LA CUEVA

He opened his eyes, and, in his mind, he saw the familiar creation story come to life in silhouette reflected on the cave wall. He became a child again living with his abuelo on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico. The Moon Goddess shadow gave birth to the first humans. As dawn approached, she left them to thrive upon the earth and to meet their father, the Sun. The first humans began to explore their new home and to become familiar with other living creatures. The animal silhouettes were always a favorite of his. Each creature had a personality as familiar as the story. The coyote strutted through the shadows with confidence. The bison moved with a deliberate pace, mulching grass. The graceful antelope pranced through the hillside. The owl and other birds dominated the sky. The humans began to cultivate the Earth and corn sprang from the soil. He closed his eyes again and slept with less agitation.

Again, he sprang from sleep and fought hard to surface into the real world. Instantly he was nauseous and searched for the white enameled pan which he found within his grasp. Rising on his elbow he heaved up clear liquid again, his stomach muscle sore from prior efforts.

“Easy, now,” a male voice said from somewhere near, and the man took the pan as he relinquished his hold, lowered himself again to his pallet on the floor and disappeared into unconsciousness.

“Bellamy, where are you? I can’t find you,” he said. “Where is Gabe? I’ve lost the marshals.”

“Be calm, mijo,” the male voice said. “You are safe. You must rest so that you can go back to your friends. If you are not sick, can you take some water? You need to take some water.”

He reached consciousness and opened his eyes. He saw a small man with black hair and warm, brown eyes smiling at him, sitting cross-legged, and holding a cup and a spoon where water dripped.

“Yes, please,” he managed to whisper.

The man with the brown eyes spooned water into his mouth slowly. But he wanted to take the cup and gulp down all the water.

“Slowly, mijo. Let’s do this slowly so that you will not be sick again.”

As time moved on, he consumed the whole cup of water, spoonful by spoonful and was not nauseous this time.

“That was excellent,” the man with the brown eyes said. “Now I need you to pee. You’ve been here for two days, and you’ve not urinated.” He put the cup and spoon away and reappeared with a jug with a narrower throat than its base. “Do you know how to use the hospital jug to pee?”

“Yes, I know how to do this,” he said. He took the jug as the man turned to do something at the other end of the cave.

“Call me if you need help. You need to do this so that you can regain all your functions.”

After a few moments, he accomplished his mission, and the man took the jug and went outside. He was exhausted. He lay back on his pallet and drifted into sleep.

He awoke the next morning with the sun bright in the east at the opening of the cave.

The man handed him the water cup and spoon and told him to sip the water. He was obliged until the cup was finished. The man offered him a bowl with barely the bottom covered with beans and bean juice. he took the bowl and slowly dabbed at the beans with half of a tortilla that the man offered. After a few bites, he had had enough and gave the bowl back to the man who smiled and handed him the hospital jug. Their routine continued twice during the day.

He felt better the next morning.

“It is time we talked. I need to know where I am and how I got here,” he said as he sat up.

“I am True of the Lipan Apache tribe. You are at my home, La Cueva. As a shaman to this area, it is my duty to guard this sacred place so that no one, except for a trusted few, discover its location. La Cueva has been home to my family for three thousand years.”

He focused on the man and the information he was giving. True was about five feet four inches. He wore his long black hair in a ponytail. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. True’s voice was calm and moderate in volume. His colleague, Federal Marshal Cyn Beauvoir, had taught him to listen to voices and what accents or tonal qualities a subject presented. True spoke with a Mexican accent and probably the accent of his tribe’s language. Satisfied with his initial assessment, he introduced himself.

“I’m Federal Marshal Alex Ranslow. I am from the New Mexico Navajo Nation and shaman to my people and to my federal marshal team. We are stationed out of El Paso,” Alex said and paused briefly to make sure True got these basic facts. “How did I end up in La Cueva? How long have I been here?”

True’s face lit up with a warm smile that illumined his deep brown eyes.

“I’m not surprised that you have many questions. It indicates that you are fully functional now that you’re recovering from heat stroke. Do you remember why you were wandering this desert? Why didn’t you have emergency provisions that would have saved you from being so ill? You know better than to walk in this area without defense against the sun, heat, and lack of water. You could have died had you not wandered into my cave. You are lucky to have found shelter,” True mildly scolded the other Native American. He walked over to a place where glass canning jars, full of water, were stored with metal lids on each jar. True poured water into the familiar enamel cup that he offered Alex. “Here, you need to slowly replenish water intake every hour until you are stronger. Would you like some rice and beans? I’ve mixed them with tomatoes and have a couple of tortilla left over from my breakfast.”

“Thanks for the water. I’ll wait for food until I’ve finished talking with you.” Alex asked as he sipped from the cup.

True resumed his cross-legged seating arrangement next to Alex’s floor pallet. “Now, tell me why you were on a walk about?”

Staring at the water in his cup, Alex began his tale. “I remember a friend of mine, Arturo Martinez, dropped me off outside Alpine. Arturo was meeting a rancher outside of Ft. Stockton to inspect his breeding bulls for sale. We were supposed to meet later that evening in Terlingua at La Posada Milagro. My plan was to follow the Del Norte and Santiago Mountains along the foothills until I got to Big Bend National Park. If I’d gotten tired, I could always intersection highway 118 and hitch hike to Terlingua. I don’t have a vehicle or driver’s license. I’ve always hitched to where I want to go or one of my friends or marshals would take me where I needed to be. I’ve traveled the Texas and New Mexican deserts all my life. I always prepare a backpack with emergency provisions and plenty of water.” Alex paused and glanced at True who smiled and nodded his head. “Several miles later I found an El Salvador immigrant family lost and struggling to find shelter from the heat. The couple’s eight-year-old son was already unconscious. I lead them to a sheltered spot at the base of the mountain. A cold-water stream was ideal for them to bathe their overheated son. The boy revived within minutes, and I told them how to use the water and packaged food to avoid heat stroke. I gave them my backpack thinking I would just intersect highway 118 and get to Terlingua within an hour. The family said that no one would give them water after they crossed the River inside the National Park. The immigrants could not cross the River anywhere downstream from the Park because the Texas Governor had strung buoys in a line, halfway into the River to prevent immigrants from crossing. Several had drowned having been knocked underwater and trapped in the current. Once an immigrant reached the Texas shore, the governor had ordered razor wire strung along the shore. Many had died from injuries from the razor wire. Their wounds were horrifying. The family had not expected these impediments or the hostile behavior from those they meet in Texas. Sadly, I told them that this was recent behavior because the Texas government wanted to punish immigrants before they set foot in Texas. The more time that passed, the more hostile Texas became. The couple had documents proving their need for asylum against the vicious El Salvador regime which the United States supported. Yet they were repeatedly told that they were illegal and did not have a case for immigrating. I told them what they already knew. Indeed, those fleeing for political asylum did have a legitimate case for immigration under existing law. Whoever said otherwise was lying. Those who treated them inhumanely deserved to be arrested and convicted.”

Alex stopped and sipped water again. “I gave them contact information for some organizations that my partner Bellamy Weiss operates and contact information for them to find immigration attorneys for assistance.”

Alex awoke the next morning to full sunlight beaming through the cave entrance. He looked around the cave for True but did not see him. Seconds later, Alex heard two voices from outside the cave involved in a pleasant-sounding conversation. He saw that True had left a set of his clothes, recently washed, near his pallet and he quickly dressed. One of the voices was Petra Garza and the other was True. Petra Garza was a friend of his federal marshal team.

Petra turned to Alex. “Are you ready to talk with the marshals? Sam will simply be glad to hear your voice. Gabe and Cyn will want explanations and answers. Brace yourself while I get the satellite phone.”

“What the fuck, Alex?” Team leader, Federal Marshal Gabriella Zamora began the conversation with screaming curses.

“Nice to hear from you again too, Gabe,” Alex said. “We need to talk about what to do about the illegal borderland hazards that the Texas Governor is dispersing. Apparently, Washington is not willing or able to overrule Governor Abbott. I’d like to know why the Biden Administration is being so cavalier about these violations of federal jurisdiction. Immigrant lives as well as borderland citizens are affected by these hazards. How soon can you get a team to Eagle Pass? We’re going to need the cartel’s help too.”

The following Saturday, late in the evening, four divers slipped into the River at Eagle Pass and began to snip the anchor ties from the buoys. At the same time, four Chinook helicopters piloted by National Guard medics took off from San Antonio enroute to Eagle Pass. An hour after their departure, four Apache helicopters departed from the same base.

By the time the divers had finished detaching the buoys, Sam and Alex joined the cartel establishing a communications center. Sam connected the buoy brigade with the Chinooks. With True and more National Guard medics in place on the River’s shore in Eagle Pass, Sam connected the razor wire squad with the Apache helicopters. Aircraft hoovered along the border, under cover of darkness.

When the Chinooks approached the buoy lines, the divers spread one at each end of the line and two others, equal distance between the end lines. The Chinook spotlights located each diver and began to feed wire lines with a hook at the end to attached to the buoy lines. As the wire lines descended, each diver caught the line, hooked it to their portion of the buoy line and snapped the hook closed, locking it into place. With all four points secure, the Chinooks rose together in a synchronistic manner for several hundred feet. On cue, the Chinooks all headed north. The buoy lines and divers disappeared from the River.

Just as the Chinooks headed north, the Apache helicopters arrived and with their flood lights on locating four of the razor wire squad spaced along the River shore. Equipped with Kevlar gloves that covered both their hands and arms, the ground participants attached the helicopter fasteners to the razor wire and moved away from their task to avoid entanglement. On cue the Apache helicopters rose several hundred feet into the sky and moved north.

“This is CNN reporting from Austin, Texas. The Texas Capitol awoke to an amazing sight this morning. As you can see the Capitol Building is wearing a buoy line necklace. Overnight someone or some group wound miles of buoy line around the Capitol Dome ending with a cluster of buoys blocking the main entrance of the building.

“At the same time, at the Governor’s Mansion a few yards away, you can see coils of razor wire wound around the building ending with a menacing spool at the portico entrance. Everyone is wondering where the buoys and razor wire came from. My colleague reports from Eagle Pass, Texas, that the buoys that Texas Governor Abbott ordered placed in the middle of the Rio Grande together with the Governor’s razor wire along the River shoreline disappeared overnight.”

BJ Taylor is a Texas magical being doomed to wander the borderlands between Texas and Mexico. BJ was born with a forked tongue and a severe case of cultural schizophrenia common to those who grow up in the borderlands between nations, languages, and cultures. BJ worked in economic development and creation of three maquiladoras (the twin industrial sites in Texas and in Mexico); served as associate professor at University of Texas at Brownsville; and developed affordable housing with both for-profit and non-profit groups.