Day of the Dog (Dia de los Muertos)

Marcus is changed after Diego's death. He still laughs, with a quick smile, but his mother Maria Teresa Tonatzin Florez-Alarcon worries at the darkness that has entered him, and so she enters her boy in a race, a marathon for the Day of the Dead. Gregorio worries too, and brings home a dog. Marcus names the dog Shadow, and takes it running with him.

The patter of his shoes in the cold mornings, the routine, seems to leach his soul of darkness, driving it away as the sun made the shadows flee each morning. Why does this have to be so hard? Marcus thought.

The jaguar leaves him alone, for now.

He runs on the last day, November 3rd. Two months should not be enough to prepare, but he's been running anyways, he's always running, running, and Maria Teresa knows her boy.

On the day of the race, all of his friends are there: Miguel, and Luisa, and Silvia. Tia Regina shows up too, and points to where Diego's father stands with the crowd.

"That is Don Caligula. A dangerous man," she warns. Don Caligula's impassive face towers over the crowd. Two heavily muscled men in t-shirts and sunglasses stand just behind him. He watches Marcus like a rattlesnake.

Marcus has Shadow on a leash, and yes, it's alright to take the dog with him.

The first mile is easy, the morning bright, birds singing along the route northward, but as Marcus takes each stride, pad, pad, pad, listening to the panting of his Shadow and the strains of Juanes, the clouds thunder in, heavy and piled high like mountains crashing into each other. Lightning crashes to the ground, right in front of Marcus.

When he blinks back the spots from his sight, Marcus sees a hairless wrinkled anciano, reed thin and bent over like the flute player Kokopelli. Shadow runs up to him and licks his hand, tail wagging.

"I always get the worst jobs," the viejito remarks to no one in particular, spitting to the ground, "Boy, I've a word with you."

Marcus pauses, the other runners looking at him curiously as he stops to talk to the strange little man. Thunder overhead causes them to flinch, but nobody thinks of cancelling the race.

"Right, here you go," the old man shoves a hummingbird pendant made of silver and turquoise into Marcus's hands.

"What's this?"

"That's your dead friend, son," the old man cackled. "He doesn't like me, so you'll have to lead him to the gates of the Mictlan. Do you both a world of good."

Marcus drapes the pendant around his head. Then he starts running again. Somehow, he isn't surprised when the anciano keeps up. "This is Diego, huh?" Tears threaten to choke him, and the dark clouds seem darker.

"You really should learn a bit more about your father's family, boy." The old man easily kept pace, causing several onlookers to laugh and point. The old man stumbled and fell, but jumped back up again so it almost looked like he'd done a cartwheel. "Why do the stupid things always have to happen to me?" He complained to the darkening sky.

"So, you know my father?"

"Of course." the old man hacked out a loogie that flew back and hit one of the runners behind them in the chest. The squawks of indignation did nothing to slow him down. "I'd check under the 'Aztec' section of your library, lad."

"And the jaguar?"

"That's him."

"My father is a jaguar?" Marcus started laughing, loud and bitter. The viejito knocked him over the head with a stick.

"Show respect for your betters." He scolded, eyes flashing black, accompanied by thunder. The rain started, coating Marcus and his Shadow like a thick slime, but it didn't seem to touch the old man. "This is all non-official, you understand. Even the jaguar isn't really your father... think of him as a messenger."

"What does he want?"

"Nobody knows, but it's best to give it to him. He has a nasty habit of making things go all to hell whenever he gets upset, our Tezcatlipoca." A crash of thunder echoed across the dead desert, their shoes squelching in the mud. the old man looked down at his wrist where an elaborate watch with three circles, one inside the other, was ticking away. "Sorry, but I gotta go. Talk to you later, boy!" And he disappeared.

The first six miles the rain fell heavy and wet on Marcus and Shadow. In the darkness of the clouds, it seemed like they were the only two living things in the world. The thunder ricocheted above their heads, like mountains crashing into each other. Finally, it lets off, for only for a mile before the winds pick up. If anything, it grows darker, the sun disappearing behind a wall of sand that cuts at Marcus like a thousand knives of obsidian.

The road turns, and the wind dies as suddenly as it came. In front of Marcus are nine Catrinas, their bony faces smeared with lipstick, flowers growing from their eye sockets. "Who are the first of Omeyocan?" Intoned the first of the Catrinas.

"In the beginning, there was the Shaper and the Framer, She Who Has Borne Children and He Who Has Begotten Sons. It is the day of Cipactli the crocodile, a day of auspicious beginnings." his dog Shadow said, and Marcus jumped. Around his neck, the little hummingbird pendant hummed to life and tore free of the necklace, a flying creature of metal that hummed to him.

The Catrinas disappeared, and Marcus and Shadow continued on. At the ninth mile are eight Catrinas, and again, Marcus stops with Shadow. "What is the second Tonalli?" She trills.

Once again, Shadow answers, "The second tonalli is ehecatl, the wind. The second test of the underworld is the field with a wind that scrapes the flesh." A Catrina holds up an obsidian blade to Marcus, who takes it and slices the flesh of his palm. The Catrinas disappear, and they continue on.

Marcus is convinced he is travelling in a dream world. Maybe I am lying next to the road somewhere, he thinks idly, unconscious. At the eleventh mile seven Catrinas appear to him. Before they can say anything, his dog Shadow barks "The third day is a day of rest," and the Catrinas disappear.

"How is it you can talk, all of the sudden?" Marcus pants as they keep running.

"Dogs are the natural guides to the underworld," Shadow says, "Ever since our great grandfather Cerberus. or was it Xolotl? Anubis? Anyways, we've had the job for a long time. What kind of guides would we be, if we couldn't talk to those close to death?"

At the thirteenth mile, six Catrinas appear. "They will try to stop you here," Shadow says, "Trick you off the track. No matter what you see or here, keep running."

Marcus keeps running, but the Catrinas call to him in the voice of his grandmother, dead when he turned five. They call out in the voice of his mother, Maria Teresa, and Gregorio his step father. They call out in the voice of Roberto. They call out in the voice of Diego.

Marcus lets the tears stream and and barrels past them, pushing their rickety bones out of his way. Long after he's passed them, their voices wheel into the air like vultures after him.

"Why did you not save us?"

At the sixteenth mile, five Catrinas appear on the banks of a wide river. "Carry one of them on your back across the river," Shadow instructs, and Marcus picks up one with yellow cactus flowers for eyes. She grips around his neck tightly with her bone fingers, weighing heavy like bricks on his back, like she is made of stone instead of bones. Marcus wades out into the water, the Catrina's great yellow dress catching between his legs in the current, struggling not to fall into its cool embrace. In the river he can see snakes curling around his legs, and he struggles not to scream. His back aches with the skeletal passenger, but he manages to cross the river. Finally, he sets her down, but she continues to stand before him.

"Why doesn't she disappear?" Marcus asks.

"You need to unburden yourself of personal interest. Humbling yourself across the river was not enough. What else will you give?" Shadow says.

Marcus strips off his shirt and hands it to the Catrina, who accepts it and hands him a flower from one of her eyes. Marcus takes the flower and holds it out to the little hummingbird which has followed him like a green jewel on the wind. After it sips, it says, "thank you."

"Diego?" Marcus asks in disbelief. "You're a hummingbird! I thought you killed yourself."

"I did." The hummingbird flew to Marcus's hand, landing neatly and making the cactus prickles to tear into his hand a bit. He winced, but it was okay. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, Diego." Marcus broke down, crying. "It was my dad. He made you do it."

"No, it was me, Marcus. It was my father. I was miserable. I never took you to my house, you don't know the kind of hell I was going through. He knew I was a maricon." Diego's voice was calm like ice, cracking on the edges. "I was nothing to him. He beat me, my sisters, tia Regina. Family was nothing to him. He said he wouldn't let me betray him. You and Colibri were the only things I had left. Then he took those away from he too. Marcus, he-"

"You could have told us!" Marcus shouted, "We were your friends!" He added quietly, "I thought I was more than a friend."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Marcus. I thought dying would make it all go away, but I'm still trapped here."

They stand together silently, Marcus and the little hummingbird and the dog waiting next to them. Marcus wishes their was a way he could hug Diego one last time, kiss him, but it's gone. Diego is there, close enough to whisper, but he might as well be farther than the stars.

"That's what we're doing," Marcus says, suddenly decisive. "We're figuring out a way to get you out of this weird, half-death space."

"Exactly, Marcus" Shadow says. "Nice to hear from you again, Diego."

"You two know each other?" Marcus asked, pulling himself together.

"I guide the souls of the dead, remember? I've been trying to get Diego to pass over ever since your step-dad bought me." Shadow chuckles, "Didn't make too much headway until today, though. Anyways, come on, boys, we still have five more Catrinas to get past.

They continue on. At the eighteenth mile, they again come across the old man, together with a skeletal gentleman in leathers that rustle disturbingly in the wind. It's impossible to tell the nationality of the gentleman, he could be white, or black, or Latino, or anything. Small black flecks of sand whirl around him in a miniature whirlwind, and as he moves he makes the sound of a rope whistling in the air. Flanking them on either side are the four left over Catrinas.

"Revered masters," Shadow says politely to the two men. Marcus bows deeply, getting the feeling that the old Mexica might be a bit more important than he'd thought. The other gentleman is definitely creepy in his coat of skins.

"Guide, you know you must leave these two soon," the Mexica says. He turns to Marcus, saying, "I'm glad you've gotten this far, boy, but the next steps are harder yet." He draws a crescent in the sand. One by one the Catrinas and the gentleman each draw another form of the moon, gibbous, full, and new. "If your home was burning, what would you carry out with you? And don't say the fire. I hate that wishy-washy, modern answer. Completely misses the point of the question."

Marcus stepped up without hesitation and put the names of Diego, his mother, Luisa, Miguel, and Gregorio under each phase of the moon, but at the full moon Shadow nudges him with his nose. "Write your own name." He whispers. Marcus spells out each letter, and they wriggle to form pictures: a fountain and an eagle head.

"You should let me go," Diego says softly, little hummingbird wings beating. Marcus nods and passes his palm through the sand. Diego is already dead.

The old Mexica smiles and nods. "Now erase another one." Marcus slowly, looking sharply at the man, erases Gregorio. "Now another."

Shadow whispers "Do not erase your own name," and Marcus pauses, before going on to Luisa.

"Now, another."

Marcus swallows, and erases Miguel's name.

"So you are left with two, as in the beginning." The gentleman in skins intones. The two men and the Catrinas disappear, and they continue on.

As they are running, Shadow says, "The old man is right, you know. I'll follow you as far as I can, but you'll have to take the last leg of your journey by yourselves."

"What can you tell us?" Marcus asks, "And thank you, Shadow."

The dog laughs again, a happy barking sound, and surges forward. "I appreciate it, but lets get through the next bit first, okay?"

At the twenty first mile, three Catrinas stand before them, flower eyes and skull faces silent. Slowly they shift, changing shape, skin flowing across their bones and flesh filling them out even as they drop to all fours. Their teeth lengthen, and fur ripples to cover them, yellow with black rosettes, like the flowers that they still use for eyes.

"This is the Hunt. Run!" Shadow barks. Marcus needs no encouragement, and despite his burning muscles and aching side, bursts into a sprint as much as he can. His breath comes in gasps, and his head is light. He almost stumbles, and feels a slight tearing at one ankle, but leaps away and continues on. Finally, at the twenty fourth mile, his dog Shadow pants, "Here I must leave you."

The dog turns and faces the jaguars, who stalk slowly closer, lips red, teeth bright. Marcus stops too. "We'll fight them together," He pants, but the dog shakes his head wryly.

"Fighting isn't what I had in mind," he said, and walks calmly towards the three transformed Catrinas. In a moment they are upon him, ripping and tearing. Marcus starts forward, but Shadow's voice floats up above his anguished yelps.

"This is the day of sacrifice, Marcus. I'm giving myself to you, so you can continue on your journey."

The jaguars look up from their kill, jaws dripping blood, expressionless flower eyes, and pad away, disappearing into the darkness.

Marcus and the hummingbird stare at them for a moment, and then continue on the road, smack, smack, smack, smack, weary feet against the pavement. Only two miles, 385 yards left.

Finally, they reach what should have been the finish line. Instead, they find a great pyramidal temple, with three hundred and sixty five steps. Marcus counts them as he jogs up slowly, wearily to the top.

There, the hummingbird wavers and disappears, replaced by an image of Diego, as Marcus last saw him alive, wavery, like a reflection in dark water. On an alter is the body of Diego, and to one side of the body is the old Mexica, his wrinkled head now replaced by the head of Shadow, and on the other side is a skeleton man with roses for eyes, dressed in human skins, and in the center, sitting on top of the body, is the Jaguar, missing a paw, eyes of obsidian, tail twitching. In his mouth is an obsidian knife.

<Even the Gods must make sacrifices, cub.> The Jaguar's voice rumbles in his head.

Marcus slowly approaches the altar. Wincing, he cuts into the body and pulls out the heart. Blood stains his hands, and he hands the heart to the man in flayed skins, who places it into his own chest. The heart catches purple fire, and as it burns the skin flies up and wraps itself around him, smoothing into flesh, and suddenly it is Diego, skinny Diego who loved el Robot de Madera, with the bright eyes, who whispered that Marcus was beautiful in the night, who loved skate boarding and should never have been found hanging in his closet by Regina, standing their with flowers for eyes and smiling at him.

"Thank you," he says. "I have a few moments, before I go. Marcus, my father is an evil man. I've always known that, ever since my mother left, it was his fault. I've seen the bodies he makes of the men who displease him. I could never take anyone home, where you might be in his power, least of all you. But," he takes a deep breath, lets it out in a smell like carnations, "but I need to ask you to do something. Under my bed is a loose floorboard with a safe. The password is your name. Ask Regina to get it for you."

Diego was quiet for a moment. "My father found out I was going to turn him in to the police. He threatened to kill his own sister Regina, he threatened to kill you when he found out I cared about you. I didn't really kill myself, Marcus. Don Caligula, the father of my body hung me to make it look like a suicide."

He walks off, into the distance on air, towards the rising sun, and the old Mexica turns into a hairless dog and lopes after him.

...

Marcus opens his eyes, and hears the cheers of the crowd as he crosses the finish line. He is soaked and sweaty, and his mama catches him up and wraps him in a towel, hustling him to the covered pavilions and pyres they have burning around a big soccer field, helping him to get warm, giving him a glass of cocoa. The rain still beats down on the parched soil. Miguel and Luisa and Silvia, and Regina, and Gregorio are there. They take pictures, and smile, and Marcus thinks about what Don Caligula did to his son.