The Mayan Sacrifice.

She screamed, high and loud; an anguished last cry for help. Strong hands pushed her down on the hot rock and she tried to wring herself free. She couldn’t. One man held her right arm in a painful grip; another held her left arm, a third man sat on her right leg and the fourth held her left leg in an iron grasp.

The man with the drum increased the tempo.

Boom, boom, boom.

The noise made her sick and the hot stone almost fried her back. She screamed out loud again, asking for mercy, for pity, and for help.

Then, the medicine man stepped forward and tore off the small piece of cloth that covered her. She cringed and wriggled, but to no avail. She finally lay there, stark naked, except for her blue body paint. The two men holding her arms stretched them up and out as far as they could and the men holding her legs did the same. Utter terror filled her mind, she tried to struggle, but was no match against the overpowering muscles of four men.

Now they are going to do it, rape me or kill me or both . . .

A shadow abruptly covered her face as one man bent forward and pulled a noose over her head and tightened it around her neck. With a rapid twist the man fastened the noose by pulling it down through a hole in the rock below her head, which forced her neck back and down, until she was looking at the sunset upside down. She shrieked again, but her screams were masked by the rapidly beating drum.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.

She heard more footsteps approaching and then suddenly cold water poured over her naked body. Each drop felt as cold as ice and stung her skin. She gulped as water streamed down her face and sizzled when it hit the hot stone.

Then the drum stopped beating and she felt the sharp edge of a knife against her chest. This is it.


From Killer Drug, by Peter Rost.