Before I lost my people in a swamp of their own fear, I engaged their intellects to distract them. I told them there must be a correlation between the creature and the Congregation of Forty-Two.
My people were as silent as the Sea, lost in the vision disturbing Her waters.
That creature circled the heart of the Sea in an undulating swim. We saw only a series of dark green dorsal fins piercing Her waters before sinking from sight again.
When the Leviathan broke free from that rhythm, its motion became erratic, zig-zagging this way and that, its dorsal fins and leathery, scaly body rising and falling, rising and falling. Such a large creature, and yet it moved almost silently. That pushed more fear down my throat, nearly had me choking.
With what grace comes what power?
It was then that I realized the beast was chasing something. Hunting. Stalking. Excited by the race. At least that explained its erratic swimming.
And then: another great crack as the Sea splintered like wood beneath the rise of the hideous beast’s dragon-like head. Water sprayed and steamed from its nostrils as it breached the Sea, rising one-hundred feet from the water, shaking its head violently like a rabid dog.
But unlike a dog, its massive eyes were dark. No light escaped them. No light got in.
Look! I told my people, my heart suddenly in a vice and hurting. My own breathing short and panicked.
In the beast’s massive jaws, we could hardly believe what we saw: a grey whale twisting and flailing, fighting to free itself from those jagged teeth. That poor whale thrashed as it was crushed in jaws so large you’d think the whale a salmon or tuna. Some great fish, but not the enormous, majestic animal it truly was. In the presence of something so great as that Leviathan, it was made small, helpless. I felt such pity for the thing. Empathy, perhaps. For a moment, my fear turned to deep sadness.
Then, quieter than one would expect, the Leviathan slipped back into the Salton Sea, a Jack returning to its box.
Before we could wonder at what we saw, Curtis yelled out Hey! and we turned to see the terrified expression of one of the documentary crew standing up the beach, filming the whole thing.
This was unacceptable. The number of people a video like that would bring to Her shores would be astronomical. Her odor, the unrelenting sun, and the colorless land around us would be of no concern in light of such a revelation.
I must admit that, in that moment, the fear of that replaced the fear of something as unimaginable as the Leviathan. For if the Great Eye nested on Her shores, planted roots and took hold, I may have preferred to be eaten whole by something so hideous rather than live out my days knowing I could not protect Her.
Thankfully I was surrounded by my people, the absence of Marcy still fresh in our hearts, on that fateful day.
Jasmine was first upon the cameraman. She screamed and leapt onto him, felling him to the bone-sand. He shook her from his back and swatted her with his handheld camera. Poor Jasmine dropped to the beach like a suffocated fish. On all fours, the cameraman attempted to stand, but the bone-sand was perilous beneath him. Jacob caught up to him, swung a knee into the side of his head, twisting the man into the air. He landed on his back. Quickly, Angela sat on his chest and pummeled him with inexpert punches. Curtis snatched the man’s camera, bashed it on a rock, then pitched it far into the Sea. In a daze, the man mumbled No, stop, over and over again.
No, stop, he said again as I stood over him and sliced his throat with my crystal hands. These hands that catch the Light like no other. His blood, as dark as any non-believer’s, gushed and sprayed the sand around him, painted it with impurities.
As further punishment, I cut out the cameraman’s eyes, squashed them into the sand, felt them pop like grapes beneath my foot.
Curtis ran to the road a hundred yards away and when he returned he carried with him a flat piece of wood that would easily float on Her viscous waters. We set the body on that and pushed it out to Sea, our knees quaking just at the thought of walking into waters patrolled by such a monster.
We sat on the beach and waited a long while as the body floated further and further out. Curtis wept the whole time. Angela comforted him. Jacob sat in the sand, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking and shaking his head. Jasmine stood by my side, attempting stoicism for my benefit, but I saw her lips quiver. Saw water fall from her eyes. And I understood. We’d just experienced something terrible, and open-ended. What world did we live in now? What dimension had we just walked into? Just how, and when, did this plane of existence slam into another? What would this world become? And why doesn’t She have a say in this?
That piece of wood floated for such a long time that our hearts found a moment to calm. We listened to water rocking and wind raking Her birdless surfaces. We listened to clouds disintegrating in the sky beneath the sun’s relentless abuse. Eventually the Sea quaked again and the hideous head of the Leviathan shot out of the water, swallowing the wood and man whole before disappearing again and leaving the Sea silent. We waited longer to ensure the creature didn’t reject the feast, didn’t place an ellipsis at the end of that day’s sentence instead of a period. Once we were sure the scene had ended, we walked back to Slab City, our legs wobbly, shoulders slumped, and our words few, not knowing what lay ahead.
twenty-four
Three weeks later, more buses roared their lions’ roar and trundled upon my home turf. More buses. My heart quickened its pace at their arrival. At this rate, Her beaches would be overrun by thousands. Furthermore, the Imperial Sheriff was back, looking for me and mine. I continued to avoid the Sheriff, more concerned with the presence of these new people. But it was all those people, perhaps, that kept the Sherriff off my back. Their numbers could not simply be ignored.
At first, it was two buses. Then three more. Then five more. They brought well over five-hundred souls within Her reach.
It wasn’t long before I knew why.
A newcomer found me wandering The Slabs and thrust his phone in front of my face, demanded that I watch. He played a video of the Leviathan posted to the internet. It had over seven-hundred-thousand views. I asked the Outsider where the video had come from. He laughed and told me that of course God had posted the video.
I snatched the phone from his grasp and checked the name of the person that had posted it: saltyseaman91. The caption to the video claimed that the video had been given to them by an anonymous source.
I handed the phone back to the newcomer, asked why he assumed God had posted it and he told me that only The Almighty could have. I asked him how the Sea could do such a thing and he gave me a twisted look of perplexity. With his forefinger he pointed to a still picture of the Leviathan and said that God lived in the monster, and somehow God sent the video to a human vessel for distribution.
I nodded stupidly, in a daze, as if I was agreeing with him! Unable, even, to protest his blasphemy. His misguided and gross assumption. It sickened me to think that thing would be mistaken for salvation when what it was infecting was, in fact, the true God. If I hadn’t been so dazed by the knowledge that the buses of people worshipping a lie were easily outnumbering those here for truer purposes, I may have taken the time to educate the man. To allow him the privilege of Truth.
Furthermore, the Leviathan hadn’t reappeared since the video was taken. Since we blinded the cameraman for good. Cut his film short and sent him to his eternal fadeout for his trespasses. But how did that film wind up on the internet for all to see? Curtis, himself, bashed that handheld camera on a rock and flung the offensive machine into the Sea.
But it was a sad fact. The scores of people ringing the shores of the Salton Sea were waiting for the Leviathan’s return, and not worshipping Her, as I had originally thought. Of course, the sheer numbers of people meant I stayed away. There were too many. Enough to drown me out.
Upon seeing the video, I had my people swim among the blasphemers, asking questions. Attempting to spread The Truth. None would listen. They said a creature of such mag
nificence, the Leviathan, could not be denied, and that the Salton Sea was just a manmade mistake. A landlocked salty drip of an accident. Jasmine ended up in a few skirmishes. Jacob, unfortunately, was mobbed and kicked in the face and ribs several times, right there on the bone-sand beach in plain view of Her waters. But She turned a blind and silent eye to one of Her own.
Jacob was sent to my luxurious camper to recuperate and rest. We were down a man in our fight against a profane multitude.
One day, after watching the crowds from a distance, maybe a hundred yards, I noticed a terrible absence: Her scent had escaped the hot breeze that prickled my skin with hard sweat. Where was the everpresent rot of fish that, along with the oppressive sun, had so effectively kept the droves away? Then it occurred to me: the Leviathan was consuming the Sea’s soul, and everything else in it. I was in a panic at the realization. What could stop this? Who could stop this? I waited for an answer and heard nothing!
My panicking heart soon slowed.
Of course I knew who could stop this. It was me. Of course it was. It’s always been me. Though the crystals on my hands of late had cracked and flaked away, only I could vanquish from the Sea the throngs of nonbelievers who brought with them The Great Eye. And The Great Eye was still there despite the vicious wound I dealt it.
Besides the documentary crew interviewing all the people and investigating the disappearance of their cameraman, there were now news crews on Her shores finding all of this so interesting, yet unbelievable. They had helicopters patrolling the skies above Her. Yet, these news people didn’t believe in anything. They didn’t believe in the Sea. They didn’t even believe in the sea monster poisoning Her heart. In fact, they were claiming the viral video was a bit of computer-generated trickery. CGI. Ludicrous! For I saw the creature myself. I saw the video being filmed.
Yet, I knew exactly what I had to do. I heard it in my heart, so faint, barely a whisper. Hardly there. But it was unmistakable.
twenty-five
More buses arrived and more weeks passed and the Leviathan had yet to resurface. The news crews thinned out but didn’t abandon their story. The documentary crew scuttled along the bone-sand beaches, in it for the long haul. Occasionally, helicopters whirled above Her waters, trying to catch a glimpse of the gargantuan sea serpent. One news crew sent divers into the Salton Sea and claimed to find nothing, but said the lake was too large to search thoroughly. The stories on TV were saying they believed the video that started it all was a fake but that the droves that kept arriving by the busload could not be dissuaded. There could be an underwater tunnel in which the creature could escape to the Pacific Ocean. Or, perhaps the tunnel led to the center of the Earth where the thing spent most of its days. There must be a reason the Leviathan hadn’t shown itself, but it wasn’t that it didn’t exist. People were hungry for worship. Hungry for faith. Eager to believe. And by this time, they were populating this desolated piece of desert by the thousands.
But it was in those weeks that I revealed myself to the masses trolling the beaches, praying to a monster. It was then that I allowed myself to get close to them. It was to the cameras I spoke in calm, steady sentences. I said to them all the same thing: Worship the Leviathan and you will be free. Believe in the Leviathan and you will know everlasting love in the Sea of Eternity. The Leviathan is salvation, and the Leviathan speaks only through me.
Those people, those Outsiders that nearly blacked out the white beaches with their sweating, eager bodies, were now my people. They flocked to me. They followed me. They listened to every word that came to me, directly from the Leviathan. And camera crews followed me, recorded every move, every word. I’d pass through the crowds, and every one of them within reach would stretch to touch me, only hoping to feel a bit of the divine power I held.
At this time, I had shaved my head, taken to wearing flowing robes. I explained the marks on my face, and on those of my people, as being one of The Leviathan and the Sea, for the Sea was God’s vessel.
At this time, I wasn’t afraid to talk to anybody. So, one day, when I returned to the luxurious camper for a moment’s rest and found the Imperial Sheriff waiting for me, I welcomed him in with a serene smile and soft voice. I told him the Lawful brim of his starred hat couldn’t hold a candle to the cooling effects of my camper’s high-end air conditioning unit and offered him the same respite I sought.
He thanked me kindly, took a seat at the table and accepted an icy glass of water.
He said he knew I was popular around the region and didn’t want to take up too much of my time.
He said he only had a few questions, one of which was: How long did you know Marcus Halberstein?
I explained that I had never heard the name. He repeated it. I told him again, I wasn’t sure, but I did know of a Marcus who, some time ago, passed through these parts. I told the Sheriff that when he arrived I offered him the gift of Her Word, which I explained was merely the preface to the Leviathan’s holy presence.
Solemnly, he nodded, showed no signs of disrespect, and drank his water down. He asked when was the last time I saw Marcus Halberstein. Again, I told him I couldn’t be sure we were talking about the same Marcus, for Marcus never told me his last name. But, just in case we were talking of the same Marcus, I said I couldn’t recall. I told the Sheriff he hardly made an impact on me at all. It could have been a year ago. It may have been six months. People come and go around here and the Sheriff said it’s true, and that he knows. It’s a drifter’s region, the heat and stink allowing only true devotees to stay.
To this I said: But, ah, no longer does the air smell like rotten eggs!
I took a deep breath and smiled. I could only smell the burning mechanics of the overworked air conditioner.
The Sheriff told me that he wished I knew more, but that he understood. Marcus’s family became worried when he never returned from the Salton Sea. They hadn’t heard from him in months and months, though the Sheriff explained that this wasn’t that unusual. Marcus was a man always on the run. Never from anything, but never toward anything either. His family was always left behind wondering.
I nearly laughed but kept my serenity. The Sheriff knew me as a holy man and though we didn’t share the same beliefs, I believe he respected me.
He said it’s a shame he’d been burdened by this disappearance. He said disappearances and deaths in the region had taken a recent uptick. Especially recently with boaters and water skiers and the like never returning from their recreation on the Salton Sea. I told him I was sorry to hear that. That the Salton Sea wasn’t a place to get lost, but to be found.
He grinned, ran a finger under his nose. Scratched his ear. Looked around the camper, interested in nothing in particular.
Then he asked me where I got such a luxurious camper and I know he caught my hesitation. But I shook it off and told him that my people provided it for me. I gestured to the back window over the bed that faced the Salton Sea, which lay sparkling a few miles out of Slab City. I said surely he could see how so many could afford such a trifle as this camper. I explained that my people wanted me to rest peacefully so that I could be the Leviathan’s vessel.
He nodded, took out his notepad and pencil, and asked if he could take down the license plates. I said he sure could, but there were none. I explained that I knew nothing about it, but that it was entirely possible my people bought this beautiful piece of equipment off the black market. Besides, why would it need license plates? It’ll never get hitched to a truck and see the open road again. This was home and homes stay put.
The Imperial Sheriff, for the first time, appeared impatient.
He told me he’d take the VIN number instead. We got out of the camper, felt the high noon sun suck moisture from our pores, and searched for it. A warm breeze passed over us, promised to be of no use. I told him I had no idea where the VIN number would be. That it’s something I had never had to think about. He found it soon enough on the hitching rail, but it was almost entirely filed off.
Again, notable agitation brought blood to the Sheriff’s sweaty cheeks. Ah, hell, he said, and kicked at the busted bits of glass sheening the cracked land.
I apologized. I said I wished I could help. I ran a hand over my bald scalp, swiping a palmful of sweat away.
He told me not to go anywhere, though he knew I wouldn’t. He told me he’d be back because there was more to talk about. Again I told him I was sorry I couldn’t be of more help. He only said yeah and wandered off, got into his Sheriff’s SUV and kicked up dust as he drove back to the Lawful land that had imprisoned his soul.
twenty-six
Truth be told, I had been avoiding my people for some time because I was ashamed. I was ashamed to be walking Her beaches, preaching love of the Leviathan. I was ashamed I hadn’t told them, but knew they had to have known for a while now. But they had been busy with their own pupils, spreading Her Word through my book.
It was time I drew them near. Set them on the right path.
I invited them all to gather around the firepit set outside the camper. I told them to bring their students, but when they arrived it was without a single pupil following them.
I asked if they’d like to start with the guitar, like we used to. I asked if they’d like to play the nylon-strung guitar and sing for me. They said they didn’t, so, with reluctance and sadness in my heart, I set the guitar down, tried to organize my thoughts before moving on.
I told them of my shame at how I’d turned, though the turn could only be for the better. I told them that, truly, the Leviathan spoke through me, and only me. That it told me they must worship it above all else. And that they must listen to me. Continue to follow and love me.
The God of Salt & Light Page 8