The Luminous Fish

By Randolph E. Rogers

The Luminous Fish is the saga of three families on the Central Coast of California, in the midst of a modern crisis. Alex Sanchez and his family migrate north from Los Angeles due to unrelated natural and accidental events, clogging and disrupting the food distribution network in the Los Angeles basin. A false "famine" occurs as residents overreact, compounding the crisis.

The Sanchez family eventually land at the Kimball Ranch near Morro Bay. There are a series of ranch invasions beginning with livestock poaching escalating to violence and turmoil. The ranch becomes a sanctuary home for the families, two Hispanic and one Anglo, as they combat the repeated ranch invasions. Alex Sanchez battles his own personal demons as he fights off the intruders and attempts to save his marriage, his family and the ranch from disaster.

The outcome is a new reality, in which each family must come to terms, carving out their future, in a world of little certainty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543950809

Book preview

duress.

Part One: The Famine of 2022

Alex Sanchez

September 2021

Alex Sanchez was working twelve-hour days at a supermarket off Crenshaw in south central Los Angeles. Alex was bone tired, and it was still morning. Alex was a born grocery manager. He was a people person who had penchant for detail and order. Alex had store vision, an uncanny knowing, and an ability to anticipate problems. This ability went beyond the walls of the store. Alex had an aching notion that something was terribly wrong.

When Vertis Shipping had a driver walk out and hired replacement drivers, Alex knew service would drop off. He was startled when refrigerated deliveries from Alpha Foods stopped completely. He confronted his produce and meat managers, who were the most affected. They were helpless to maintain inventory, but they knew Alex would not suffer excuses.

Alex sat with the managers in the break room and bought them sodas out of the vending machine. They knew it was a bad sign when Alex was buying. The managers reflected the customers who were middle class Hispanics and African Americans.

Tenemos un gran problema, Eddie, the produce manager told Alex. Eddie spoke a mix of English and Spanish.

What problem? Alex asked.

The trucks not come, the manager said.

Give me the name of the company. If they want our business, and I mean in all fourteen Westside stores, they better have a damn good reason, Alex said as they broke their meeting.

It was late September and much of the produce was coming from the Imperial Valley and Mexico. The fruit in cold storage was coming from all over, but it was the looks of the produce that bothered Alex. The bins were full, but the produce looked old and definitely not fresh.

Alex got the number and called the Alpha Foods by phone. It went straight to voicemail.

Piss poor way to run a business, Alex said to the manager after he left a message on the phone.

What is your back up plan? Alex asked.

The produce manager, Eddie, grasped his soda can. I call other vendors. They blame it on the drought. They not change deliveries from their customers.

Do they understand that we are one of twenty stores in Los Angeles? We’ve got leverage. Alpha Foods is hamstringed by Vertis Shipping. Alpha Foods can’t ignore our business and survive. Alex squirmed in the steel chair.

They got Ralph’s, Gelson’s, rich independents who pay top dollar. We’re locked into prices for two years, the produce manager stammered.

Alex put his fist on the table softly. I’m willing to go up in price and tell our customers about the increases temporarily until Vertis comes back on line.

Eddie responded meekly, I asked them if we pay more, would they come? They say no. They say they can’t fill the current orders.

Damn it. Our customers are middle class brown folks, and they don’t give a rat’s ass about our customers. Our customers deserve better. Alex didn’t blame his managers.

Okay. What about Vertis? Alex was agitated and stood up. His stocky 5’8" frame jolted the chair backwards. He caught it before it fell.

They’re not returning our calls. Eddie looked over at the other manager who nodded his head in agreement.

Okay. Who’s the contact and number at Vertis Shipping? Alex asked Eddie.

Eddie gave him the number and name. He got the contact on his first try.

Hello John, this Alex Sanchez from Albertson’s on Crenshaw. I understand you’ve got replacement drivers, but still we’re not getting deliveries. What’s up with that?

Sorry Mr. Sanchez, we’ve got no control over the issue. The Teamsters are involved, and it has gotten ugly. The replacement drivers are not showing up for work, and we’ve got produce still in cold storage. That produce will go bad soon.

Tell me this -- who’s the contact at the Teamsters? We’ve got a union contract, and we need cooperation or I’m going to have to lay off workers.

Alex got on the phone with the Teamster rep. The conversation didn’t go well.

You’re telling me you’re having work stoppage when I can’t get any produce or fresh meat for my store. We’ve got union employees that depend on their job to feed their families. If we can’t get deliveries, we’re going to have to close the store.

Talk to Vertis Shipping. Our drivers are spending two more hours a day in traffic than they did just two years ago. It’s getting worse, and they’re not being compensated. Vertis Shipping is going to break the union and hire scabs.

So you’re telling me and the employees tough luck. I won’t accept your answer. I will go to corporate and have them deal with you directly. Two can play this game. Alex doubled down.

I would advise you against that Mr. Sanchez. We know where you live.

Is that a threat? Alex gripped his cell phone.

Take it any way you want. Just run your store, and keep your mouth shut. We can shut down all the Albertson’s if we want. I’m sure corporate would eliminate you in a heartbeat if they knew you were creating problems.

Hey, I’m trying to solve problems. I’m still going to corporate.

It’s your livelihood. The union rep hung up.

Alex knew his managers heard the conversation. They were awe struck by Alex’s fortitude and frightened for their jobs. Alex told them not to worry, this was his fight. Alex decided to take a walk around the parking lot to blow off some steam. He walked around the two-acre lot a couple of times on a sunny September day. He had some chewing gum in his car, so he went over to employee parking. He opened the door and retrieved the gum, noticing a note on his front window.

Butt out or little Natalie will not have a father.

Alex held on to the note in disbelief. It had gotten personal with the mention of his daughter’s name. His adrenalin went through the roof. He called Eddie and told him to watch the store, he had to make an emergency trip home. Alex drove the short distance home and went in the front door like it was on fire.

His wife Rene, saw the panicked look on Alex face. What’s the matter? Is everything okay?

Where’s Natalie?

Rene looked at Alex in wonder. She’s watching cartoons -- she’s fine.

Alex rushed into the room where the large television screen was the focus of the room. Natalie was sitting up holding her little stuffed lamb laughing at the cartoons. Alex sat beside her and held her.

Natalie was not prepared for the intense hug from her father. Daddy, I can’t see the television. Why are you hugging me so tight?

Alex released Natalie and took a deep breath. Just glad you’re home, Pebbles, using his nickname for Natalie.

Where else would I be Daddy? She shifted in the couch to get a better view of the television.

Thought you might be outside playing with the baby dinosaurs, Alex said, referencing The Flintstones.

Natalie looked at Alex and laughed, There’s no dinosaurs.

There used to be. Who knows, there may still be some around. You can still see their bones over at the Tar Pits.

Natalie had lost interest in the dinosaur talk. She was occupied watching the cartoon. You’re silly Dad.

Alex got up and was relieved to see his daughter. He went into the kitchen and hugged Rene. She wasn’t used to his affection, especially in the middle of the day.

What’s the matter Alex? You never come home for lunch.

Alex lied, We had a long meeting today. I just wanted to get out of the store. Sometimes it’s better for everyone when I blow off some steam, and take a break.

I know you. Something else is going on. You never stress out from work. Rene looked at her husband, who was uncomfortable lying to her.

This drought, a truck work stoppage, and the damn traffic are creating problems at the store. We’re not getting deliveries, and the shelves are emptying. Not good. I’m re-thinking the grocery business.

Nonsense, Alex. It’s the only thing you know. Besides, you’re good at it. Relax. They say the drought should end this winter. It’s Los Angeles, and the traffic is always bad. What’s different?

You know I have premonitions. This is different. I think there’s going to be a food shortage. There’ll be panic. We should consider getting out of here.

Rene looked at her husband like he was crazy. And go where? And do what?

Maybe up on the Central Coast. Maybe live on a farm.

You, you don’t the difference between a cow and a steer. You’ll hate all the mud and cow pies, not getting a regular paycheck. I know. My cousin works on a farm, and he hates it.

Your cousin complains about everything. Alex went to the sink.

Rene had heard enough, You need a vacation. You are acting loco. Go back to work, and I’ll forget what you said.

Alex embraced Rene, went back to the television room, kissed Natalie on the top of her head, and headed out the door.

American Dream

October 2021

Near Crenshaw Boulevard in central Los Angeles is a small neighborhood called Leimert Park. Leimert Park was first a Jewish neighborhood in the forties, and then a middle class Black neighborhood through 2010 until its graceful Spanish Colonial Revival homes were discovered. Home values increased and were now being sold to the mosaic of races that comprise Los Angeles.

The Sanchez family bought a home in Leimert Park and loved their mostly black neighbors and the fact that it was close to the grocery store that Alex Sanchez managed. Rene Sanchez didn’t want to live in East Los Angeles were most Hispanics lived. Natalie was five years old, and they were happy in their sprawling two story house with high ceilings, tile walk-in showers, iron work, and wood floors and banisters. The little backyard with a covered patio was perfect for barbeques. They hoped to put Natalie in a magnet school and increase her chances of getting into a good college.

Alex Sanchez was sometimes asked to fill in at store locations when managers got sacked or took vacations. He was filling in for a manager at a store off Pico Boulevard on the Westside. He took the Santa Monica Freeway to and from the store. Alex got to work around 6 am and left at 4 pm, which meant that he could usually beat the rush hour traffic. The plan was working until a semi-truck carrying fire retardant chemicals skidded and turned over midday. The truck was eastbound, and the spill had to be cleaned up before any traffic could move in both directions.

The surface streets became alternate routes and a commute that normally took forty-five minutes took four and half hours. Alex came home exhausted and frustrated. He hated traffic, and he hated being away from his family all day so he could afford a mortgage. Alex dreamed of being in the country and working the land and not having to commute. He made a resolution that day in traffic that he would find a way to take a leave from his job and try to make it somewhere else with his family. They had worked so hard to buy a home and live the American dream, but the ordeal of just getting around Los Angeles made it seem more like a nightmare. The only reward was to see his daughter’s smile and Rene’s embrace when he got home.

Alex didn’t get another threatening note. He was certain that a store employee was asked to put the note on his car by a union official. Alex never revealed the note to Rene or to corporate. The threat was in Alex’s subconscious daily, and his family’s safety was foremost. He had made up his mind. He bought some roses for Rene from the in-store florist. He thought it odd that he could not get refrigerated produce, but flowers were plentiful. Rene Sanchez looked at her husband suspiciously. What is the occasion, Alex? It isn’t an anniversary or birthday, and you almost forgot to give me flowers on Valentine’s Day even though you walk by the flowers fifty times a day at the store.

I don’t like to take their inventory on the busy holidays. I’ve got some good news.

Don’t tell me they gave you another promotion! Rene beamed.

Not quite. They’ve given me permission to take a leave from work. Alex stood erectly in the kitchen threshold. Alex was built like a coke machine with a square, squat, solid build. He kept his thick hair cropped and wore a white shirt, black slacks, and a store tie. His belt rode beneath his stomach, giving the impression that his stocky legs were disproportionately short.

Rene’s tone changed, Why do you need a leave from work?

Alex fidgeted and touched his chin when he was nervous. I think we need a change in scenery. I’m not going to quit my job or sell our home, but I want us to take a break from this life in Los Angeles and see if there is something else out there.

You’re a little young to be having a midlife crisis -- you’re only thirty-five.

Where are we going? Rene put the flowers in the sink. My parents won’t move, and you know I need their help with Natalie. Rene folded her arms in the front of her petit frame. Rene had fine features, dark hair and dark eyes, and a fierce demeanor that belied her sweet nature. She rarely smiled. Sometimes she fell into depression and would watch hours of daytime telenovelas with her mother. Alex knew that Rene hated change.

I’ve been talking to Pepe.

Your best friend in Santa Barbara?

He actually lives in Guadalupe, north of Santa Barbara, on the coast.

Rene responded sarcastically. He needs an extra farm laborer on his farm, Rene chuckled. You’re a city boy through and through. Your biggest thrill is watching the Lakers and Rams on television.

He says we can live in his house while I figure out what I want to do.

Rene was not pleased. What about me and Pebbles?

Pebbles will love where we are going. She loves the country and animals. Alex used his nickname for Natalie. And your parents can visit us -- they need to get out of the city once in a while.

What about me? Is that your plan for us to move to Guadalupe and take care of farm animals? Rene frowned.

There are nice beaches, and the people are more laid back. Alex took a deep breath. Pepe’s wife Sara said you will love the life in a small town, and she will introduce you to everyone.

Alex walked over to Rene and embraced her, Have I ever disappointed you? Have I not provided for us and our family? I love you and Pebbles, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt our family. Alex kissed her on her cheek.

Why, Alex, are we moving to Guadalupe? I know Guadalupe. It is a poor Mexican town on the coast. It probably has horrible schools, and it’s foggy all the time.

I’m doing this for us and our daughter, for our future, and for our safety.

What safety? Rene disengaged from Alex’s embrace, What are you talking about?

The coming food and water shortage, the hardship, the migration, Alex declared.

You are talking like a loco hombre again, not my husband. Please tell me this is a joke.

I will explain to you. First let’s put the flowers in a vase, and I will tell you about it when we sit for dinner.

Rene served a dinner of chili rellenos and rice with warm tortillas. She never spoke a word as she served dinner and sat across from her husband. She tried her best to hold back her tears.

There was no consoling Rene, but when he told his daughter, she was excited. Alex presented it to her as an adventure, not about fleeing for their safety. Alex had his own self-doubts and knew his stubbornness could be construed as loco, but his mind was made up, and he would see it through.

At dinner he said to Rene, Look where we live -- nothing but concrete and stucco. Fifteen million people living on top of each other, everything comes by truck. There is nothing grown here, no livestock, no nothing, no water -- imagine if the deliveries stopped. We have to go where the food is grown.

You work in a grocery store. You’re surrounded by food, and we have lots of food.

This is not our problem now, or in the near future, but it will be, Alex stated in a serious tone.

If it is not our problem then why do we have to move? We see homeless people every day and people begging for change on every corner, but we did not move because they were poor.

Do you want to live like those people?

Rene was incredulous, You have a good job, a beautiful home, a good family, and we have never gone hungry. You are thinking wrong, and you must stop being stubborn.

I travel the freeways, and I’ve seen it over and over again…one little accident or chemical spill and traffic stops cold -- nothing moves -- we get our deliveries late or not at all.

Rene stood up and opened the cupboards and the refrigerator and freezer doors. We have plenty of food, Rene turned on the faucet as water poured out, and plenty of good water.

For now, he uttered, but what if there is a time when an earthquake or a labor dispute or a mudslide shuts down one freeway or two for a month at a time. We are living in that time.

The next day Alex went back to his store and cleaned out his desk and said goodbye to many of his co-workers who thought he was just taking a leave. They wondered if his marriage was in trouble, or if it was other personal problems. Alex knew in the back of his mind that this leave was final, but he carried on the pretext of returning to have a place holder at work and to save his marriage. He worked just a half day and returned home for lunch.

Rene was in a better mood, Alex, I’m willing to give it a try for six months maximum. I would prefer that we try for just three months, but ….

Alex was excited with her change of heart, You won’t be disappointed Wilma, using his nickname for Rene. Alex gave her a bear hug, If you don’t like our new life, we will come home to my job and our house.

Will we rent the house?

Yes, on a month to month basis with a thirty-day notice, Alex assured her, still holding her.

We will miss the holidays with my family, Rene disengaged from her husband’s embrace.

We will have your family up for the holidays; it will be a nice change for them.

When do we leave?

Next weekend, Alex beamed, Pepe is expecting us.

So soon. I have so much packing to do, Rene stiffed.

I will help, and we will pack light. It is trial move, Alex continued to use words to mollify Rene, and she was aware of his game. She knew him well.

You frighten me, Alex, when you oversell the idea. Rene walked to the kitchen window. I will miss my flowers and my house…remember…I agree to only six months.

I guess I am selling the idea too hard, Alex grinned, but I want to make the move before it becomes too difficult.

What do you mean Alex?

I think that things are going to get bad around here, in Los Angeles, and there may be thousands of people with the same idea.

There you go again with the fear campaign. I don’t buy it. Tell me you need fresh air and cows, don’t tell me about food shortages and mass migrations. It’s nonsense.

Maybe, but I have good intuition, and I work in the business, Alex used the word intuition rather than premonition, which suggests an extrasensory talent. Since he was a teen, Alex knew that he had a keen sense of the future. He separated himself from friends he knew would end up in jail or worse, and he ignored the advice of others and followed his instincts. He knew he would eventually end up living in the country, but he feared that his decision would lead to heartache and tragedy.

Let’s have lunch and start packing, Rene said with no emotion.

Yabba dabba doo! Alex blurted out. You’re going to love it Wilma!

Los Angeles

October 2021

From the air, Los Angeles is a sprawling concrete metropolis bordered by palm trees and dotted with swimming pools. The perimeter of mountains can be green in the winter but mostly remain brown year around. The city fathers made the beach the playground and developed every inch with only a few postage stamp parks in the neighborhoods. Light rail is appearing again after the concerted effort to dismantle earlier attempts. The result is a ribbon of freeways and surface streets that provide individuals with access and commercial interests with trucking routes. On a good day all roadways hum with traffic and vehicles of every stripe move like giant snakes across the landscape. On other days a single accident, overturned truck, chemical spill, or natural disaster like rain can create a complete shutdown, clogging of the vital arteries of the city.

What happened on September 24, 2021, will not go down in the history books or even be a footnote. A single trucking company, Vertis Shipping, in Corona, California, just 40 miles southeast of Los Angeles along the Highway 91 corridor, had a labor dispute. Highway 91 was already burdened by commuter traffic from Riverside County. The dispute involved overtime pay. The truckers were paid by the route and delivery, not by hours. As the traffic continued to rise along the corridor, the truckers often took nine or ten hours to complete a delivery that would have taken four to five hours just five years earlier. The truckers started a work stoppage, and the trucking company scrambled to hire replacement drivers. In the two months leading up to Thanksgiving, the trucking company was not able to deliver produce and frozen meat from its main client, Alpha Foods in Corona, which supplied nearly all the grocery stores in the Los Angeles basin. Other trucking firms were hired, but they didn’t have the fleet of trucks nor the drivers to maintain the routes, so only stores in the more affluent areas of the city were serviced.

The interruption in deliveries to the poorer neighborhoods in Los Angeles was not noticed by the media nor by decision makers, who all lived on the Westside. Only when there were shortages in middle class neighborhoods in central Los Angeles and the suburbs did the shortages get noticed on the radar. They were dismissed as temporary and not a crisis. This is exactly how a crisis begins: without notice and without fanfare, a minor incident grows incrementally until it is too late to turn it around.

It was autumn in Los Angeles and the best time to be alive in a city with a perfect climate. The tourists had departed and the beaches were empty of the hordes from the east and interior valleys that sought relief from the heat in the summer.

The Westside of Los Angeles, or more specifically, west of the San Diego Freeway to the ocean, is the most precious real estate in Los Angeles County. The freeway is a buffer between the wealthy and privileged on the Westside from the grit and grime of the Eastside where the migrants and people of color live. There are pockets of wealth and islands of privilege throughout Los Angeles, but the neighborhoods of Brentwood, Pacific Palisades, Santa Monica, Malibu, and even Venice are the most desirable zip codes in the city.

Better schools were an early reason to move to the Westside, but now their children attend private schools. The primary motivation now is to isolate yourself and your family from crime, ignorance, poverty, and unattractive people. Make no mistake about it, the people on the Westside are better looking, have better teeth, are more fit, and eat better foods. In East Los Angeles, there are few grocery choices other than the big chains, whereas on the Westside all the markets cater to the tastes of the Westside elite: foods that are fresh, organic, local from sustainable farms, and more expensive.

Alex Sanchez was a typical Angeleno. He and Rene were both second generation Hispanics. Alex’s father was a Vietnam veteran and former field worker, and his mother taught English as a second language. Alex and Rene both graduated from a state university and had good jobs. They could afford a home in Leimert Park and lived there because they wanted their daughter Natalie to attend a local charter school and avoid the neighborhood school, which was fraught with gang violence and low standards. Alex was bilingual, and most of the employees at the store were Hispanic. Some spoke very little English. Within huge swaths of Los Angeles, Hispanics could conduct life and commerce without speaking