his distance and walked closer. He craned his neck to get a better look at the ornaments around their necks, and the weaponry clutched in their dead hands. It was a historian’s dream. Nick could see them all in the flesh, well, ether, as they had lived.

     Lopsang stayed farther back, but not by much, as he did not want to lose Nick in the jungle. While no creatures came near the ghostly glow, he was sure that they were watching from just beyond. Nighttime was for the predators in the jungle. He had learned this after the plane crash when he had to contend with a panther. Being immortal, he had never been in any danger, but he also loathed hurting animals, and did not want to injure it. After that, he had resolved to only travel during the day.

     After an hour or so of walking through the jungle, Nick saw the outline of a large stone temple emerge through the trees. While he could not make out its features, he did see two skeletal heads made of stone, poking up through the trees. As they drew nearer, the temple was revealed to be surrounded by a ring of dead plants. Well this doesn’t look like the brochure, thought Nick, pulling out the Book of the Dead for comparison.

The pages showed a temple surrounded by jungle and overgrown with vines. The temple before them was untouched and pristine. The jungle did not come close to it. It was as if a ring had been cut around the temple where no plants could pass, and any that did, quickly died. Brown vines lay dead on the forest floor, and Nick thought that he saw the skeletons of several animals as well.

     The soldiers continued to march forward, unabated. Nick began reading, hoping that there were no protective enchantments to kill them if they crossed the threshold. Looking at the skeletal figures surrounding the temple, it seemed more and more likely that there would be protective measures to keep them out.

     He read aloud as Lopsang caught up. “The Temple of the Dead will only open its door when members of the dead are present. Any living beings that attempt to enter while the door is shut, will perish.” Nick looked up, and watched as the first in the line of soldiers crossed over the threshold.

     The temple transformed immediately, taking on the same greenish hue as the soldiers who marched towards it. The crumbling stone looked shiny and new as the green light spread up to the very top, and revealed carvings that hadn’t been visible a moment before. Several skeleton sentries sat upon the stone steps, looking down at the newcomers as they entered.

     Realizing that they did not have much time, Nick hurried after the procession. “Come on, we have to get in with them or we’ll be locked out,” he yelled back to Lopsang, who hurried after him. Stowing the book back in the bag, Nick fell into line with the soldiers, trying his best to blend. As they crossed through the brown ring, he felt a prickle up his spine and wondered if he was about to die.

     The feeling passed and they entered the ring of dead foliage without incident. The skeletons above merely nodded, and then continued to gaze vacantly out at the jungle beyond. Wonder what they did to get stuck out here, he thought.

     “Those aren’t psychopomps,” said Lopsang, as if reading Nick’s mind once again. “If they were, they’d be talking a lot more.”

     The skeletons did not look as animated as the soldiers in the procession, moving more mechanically, and without much life to them. The latter, seemed as though they had merely woken up from a long nap. Had it not been for the green glow and obvious dismemberment, they might have seemed very much alive.

     As they passed beneath the skeletons, the green glow on the outside of the temple began to fade, and it returned to its desolate appearance. Nick and Lopsang followed the group down a thin hallway made entirely of stone, lit by carvings that glowed neon in the ghostly light. They were separated into panels, each depicting one of the trials that Nick had read about in the book earlier.

     One such panel displayed a man, stuck in between two rocks that had come together with what appeared to be great force. His guts were splattered on the ground before him, represented in the same eerie green neon light. He appeared to be confused, but also in a great deal of pain. The men had stopped talking, and looked carefully at each carving as they passed.

     Nick could not help but feel a mounting dread as they neared their destination. Beyond the gates of death, lay James, and Nick wasn’t even sure that he would want to come back. There were tales of the dead being perfectly happy with their lot, but something about it told Nick that he had to try. Watching a young apprentice with such potential taken away so quickly was enough to drive him mad, and make him do just about anything to bring him back.

     The tunnel began to slope downward, and the chill around Nick abated in favor of a warm, damp air. Mist began to cling to the stone floor beneath their feet, and was soon so thick that Nick could not see it.

     The Aztecs in front of him poked at it with their spears, as if curious. The silence gave way to mutterings as the sides of the tunnel fanned out from them, and led into a large open room. The green glow faded, and the men were returned to their normal lifelike color as they stepped across the threshold.     

     In one corner, bright lights illuminated around a circular stone door that stood easily five times Nick’s height. It burst to life as color flooded it, showing vibrant drawings of the Aztec calendar. Nick did not have time to admire him, for as the light came up, he saw a large dog-like creature sitting in the corner, clutching a long spear. It was Xolotl.