Yuri Herrera: Signs Preceding the End of the World

Hey there, he said as soon as he was out of the water. So you’re going over for a lil land, I hear.

Ha, said Makina, land’s the one thing we got enough of. I’m going for my bro, he’s the stupid sap who went over for a little land.

Chucho, said the man, holding out a hand.

Makina, she reciprocated. The man’s skin was weather-beaten but pleasing to the touch, warm even though he’d only just versed from the water.

Chucho took a pack of cigarettes from his bag, lit two and gave one to Makina. She inhaled deeply, held the smoke in her lungs — in her head she could see it spiraling gaily — and exhaled.

How’d you recognize me? she asked.

They sent me a picture, full body shot.

For a moment Makina thought he’d make some comment about her looks: You’re even cuter in the flesh, or What a tasty surprise, or A sight for sore eyes, or any of that oafishness that makes men feel they’re being original, but Chucho just kept smoking, face to the dawn.

Wouldn’t it be better to wait till it’s dark again? she said. Wouldn’t it be too easy for them to spot us now?

Nah, they’re tied up somewhere else, he said, winked at her and added I got my contacts.

They finished their smokes and then he said Alright, we’re off. He pulled another small oar from his pack and handed it to Makina, pushed the tube back in the water and helped Makina get in in front of him.

The first few feet were easy. Makina could still touch bottom and felt his legs tangle with hers as they advanced; she even, before things got rough, felt him lean in close and sniff her hair, and she was glad she’d had the chance to shower. But suddenly the riverbed ducked away and an icy current began to push their feet away like a living thing, relentless. Row, Chucho said; Makina already was but the tube was being tugged into the current as though adrift. Row, repeated Chucho, this is going to be a bitch. Hardly had he spoken when a torrent of water bounced them out, flipping the tube. Suddenly the world turned cold and green and filled with invisible water monsters dragging her away from the rubber raft; she tried to swim, kicking at whatever was holding her but couldn’t figure out which side was up or where Chucho had gone. She didn’t know how long she struggled frantically, and then the panic subsided, and she intuited that it made no difference which way she headed or how fast she went, that in the end she’d wind up where she needed to be. She smiled. She felt herself smile. That was when the sound of breaking water replaced the green silence. Chucho dragged her out by the pants with both hands: they’d reached the opposite bank and the inner tube was swirling away in the current as if it had urgent business to attend to.

They lay on the shore, spent and panting. It had hardly been more than a few dozen yards, but on staring up at the sky Makina thought that it was already different, more distant or less blue. Chucho stood, scanned the city at their backs and said Well, now, next part’s easier.

First there was nothing. Nothing but a frayed strip of cement over the white earth. Then she made out two mountains colliding in the back of beyond: like they’d come from who knows where and were headed to anyone’s guess but had come together at that intense point in the nothingness and insisted on crashing noisily against each other, though the oblivious might think they simply stood there in silence. Yond them hills is the pickup, take you on your way, said Chucho, but we’ll make a stop first so you can change.

Then off in the distance she glimpsed a tree and beneath the tree a pregnant woman. She saw her belly before her legs or her face or her hair and saw she was resting there in the shade of the tree. And she thought, if that was any sort of omen it was a good one: a country where a woman with child walking through the desert just lies right down to let her baby grow, unconcerned about anything else. But as they approached she discerned the features of this person, who was no woman, nor was that belly full with child: it was some poor wretch swollen with putrefaction, his eyes and tongue pecked out by buzzards. Makina turned to look at Chucho and see if he too had been fooled, but he hadn’t. Chucho told her about how one time he was taking a man back the other way because his wife was dying and they’d gotten lost — this was when he’d only just started crossing folks — and some sonofabitch rancher thought they were headed this direction and it was only because he chased them that they found the way back, but by then it was too late. Cat made it home, Chucho said, but by the time he got there she was already six feet under.

One of the first to strike it rich after going north came back to the Village all full of himself, all la-di-da, all fancy clothes and watches and new words he’d be able to say into his new phone. He made sure to round up every wide-eyed hick he could find, brought each and every one to the switchboard where he planned to teach Makina a lesson in public, as if one time she’d fucked him over, though he claimed he just wanted to show her because she knew about this stuff. He took out two cellphones and gave one to his mother, Here, jefecita, just press this button when you hear the briiiiiiiing and you’ll see, just step right outside, and he brandished the other one. He gave Makina two patronizing pats on the forearm and said Tough luck, kid, it had to happen: you’re going to be out of a job. Watch and learn. The young man pushed a little key and waited for the zzzz of the dial tone, but the zzzz didn’t come. Never mind, no sweat, he said. These new ones don’t do that. And proceeded to dial the number of the cellphone his mother was holding to her ear on the other side of the wall. Now at least you could hear peep-peep-peep as he pressed each key, and the wide-eyed stood like ninnies waiting for the thing that they were expecting to happen and yet wishing that it would turn out to be, well, more spectacular somehow, more weird. But the peep-peeps were followed only by silence, a silence that was especially weighty because it seemed as if everyone was holding their breath so as not to spoil the wondrous trick. And the mother was still standing outside, in truth far less concerned about whatever it was her son was up to than about the pot she’d left on the stove, and though the phone was still clamped to her ear she was in fact already telling a neighbor Be an angel, would you? Go check on my stew. And on it went till the guy was left just looking at his phone with all his might, as though enough staring might somehow fix it. Makina held off a bit then said Maybe you should have bought a few cell towers, too? The poor guy turned red when the penny dropped and suddenly he was the only wide-eyed one in the place. That was what Makina said but then she felt mean for messing with him so she gave him a kiss on the cheek and said Don’t worry, kid, they’ll get here one day.

Before they reached the shack where she was to change clothes, what happened was:

that another truck pulled right up beside them on the road to the mountains; it was black with four searchlights mounted on the roof and the driver was an anglo with dark glasses and a hat with a silver buckle. His eyes shot bullets through the two windows between them, still stepping on it, still stuck to them like glue;

and that Chucho grabbed a cell and started to dial a number but didn’t finish till they’d reached the shack, in the foothills, and then dialed the rest when he got out and as soon as they picked up said, in anglo tongue, Hey officer, I got the info I promised, yeah, yeah, right where I said last time, yeah, but be careful, he’s armed to the eyeballs, and hung up.