The God of Salt & Light

by Logan Ryan Smith

  The towns around the Salton Sea were washed away. Wiped out. What little of them there was to destroy, the Sea and the Leviathan finished the job that desert and time had failed to. All of them: Slab City, Niland, Salton City, Bombay Beach, Desert Shores, Wister, Mecca, and others, all gone. At first I longed to weep for the loss. But I couldn’t, not even if my new crystal form allowed it.

  There were remnants, of course. Salvation Mountain still stood, and, from time to time, even now, I’ll stroll up that magnificent art installation to find what Jasmine and I had scrawled there some ages ago.

  Its survival was a kindness.

  Still, sadness lay in my crystalized heart, for the Sea continued to plead. And the Sea was not what She used to be. After such abuse by the Leviathan, and after The Battle of Song, only half of Her remained. Or nearly half. The rest was soaked up by the surrounding desert land. Gone forever.

  But the Sea and I had a plan. A way to cure the fever drying Her up.

  Above all else, I would never let Her go.

  I gathered Jasmine and Angela to me, who now only looked upon my glowing form with awe. No longer would they betray or abuse me, no longer would they falter.

  After the Devastation of the Leviathan, they came to me, shaky, tired, scared, and weeping. Though it cut their flesh all over, they clung to me and begged my forgiveness. I re-cut The Mark of the Sea into their faces, and dipped their heads once more in Her waters, and told them their souls were clean. They could follow me and know the love of the Sea, and myself, for all eternity.

  The Imperial Sheriff, himself, found me and dropped his gun and badge at my feet. They plopped into the bone-sand where they stay to this day, eroding to dust, becoming sand like everything must. The Imperial Sheriff said Law is corrupt, that he saw that now. The Imperial Sheriff clung to me, too. Not physically, but he pledged himself to me as my deputy. So that I wouldn’t have to dirty my crystal form, he removed on-lookers and tourists. Any attempt The Great Eye had at returning, he stymied it. Carted them off in his car of sirens. He used whatever means necessary. The Imperial Sheriff told me that his old faith was broken. He said he didn’t know if there was a God now, but if there was, I was as close as it got. I accepted him into the flock and left The Mark of the Sea upon his forehead, his chin, and his cheeks.

  And though they worshipped me above all others, I existed only for Her. And I had yet to draw Her out of Her suffering. I slayed a Leviathan, and yet She was not saved.

  I gathered Angela, Jasmine, the Imperial Sheriff, and Teresa to me. I told them it was time for a party. The Sea required a mass baptism. A massive show of faith. I told them that every night, because I can no longer sleep, I would sit and catch starlight along Her shores and hear Her only words: Please, please…

  I told them we could no longer let the Sea dissolve. Our hearts should rot at the thought. I told them it was time to let the Sea feed now that the Leviathan was gone. I told them we could bring the Sea back to Her full glory. They nodded and kissed my feet. Though each kiss would cut their lips until they bled, they’d kiss my feet a dozen times over and leave with lips of dripping red. They also left with the recipe procured by Jacob before he perished, only I altered it to make it an even more potent brew.

  We would throw a party in honor of the Sea and all that fell for Her. In the wake of the Leviathan’s vanquishing, it was time we renewed our vow to the Sea with one united baptism.

  Yes, they loved me above all others, but you always knew that I’d bring them back to the Sea. Of course you knew, for I’ve felt you with me this whole time.

  In preparation, Jasmine and Angela and the others got to work, as did I, making the Baptismal Brew. It would take some time to make enough for the thousands left behind.

  During this time, that group, The People of the Salton Sea, would sing Her song and speak only of the ways in which she’d freed their souls. Because they loved and worshipped me, they would still love and worship the Sea. They wallowed in the mud pits, spread Her clay into all their crevices. They sipped Her water, still mixed with the rot of flesh. They slept on Her beaches and counted stars, knowing I would outlast them all. They dreamed of me, their savior, their protector, their God of Salt and Light.

  At night, they would form a large circle around me, just to bask in my glow, more brilliant than any moon or sun. They’d sit and soak up my Light, hoping one day to see the Light pour out from their own souls, their own mouths, their own eyes. I did not tell them it couldn’t be so. That only I possessed a soul deep and wide enough to elicit such radiation.

  In fact, that’s why She bestowed upon me my crystal body. For only this unbreakable form could contain a soul so big and bright. Only crystal formed from Her waters could prevent the whole universe from being blinded, washed out, erased in my Light. This world shall never again know a soul in need of such a perfect shell.

  thirty-two

  After a few weeks of preparing the Baptismal Brew, we were ready. I strolled along the beaches peppered with hastily made shelters where all awaited me, though they could hardly stand to look at me, given the Light and glare of my new body. Still, they loved me and worshipped me and wanted nothing more than to be with me, to listen to me, to gaze upon me with squinted eyes, and do my bidding.

  Upon seeing me, they broke into song. It was the song of the Sea. A beautiful, monotonous, and gentle hum. Those of the firmest faith would reach out to touch me and be cut so they could let their blood drop into Her waters, a feast for the Sea to drink of Her believers.

  Now everyone there bore The Mark of the Sea, as I’ve said. As well, all heads were shaved and they wore only flowing robes. If they could not glow like me they would have to settle for being wisps of souls billowing, floating back and forth upon Her shores.

  My heart, so to speak, was full enough to burst at the sight of them.

  It was then that I took my spot atop the dune my son once stood upon, now known as Sun’s Dune. It was on that dune where one so young attempted to stop something infinitely old. And though the young man thought himself capable of deicide, I never sent my people after him. Why would I do such a thing? There was no need to ever again leave Her bone-sand beaches. And few, just like She promised, would ever come again. So, in my mind, I wished the boy luck, for he had fulfilled his part by completing Her prophecy. The boy had served his purpose, so let him be gone. I may never feel his soul in the ether, but he would never be forgotten, for my book has made him immortal.

  So there I stood, on Sun’s Dune, my people stretched out below me. I sung to them a song that explained we were about to restore the Sea, to feed Her, and to bring Her back to what She used to be. I sang for them, then, the only song left of the Sea: Please, please…

  It was a simple chorus. One that cut to the quick with its easy beauty and sadness.

  Thousands wept. Thousands laughed. Thousands embraced and kissed and accepted their chance at salvation. At eternal freedom through our upcoming baptism. That massive celebration.

  Jasmine, Angela, the Imperial Sheriff, Teresa, and a couple dozen others wandered through the masses with buckets of Jacob’s Baptismal Brew. All my people held tiny plastic cups, and those distributing the solution would ladle it into them. In song, I made instruction to wait until all were in possession of the liquid before drinking. At my signal, I sung, we would all drink at once and then wade into Her waters, as far as we could go, up to our noses if we could manage, and further still if possible. I told them all to let Her waters consume them and cleanse them, for we were righteous in this baptism. In fact, today, we were Her savior.

  So there I stood upon that fateful dune, looking down upon my people who lifted their chins to peer upon my radiance, though in the setting sun my glow was softened, allowing my people to better see my new form and not just the Light it bottles up.

  I told my people to wait. I told them to sing the song of the Sea: please, please.

  They hummed in unison and it warmed my crystalized body.

&nbs
p; Once the sun became a golden line on the western horizon, I raised one crystal hand and let it drop: the signal to absorb the solution. Without hesitation, all did at once and promptly turned to walk into Her waters, each to each singing: And She will cut the rope and drown you in the Light.

  Please, please…

  I descended Sun’s Dune, and although it must have been immensely painful, Jasmine and Angela each took one of my hands. I glowed between them, a steeple of Light. Teresa, cradling the boy, now a lanky toddler, walked before us, first to enter the Sea. The Imperial Sheriff would stay behind, but only to ensure every last one of my people walked into Her waiting waters. Only then could he begin his own baptism.

  In Her everlasting gaze, everyone has a purpose. How glorious.

  A dozen feet out, Teresa and the child fulfilled their own purpose by slipping under Her oily waters, like mist in reverse. A peaceful, beautiful sight. So easily did Teresa give over in the end, finally proving to me she was worthy of Her Word and Her Light.

  That was the beginning. And it was good.

  Because of my god’s body, I couldn’t smile, of course, but Jasmine and Angela did as they felt the cold water against their hardened nipples, then as it rose up to their jugular notches, that soft place between the clavicles.

  The Sea was no longer just a sea of water and sea creatures. No, it was a perfect mix of liquid and believers, and I could sense Her waters rising because of it.

  To our left and to our right, the mouths of my people frothed and bled, and one by one, bodies slipped beneath Her waters, never to return to the surface, lost forever in Her Light, drowned and forever drowning. What glory they must have felt in their hearts during those final agonizing moments. What glory they must feel now, as spirits drifting through the ether, eternally nourished on Her Light.

  Some went that peacefully, sure, while others let fear fight the salvation now fully in their veins. Those with fear in their hearts thrashed and panicked, attempted to turn back to the shore with spasmodic urgency, though once their lips touched the drink, and once their toes entered the waters, there would be no returning.

  And She will cut the rope and drown you in the Light.

  Please, please…

  When the screams broke out, and the pleas of human mouths drowned out the Sea, I ordered those left to sing louder, and those that could did until they went under.

  Yes, yes… I heard Her speak. The first time in a long time She had said anything but please.

  And I knew why. Again, I could feel the water rise as the thousands went under, sinking to the seafloor. Their corporeal bodies gave volume to Her waters, and when their bodies rotted, they’d turn into saltwater, replenishing Her, just as She said it would be.

  She was being made whole again, and it was thanks to this sacrifice. This Final Baptism.

  I shudder to think of our early attempts to feed Her. Appease Her. How could a single body ever satisfy Her? I should have known. Something so large and marvelous as the Salton Sea was deserving, no, requiring of a much larger feast. And not of nonbelievers, but of those that believed. Why feed Her poison when the righteous are what fuel the Light, make it grow and prosper?

  The water was up to our noses when Jasmine and Angela began to struggle. I held on tighter, felt my crystal pierce their skins and scrape their bones. They screamed and wriggled, but the blood falling from their mouths quieted and calmed them until their eyes rolled into the back of their heads and they slipped from my hands, drifted to the Sea’s bottom, peaceful as feathers dropped from the tallest tree.

  Several hundred were left, but soon they too slipped beneath Her opalescent surface, one by one. It was darkening then and those people were mere silhouettes dissolving into the Sea.

  I would never again experience a twilight that magnificent.

  And She will cut the rope and drown you in the Light.

  Yes, yes…

  Still, I walked until I slipped beneath, too. I walked and walked along the seafloor, the ceiling of water growing over me. I walked, weighted as crystal, until I came to the center of the Salton Sea. And there I saw it for the first time. The dark heart. Her dark heart. And it was beating. Only half of it protruded from the seafloor, and it wasn’t as large as I would have expected, but I could sense She was truly revitalized, and that Her heart would grow larger. Still, it was the size of the grey whale we first witnessed the Leviathan consume, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t one in the same.

  I reached out to touch Her heart and was pleased to see the resulting incision was so little, that I hadn’t really damaged Her at all. In fact, a breathy refrain of yes yes accompanied my caress.

  I stayed there for a long time. For as long as She would let me, just watching the beat of Her heart. I no longer required rest, so I stood by Her heart throughout the days, provided comforting Light throughout the pitch-dark nights. I stayed for years, in fact, until I finally walked back the way I’d come, renewed upon the beach.

  Once out of the Sea, I rose to my station upon Sun’s Dune to keep watch. I knew that no one else would come. Not after this. Not after the Final Baptism. Not after years of my absence, years of the Leviathan’s absence, and the Sea’s return to form, replete with birds and an overwhelming stench even stronger than before. I knew that Her Word would no longer be sown, for all the mouths that could sow it had been clapped shut. And I would never leave my station to deliver it myself. I knew that I was no longer a leader or a vessel or a conduit of Her song. I was simply Her sentry. I would sit for an eternity on this dune, now called Sun’s Dune, and keep watch. Protect Her from any invaders, or once again slaughter the Leviathan should it be resurrected. From then on it was just me and the Sea. Drowned in Light. Drowned in the purest love for each other. Alone in everlasting freedom.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Logan Ryan Smith is author of five other books of fiction: ENJOY ME, WESTERN PALACES, MY EYES ARE BLACK HOLES, Y IS FOR FIDELITY, and THE SUN MY DESTINY. He’s also written several poetry books before turning to fiction fulltime. They are HUMANS & HORSES, BUG HOUSE, STUPID BIRDS, and THE SINGERS & THE NOTES. He’s had work published in lots of places, including Hobart Journal, New American Writing, Meat for Tea: The Valley Review, Bay Poetics, and Great Lakes Review, which nominated his story, “Bret Easton Ellis,” for a Pushcart Prize. Logan has lived in San Francisco, Chicago, and Boulder, and now lives in Sacramento with his wife and two step-kids. He can always be found on Twitter.