Read Online The 13 Secret Cities (Omnibus) by Cesar Torres - Free Book Online
Authors: Cesar Torres
Tags: Fiction
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suffocating tomb. I put my hand on the OLF band on my jacket and considered taking it off, but I knew José María wouldn't let me. I walked through the turnstile. As we joined the hundreds of people in line in the concert hall, I got the distinct sensation that whatever I felt was watching me was not the man in the brown work boots. I was being watched by something or someone feral and dark. I felt an ache come over my joints and face, and it took me several seconds to get my heart rate down through heavy breathing. If I could have bought a beer, I would have.
José María waited for me at the bottom of the double staircase, and we ascended into the dark together.
My brother and I pressed our bodies against cold metal, and hundreds of bodies closed in behind our backs. We had nowhere to go. This space, our little slice of room right by the stage, was going to be ours for a while, and though other conversations surrounded us with noise, I felt like we had the best privacy I could ask for. This was the anonymity of the city, and I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me earlier to hold important meetings in the pit of the Aragon in between acts while surrounded by thousands of people.
José María pulled out his wallet and unfolded an old concert flier. The image at its center showed a gaping maw filled with white teeth. Inside the cavernous mouth, small stalactites shot upward toward the creature's palate. I looked closer and noticed those stalactites were buildings--little skyscrapers. There was a tiny city in that predator's mouth. Above it, in ragged white script, it read "Arkangel: Murderous Tour, 2009" The lower half of the flyer showed stops in North America, Europe and Latin America. José Maria turned it over and drew a single vertical tube. On the tube, he plotted a single black dot, and labeled it "Earth." Above the dot, he plotted thirteen empty circles, evenly spaced. Below, he drew nine more empty circles, pointing downward.
"It works like this," José María said. "These stories go way further back than the Aztecs. The civilizations before, like the Toltecs and the Teotihuacans, were, in my opinion, even wiser and more interesting than the Aztecs. They had notions about what else was out there in the galaxy and how the planets moved. And they had a very detailed religious belief about the universe. In general, it went like this: There are thirteen levels in the overworld and nine levels in the underworld. The numbers sometimes vary, depending on the source, but what you need to know is that there are nine levels in Mictlán, the world of the dead. The end of the journey is the city of Mictlán. Souls travel down through all nine to meet the lords of death. So, when Mom and Dad talked to you, did they get specific about what they meant by 'going there'?"
I shook my head.
"They want me to take a leave of absence from school so they can train me for the trip. There's no way in hell I was going to take time off."
"I see," José María said, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. If he could have used a pipe as a prop, he would have. I had survived all his affectations for years, including this one.
Little Sherlock Holmes. The thought made me want to giggle, but I stopped myself.
"Surely you don't think they actually mean that it's a literal journey. Right? I mean, Mom and Dad believe a lot of stuff, but surely they can't believe in this underworld business?" I said.
"Why not? They believe in Catholic hell, right? And don't they also believe Jesus went zombie and flew up from a cave, leaving behind his Calvin Kleins, right?"
"Mom does, yeah. I guess Dad does, too. Good point," I said.
"And they still take me to mass each week to remind me not to go there. So, if they can believe in that..."
"José María, if only Mom could hear you, she would flip. And she would flip a table on you."
"Well, the issue is not belief," José María said. "As far as I can tell, Mom and Dad believe in what the Catholic
José María waited for me at the bottom of the double staircase, and we ascended into the dark together.
My brother and I pressed our bodies against cold metal, and hundreds of bodies closed in behind our backs. We had nowhere to go. This space, our little slice of room right by the stage, was going to be ours for a while, and though other conversations surrounded us with noise, I felt like we had the best privacy I could ask for. This was the anonymity of the city, and I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me earlier to hold important meetings in the pit of the Aragon in between acts while surrounded by thousands of people.
José María pulled out his wallet and unfolded an old concert flier. The image at its center showed a gaping maw filled with white teeth. Inside the cavernous mouth, small stalactites shot upward toward the creature's palate. I looked closer and noticed those stalactites were buildings--little skyscrapers. There was a tiny city in that predator's mouth. Above it, in ragged white script, it read "Arkangel: Murderous Tour, 2009" The lower half of the flyer showed stops in North America, Europe and Latin America. José Maria turned it over and drew a single vertical tube. On the tube, he plotted a single black dot, and labeled it "Earth." Above the dot, he plotted thirteen empty circles, evenly spaced. Below, he drew nine more empty circles, pointing downward.
"It works like this," José María said. "These stories go way further back than the Aztecs. The civilizations before, like the Toltecs and the Teotihuacans, were, in my opinion, even wiser and more interesting than the Aztecs. They had notions about what else was out there in the galaxy and how the planets moved. And they had a very detailed religious belief about the universe. In general, it went like this: There are thirteen levels in the overworld and nine levels in the underworld. The numbers sometimes vary, depending on the source, but what you need to know is that there are nine levels in Mictlán, the world of the dead. The end of the journey is the city of Mictlán. Souls travel down through all nine to meet the lords of death. So, when Mom and Dad talked to you, did they get specific about what they meant by 'going there'?"
I shook my head.
"They want me to take a leave of absence from school so they can train me for the trip. There's no way in hell I was going to take time off."
"I see," José María said, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. If he could have used a pipe as a prop, he would have. I had survived all his affectations for years, including this one.
Little Sherlock Holmes. The thought made me want to giggle, but I stopped myself.
"Surely you don't think they actually mean that it's a literal journey. Right? I mean, Mom and Dad believe a lot of stuff, but surely they can't believe in this underworld business?" I said.
"Why not? They believe in Catholic hell, right? And don't they also believe Jesus went zombie and flew up from a cave, leaving behind his Calvin Kleins, right?"
"Mom does, yeah. I guess Dad does, too. Good point," I said.
"And they still take me to mass each week to remind me not to go there. So, if they can believe in that..."
"José María, if only Mom could hear you, she would flip. And she would flip a table on you."
"Well, the issue is not belief," José María said. "As far as I can tell, Mom and Dad believe in what the Catholic
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