01 January - the drowning at Los Gatos

jump

10:25AM PST, January 28th

above Los Gatos Creek near Coalinga, California

("...he saw the door open and nine men jump out into the air, one after another...she ran outside and watched the wing settle with the slow motion of a feather...")

– The Fresno Bee

Even gods deserve a little joy. And this god decided to create a confection of murky shades of smoke inside the airplane's cabin. The mixing of the different colors was strangely reminiscent of a chocolate mousse. There was dark chocolaty smoke near the cabin's ceiling and creamy white smoke below that. As with any good mousse, the clouds weren't whipped aggressively into a uniform gray but folded like rows of can-can dancers. Each row stepped forward for its moment on center stage and then drifted backward, where it was swallowed by the whole. It was a beautifully choreographed dance that continued until the smoke was uniformly gray. And it was mesmerizing to watch, unless (of course) you were trapped inside it.

Charon Wilson walked slowly through the smoky cabin. Her back was straight and her voice was calmer than she expected it to be. As she passed each row, she found the men to be suddenly passive. Although they were squirming in their seats, they barely moved beyond that nervous sort of fidgeting that she had seen so often before planes took off. But unlike take-offs, the men's arms hung limply at their sides and they seemed unable to use them to push themselves up to a standing position. Instead, their bodies drooped and they leaned against the smoke-darkened windows hoping to see their problems disappear. Not one of them spoke.

Charon stopped at each row. She paused briefly, smiled, and then touched each man on the shoulder before moving on.

By the time Charon reached the back of the plane, the smoke had descended to a level just below her waist. All around her, there was coughing, sputtering, and spitting. Despite the noise and confusion, Jésus heard her approaching. She smiled at him and then kneeled in the aisle beside where he and Maria were sitting. Without saying a word, Charon took hold of Jésus' hand, pulled him up from his seat, and led him to the cabin door at the rear of the plane.

In English, she said, "This is your only hope." And she knocked on the door.

Next, she pointed to Francisco and knocked on the door a second time. "This is your son's only hope."

She stepped closer to Jésus so their faces were only inches apart and said, "I'm going to open this door." Then she turned the latch part way and held her thumb and forefinger close together.

"When we're close to the ground, I want you to jump. Hold onto your baby. Do what you can to save him. Do you hear me? Do you understand? When we're close to the ground, you have to jump. It's the only way."

Turning her back, she put her hand on the latch again and pushed it down as far it would go. Before kicking open the door, she turned once more and said, "I won't be able to stay with you. When this is open, I'll have to leave. My husband is..."

When Charon pushed open the door, the smoke inside the cabin was quickly sucked out, bright January sunshine taking its place. Suddenly, there was cheering all around her. The air inside the plane was clear again and the men were standing and smiling. Charon looked out the door and saw the brown, featureless California hills zipping by so fast that they lost all shape. They were only color. Only brown.

Before she walked back to the cockpit, she took Jésus' hands and held them close together without allowing them to touch. "Jump," she said. "When we're close. Jump and save your son if you can."