Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
PULLING INTO CORONA, Salvador didn’t find his mother, so he quickly drove over to the church, and coming inside, here he saw his old, wrinkled-up Indian mother standing up at the front of the church, arms open, palms up, and shouting at God! Tears came to his eyes. Oh, his mama, his mama was just never going to stop helping God ’til her last breath!
AND IN CARLSBAD, Fred Noon was pulling into Kenny White’s garage. Kenny immediately told Fred that Salvador had left, taking Lupe to Santa Ana, then to go over to Corona. “If you hurry,” said Kenny to Fred, “you can probably get into Corona just about the time Salvador arrives.”
Fred thanked Kenny and took off in his big Buick.
THEN HERE CAME the additional guards, boots pounding as they lined up on the tall walls. Seeing this, Max and his group of White prisoners now walked across the yard. Max and his group were laughing, joking, grinning.
And Max was loosening up his huge muscles and opening and closing his mammoth hands. Spotting Domingo, Max figured that Domingo was the man that he’d be doing battle with, and he began to laugh.
“Lookie here,” said Max. “They got themselves a White man to do their fighting for them. Don’t that beat all! Last year the niggers would have gotten a White guy, too, if they could’ve found one stupid enough!”
Max and his friends roared with laughter.
Then all of the White guards were set, and the officer in charge nodded to Max. Oh, the tension, the excitement was so great that there wasn’t a bladder among all the men that didn’t want to burst, feeling halfway between pissing and screwing.
The guards, the warden, they were all very proud of themselves that it had come to this instead of just more random killings. And now it would all be over in just a matter of seconds. This was the real thing! Not a phony fight with boxing gloves! There wasn’t a swinging cock in all the yard that wasn’t ready to climax—they were all so excited!
Max and his group walked toward the center of the yard, and they were ready. Max signaled for his friends to move away from him, and then there stood Max, all alone. Once he was alone, all the grinning and smiles left his face and suddenly, instantly, he was a raging bull, a mad-dog ready to fight, to kill, to devour his opponent! And his bright blue eyes turned white at the pupils, he was so crazed with rage!
Seeing Max’s eyes, Domingo couldn’t stand it. He knew damn well that these little twins meant well, but he also knew that they didn’t have a chance in Hell! And so, not wanting to end up a slave to these abusive gringos for the rest of his life, Domingo now bellowed right back at the big German, screaming like a mad-dog, too, saying, “You’re mine, you son-of-a-bitch! I got TANATES, TOO!”
And instantly Domingo started for the German, but he never got two steps, for three Mejicanos jumped him from behind, knocking him to the ground.
All the Whites started laughing. “Crazy, fucking Mexicans are now beating up on their own champion!”
Domingo kicked and screamed, trying to get loose. But one Mexican had a rope and they quickly hog-tied him and dragged him away. And once Domingo was dragged away, the gringos saw the strangest sight they’d ever seen. Why, there were two little Indians, stripped to the waist, looking like no more than kids, and they were hugging each other in the longest abrazo they’d ever seen and . . . with so much love.
Then one of them turned, coming toward Max. The big German couldn’t figure out what was happening. This was crazy. What did the little dark Indian boy want? Certainly not to fight. But here he came, coming straight toward Max, who was easily three times bigger than him.
The White guards started laughing and so did most of the White prisoners, too. One even yelled, “Watch out, Max; he might try to kiss you to death!”
But Max wasn’t laughing. He was confused. With the big one, Domingo, he had known how to fight, but what the hell was he supposed to do with a little Indian kid? Put one hand behind his back to make it fair? But then he bellowed, not giving a flying shit, and decided to just break this little Indian’s neck with his bare hands and bring the whole thing to a quick end.
But just as he was about to charge, another strange thing happened. Someone tossed the little Indian a shirt and a little knife.
Seeing the knife, Max burst out laughing. Why, the blade was so small and insignificant, it looked more like a damned letter opener.
Someone rushed forward and handed Max a much bigger knife and a shirt, too. Max took the knife and shirt and watched the little Indio wrap the shirt very carefully around his left hand and forearm. Max laughed and threw his own shirt away, not bothering to wrap himself; then he raised up the big knife and came rushing toward Jesus-Maria, ready to cut him to pieces and finish the fight, showing these tricky little greasy bastards once and for all who were the rightfully superior people on the planet and get them back in their place!
But when he slashed at the little Indio, he wasn’t there. And when he cut and stabbed and slashed and charged again, he was gone each time.
Domingo wasn’t resisting anymore against the men who’d dragged him back. No, he was now staring at this battle of battles in absolute silence. Why, this Jesus-Maria was fighting like a priceless little fighting cock of the finest breeding.
And he was so fast, so agile, so smooth and easy, that the big German was missing time and again and getting angrier and angrier. And all the prisoners and guards were glued to the action with their eyes, their hearts, seeing what they’d only dreamed of seeing in their wildest of dreams: gladiators doing battle to the death with no holds barred.
This was every man’s secret dream, secret love, secret desire, wondering how he, himself, would do under similar circumstances.
Max was out of breath. He’d had enough of this game of trying to catch the tricky little Mexican, and so he now took up ground in the center of the ring of men and shouted, “Come on, you tricky little bastard, stop and fight like a man! Un hombre! You greasy little chickenshit!”
Jesus-Maria stopped and smiled a big, beautiful, calm smile, like this was what he’d been hoping for all along. And at that moment, the Sun, himself, came over the tall eastern wall and bathed the whole courtyard in a pure Golden Light. And Jesus-Maria’s sweaty, naked torso now glistened like an Angel, a Messenger sent by Almighty God.
“Okay,” said Jesus-Maria, taking up ground, too. “But you come to me, amigo!” And he smiled. He didn’t hate the German, he really didn’t.
“All right, I’ll come to you, but no more of this running, dodging shit!”
“No, no more running,” said Jesus-Maria, and he stopped smiling. “We’ll fight mano-a-mano, each one of us holding on to the end of this shirt.”
“You got it!” yelled Max, quickly coming forward.
And so Jesus-Maria unwrapped the shirt from around his hand and forearm and, holding on to his end, he tossed out the other end of the long-sleeve shirt to Max.
With eyes full of lust and greed, Max grabbed up the other sleeve of the heavy cotton shirt, never taking his eyes off of Jesus-Maria. Then he suddenly jerked the smaller man toward himself and he slashed out with his large knife, drawing blood.
The crowd went WILD—screaming, yelling, LOVING IT!
This was more like it! This was the REAL THING! No more joking around! This was now the DANCE of DEATH!
Max was in ecstasy! And so with a grin, he rolled his powerful hand over and pulled in another good, big chunk of cloth so he could get himself in closer to Jesus-Maria. What a stupid fool this little Indian was to have tied up with him in hand-to-hand combat. He, Max, was bigger, stronger, had a larger knife, and so now everything was completely to his advantage.
So Max now jerked and pulled and slashed again, drawing blood once more, but the poor little Indian wouldn’t let go and run. No, the brave little fool kept holding on, not realizing that he was too far away and his little knife was too small to ever do Max any harm.
Max now let out a screaming shout and came in for the kill. There was no more use in torturing the little
Slashing and pulling, Max now wrapped the shirt around and around his hand as he pulled the little man in closer and closer, cutting him and cutting him as he brought him in for the kill. And Max was now going to go for the little fool’s throat and finish him off, when suddenly the little Mexican did the stupidest thing. He ducked and rushed in on Max, impaling himself on Max’s big knife, and then he bent down, locking Max’s knife into himself with his own body as he now went to work, slashing at Max’s lower body in a quick frenzy.
Max couldn’t believe it; he couldn’t understand what was happening until suddenly the little Mexican came up with Max’s cock and balls and part of his lower stomach in hand, raising them up to the Heavens!
“You will call me MISTER!” screamed Jesus-Maria to all the White prisoners and guards. “You will call me MISTER JESUS-MARIA!” he shouted as he showed Max’s balls and cock to all. “For we, too, are HUMAN BEINGS in the Eyes of GOD!”
And the Mexicans took up the chant, screaming, bellowing, “You will call us Mister! You will call us Mister! For we, too, are HUMAN BEINGS en los Ojos de DIOS!”
The whole White population then realized that it had been a setup from the start, and they bolted in absolute terror as the Mexicans came racing at them.
Max was still stumbling about, grabbing at the place where his balls and cock had been, not understanding what had happened, and then he fell. . . .Jesus-Maria now pulled Max’s big knife out of his own side and drove it into Max’s gut as he squirmed about on the ground, shrieking and wallowing in his own blood!
The screaming of the Mexicans grew and grew as they came rushing with knives in hand. Everywhere, Max’s friends were running in horror, in absolute horror, and they were getting knocked down and castrated on the spot.
The screams, the screeches were so great, so unexpected, that even the White guards got caught up in the frenzy and were running away, too. Mexicans were everywhere—on the walls, up in the buildings—and they were stripping guards of their weapons and rounding them up.
The other twin, Maria de Jesus, now came up and lay his dying brother down on the ground so he could go gently into the Holy Night.
Then, with tears streaming down his face, he picked up Max’s cock and balls in his right hand and, looking identical to his fallen brother, he took up EL GRITO!
When the guards and White prisoners saw him coming, they couldn’t figure out what was what! Only moments ago, that same little Indian had been bleeding and losing the fight, so how could he now be sound and well, unless he’d risen from the ashes of the dead and he was Jesus Christ, HIMSELF, now coming to get their very Souls?
Domingo was knocking down guard after guard, disarming them! They weren’t even fighting back.
They’d lost it; they’d just seen their greatest of all fighters go down like so much nothing!
And the screams of joy, the bellows of absolute gusto that came from the Mejicanos and Blacks and two Chinese men were deafening!
For their shouts came from the Heart, the Soul, their VERY GUTS, and they echoed across the yard with the POWER of HEAVEN’S THUNDER!
And that was when Domingo looked up and saw the legion of Ten Thousand ANGELS, Singing to them in Unison!
He dropped to his knees before the Hand of God even touched him, and he was Praying!
Yes, he was Praying—he’d seen la LUZ!
Part Five
LA VIDA LOCA
8
And so the Gates of Heaven opened wide and a flash flood de AMOR came pouring forth out over all the land— BURSTING with VITALITY!
EARLY THAT MORNING, Salvador and Fred Noon were at the gates of San Quentin, trying to gain entry, but the guards at the guardhouse were giving them a hard time. Finally, they were told to return the following day. Fred Noon and Salvador could feel the tension. Something really big must’ve happened, but no one was talking.
Early the next day, Salvador and Fred Noon returned. Fred Noon did all the talking and finally they got past the guardhouse and into the visiting room. They could still feel the tension. Everyone was being very careful and extremely courteous. And when Domingo came into the visitors’ room, it was written all over his face. He looked like somebody had just given him a million dollars—he couldn’t stop grinning.
“Salvador!” said Domingo, taking his younger, shorter brother in his arms, giving him a big, wonderful abrazo and kissing him. “So how is mama and Luisa? Good, I hope! And how did your honeymoon go, eh, hermanito?!” And Domingo hugged Salvador close again. “It’s so good to see you!” he added radiantly.
Salvador looked at his brother suspiciously. Domingo never acted like this, unless he was drunk or—then it hit Salvador. His brother must be completely loco-happy and out of his mind on marijuana. “So our friends were able to get you the good little weed for your medicinal tea, eh?”
“Oh, yes, they were!” said Domingo, still grinning from ear to ear.
“And this is why you’re so happy, eh?” continued Salvador, nodding at Domingo with a knowing little look.
“Oh, no!” said Domingo, seeing how his brother was regarding him. “This isn’t why I’m so happy! Haven’t you heard?” he added. “Surely you’ve read about it in all the newspapers!”
“Read what?”
“The pinchi news, hermanito!”
“What news?” said Salvador. “Fred Noon has been calling all week, but he can’t get anyone to say nothing. So no, I don’t know what the hell is going on, Domingo!?”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” said Domingo, scratching his head as he swayed back and forth on his feet. “Then I bet that these tricky gringos didn’t let the news get out. You really don’t know, do you?”
Salvador shook his head. “No, damnit! I don’t!”
“Why, we’ve taken over the prison,” said Domingo, grinning with joy “Us, los Mejicanos, have taken over the pinchi prison.”
Salvador was taken aback. “You took over the prison? You, los Mejicanos, now run the place?”
“Orale! Now you got it! And we’ve come to terms with the guards and warden and we, too, now don’t do no work that the gringos don’t do!”
“What?” yelled Salvador, absolutely shocked by this last statement. “Los Mejicanos now don’t do any work that the gringos don’t do?”
“Orale!” said Domingo, full of gusto. Then he opened his mouth and shouted, mouth open wide, giving un grito here in the visitors’ room. “We are ALL now EQUAL!”
Salvador’s eyes went huge. He could hardly believe what he’d just heard. “My God!” said Salvador, now understanding the full impact of his brother’s words. For he, Salvador, had been in jail enough times in this country to know how things were inside the prisons. Why, this was incredible! This was the most far-reaching news that Salvador had heard since he’d crossed the border coming into this country, more than thirteen years ago! The gringos had lost their all-abusive power!
“But Domingo,” he said, “how did this miracle come to pass? My God, this is what our mother was praying for! A miracle with ten thousand Angels!”
“She was!” Domingo now yelled. “Well, I saw them! All ten thousand! Tell mama that her prayers came true! Oh, Salvador, I tell you,” added Domingo with tears coming to his eyes, “it was a visit straight from Heaven! That’s exactly what it was, a visit of TEN THOUSAND ANGELS straight from HEAVEN who came to save the day for all the world to SEE!
“You tell mama when you see her that I will never, never again doubt her powers as long as I live!” said Domingo. “And you tell her that I will never use the Lord God’s name in vain again or tease her anymore when she says that she talks to God, for I saw the Angels that she sent here to us in this prison as well as I see you right now!
“I
As Domingo spoke, Salvador watched his brother’s eyes, and he could see that this brother of his had truly been touched by the Hand of God— just as their beloved papagrande Don Pio had been Touched by the Hand of God back in their mountains de Jalisco!
And so Salvador now listened to his brother, Domingo, tell this incredible story about these twins from the state of Guanajuato and how one brother gave his life—deliberately impaling himself—so that all of his brothers could live on with respect and equality!
“I saw his soul!” said Domingo. “His pinchi SOUL!” Tears were streaming down Domingo’s face, but he didn’t bother to wipe them. “And the White Enforcer, he saw none of this! He was just so full of hate and rage, like a sickness, that he couldn’t see the miracle that was happening before him.”
Domingo continued and the story brought tears to Salvador’s eyes. Little by little, he was beginning to see why Domingo had used the words “we, los Mejicanos, have saved the whole world!”
Yes, indeed, something extraordinary had come to pass.
His hardheaded brother was a changed man! You could see it in his eyes. Domingo’s eyes were now all alive with heart and love, compassion and wisdom, qualities he’d never had before.
And the tears that now ran down Domingo’s face weren’t tears of fear or anger or those of a doped-up marijuana user; no, these were the tears of joy, of gusto, of—why, they were the tears of un hombre who’d finally seen the Light of God! That Light, that Luz their mother had always told them about, that ’til you saw this Light, you weren’t even ALIVE!