Then there was a thundering of the earth, and a great rift opened. The church building crumbled, and the school collapsed into dust, then the whole town disappeared into the chasm. A great cry went up from the people as they saw crashing, tumultuous waters fill the dark hole. The people were afraid.
Do not fear! Do not fear! the Trementinas danced and sang, we are on the holy hill and we are saved. Then the people laughed and continued their feasting on the meat of the carp.
The wind blew dusty now, and the sun turned blood red. The people looked upon each other and they saw their skin rot and fall off. Shrieks of pain and agony filled the air, and the whole countryside cried in mourning as the walking-dead buried their sleeping-dead. A putrid, rotting smell was everywhere. There was disease and filth throughout.
In the end no one was left, and the she-goats and the he-goats returned from the hills whence they had fled, and they looked in innocence at the death camp of the people. The wind ceased its lapping of stagnant water against the shores of the lake, and there was quiet. The farmers from El Puerto, my uncles, came and stirred the ashes, and finding the ashes of my family and Ultima they gathered them and returned to El Puerto to bury them in the holy ground of their fields.
Evening settled over the land and the waters. The stars came out and glittered in the dark sky. In the lake the golden carp appeared. His beautiful body glittered in the moonlight. He had been witness to everything that happened, and he decided that everyone should survive, but in new form. He opened his huge mouth and swallowed everything, everything there was, good and evil. Then he swam into the blue velvet of the night, glittering as he rose towards the stars. The moon smiled on him and guided him, and his golden body burned with such beautiful brilliance that he became a new sun in the heavens. A new sun to shine its good light upon a new earth.
Quince
After the fever broke I was in bed for many days. The doctor told my mother I had had pneumonia and that I was to get as much rest as possible. As I regained my strength I learned what had happened. My father had found the body of Narciso, frozen stiff under the juniper tree. My father went to the sheriff and accused Tenorio, but he had only the word of a small, sick boy to back his accusation. The coroner’s jury that gathered under the juniper tree found the cause of death to be accidental or self-inflicted, then they hurried away from the cold to the warmth of their homes. Because Narciso was the town drunk, nobody cared much. My father protested, but there was little he could do, and so Narciso was buried and the town said he had died during one of his drunks.
He was a big and wild man; he drank and cursed like most men do, but he was a good man. He died trying to help an old friend. He had the magic of growth in his hands and he passed it into the earth. Now his house was deserted and his garden withered away, and few people remembered anything good about Narciso.
While I was still in bed, recovering, Andrew stopped by to talk to me. I guess he figured that if he had listened to Narciso that he would still be alive, because the first thing he said was, “I’m sorry about Narciso—”
“Yes,” I nodded. I did not tell him that I had seen him at Rosie’s house. I had not told anyone, and I never would.
“I’m sorry you saw the murder—” he stammered.
“Why?” I asked. I did not feel comfortable talking to him. I looked at Ultima, who had not left my side since that dreadful night, and I guess she understood because she stood up from where she sat crocheting. Andrew understood that it was a signal to leave.
“I don’t know,” he said, “you’re only a kid—I’m just sorry.”
“He must rest,” Ultima said kindly.
“Yes,” Andrew agreed, “I just wanted to see how he was. How do you feel, Tony?” He was nervous.
“Fine.” I answered.
“Good, good,” he muttered. “Well, I’ll let you rest. I wish there was something I could do—I’m sorry, that’s all.” He turned and left. After that he brought me candy and fruit from the store, but he gave it to my mother to deliver to me, he never came into the room. He would only wave from the door as he went off to work in the mornings.
Later I asked Ultima, “Did I talk about Andrew when I was in the fever?”
“Your blood is tied to the blood of your brothers,” she answered, “and you spoke your dreams and love for them, but you did not reveal Andrew’s secret—”
I was glad Ultima understood, and I was glad I had not talked about what I had seen at Rosie’s. Like other unpleasant things, I began to blot it from my memory.
So Christmas came and went. We had a small tree and we got clothes for presents, but the most important thing was going to visit the Nativity scene at the church and going to la misa de gallo, midnight mass. I did not go, of course, but when everyone returned I was up and waiting for them and we ate posole. For dessert we ate bizcochitos and hot coffee flavored with sugar and cinnamon. When I could get up I sat with Ultima in her room while she did her embroidery work. She told me stories about the old people of Las Pasturas. She told me about Narciso when he was a young man, a fine vaquero, and very respected. He had married a lovely young girl but before they could raise a family she had died. The diphtheria epidemic that had destroyed so many things in Las Pasturas had claimed her. After that Narciso turned to drink and lost everything, but he remained forever grateful to Ultima who worked so hard to try to save his young wife. The old people, Ultima said, always helped each other; through good or bad they stuck together, and the friendships that were formed in that desolate llano were bonds for life.