Survive The Jungle

Deep South Jungle

The water turned off unexpectedly, exactly five minutes before I was to rinse the dye from my hair.

“Grannie?” I called. My scalp began to burn.

“Power’s out,” her voice carried back, mixed with the rustling of the palm branches outside.

“Yeah, but, the water.”

“The well won’t run when the electric’s out,” Aunt Molly said, walking into the small bathroom where I stood. I moved my thin hand to cover the dark dye spots I had dripped onto the cracked sink.

“What do I do?” I pointed to my head, wet and stinking of cheap, boxed dye.

She looked down at me, her eyes darting from my hair to my eyes.

“Your Grannie was watering the hibiscus. Might be some water left in the hose.”

I followed her out of the ramshackle house, piecemealed together a half-century before from scrap and refuse. No glass existed in its windows; the noise of nature was the same inside as out.

We heard shots coming from the backyard.

“Get ‘er!” Grannie shouted from afar. I heard Papaw’s guffaws, loud over the noise of the startled birds.

“Guess they found the gator,” Aunt Molly said, picking up the mud-covered hose. A loose trickle of water fell out and stopped.

“So much for that,” I muttered. Another shot rang out.

“There’s the lake,” Aunt Molly said.

I looked up at her, squinting at the bright sunlight escaping through the tree canopy above us. Mom and Dad had told me about the fresh water amoebas here that crawled in through the ears and ate away the entire brain within days.

I scrunched my nose. Aunt Molly rolled her eyes.

“Okay then, my sister, in town,” she said. “It’s a half hour drive but that’s better than waiting for Pa to get the generator up. He’s occupied.”

“What are they doing?” I asked.

We heard a scraping sound from the other side of the house.

“Probably dragging the carcass into the jungle. Not like anyone would check on them, but they don’t want to get arrested all the same.”

I nodded to Aunt Molly.

“Let’s go, I guess,” I said.

Her car was the one that was working. It was easy to identify, not being hoisted on cinder-blocks like most of Papaw’s projects.

She grabbed an old towel from the back seat and wrapped my head in it. We bounced as the car ambled over the rutted, dirt road. Palm fronds brushed the sides of the car as I swatted at the mosquitoes trying to hitch rides through the open windows.

“Why you dying your hair?” she asked as we pulled onto the main road. The gravelly sound under the tires changed to a smoother one as we rolled onto the weather-worn pavement.

“I want to look like the rest of you,” I said, softly.

Aunt Molly snorted. I doubted she could understand. She probably had no idea what it felt like to be the outsider.

We spoke no more. The air gusting in through the car was deafening as we picked up speed. I stared out the windows at the dense greenery creeping onto the asphalt. Vines and large swaths of moss hung over the roads, threatening to swoop down and swallow the car. Bugs plastered themselves to the windshield. Aunt Molly turned on the wipers to push their grease-smeared bodies out of the way.

The foliage surrounding the road began to thin as we approached town. A few small storefronts, huddled together and advertising the sale of antiques, lined the old pavement. We turned off the main road and onto a gravel one. Small trailers dotted its sides.

“Your Aunt Bernice lives here,” Aunt Molly said as she pulled off the road onto a patch of crabgrass. The home in front of us had light beige siding and aluminum bars in the windows.

“Cool. Looking forward to seeing her again,” I said.

We walked up the block steps to the front door and rang the bell. I heard shuffling inside before the door opened wide.

“Molly,” the woman said, looking at my aunt. She glanced at me. I felt dark dye escape the towel and drip onto my shoulders.

Bernice held her hand to me. “I’m Miss Bernice,” she said. Her voice was gravelly and deep.

I took her hand.

“I’m your niece,” I responded, surprised she didn’t recognize me from pictures.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, of course.”

“We need your sink,” Aunt Molly said, herding me in through the door. Aunt Bernice flattened herself against the frame to allow us in.

Finding the bathroom wasn’t hard in that space. I stripped off my ruined clothes and opted for the shower. The water smelled of iron.

When I emerged, I wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at my reflection. My hair was still wet, but the color looked wrong.

I found my two aunts smoking silently on the front stoop.

“Well?” Aunt Molly asked, jutting her chin toward my hair.

I sat down on the step beside them.

“I don’t think it looks like your color yet,” I said. I pulled a strand in front of my face and stared at it.

Aunt Molly shook her head and took a drag.

“How long are you staying here?” Aunt Bernice asked.

I shrugged.

“As long as it takes to get to know you all, I guess,” I responded.

Aunt Bernice laughed.

“How’d you convince your rich city folks to let you come down here?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Aunt Molly stood.

“She’s staying with Ma and Pa,” Aunt Molly said. “Time to get her back.”

I stood, too, and leaned toward Aunt Bernice for a hug. She rose and turned instead.

“Have a nice stay,” she said, and walked back into her home.

The thin, metal door closed behind her with a bang.