by Xavier Salazar

​The bulging, lumpy mass of the southwestern mountains, showered by a golden sunrise but still soaking in the cool air from the night, held a small pebble resting on a dusty boulder, one of many. For this pebble, the breeze was a freezing hurricane, taking it ever closer to the ledge that overlooks the yellow-brown landscape polka-dotted with plants, taking in the humid air while they still can. When the pebble was cast from the ledge and ricocheted down the mountain, it landed at the hare-brown coils of a snake, the size of around four of the many dwarvish trees nearby.

​The snake’s mango belly slid across the sand, obsidian-black head pointed directly at a small group of buildings, tail wrapped around a small, blue plastic box with some square indents at the end. The snake knew it wasn’t like anything that could be found amongst the mountains and under the shrubs and hoped a Yaqui could help. The snake found a tribesman, gave a “Lios em chania”, and they shot back a “Lios em chiokoe, Carmelo.” The Yaqui knew the snake, Carmelo, well. He is a colorful addition to the Pascua Yaqui tribe, although he only arrives infrequently, leading a different life entirely in the desert. 

​Carmelo’s only knowledge of people was the Yaqui, but today, he would learn of a new kind of human, one responsible for almost every strange thing he’d found in the desert. They are just like the Yaqui in build, but they are much, much different. For one, they do not know the language of the Yaqui, only English, Carmelo’s second language, or some other language entirely. They do not believe in the same spirits, either. But, most importantly, they were much more powerful and numerous than the Yaqui, and often cruel. If you are not careful, the member warns, your head could be hung on the wall to show off. When the member manages to get Carmelo to calm down and listen again, they reassure him that he could easily fend off these people, so long as they weren’t in a group and were caught by surprise.

​He also learned that what he brought could store sounds, and if one of these people ever found it, they could listen to what it picked up. A “recorder”, the Yaqui called it. The idea excited Carmelo. He would love to send a message to anyone passing by, like on that line of pressed soil that crosses right next to his home, one of the numerous mountain crevices. Carmelo had spotted a few wandering humans before, had always thought they were traveling Yaqui but now that was doubtful. Perhaps he could leave a message, so they know he’s friendly. When Carmelo got home, he brought the recorder to a shrub before carefully tucking it under the branches with a shiny piece of quartz and a pile of seeds he planned to grow after the last frost, something the Yaqui taught him. For now, though, he had to find something to say to the recorder.

​He knew just the place to think. He crawled off and followed the morning sun, carefully watching the hills as they spread the red, orange, and yellow light across his vision. Eventually, the colors became much more vibrant, and Carmelo knew he had arrived at the field of petaled souls. They stood tall on their stems and waved to him with the breeze. Thousands of souls from all kinds of different times and places gathered in a lush spot where they could take in the sweet sun and drink the refreshing oasis water. They showed off their exuberant lives in their vivid petals, each flower as overt as the next. They welcomed the new, sprouting souls that grew on the outskirts, finding room and the confidence to show themselves off, too. 

​As Carmelo was contemplating, he noticed something moving in the sands near the oasis. He could immediately tell from the cloth hanging off its body that it was a human, and by the weird colors of said cloths, possibly a non-Yaqui. Carmelo never presumed these people might have known where souls gathered, but it made sense. They were nearing the crowd… 

​The floral niche waited as the snake watched the little human approach. The human looked surprised to find a field out in the middle of nowhere. They walked into the field to look for some flowers to take home. The flowers were rich with color… they wondered if they could make a dye with them. They would have to look it up when they got home. But for now, the human found a few especially rich flowers to pick.

​Carmelo watched as the human broke tens of the soul’s stems with its feet, decapitated a few others, put a head in its hair like a trophy, and trampled even more flowering souls on the way out. 

​As the human turned to leave, they saw a brown and black figure that slipped away before they could get a good look. It almost looked like a snake. The human brushed it off, thinking they saw only a mirage.

​Carmelo was shaking as he hid. Why did it do that? How could a creature be so cruel? To intrude upon that quiet community and massacre those leafy souls in the way so it could steal a handful of them… This must be the reason the Yaqui warned him about this type of human. It must have a lot of hatred in its heart. But it was alone, and unsuspecting…

…

​The human was starting to think they weren’t seeing mirages anymore. But, with no other explanation, they were left with only the anxiety of something, somewhere, watching them as they returned from the field. It began while the human was still there, so maybe they’ll find out what it was if they go back? Do they even want to find out? They knew they still had miles left, and every time they saw the so-called mirage, it looked like it was getting closer. After a few more minutes of walking, the human decided to go back to the field. If they couldn’t find out what it was, they would die of fear sooner than they would of dehydration out here. 

​All the while, the thing grew closer. The human could almost make out its features… Its body, as brown as the sand itself, as if it were made to go undetected. The other side, the one that faced the human when it watched them, was a lighter yellow color, almost a flashy warning. But the strangest part about it was what the human could only describe as the head… it was void-black, sticking out like an afterimage of the sun, too far away to make out any eyes or face, if it even had those. Every sighting gave away more of its serpentine form, a scale or two sometimes flashing them as it left. There might have been a blue scale at the end of its curled tail, too.

​When the human finally reached the field, they immediately saw the thing on the opposite hill. They figured they were right, then. Maybe it wanted to show them something? Perhaps it was in the water, which they just noticed. Looking at the hill again, the figure was gone. The human stared at the warm colors of the field, their feet locked into place. Once they pulled their feet from the ground, though, walking around a little so their feet wouldn’t lock again, they managed to hype themselves up enough to start walking toward the water. They approached the edge of the flowerbed and stepped int—

​The human fell to their knees, their back in agonizing pain, as if it was corroding and sloughing off. They reached behind themselves to touch it, and when they pulled their burning hand back, it was covered in a thick, black gunk. They were hit with a wave of nausea and brought to collapse by convulsions. Whatever this paste was, it was poisoning them. They vomited all over the soil, too weak to do anything but watch it soak into the ground. The human felt themselves pulled off the ground, away from the field of flowers, robbing them of the luxury of dying in the beautiful landscape. They were turned away from the field, now face to face with the thing that had been stalking them. Its black-hole eyes pierced into the human as it bellowed at them. Through the brain fog, they could almost make out the sound as something in English. The human tried their best to respond, but it could only get out a few gurgly sputters. Then, the human caught the snake’s demand: 

​“ANSWER ME! WHY DID YOU DO IT!?”

​The human felt their bones snapping in the snake’s grasp. They were broken, physically and mentally. The only thing the human wanted was for the pain to be over. They were dropped onto the floor, the only movements coming from the spasms of poisoned muscles. After a few seconds stretched out to eternity under the sun’s powerful light, the snake looked down at the human, this time with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. Its voice held what sounded like sorrow as it spoke again, and the snake was gone again.

​Then, the human felt pebbles rolling and digging into their exposed back as they were dragged away from the field. For another eternity, rocks plucked their flesh from them, their bone shards shifted inside them with every movement, the desert soaked into them, and the sun blinded them as they moved. All the while, their arm was pulled nearly out of its socket as their hand was strangled in the snake’s grasp.

​The sun was finally blocked out by huge stones over the human’s head, and soon their back was no longer being sanded against the ground. Their hand was freed, and the snake used that same tone as it spoke again. They heard a click, then the snake wrapped itself around the human again, but this time they did not suffocate or break. Instead, the snake went still, if not for its slow, deep breaths. 

​It was cool here. The snake’s body was soft, almost pillowy. There weren’t any rocks digging into the human’s back. Nor was the sun here to steal their vision. It was quiet too, the loudest thing being their raspy, shaky breath. The pain began to numb away. They relaxed and closed their eyes for some desperately needed rest. In the middle of this peaceful moment, they released an empty wheeze and did not breathe in again.

…

​Carmelo lifted his head from sleep and was met with the memory of what happened. He whipped his head to the human and nudged its side. Its skin was as cool as the stones around it. He had never done something like this, this was the first time he attacked a human, let alone spit his venom on it. Yesterday, when Carmelo realized how far he had taken things, the human was already broken and dying. He hoped its last moments were peaceful, and understood that he was only protecting the field. He gently slid the human off his coils and tapped the red button on the recorder before giving his attention back to the human. He took its arm and dragged it across the sands one more time.

​They reached the oasis once more, but now Carmelo brought the human to one of the many clusters of plants on the outskirts. A cactus, a shrub, and a stout little tree, crowded enough to provide minimal shelter from the sun. He swept between the plants, letting go of the human once it was fully shielded by the trio. 

​Carmelo looked out into the field. Maybe the human’s flower would be forgiven and accepted among those flame colored souls? As horrified as he’d been to witness the massacre that human executed, he couldn’t say they would reject it. He’s seen tens of new sprouts growing daily, each one brought in with open arms. Carmelo wasn’t sure if he could forgive the human, but he would trust the judgment of the flowers if he ever saw the human growing within their ranks. 

​Carmelo retrieved his recorder from the cave, careful not to break it, lest the sound of the human’s final breaths went to waste. He slithered with his eyes trained toward the packed line of earth and followed it like a waning river until he could see a few clusters of houses, almost certainly not Yaqui. When he felt he was close enough, he placed the recorder in the center of the line. Carmelo sought to convey to those he could never understand what it meant to believe the desert was made for those who were at its mercy.