Chapter 2. Accident
Present day. Atlanta, Georgia.
Charlie Winston pulled the black Dodge Ram pickup truck in front of Theodore Roosevelt Elementary School in suburban Atlanta. Today, he was taking his son to a fifth grade football game at another rival school. Roosevelt was in a fairly wealthy, primarily white neighborhood, and his ten year-old son Teddy was one of the few blacks in the school, but Charlie Winston did not care. Most of the other kids at school treated Teddy very well. And it was the education which was important. He and his wife Murielle had moved to this area of Atlanta because it was in the best public school district. Winston was an educator himself, so he knew the value of a good education. He had finished his lectures at Emory University an hour before. He was a Professor of American History at the university.
As the throng of students poured out seconds after the bell rang, he looked for his son in the crowd. He did not see him at first, but then the crowd thinned out and he saw him--the young boy in the wheelchair. Teddy had his book bag in his lap, and was rolling himself over to his dad’s truck. Winston got out to help put his son’s wheelchair in the back of the truck, when his son objected.
“Dad, I can do it by myself.”
“Sure you don’t need a hand?” asked Winston, concerned that his son might fall.
“You know, some day, if you modify the truck so that I can drive with my hands, I am going to drive myself. When that happens, I am going to need to get in all by myself without you being there. You have to let me do it, okay?”
“Sure son, okay,” said Winston, getting back into the black truck.
Teddy rolled the wheelchair to the passenger side of the truck and pressed a button. A small platform came down, and Teddy transferred himself, scooting his rear end from the wheelchair to the platform. Then, using a joystick, he maneuvered the small crane installed on the back of the pickup. Hooking the hook from the crane to the back of his wheelchair, he pushed another button and the crane lifted the wheelchair up in the air. Using the joystick, Teddy maneuvered the wheelchair through the air, where it was deposited into the back of the truck. Then he scooted himself from the platform to the passenger seat and closed the door.
“Let’s roll,” he said.
“What time is the game?” asked Winston.
“Three o’clock, but it’s across town, so let’s hurry, because I want to beat the bus.”
Teddy was the team’s numbers man, responsible for keeping all the stats of the football team. It was a job he really enjoyed. After the game was over, he would input the stats into a computer program he had created for the coach. The team let him wear a green and white football jersey like the other boys.
Charlie Winston drove the truck onto the interstate.
“How was school today?”
“Good, but Leon’s got a new girlfriend. He changed his Facebook status to ‘In a Relationship.’ Makes me want to puke.”
“Fifth grade, that’s a little young to be having girlfriends, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, personally, I think the girls in my class are gross, but you know Leon. He has had crushes on girls since the second grade.”
“Is the girl foxy?” asked Winston, purposely using an outdated slang term which he knew would drive his son crazy.
“Yeah, Dad, real ‘foxy.’ I think ‘foxy’ went out with the hula hoop. I guess it makes sense you are a history teacher. Everything you know about is from ancient history. What is this you are listening to? Sounds like elevator music. Can I change the station?”
“Sure,” said Winston, as Teddy turned the dial to a rap station. “That’s better.”
“Hey, I noticed you haven’t ‘friended’ me on Facebook,” said Charlie.
“Dad, I am not going to ‘friend’ you, because then you will start posting all kinds of weird stuff on my page, and mom will do the same thing. Facebook was not invented for parents, you know?”
“What weird stuff? I am not going to post weird stuff.”
“Dad, I saw your post on Uncle Sal’s page. It was something about newly discovered writings of John Adams. That’s weird. I do not want that on my page.”
“John Adams was very important. Good grief! What are they teaching you at that school? Are your friends doing anything this weekend?”
“Yeah, there is a girl named Mandy who is having a big birthday party at Skyzone, which is that trampoline place. Just about the whole class is going.”
“ ‘Just about…’? Are you going?”
“I didn’t get invited. Leon’s new girlfriend knows another girl who knows the kid. She said I didn’t get invited because they didn’t want it to be a ‘Pity Party.’ Some people are real jerks, you know what I mean? I wouldn’t want to go to her dumb party anyway.” Teddy looked out the window. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Teddy asked, “What time is it? Are we almost there?”
“Sure, son, almost there.”
Charlie Winston looked at his brave son and his legs. For a moment, he thought back to that day two years ago….
It was a rainy night in December. The Falcons were playing the Rams on Monday Night Football. Eddie Rezno, a boy in Teddy’s class, was going to the game with his father, and had invited Teddy along. Murielle was against the idea. It was Monday, a school night, and their hard and fast rule was that no one could go out on a school night. But this was Monday Night Football, after all, and Teddy loved football. Charlie Winston intervened and prevailed upon his wife Murielle to break the rule, just this once. Their son had gone off to the game, while Charlie and Murielle enjoyed a quiet night of reading books by themselves on the couch.
Charlie had gotten nearly halfway through a biography of Frederick Douglas when his wife told him to stop reading. The game had been over by 11:00 p.m. It was midnight, and their son was still not home. Murielle began making phone calls. She called the Rezno’s home, but Mrs. Rezno had not heard anything. Mrs. Rezno had tried her husband’s cell phone, but no one was answering. She was worried, too. Charlie assured his wife that Mr. Rezno had probably taken the boys somewhere after the game, maybe to get burgers or ice cream or something. Murielle was not buying it, but she decided to sit tight for a little while longer before she started calling the police. At 1:00 a.m., the Winstons got a call from a nurse at the Presbyterian Hospital. There had been a terrible accident. An eighteen year-old boy had crossed the center line in the rain. Mr. Rezno had tried to swerve out of the way, but the oncoming car struck the side of the car behind the driver, right where Teddy was sitting. He was now in intensive care. No, the nurse did not know any other details.
Charlie and Murielle Winston, terrified, drove at high speed to the hospital. All the hospital staff would tell them was that Teddy was in intensive care, and the doctor would be out as soon as he could. They were soon joined by Mrs. Rezno in the waiting room, who had learned that Eddie had a broken arm, and would recover without incident. Mr. Rezno had a fractured pelvis, three broken ribs, and a ruptured spleen, but would ultimately make it. There was still no news on Teddy.
After another hour, the spinal surgeon, Dr. Ben Wolff, came out of the operating suite.
“Mr. and Mrs. Winston, your son Teddy has had a very serious spinal cord injury at the level of the tenth thoracic vertebra.”
“Is he going to live?” asked Murielle Winston.
“Yes, Mrs. Winston, but the spinal cord has been compromised.”
“What does that mean, ‘compromised?’” asked Charlie Winston. “Is it severed?”
“No, it is not severed, but there is a tremendous amount of swelling around that level of the cord as a result of the accident. We won’t know his prognosis for a few days. But right now, he has no feeling beneath the belly button.”
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Murielle. “You mean he is paralyzed?”
“We do not know that for sure yet. But if he does not regain his feeling below the waist within a few days, then it will probably be a permanent injury, yes, ma’am.”
“What are the chances he will regain the feeling below the waist?” asked Murielle.
“I cannot give you chances,” said the doctor. “For Teddy, it is either 0% or 100%. We just don’t know.”
Murielle became irritated by this response. “Doctor, I know you are doing everything you can, but please, do not patronize me. I am a scientist. Can you just give me what his chances are?”
“Again, Mrs. Winston, I just cannot say at this time. We will know more in two or three days, when the swelling has had a chance to die down. It is possible that the swelling could subside and the spinal cord could regain its full function. The spinal cord is a finicky animal. We just do not know at this point.”
“Okay, thank you, doctor,” said Murielle. When the doctor had left, Murielle groused, “Finicky animal? That’s the best he can do?” Murielle’s lip began trembling, and she collapsed into Charlie’s chest. Murielle was accustomed to keeping cool under pressure as a result of her job. But this was too much. She broke down sobbing and was inconsolable. Charlie took his wife down to the hospital chapel to pray. For the next three days, they prayed at the hospital. They made every promise to God they could think of if only He would let their son be able to walk. But Teddy’s condition did not improve. Unfortunately, they would later learn that Teddy’s condition was permanent. He would never walk again.
The next year was almost unbearable, as Teddy learned to four adapt to his new world. He would learn incredibly difficult regimens for urination and defecation. He would learn to power his wheelchair over high curbs and get himself up and down stairs. The entire home had to be remodeled with ramps and special toilet facilities. They set up his own kitchen area with microwaves and other appliances built low to the ground. Life as Teddy previously knew it was over.
Charlie had taken a leave of absence of six months from Emory to help his son through the rehabilitation process. It was a grueling time, with nighttime “accidents” happening frequently. Winston felt like he had washed all the sheets of defecation in the middle of the night almost one hundred times. He felt so badly. The worst part was that at times he blamed himself for letting Teddy go to the game on a school night.
He tried not to look down at his son’s legs, but he could not help himself. He wished there was some way to wave a wand and bring his legs back. The truth was that Teddy had adjusted to his new life much easier than Charlie Winston and his wife. Charlie and Murielle Winston had spent the last two years researching potential cures for their son’s illness, but they had found nothing.
When they got to the rival school’s football field, Winston waited as his son used the crane to swing his wheelchair down to the ground.
“It will be great when I can drive,” said Teddy. “Then I will not have to drive like an old Granny like you.”
“Granny? Who are you callin’ Granny?” asked Winston.
Teddy laughed, and hopped into his wheelchair.
“Hey, hand me my book bag, Granny,” joked Teddy.
Charlie Winston bent over with a stoop, like he was a hundred years old, and squinted at his son. “Why, I cannot find the book bag,” he said, mimicking an old lady’s voice. “Where is that blasted book bag?”
Teddy laughed and grabbed the book bag himself, and wheeled off to the field.
“See ya, Granny,” he said. Charlie Winston smiled and walked toward the field to watch the game.
May 1499. Veragua (modern day Belize, Central America).
John Cabot, one of the greatest explorers of the modern world, and the first European to set foot on the American mainland since the Vikings, was steering his ship The Matthew, named after his wife Mattea, to the shores of Veragua to wait out the storm. Father Giovanni Antonio de Carbonariis, his trusted companion, stood near Cabot as he maneuvered the steering wheel of the large ship. The priest was not only a man of the cloth but also a doctor, and he was the only other Italian on the English ship. Cabot was a tall man, with a great white beard, which was matted down from the sheets of rain pouring into the boat. He wore a black velvet mariner’s hat with a large ostrich feather, which was also not fairing well in the blowing rain. Father Giovanni, small, bald, and portly, wearing a brown hooded monk’s robe tied with a white rope around the waist, held onto a barrel to steady himself from the pitching ship.
“I hope we get to shore soon. This storm is terrible,” said Father Giovanni.
“Well, this ship has a holy man here, after all, Giovanni, so I am sure God will spare us on the sea.” Cabot laughed heartily and yelled out orders to a sailor to secure the pickle barrels, which were sliding on the deck. Cabot managed to steer the ship into a small cove, where he pointed the ship toward the shore.
“We will put the ship ashore here until the storm passes over,” said Cabot.
“Look there!” yelled Giovanni, peering over the rail. “Those are boats!” Cabot looked where the priest was pointing, and stared in amazement when he saw the four outrigger canoes heading towards his ship. Cabot took out his looking glass and peered over the water at the canoes.
“They are not bearing any weapons,” said Cabot. “It looks like they have ropes!”
Sure enough, the Veraguan natives were coming with ropes to help secure the boat and bring it safely to the shore. But before Cabot could explain this to his men, several crew members rushed the side of the boat, with guns drawn, ready to fire on the Veraguans.
“Hold your fire!” screamed Cabot. “They come in peace. They are bringing ropes to help us. Don’t fire! Put down your weapons!”
“Captain, how do we know they mean peace?” asked his first mate, Wilson Henry. “They are savages.” Henry was tall and white-bearded, like the Captain. Many of the men joked that they looked like brothers. But Henry was considerably bigger and stronger than the Captain. Henry was a man of action, who tended to act first and ask questions later. Cabot was wiser than his first mate. Cabot was not shy about using a firearm. He could kill an enemy if it came to that. He just chose not to start a battle when it was unnecessary.
“Wilson, take my glass. Look at their boats. They are bringing us ropes.” Henry took the Captain’s spyglass and performed his own inspection. He agreed that the natives did not appear to be armed. The first mate lowered his weapon.
Soon the outrigger canoes met up with the ship and the natives waved to the members of the crew in friendship. They threw up ropes to the deck hands, who eyed the natives warily. But no attack occurred. The natives were truly trying to help. Within an hour, the ship had safely landed on the shore near the Veraguans’ village, safe from the storm. There was a loud trumpet from the shore, and dozens of natives came down to meet the great ship. Cabot instructed Father Giovanni and his first mate Wilson Henry to accompany him onto the shore to meet the natives. Henry was skeptical but obeyed. However, he kept his loaded firearm beneath his coat, ready for action at a moment’s notice. As the ship came closer to the shore, the rain suddenly died down, and soon became only a light drizzle.
Their group was met in the surf by a large fat man who appeared to be the tribal chief. He wore a loincloth but was adorned with a cape and a headdress of red and yellow macaw feathers. Next to the chief was an extremely tall, but very old man, also with an elaborate headpiece. John Cabot would later learn this was the tribe’s elder wise man and principal advisor to the chief.
As soon as the wise man looked through the darkness and saw John Cabot and his first mate, both similar looking tall men with white faces and long white beards, he became more convinced than ever that the strangers were the reincarnations of Hunahpu and Xbalanque. He advised the tribal chief, who seemed to agree. These strangers would be treated with every hospitality which their small village had to offer. The chief greeted Cabot, and was surprised to learn that neither he nor his white-bearded brother appeared to be able to speak their language. Nevertheless, he managed to use gestures to welcome him into the tribal circle by the beach. A great fire was started and the men brought in a large wild boar attached to a spit and began roasting it over the fire. Cabot, Henry, and Father Giovanni rested on logs by the fire, warming themselves. After quite a while, the meat was ready.
John Cabot had never eaten wild boar. It was actually quite good. The boar reminded him of the pork roast his wife used to cook back in Bristol, England, the place where his voyage had begun. He used his teeth to slide the meat off the kabob and gave a welcoming smile to the Indian chief, who nodded happily, thankful that Cabot liked the meal. As the meal wore on, the clouds cleared. The fire crackled on the beach, under a full canopy of stars, as curious natives crept up closer to Cabot to marvel at his strange clothing, white skin, and white beard. They wondered why he would cover himself up with cloth when it was so hot. And why did he speak in such a strange tongue? Cabot smiled at the natives and devoured the boar meat with gusto. The Veraguan natives seemed amazed at the size and craftsmanship of his ship. Several of the islanders were swimming in the water, putting their hands on the hull of the large ship. The rest of Cabot’s crew remained back on the Matthew. They were afraid to interact with the natives, fearing they were savages who meant them harm. Cabot never understood this distrust. He had heard reports of the Spanish explorers slaughtering natives. Why kill a completely harmless, even friendly, group of people? Cabot could not understand it. The men on his ship stood on the decks, uneasily watching the captain from the rails. He was a kind and wise captain, that was for sure, but they believed his kindness would ultimately be their undoing. When the captain ordered the men to bring a small barrel of rum ashore to share with the natives, the Bristol sailors went absolutely apoplectic. That was their rum. They needed it for the long voyage. What purpose would be served in giving away their supplies (especially the rum!) to ignorant savages? Wilson Henry was also concerned and whispered his disagreement to the captain. Cabot heard their grumbling, but assured them that a good Christian returns kindness with kindness. After some discussion, the men reluctantly obeyed the captain and rolled the small barrel ashore.
Cabot took a cupful of rum and handed it to the chief. The chief looked at the clear liquid and smelled it. It smelled strange. The chief handed the cup back suspiciously. Cabot smiled and took the cup, drinking the rum himself. Then he poured another cup for the chief. The chief, mollified, drank the rum. He was surprised at the strong taste, but then felt the burning in his stomach. He laughed and handed the cup back, asking for more. Soon, the chief was quite drunk.
Cabot watched the chief as he spoke to his tribesmen in their native tongue. The chief gave a command, and, after a few minutes, male and female dancers, wearing boas of green feathers, appeared by the fire. One Veraguan performed a fire dance, spinning a flaming rod around in front of the spectators. Another native brought forth a bow and sent flaming arrows shooting down the beach. After the entertainment, the chief got up and started walking into the surf towards Cabot’s ship. He put his hands along the wood, marveling at the smooth feel of the curved wood. These men surely were the Mayan Hero Twins. The chief thought about why the Hero Twins had come to his village. Their purpose, he thought, must be to re-conquer the Lords of Xibalba, to end the sickness and death that the Lords of the Underworld brought to the Earth every day. They will want to know how to get to the entrance to Xibalba, the chief thought. It had been many years since his ancestors had first traveled here from the Island of Boyuca, but he had a map to show the Twins the way. The tribal chief suddenly yelled out orders in K’iche’ to his kinsmen, and one man came forward with a large, rolled up parchment. The chief unrolled the document by the fire and looked at Cabot, pointing to the map.
The map showed the coast of what is now Central America and the top part of South America near Venezuala. The tribal chief pointed with a sharp stick to an island with a picture of a flower on it. Near that island, the chief then pointed with the stick to a marking on the map showing two large stone outcroppings coming out of the sea. Near the outcroppings, there was another drawing of a second island. The chief pointed to that island with the stick and said “Boyuca.” As soon as he said the name, many of the young islanders cringed in fear and moved slightly back. They were obviously afraid of the place. Then the chief unrolled a second map, which appeared to be a map of the island of Boyuca. There were drawings on the map and strange words. Cabot could make out a picture of a cave, a scorpion, a chair, six houses, a man with a spear, some kind of sports ball court, and finally, a picture of a pool of water. The chief pointed to each place and gave it a name, which meant nothing to Cabot. But when he got to the pool of water, called “Xaxtzintzoj saqloloj,” the chief became very animated. The chief began speaking very fast, but Cabot could not understand a word of it. He gave the chief a facial expression which conveyed that he had no idea what the chief was saying. Frustrated, the tribal chief yelled out an order. A bare-breasted woman, wearing nothing but a loincloth over her genitals, was brought forward. The chief barked out another order and a man came forward with a wooden bowl filled with water. A second young man came up and handed the chief a large sword. As soon as that happened, one of the crews, fearing they were under attack, charged down the gangplank and ran down the beach, pointing his firearm at the chief. Then several tribesmen charged forward with bows and arrows, pointing them at the crew member. They were at a standoff. The chief put his hand over the arrows, directing his men to lower their weapons. The chief then took the young maiden’s arm, and cut it with the sword from her elbow to her wrist. The woman shrieked, and blood spurted from the open wound. Wilson Henry flinched and drew his weapon, apparently ready to shoot the chief. Cabot put his hand on Henry’s weapon, telling him to stand down. The man with the bowl of water rushed forward and the chief used a ladle and poured water onto the wound. Then, the chief dropped the woman’s wet wounded arm, and pulled up her other arm. The chief showed Cabot the second arm, which was untouched. Then, the Chief pulled up the cut arm again, pointed to that, put it down, and brought up the clean arm again. The chief looked at Cabot, seeing if he understood.
Father Giovanni was the first to understand. “Zuan,” he said to Cabot in Italian. “Don’t you see? He is telling us that there is water that will heal her arm.” Cabot thought about that. He turned to the chief and took the woman’s cut arm. Repeating the actions of the chief, Cabot poured water on the cut arm, and then pointed to the woman’s clean arm. The chief nodded enthusiastically. Healing water? Cabot had never heard of such a thing. He gestured to the bowl of water and then pointed to the map. Could the chief tell him where he could get this water? The chief pointed again to the island on the map called Boyuca. “Boyuca,” said the chief. Then he pointed to the second detailed map of the island, showing the picture of the pool of water. “Xibalba!” said the chief. “Xibalba!” yelled the wise man. And at that, all of the villagers began chanting “Xibalba! Xibalba!” The wise man walked up to Cabot and shook his hand, grasping Cabot’s forearm. He raised Cabot’s arm in the air, like a referee declaring a boxing champion. “Hunahpu!” he said to the crowd, smiling. Then he grasped Henry’s wrist, raising it, yelling to the crowd “Xbalanque!” The natives all began chanting loudly, like spectators at a football game. “Hunahpu! Xbalanque! Hunahpu! Xbalanque!” Cabot and Henry had no idea what the Veraguans were talking about, but they were both interested in water that could heal a cut arm. If the map showed him where to get such water, then that is where they would go next. Cabot, Henry, and Father Giovanni thanked the chief and the wise man and returned for the night to the ship, where they told the other crew members of their adventures. In the morning they would sail for Boyuca. When the Captain and Father Giovanni retired to the Captain’s chambers, the priest asked to look at the first map again.
“With all this talk of the island and the healing water, I wonder if you noticed the lower part of this first map,” said the cleric.
“Yes, I did,” said Cabot.
“From this map, it looks like there is another ocean to the west!”
“I noticed the same thing,” said Cabot.
“It appears we have many adventures ahead of us,” said Giovanni.
“Yes, we do,” said Cabot. “Now get some sleep.” Cabot went to bed, thrilled to think of all the exciting new discoveries to come.