by Various
Xavier stood at the edge of the clearing, sneaking glances over his shoulder at Yasmin’s sleeping form, the fire down to glowing embers. A joint drooped from the corner of his mouth. Invisible clouds drifted across the sky, blocking the stars. A sliver of moonlight came through the foliage, casting minimal light over the clearing. He moved his feet from side to side, a rhythmic action, an uncomfortable dance.
Sleep was ignoring him. Sticks lay at his feet, perfect for restoring the flames to the campfire. He looked down at them and took another puff, the smoke curling out his nostrils and drifting upwards like silver tendrils.
He looked down at DOE616. He had placed her in a zip loc bag after the night in Fort Madison in the hopes of giving her some breathing space. He watched her move her wings and antennae, her proboscis searching the walls of the bag, trying to find herself. He let his fingers trace her body, the thicker vein pigmentation on the wings floating in front of his eyes. Even in captivity, she seemed so strong. So free. He kicked at the sticks and looked over his shoulder again.
Yasmin’s mouth was slightly open, her hair veiling her eyes. She looked fragile, vulnerable. He turned away, another drag on the joint. She wasn’t fragile or vulnerable, he was sure of that. She seemed so self-assured, so comfortable in her own world, so comfortable with herself.
He didn’t realise he had held his breath until the smoke began attacking his lungs in earnest. Air rocketed from his mouth, boosted by racking coughs.
He watched the twigs begin to move as his eyes filled with tears. They stood up and formed a circle. He couldn’t see anything inside the circle. The ground had disappeared leaving a black hole in its place.
He watched as he placed his hand into the circle of twigs, entering the hole in the ground. He reached forward, reaching down, yet could feel nothing. He kept reaching until he fell into the hole, dropping lower and lower, reaching down, his hands opening and closing. No matter how hard he strained, he remained suspended in the dark, his hands empty.
Yasmin lay close to the campfire, soaking up the little warmth it gave off, watching Xavier lay down next to a pile of sticks, a joint wedged in the fork of his fingers. He lay still for some time, muttering to himself, before falling silent.
She wriggled free of her sleeping bag and moved towards him. He lay face down, embracing the earth beneath him. Soil stuck to the tear tracks on his cheeks.
She wrapped his sleeping bag around him. Sitting on her haunches, she watches him, patts his hair. Who is this man? Finally she took the joint from between his fingers and placed it between her own. She picked up the pile of sticks and stoked the fire, the flames thankful for the fuel. She sat down, smoking and watched the world light up.
Xavier looked over the smouldering remains of the campfire, he couldn’t remember placing the sticks on the fire last night. Their remnants lay in a perfect circle, steeped in the middle, a teepee of fire. He pushed them over with the toe of his shoe. A few sparks were the only protests given.
Yasmin had packed up her gear and was sitting on the bonnet of the shark, looking out over the tree line, recorder held in front of her. He wandered up to her.
“What you looking at?”
She turned to look at him. His hand fluttered towards his hair for a brief moment, then fell to his side. Her eyes returned to the summit.
“Just wondering what the day will bring.”
She leant forward to slide off the bonnet. Her blue shorts caught on the matte surface, offering Xavier a glimpse of thigh.
“So you are flesh and bone after all?” Yasmin said, a wry smile matching her eyes.
Blood flooded his cheeks. He made to look away; she followed his gaze until a grin pressed itself onto his lips.
They climbed into the shark and made their way back onto US-61. He didn’t ask her where she wanted to get dropped off. She didn’t say.
Xavier finished unfolding his sleeping bag, while Yasmin was finding some wood for the fire. He started rummaging through the refrigerator to find something edible for them both; pulling out what was left with the idea of making a stew.
The sound of a crackle made his hand fly up. He peered inside and saw the zip loc bag. He searched for Yasmin, she was nowhere to be seen. He brought out the bag. DOE616 lay still, frozen. He had not looked at her for the last five days, not since Summitville.
“Hey, what have you got there?”
Yasmin loomed out of the darkness, her hands resting on his. He fought the urge to shrink, to push away. She looked at him as she gently pulled the bag from his fingers, then brought it up above her head, holding it in the moonlight.
“So this is the famous monarch butterfly?”
The wings were etched in silver, the moonlight shining through the wings. Xavier felt compelled to tear the magical creature from her grasp and crush it to his chest. His hands did not leave his side.
“I’ve seen these before, you know. All the time, actually.”
Xavier forced himself to speak. “Most people have. Or seen butterflies that resemble it. It’s coloured that way to remind predators that they are inedible.”
He grimaced as soon as the words had leapt from his tongue.
She looked into the trunk of the shark and laughed. “You weren’t going to feed it to me were you? I’m not that bad a passenger!”
He smiled, a furtive glance at the bag, his fear lessening. “I thought maybe there was a bit of the monarch butterfly in all of us, so why not make it literal?”
Yasmin shrieked, Xavier felt himself begin to relax. Her teeth shone in the moonlight, her cheeks glowing. For a moment he wanted to touch them. He didn’t move an inch.
“That’s good, Xavier! You can be quite funny when you want to.”
He shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”
She opened the bag. His hands finally left his side, clasping on her forearms. She looked at them, not sure what they were.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t open the bag.”
“Why? The butterfly is dead, isn’t it?”
The monarch spread its wings and floated out of the bag, out of her hands, out of his reach. They watched, Xavier still holding Yasmin as the monarch moved upward, caught in the beams of light, her silhouette imprinted on the moon. She curled overhead.
With one quick movement she was out of the light, and gone.
Yasmin carefully took Xavier’s hands off her arms and held them, staring into his eyes. The faint scent of daffodils wafted from her. She was so close to him, the closest he had been to anyone for a long time. He could feel the heat radiating from her.
“It’s OK. It was time to let go.”
Her hand moved to his cheek, her thumb resting underneath his glasses, coming away wet.
“How about I make dinner tonight?”
She reached into the trunk and took out the food, moving away from him towards the fire.
He remained standing, motionless, caught in the cool night air.
“Why do you smoke?”
Xavier looked at her, the heat making his cheeks red, hiding his embarrassment.
“I’ve seen you. Every night, when you think I’ve gone to sleep.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. I should have offered…”
“Oh no, that’s all right. But that’s the thing. I smoke when I’m with people. You know, to chill out. So why do you smoke it?”
He sucked his lower lip as he looked down at the remnants of his stew.
“I don’t know. It makes me feel good. It helps me to relax.”
She nodded with the reverence of someone imparting sage advice. She cocked her head to one side.
“But why hide it? I think you’re intimidated by me.”
“I’m not intimidated by I think you are. But still... Hiding it doesn’t make much sense.”
“Does it matter?” A hint of exasperation in his voice.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Guess not.”
She rolled over and closed her eyes, knowing sleep w
ould not come. Silence reigned over the clearing, the flames licking at the shadows beyond.
The shark moved up Alamo Plaza in the shadows of the huge building. The weight of fierce history washed over Xavier in a heavy wave. He took a deep breath. He smelled ash, dirt, gunpowder and blood. Electricity flowed through him.
Yasmin sat still for a few moments, staring out the window at the complex. She stirred as the shark slowed down, approaching Gate 5. She turned to Xavier as he moved to the sidewalk.
“I want to see the butterflies.”
Xavier looked at her. She seemed genuine, yet something lurked beneath the surface.
“Are you sure? I mean, you said the Alamo, so…”
“I know, I know. And I really want to see it sometime. Have you been in there?”
“No.”
“Yeah, well, I can come back through this way.”
“What about your friends?”
“Friends?” Xavier saw the moment of confusion before Yasmin could continue. “Oh, those guys. They’re hanging around for a while.” She paused. “Unless you don’t want me to come? If not, that’s cool.”
“No, it’s cool.”
Xavier sped up again, moving out of the Alamo’s shadow.
The Sierra Madre Oriental Mountains stretched before them, the shark weaving its way up the roughly carved switchbacks.
Yasmin looked down over Angangueo. The cobblestoned village was full of tourists proudly wearing their monarch butterfly paraphernalia. All motels and hostels had been booked out for months. Poor families who had been working the land as employees of larger haciendas ran many of the surrounding farms. The monarchs brought in as much profit as a good harvesting season. Large posters of the butterfly were plastered on fences, walls, and billboards. The road ended in a large field, the grass flattened by constant vehicular traffic. Two buses and an abused pick-up were the only signs of human life.
Yasmin jumped out of the shark and ran over to the edge of the field. Tendrils of fog hung over the pine oaks as they sloped down the mountain. The valley curved away to the left, disappearing in on itself.
Xavier opened the trunk. He took a garbage bag out of his doctor’s bag, flicking it twice to let the air in. One change of clothes, toothpaste, toothbrush, sleeping bag. He tied a knot in the bag and hefted it over one shoulder, slinging his laptop over the other. He picked up the other case.
Yasmin grabbed her pack from the back seat. “Going for a hike, are we?”
Xavier nodded down at the valley. “About an hour’s walk, maybe more.”
“How do you know where to go? I thought you hadn’t done this before.”
“I haven’t followed the monarch’s migration. I have been to their overwintering site, last year. I only went to El Rosario though.”
“What’s that?”
“The tourist reserve. There’s Rincon de Villalobos also. That’s why the buses are here. More will be here soon.”
“So where are we going?”
Xavier smiled.” It’s a secret.”
They set off down a goat’s track barely distinguishable from the surrounding foliage. Everything was green, except for the black volcanic soil that clung to the soles of their boots. The murmurs of clothing and laboured breathing were the only sounds. The forest spat them out into a great clearing.
Yasmin stopped and watched as Xavier waded through the sea of tropical milkweed that carpeted the ground. The oak trees towered above, reaching limbs over their heads to create an impenetrable roof. Running water could be heard nearby, the sound like ice in a glass tumbler. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Breathing on her hands, she took out her recorder and started filming.
“It’s like a refrigerator in here.”
“It slows down their metabolism, so that they can live for up to 20 times their normal lifespan.”
“Why do they want to do that?”
“They are sexually energetic creatures, some of the most excessive creatures in the animal world. But they are fragile, and burn out and die within two weeks. However, if they can hibernate where everything they need to survive is in one place, they can slow down and survive the winter. The population can continue.”
“And their offspring travel to Wisconsin to have all the fun.”
Xavier laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”
Yasmin knelt down and plucked some milkweed from the damp earth. She ran it through her fingers.
“How long do you need to be here, documenting all this?”
Xavier shrugged. “Three, four weeks. I’ll travel around, capturing monarchs, taking down tag numbers, monitoring flight patterns, living conditions, their physical changes… Others from MonarchWatch will be down too.”
“All to find out the secrets of a butterfly?”
“Pretty much.”
She laughed.
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just, you spend your time watching butterflies and how they work, and I watch people and how they work. I thought that was funny. You know, how far away we are to understanding them.”
The night fell down, blanketing the clearing. Xavier and Yasmin huddled together, a kerosene lamp lighting their meal. It was primitive; baked beans and gendarmes she had picked up in Calexico after they had crossed the border. He mopped up the sauce with the last of the bread. She stood up to gather some water.
Xavier had laid out their sleeping bags before Yasmin came back from the stream, two tin cups in her hands. She squatted cross-legged on the end of her bag, handing one cup to him. They drank silently, the cold liquid flowing over their lips and tongues, cooling their stomachs.
He hunched forward, his arms wrapped around his legs. Yasmin rummaged through her pack, then over it, his hand caressing the case. She looked over her shoulder at him.
“What’s this?”
He said nothing, rocking forward until he was on his hands and knees, moving over to her. He unclasped the lid and opened it, taking out the segments of the butterfly net. She sidled next to him.
“Modern technology?”
Xavier laughed. “It does the job.”
Yasmin reached forward, her fingers tracing the handle. “It looks special.”
He nodded. “I made it.” He hesitated, then put the net together and handed it to her. She held it in both hands, lending a reverence to the proceedings. The net brushed against her.
“Its so soft.”
“It has to be.” A pause, then, “It’s a bridal veil.”
She looked up at him, wide eyed. “Really? Why?”
Xavier rubbed the palms of his hands, looking down. Yasmin waited, then started, a sharp intake of breath.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Xavier shook his head, still focusing on the ground between them. “She, Emma, she and I were driving to her parents’ house. I was tired. There was a deer... ” He fell silent. “Its OK though.”
She looked at the net, and then held it out to him. He took it without saying a word; taking the segments apart and laying them back in the case.
She picked up a torch. “Well, I had better gather some wood.”
“We can’t have fire here. This is edijos land.”
“Edijos?”
“It belongs to the farmers around here, property handed to them after the Mexican Revolution. It’s not exactly reserve land, but…”
“We’re not supposed to be here?” Yasmin slapped Xavier lightly on the arm. “Naughty!” A small smile crept across Xavier’s lips. She smiled back. Yasmin clicked on the torch and looked around the clearing, the torchlight slicing through the darkness. “It makes sense, though. It feels like a sacred place.” Xavier stood up, pins and needles stabbing his skin. He watched Yasmin follow the torchlight, staring at the trees. He moved beside her, his presence bringing her attention to him. The smell of daffodils mingled with the pine needles. She stared into his eyes, through them, beyond them. Her chocolate eyes said everything his stammering mouth could not.
The cl
ick of a switch echoed over the clearing, and night moved in once more.
Whispering. Xavier stirred. Something brushed lightly across his cheek. He couldn’t move his arms. He was entangled. He couldn’t break free.
Xavier opened his eyes. The whispering grew louder. He looked around him.
Everything was darkness, except for Yasmin’s blonde halo of hair as it rested on his shoulder. He wriggled his arm free from under her body, shaking her softly, whispering in her ear. She flapped at him as if at an irritating mosquito. He tried a second time with the same result. He left her, fumbling for the torches.
His hand grasped the handle of one. The whispering filled the clearing. He pointed the torch in the air and flicked the switch.
Butterflies exploded into view. They moved in and out of the beam of light, a burnt orange double helix spiraling up to the heavens. The beating of their wings saturated Xavier’s senses. Saltwater trickled down his face as gossamer brushed his cheeks, his arms, his chest.
They engulfed the pine oaks, the trees filled with flames. He heard the gunshot crack of a branch breaking under the weight of millions of tiny bodies. He closed his eyes, yet the flying and fragile insects of orange and black and white remained imprinted on the back of his eyelids.
The power of their beauty hung palpable in the air, seeping into the pores of his skin, melding with him. He slumped to his knees; his eyes wide open, watching the monarch dance for him. A sprinkle of sunlight pierced Xavier’s eyelids, forcing him to rise. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and looked around the clearing. Tree branches drooped from the weight of butterflies setting up for the long winter ahead. The excitement and majesty of last night flooded him, and he rolled over to Yasmin.
She was gone.
He stood up, spinning around in circles, a dog chasing its tail. Her sleeping bag, backpack, everything had disappeared. He looked at the ground of the clearing. Monarchs surrounded him on all sides feasting on the nectar of the milkweed.
A light sensation tickled his ear. A monarch had landed on his shoulder. As he turned, cupping his hands taking the butterfly in, he recognised the tag before his eyes could focus on the symbols.
DOE616.
Low clouds covered the sun, the clearing becoming a dull imitation of itself.
