Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
“Aaaaah, shit!” said Salvador. “I got family, too! I just got married, in fact, and I was only trying to knock you out so you wouldn’t suffer in there, but, man, you’re one big, strong son-of-a-bitch!
“Here, you want to breathe?” said Salvador, raising up the .45 again, “I’ll fix it for you to breathe!” He shot two quick bullet holes through the open trunk lid of his beautiful new car, while the doctor stared at him as if he’d just gone completely crazy-loco.
“There,” yelled Salvador, “now you got air holes, so get your ass in there, you big cabrón, before I shoot you, too! I could get ten years for smuggling your Chinese ass across!”
He raised his .45 to hit the doctor again, but this time the big, tall man just jumped into the trunk by himself, squeezing down as best he could. Salvador slammed down the lid, banging the doctor two or three times on the head before he could get it completely closed.
He was really a big man, and all the time, he kept yelling, “I don’t think I like a lo chingon! I don’t think I like a lo chingon!”
Salvador was laughing. This big doctor was a good man. In fact, all the Chinese people that he’d smuggled in over the last few years were good, honest, hardworking people. Salvador just couldn’t figure out why the United States government was so dead set against the Chinese.
Putting his .45 away, Salvador wiped the sweat from his face and let a little air out of each back tire so he could go across the sandy soil without getting stuck. Then he got back in his Moon and drove out of the arroyo with his headlights off. Quickly, he glanced around, didn’t see the car up on the little hill anymore, and so he gave the Moon the gas, going north out across the flat, sandy desert.
“Okay, here I go, running across the border a lo Gregorio Cortez!” said Salvador, feeling the excitement of the chase coming into his heart as he referred to the popular ballad of the day about a Mexican cowboy who’d outrun all the Texas Rangers a few years back over in Texas.
So, there was Salvador, really moving across the sandy, hot land, when suddenly, out of nowhere, right in front of him, was that damn car he’d seen up on the hilltop.
And one of the officers had his gun drawn, as the Moon came leaping out of the little dry riverbed, and the other officer then jumped out of their vehicle, pointing his weapon at Salvador, too.
But Juan Salvador had been dodging bullets all his life, and so he now just gave his fine automobile the gas and went flying straight at the two officers, turning away only at the very last moment, just as the first gunman leaped out of the way, firing wildly.
Salvador was grinning, feeling full of the Devil, having one hell of a wild, good time as the two officers now opened fire on him as he sped away.
Then he remembered the doctor in his trunk and he hoped to God that a stray bullet hadn’t killed him. He turned left and started northwest out across the sandy, flat desert.
“Are you all right?” he yelled at the doctor, but the man didn’t answer him as they went bouncing, leaping out across the broken desert.
Then, out of nowhere, there were two more dark cars with glaring headlights, right up ahead of him next to some tall cactus.
Salvador glanced back around and saw that the other car was headed his way, too. He braked, slowing down. He didn’t know what to do. All around him was sand and brush and treacherous, little arroyos.
Then in the early morning light, he saw those famous, orange and white sand hills at the base of the huge, towering, black mountains, and in closer, toward him, he then saw that long, white salt flat of a forgotten sea.
Salvador turned, heading for the flat, dry sea and the little orange and white hills. He hoped to God that the doctor hadn’t been shot. He now gave his Moon all the gas, wanting to make it to that flat, dry sea before the officers caught him.
But as soon as the officers saw him turn toward the sea, all three lawmen gave their vehicles the gas, too, hoping to cut him off.
Seeing this, Salvador quit smiling. “Oh, please, dear God, help my car fly away like an eagle from these no-good Texas Ranger sons-of-a-bitch. Give me the wings of an eagle, Papito Dios!”
Just then Juan Salvador heard the screech of a great Golden Eagle, “EEEIII-EEEEEE!” as he went leaping, bouncing across the beautiful, open desert toward the salt flat. But the two cars in front of him had a shorter distance to go, and they were closing in on him fast, jumping, bouncing, lifting clouds of dust.
“Oh, mama, mama, help me! You, too, Lupe, help me with our love!” yelled Salvador, feeling a rush of wild excitement.
The Golden Eagle screeched again and Salvador now knew that his old mama had come to help him in the form of an eagle because she, too, really didn’t want him to be caught.
After all, he was a married man now, and his mama wanted him to live and have a life with Lupe, and not be doing any more of these crazy, wild things that he’d been doing for survival ever since they’d had to leave their mountainous area of Jalisco.
But, also, he had to start making his own miracles. And all miracle making, his mama had told him, started by bringing peace to your heart.
He breathed, trying to calm down, but then he couldn’t believe it. From the car that was closing in on him, on the right, an officer was now hanging out of his window, trying to shoot him.
For the life of him, Salvador couldn’t figure out what was going on in this crazy man’s head. Hell, he hadn’t robbed a bank. He hadn’t hurt anyone. All he, Salvador, was doing was trying to get a doctor across the border so he could help his people.
The officer was so close now that Salvador could see his young, sunburned, face. His blue eyes were full of wild excitement as he took careful aim at Salvador, firing once, twice, just barely missing him.
Quickly, Salvador began to pray, remembering how his dear old mother had taught them to kneel down and pray when the bullets of the Revolution had showered like rain all about them.
Immediately, Salvador’s heart calmed and the whole world slowed down, giving him time to think. Instantly, he knew what to do. He slammed on his brakes, cutting viciously to the right, directly toward the two oncoming officers.
The Moon behaved beautifully, and the driver of the vehicle was taken by such surprise—seeing the Moon coming straight at him—that he braked hard and cut away and his red-faced partner with the gun flew out the window of their car, face-first into some cactus!
Seeing the shocked man’s face as he went flying out the window into the cactus, Salvador laughed with carcajadas, feeling wonderful, as he now turned around and headed back toward Mexico.
The officers had won!
They’d stopped him from getting across the border, but also, Salvador felt good about getting the gun-happy young officer full of cactus thorns.
Hitting the smooth, dry salt flat, Salvador was gone.
The two remaining cars were just no match for his grand automobile. Salvador now left the six officers behind in the distance as he sped away back into Mexico, across the smooth, white, forgotten sea.
The Sun, la cobija de los pobres, the blanket of the poor, was just coming up in the east and shooting rays of golden light across the land. It was a magnificent sight with the light dancing all around Salvador’s automobile with a wonderful display of silvery brightness.
Approaching the end of the lagoon, Salvador glanced up at the sky to the west, and to his complete surprise, he saw the Mother Moon. And she was huge and full, holding there in the pale blue sky of the coming day.
Juan Salvador was filled with such a feeling of wonderment, that he hit the brakes!
The Sun was rising and the Moon was setting, and he could see them both at the same time!
The Right and Left Eyes of the Holy Creator!
Salvador opened the door of his car and got out in the middle of the dry sea and he suddenly just knew . . . here inside of his soul that yes, indeed, Lupe, his new truelove, had been praying for him when he’d been in trouble. Yes, she, too, had been sending him her amor just as
Realizing this, Salvador heard the Golden Eagle screech again and he glanced up and here she was, just barely above him, looking huge. Why, he could actually see her dark, magnificent eyes, she was so close.
Tears of joy came to Salvador’s eyes as he looked at Mother Moon, holding here in the pale blue sky of the coming new day. He could now see so clearly that all the world was alive and singing to him. The Moon was moontalking to him, telling him deep inside of himself that Lupe was still praying for him at this very moment, just as his sacred mother had prayed for him all these years.
His eyes filled with tears and he stood here rooted to this white, flat, forgotten-sea with the Father Sun coming up on his left and the Mother Moon going down on his right, and he just knew to the very depths of his soul that we, human beings, were instruments of God’s love when we prayed.
Smiling, Salvador felt a gentle breeze caress him. He now sent his love to Lupe, too, telling her that he was fine, that he was out of danger.
Instantly, he realized that Lupe had, indeed, gotten his message.
His mother had always told him, that the conversations of the heart knew no distance for they traveled through the Almighty!
Then Salvador heard a knocking, a banging. He glanced about himself, and saw that the banging sound was coming from the trunk of his car. He suddenly remembered the doctor and opened up the trunk and let the doctor out. The man was pissed! And he was pouring with sweat and blood. He wanted nothing more to do with Salvador.
“I almost got killed and cooked to death!” yelled the doctor. “Bang, bang, up and down! Bang! BANG! BANG! Up and down! Look at my head, it’s all bloody and cut and—oooooo, it hurts!”
And why, Salvador didn’t know, but he started laughing.
“NOT FUNNY!” screamed the big doctor. “A lo chingon, not funny! NOT FUNNY,A LO CHINGON!”
“Look,” said Salvador, still not able to stop laughing, “just thank God, you weren’t shot. So we’re doing fine. And now, guess what I’ve decided to do,” said Salvador, grinning, “I’m going to buy a whole railroad car of lettuce just for you, so you can hide in that lettuce, and I can then ship you in luxury all the way to Los Angeles, California. No more problemas from now on,” he added with a smile, wondering where this whole idea of lettuce had come from. Hell, he’d never thought of buying a railroad car of lettuce. “You just sleep and rest on a nice, cool bed of lettuce, and I’ll get you across in no time!” added this voice within him, talking as if it had a life all of its own.
“Oh, no!” yelled the big doctor. “I want our money back! You’re a bad man! Very bad, bad, bad a lo chingon—you!”
“Bad, me?” said Salvador. “Hell, I’ll show you bad!” And he drew his .45 again, firing by the man’s feet. “Get the hell back in that trunk, you chickenshit bigmouth!” he yelled. “Hell, I’ve taken Chinese women across the border with more guts than you! Old women!”
“You mean you bring old Chinese women across the border?” asked the doctor, looking suddenly very interested.
“Absolutely! And these old women had a lot more guts than you,” added Salvador.
“Okay, I’ll go then,” said the big doctor. “But oh, I don’t like any more of this a lo chingon,” said the tall, dignified man. “I ride with you up front. And I’m hungry! I no eat!”
Salvador laughed, closing the trunk lid. They were on the Mexican side of the border, so it would be okay for the doctor to ride up front with him, but there was no way that he was going to take the doctor back into Chinatown in Mexicali to eat, and maybe run the risk of him running out on him.
Driving off across the dry, white, flat sea with the doctor at his side, Salvador just knew that something quite extraordinary had happened to him.
He’d been shot at, he’d barely escaped with his life intact, and yet he felt so calm, so relaxed. He suddenly knew that he’d finally come to this Blessed Place between the Sun and Moon where his mother Lived and Miracles were Created.
There were no accidents.
He was on his way, learning how to be a married man of Daily Miracles.
All those truckloads of lettuce that they’d been loading on those railroad cars this morning before dawn came flashing to his mind. He really would buy a railroad car full of lettuce, hide the doctor in the sea of produce, and ship him across the border to wherever the train was going. Oh, life was so easy, so effortless once you “saw” with the clarity of God.
Salvador made the sign of the cross over himself, saying, “Thank You, Papito. Thank You, God, gracias.”
BUYING THE BOXCAR of lettuce cost Salvador all the cash he had, so there’d be no going back now.
He then drove down to the river, way south of town, so they could cool off, and the doctor wouldn’t get the idea of running out on him. And together they washed in a stream and then covered the whole car with mud, hiding the two bullet holes that Salvador had shot through the trunk lid. Miraculously, yes, miraculously, not even one bullet from the officers’ guns had hit the vehicle.
They rested on the river’s bank and a couple of times the big doctor asked Salvador if those old Chinese women that he’d taken across the border had really been tougher than him.
Salvador laughed, seeing the big man’s concern, then assured him that yes, they had been a whole lot tougher than him. The doctor was much quieter after that. Then it was dark and they headed back to town.
Getting to the railroad yards, they looked around, making sure that no one was watching. Then Salvador checked his receipt to be sure he had the right boxcar, and he had the big man climb into the railroad car and, in the light of the full Moon, dig his way down into the lettuce.
“And keep still like a brave, old woman,” said Salvador to him. “Understand, no move ’til I come and call you, eh?”
Salvador then drove to the border stop in town and saw that there was only one guard on duty. The man checked Salvador’s papers, searched his car, and passed him on through.
It was after midnight when Salvador watched the long train come across the border, heading north. He drove along the highway, catching glimpses of the train now and then as it sped across the desert. The Mother Moon hung low in the night sky, talking gently to Salvador as she played in and out among the clouds. Salvador thanked Lupe again and again. He could just feel the steady flow of Lupe’s love coming to him as she prayed. Love truly didn’t know any distance when it was sent through God.
Just before daybreak, the train stopped at a place at the foot of the towering, dark mountains to refuel. Here, Salvador had them unhitch his boxcar of produce, telling them that he had his own personal trucks coming for his lettuce. As soon as the train started up the grade, Salvador climbed up on the boxcar and started looking for the doctor, but he couldn’t find him.
“The son-of-a-bitch ran out on me!” yelled Salvador. “You no-good, crazy-loco cabrón! You crazy-loco fool didn’t have the guts to stay put a lo chingon like a good woman!”
“A lo chingon like a good woman I do, too!” Salvador heard a weak little echo come up to him from out of the lettuce.
“A lo chingon!” repeated Salvador.
“A lo chingon!” came the echo again. “I tough like good woman!”
“Oh, you crazy-loco son-of-a-bitch!” said Salvador joyfully. “So you did stay put like a good woman!”
“Yes, you crazy son-of-a-bitch,” said the echo as the lettuce started moving under Salvador’s feet. “I stay put a lo chingon like a good woman!”
Salvador started laughing, and when he saw the doctor’s big face suddenly erupt out of the lettuce, he took the doctor’s face in his two hands and kissed him on the lips. “You’re absolutely beautiful!” he said.
“Beautiful, oh, no, a lo chingon!” said the doctor, smiling ear-to-ear. “I no good woman that way, you crazy-loco son-of-a-bitch!”
And they started laughing and laughing. They’d done it! They’d really done it! They’d gotten
IT WAS DARK when Salvador and the big doctor pulled into Chinatown in Hanford, California—fifteen hours to the north. And all the way, the big doctor and Salvador drank tequila and talked.
Salvador came to learn a lot about China and Chinese medicine and herbs and these things called pressure points. Salvador told the doctor that his own mother was una curandera, meaning that she was a healer who healed people with local weeds and the massaging of the bottoms of the people’s feet, which mirrored the soul, his mother always said.
“You see,” said Salvador, “my mother is old and walks barefoot a lot. She says that for good health, people need to get rooted to the dirt, la tierra, every day with their bare feet, so that the love of the Mother Earth can keep them strong with power inside!”
“Your mother is yes, right,” said the doctor. “The bottoms of the people’s feet work all the pressure points of the whole body. This is why they brought me from China. The American doctors are good for bones broken, but don’t understand our Chinese medicine, which brings good healing to the mind and soul, not just the body.”
Then he showed Salvador a little box in which he kept pieces of bark and dirt and tree leaves.
“Yes,” said Salvador very excitedly, “just like mi mama! Then you people also know that men are rock and mineral, and women are tree and bark and leaves!”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “ying and yang!”
“You mean, men and women?”
“Yes, ying and yang, men and women, the same!”
“Oooooooh,” said Salvador. “I see! I see! You know, I’ll bring my mother to meet you. She, not the American doctors, saved the lives of hundreds of people in Arizona when the influenza hit the barrio,” continued Salvador. “The American doctors didn’t know what to do, but my mother did. She cooked up all these tomatoes with different yerbas and then wrapped the people’s feet and chest, opening up all the windows so they could breathe in fresh air. And the American doctors got so mad at my mother, saying that they’d told everyone to close their windows, and she was going against their orders.”