Bugs chittered, birds chattered, and the slow flow of the bayou carried on. The evening had taken hold of the day and the sun cast out its final rays, painting swatches through the canopy of sleepy trees.
Summer this year was different for Jason. This year after summer was over, he didn’t have to go back to school. Somehow, he had managed to eek out passing grades and graduate. Not many people in this town accomplished such a grand achievement, but Jason wasn’t from here. His dad had moved him out last year, and Jason had been sure to voice his disapproval, but he hadn’t had any other options. Dreaming of living independently and doing it were two different things. His dad had given him the option but, in the end, Jason chose to move out with his dad and see what this humid snow globe of a town had to offer.
So far it wasn’t too bad, he had met his neighbor early on and they bonded quickly over trading card games and bad habits. It turns out that smoking and drinking are two of the fastest ways to become best friends. Not to mention both of them were socially awkward, barely interested in meeting new people and overall unpopular in school.
Neither one had come to this bayou before, but they had heard people talking about it in town. Old coins were piled on a stump nearby, bundles of herbs hung from low hanging tree branches, and some exposed tree roots had beads and cloth strips tied to them.
Jason broke the silence. “Did your cousin say anything yet about the gas station?”
The cherry of the joint hissed as Marcel pulled in the smoke.
Coughing through an exhale and half choking, Marcel worked out a response.
“Not hirin’ baw.”
“A couple days ago you said they were.”
“I said they were lookin, but now they aint’. Jack Dawson swooped up the spot.”
Marcel passed the nearly spent joint to Jason and leaned back with his beer.
Jason took a final pull from the smoke and tossed the rest into the bayou.
“Feedin that to the bayou? I woulda ate it.” Marcel laughed at that last statement as he realized the degeneracy of the thought.
“It’s my offering to the voodoo gods.” Jason said as he nodded towards the trinkets.
They both laughed and celebrated their moment with another swig of their beers.
“What you gonna do now that you’re all graduated and smart? Going on to college and leaving us quick as you came? Marcel asked.
“I barely made it through Marcel, I don’t think college is the place for me. I just want to start making some money.”
“Ain’t no money in this town to make, less you selling this green. Speaking of, you really do need to start making some money. Always moochin off me.”
Jason felt slightly awkward at that remark because he knew there was some truth to it. He didn’t think Marcel really cared that much, but still, it didn’t feel good to always have your friend paying for your vices.
“I’ll get you back Marcel, first paycheck I’ll treat you.”
“You askin me out on a date baw?
The two laughed off the moment and Jason finished off his beer and threw the bottle into the bayou. The bottle broke the surface and was pulled into the murky abyss like it fell into thick ink rather than water.
A cacophony of crows broke out in protest.
CAW. Caw. CAW. CAW. Caw.
Both boys were frozen in unspoken discomfort of the situation and the moment overall.
“Damn Jason! You pissed off the spirits!” Marcel teased.
“No need to be scared Marcel, I’ll keep you safe from the swamp monster.”
“Bullshit, you ain’t keepin a secret safe let alone me.
The crows clamor died down and a void of silence took it’s place.
After a moment of realization at the depths of the silence, Jason cut into it. “Now that is weird. The bugs stopped making any noise.”
Marcel looked at Jason, listening and gears turning. Thinking to himself if being brave is worth it anymore.
Nope.
“Let’s get the hell movin!” Marcel jumped up and started for the truck.
“Damnit!” Now the boys ran like death would be staring at them if they slowed or looked back at the bayou.
They made it to the truck, yanked open the doors and both jumped in.
“WHOOOEEE!” Yelled out Marcel in excitement.
They both laughed at themselves as the adrenaline tapered off.
“Shit, We left the beers back there Marcel!”
“I ain’t gettin em, you getting em?”
“Nope. Let’s call it an offering yea?”
“That’s another five dollars you owe me baw.”
Marcel started the truck and they returned to town as the sun kissed the horizon goodnight and laid itself down for another night.
The heat of the early morning blanketed Jason and he woke up with a drool encrusted cheek and a throbbing headache. He haphazardly flopped off the couch, smacking a few empty beer bottles as he struggled to rise.
The world was fuzzy and loud for Jason.
Damn I drank way too much. The thought was obvious, the evidence was all over the coffee table.
In the kitchen Marcel worked up some eggs and toast.
“Hey Jason. Thought you was gonna sleep till supper the way you was putting them beers away last night.”
Jason winced at the light coming through the kitchen window behind Marcel.
“Damn headache woke me up. It’s pounding bad.”
“You want some of these eggs baw?”
“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think I can stomach it. Just need some water.”
Jason filled a cup and gulped down half before refilling it and returning to the couch. His stomach churned and bubbled. After a few moments of sitting and staring at the wall, his gut finally settled.
Not ready to chug that much. He thought. Little sips.
He took a few sips and tasted a tinge of sulfur and felt something in the top of his throat. Looking in his cup, he saw particles floating that looked like dark flakes. He inspected it for several moments, tilting the cup back and forth to make sure what he was looking at was really what he was looking at.
The realization that he just drank some unknown foreign particle made his uneasy stomach turn even more. He bolted for the bathroom and let loose on the toilet.
“Praying to the porcelain gods!” Yelled out Marcel in jest.
And pray he did. Jason let out a religious exorcism of everything that once existed within. By the time the heaves and wretches subsided, he was left sweating and groaning.
Never again. But even he knew that promise wouldn’t hold past a day or two at most.
After recovering his meager strength and some dignity, Jason walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the cup on his way.
Marcel started in on him. “Dang Baw! I thought you could hand..”
“It was the nasty shit in your cup! What the hell Marcel?”
He splashed the water out in the sink and aimed the cup at Marcel almost in challenge.
Marcel put his hands up in surrender.
“I just put em in the washer, sorry Jason. Here just grab a new one.”
He grabbed a fresh cup from the cupboard and looked into it.
“This ones clean.”
Jason, took the cup and refilled it but looked in this time before taking another drink. He saw it again! The flakes of… whatever it was, floating around. And a lot of them!
“Aw Hell Marcel! It’s in the water!”
Marcel looked into his own cup curious and somewhat embarrassed at the accusation.
“Nothin in my cup. My waters good.” He took a gulp and smacked his lips with a sigh of gratification. “Must’ve been in that cup too. Sorry baw. I’ll run em all through the wash again.”
“Damn Marcel, now I’m scared of your water!” He said and laughed uncomfortably. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll grab a bottle of clean water from the station on my way home.”
Marcel looked a bit embarrassed still at the situation, unsure if it was his cups left dirty with something or if he needed to get his well checked.
“Alright Jason, I’ll catch ya later.”
Jason waved his hand as he turned toward the door and started his walk back home. The heat was oppressive, so he had a bit of urgency to get to the gas station. His head was beating like a cracked drum, his mouth was dry as dust, and the remnants of the night before left him off balance and unwell.
The walk was miserable.
Finally, the gas station loomed ahead. Like a beacon in the dark. A lighthouse to a weary sailor. An oasis in the hot searing desert. A sanctuary amid this dense, humid, torpor-inducing heat. He could see it through the windows now. Through the glass doors and into the refrigerated shelves, there it sat, Jason’s salvation. Clean, pristine, life giving, refreshing water.
The cashier and the bell from the door opening both greeted Jason as he entered. He mumbled a response and made a b-line for the bottled water. He opened the cooler and grabbed the tallest bottle he saw and began breaking the seal on the lid.
The worker at the counter yelled back at him. “Buy it first!”
Jason paused.
He was very tempted to disregard the order and dive into the water but he resisted. He was irritated and somewhat offended that the worker seemed to think he would steal the water if he wasn’t made to pay for it right away. Begrudgingly, he trudged to the counter and set the bottle down.
The worker grabbed the bottle to scan it. “Sorry man. I just got the job, and I haven’t learned all the regular faces yet.”
Jason just stared impatiently.
It was the guy who beat me out for the job. He realized.
The cashier continued. “The manager said if I don’t keep an eye on people and they end up stealing stuff, it comes out of my pay.”
“It’s fine!” Jason snapped, then reeled in his frustration. “It’s just hot and I’m exhausted. I get it though.”
The worker gave Jason the price; Jason paid in change and walked out the door with little more than a thank you and a nod. He finished opening the top and flipped it open to take a gulp of the finest water he ever tasted. Except, it wasn’t the finest water he ever tasted. As soon as it hit his tongue, he could tell something was off. All at once the texture mixed with the smell made his stomach twist again like a basket of angry snakes coiling about.
It was horrible. The water was a viscous, putrid mix of particles and slime that ran across his tongue and sloshed against the back of his throat.
His throat clenched, his stomach lurched, and he bent over; with all he had he tried to only spit out what was in his mouth and not all of whatever was left in his stomach. The water splashed on the sidewalk and Jason was able to hold back the rest. He looked at what hit the ground and at the bottle.
What? It wasn’t dirty. His mind began to race. I wouldn’t have bought it. The worker would’ve seen it too, right? Did he see it? He just let me buy it? It’s because I was rude.
Jason whipped around and swung the door open, aiming his anger directly at the unaware cashier.
“You sold me this nasty bottle?”
The worker looked up stunned and confused. “Nasty?”
“Look at it!” Jason snapped. “Theres scum all throughout it!”
Even more confused and looking at the bottle, the cashier shifted his gaze up to Jason and then shifted from confusion to a look of disappointed understanding.
“I knew it.” The worker said. “I knew you were trying to get it for free. That is called stealing. And you can take that right back outside where you came from.”
Enraged and caught off guard now, Jason was momentarily stunned until his wits circled back around to him and he repeated more slowly and louder “Look… At… IT!”
The worker held his gaze and crossed his arms then let out a long slow sigh. Unmoving and unwilling to budge. Jason could hardly contain himself. If he wasn’t so tired and physically exhausted, he would put up more of a fight. This cashier wasn’t going to budge. He briefly weighed his options and the possible outcomes of either putting up more of a fight or just leaving the situation and getting home. He was too thirsty. He had to just get home.
“Idiot.” Jason said boldly and flat, then walked out. He tossed the bottle towards the trashcan, intentionally avoiding making it in.
The muggy heat assailed him once again. Being in the cool air-conditioned gas station made walking back out into this weather even more oppressive. His pace had turned into a slow march now. Each step felt like someone was laying on the ground, holding onto his ankles to halt his progress. Several times he had to stop under a tree to take shelter from the sun. Though, it wasn’t much relief since the humidity crawled into the shade as well and clung to his skin, as if trying to push him aside so it too could get respite from the blistering rays.
Jason finally made it home. His house was just as hot and just as humid as outside. His dad worked, so the AC wasn’t on at all today. His thirst was incredible at this point, but so was his exhaustion. The walk had completely taken what little energy he had woken up with. The thought of the scummy water at both Marcel’s house and the gas station made his stomach twist again on top of it all so he opted to grab some ice cubes. He held a few in his hand, lay on the couch and placed one over each of his closed eyes. Some relief washed over him. The feeling was almost heavenly. With his teeth brought together he placed another ice cube between his lips and let the cool dampness wet his dry mouth as it melted. With the last couple of cubes, he placed them on his chest, and sleep claimed him.
The afternoon wasn’t any more welcoming than the morning had been. Jason only meant to briefly rest, but his exhaustion was insurmountable and he had fitfully slept through midday. His clothes were damp with sweat, his head still pounded, and he didn’t feel better at all. He stood up and starbursts and black dots clouded his vision; it took nearly a minute for his vision and his balance to return to him before he could make his way to the bathroom. His urine was a dark amber color, a quick sign that dehydration was beginning to take hold. He turned on the faucet to splash cold water onto his face but what he saw in the mirror startled him. A flaky layer of brown scum caked his lips. He bared his teeth and it was there as well. Now that he saw it he realized he could taste it as well… and smell it. It was a putrid sour smell with a foul bitterness to accompany it. He wretched but nothing came out.
Desperately he scooped some water from the faucet and splashed it into his mouth and tried to swish it around like mouthwash. The taste got even worse and he could feel the chunks and particles bouncing around from tongue to cheek to throat. He spit it out onto the mirror, unable to bear it long enough to turn his head towards the sink.
Mouthwash. He reached for the cabinet, pulled the mouthwash out, put the bottle to his lips, took a swig and began to gurgle and swish it back and forth. The mint helped with the sour rancid taste that was lingering but he still felt the slimy globs of scum bouncing around inside his mouth.
There’s no way that was all in my mouth already. He thought as he picked up the bottle and looked inside.
“How?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
How is it in everything!
The question lingered as he began to spiral into the implications.
“It’s not in everything. It must have gotten in there from my lips.” He said out loud in order to give the words more substance, in hopes that it made them true.
Jason quickly made his way to the fridge and grabbed a flavored water out and studied the contents through the plastic.
Nothing.
He cracked the seal and took a small swig and held it just at the tip of his mouth and felt around the liquid with his tongue. There was something there! He spit it out and saw a white substance in the liquid as it hit the floor. Looking into the bottle, now he saw a lot of fuzzy white floaters on the surface and some more black colored one throughout the liquid.
He looked closer…
It looked like… bugs… like fuzzy bug legs… It was bugs. It was moldy bugs!
He cried out in anger and disgust. “Ah!”
“No no no no no!” He said as he paced and his heartbeat began to rise.
The feeling of panic began to take hold. This was getting desperate now. He hadn’t had water in almost a day and he felt absolutely horrible.
What if I can’t…
What if everything…
Is it real? Did I take something? Am I losing my mind?
The last question rang in his head like a bell. Was he losing his mind? No, he could feel the junk in his mouth. It was plain as day. He could see it now. There was trash in everything.
His dad’s greeting cut into his anxious thoughts. “Hey Jason, It’s hot in here. Why do you have the AC off?”
“You can’t just say hi?” Jason snapped back aggressively. “Every time you come home you always have to scold me for something! It’s not my fault you had a bad day!”
“Whoa, sorry kid. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”
Jason was caught off guard by his own words and attitude. He wondered why he had snapped at his dad like that.
Sincerely concerned, his dad asked “You okay?”
The question stuck to him like a fly ribbon. He didn’t know how to answer that.
No. He wasn’t ok. But what if this was in his head? What if he had accidentally taken something and was hallucinating all of this. He had to get help but he couldn’t tell his dad exactly what was happening.
He grumbled out a response, making sure he sounded as sick as he felt. “I’m not able to hold any water down. I think I’ve got a bug.”
A bad bug, something thought.
His dad set down his work bag and looked at him with a furrowed brow deep in concern.
“When’s the last time you were able to drink anything?”
Other than alcohol, Jason prefaced his response in his mind. “It’s been almost a full day.”
“Oh that’s not good Jason!” His dad straightened up. “And with this heat today. You look really pale and ghostly.”
“I tried to eat some ice but that didn’t work.” Jason cringed at the thought of the dried scum.
His dad pulled out his phone. “No, you need a lot more than that. You might be having heat stroke too.”
Jason watched as his dad typed something on his phone and mused at how quick his dad was to show concern. He began to feel his emotions rise up like a surging well that was about to overflow. His eyes teared up, and a feeling of great appreciation coupled with sadness and love overtook him all at once.
He cried out loud.
He cried like he was a child again and he needed his father’s comfort. Like his father was the only thing that could bring him out of this feeling. He lurched forward and hugged him. He was full of happiness, fear, comfort, sorrow, joy, and regret all at once. The immense rush of emotions left only one option. He had to fall into his dad’s arms and let him protect him from this nightmare that so quickly became clear.
Shocked by this sudden break of emotion, his dad grasped onto him.
“Hey buddy. It’s ok, we will get this taken care of. I have just looked it up and we should take you to the hospital for an IV. They need to get you hydrated right away. This heat will dry you up like a worm on the sidewalk.”
He forced a smile as he held his son out and tried to look at him confidently. Reassuring him with his eyes that everything was going to be ok. This amount of emotion and contact was unnatural for their relationship, so something was definitely off with Jason.
On the way to the hospital, Jason was in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t passing out but he wasn’t staying awake either. He drifted in and out of a fitful half-sleep, slipping between moments of awareness and back into nightmarish dreams.
Even though his mind and body were breaking. Jason felt good. He was about to feel better and that made his attitude and outlook completely positive. His father next to him, and surely the wait in the hospital was about to soon be over, he would get hooked up to the IV and all would be normal again. He just had to make it though this weird moment.
“Jason Alcart.” The nurse called out from the doorway.
That’s me. He thought as he tried to stand.
His dad gripped his upper arm to stabilize him as he stood up and made his way to the back rooms.
They must have been able to tell how dire the situation was by how Jason looked. The nurse wasted no time getting his vitals, asking pertinent questions and preparing to hook up the IV bag. Jason was very thankful for this.
He began to relax and took note of the cool feeling of the starch sheets. The hospital was kept at a low temperature as they always are and it was a very welcome change from the past day. No one outside his room looked like they were going anywhere too urgent and the calmness was reassuring as well. In a room nearby he could hear the faint sounds of a monitor letting everyone know that the patient was still ok. Finally, this nightmare was going to end. The feeling of relief he had felt upon arriving at the hospital solidified and turned to genuine comfort.
He watched as the beautiful pristine bag of liquid was hoisted up onto the bar. The needle inserted into his injection and the toggle switched to begin the drip. He watched as the drip slowly worked its way down towards him. He watched as the blackness slowly began to spiral within the bag. He watched as the oily dark poison began slithering through the liquid, not dissolving in it but working its way through it like a living thing. It made it’s way towards the drip and the first black drip went through.
Then it hit Jason. He snapped out of the trance he was in watching the IV.
“Get it off!” He slapped at the needle in his arm like he was trying to swat a spider off.
He grabbed the tubing line and pulled. The nurse and his dad were both shocked and stunned and didn’t instantly react. Then the nurse tried making a move towards him.
“Don’t pull it out!”
Too late. He ripped the needle from his arm and stared down at the tubing that dripped the black ooze.
Why is this happening? He thought.
The IV too?
This must be in my mind… No. I can see it. I can smell it.
He looked from face to face and saw the stunned, questioning shock on both their faces.
I’m not imagining this. They are doing this. Look at them. Pretending.
“You’re in on it! You’re trying to poison me too!”
His dad reached him then. “Jason, what the hell? What are you doing?”
Jason only got more hysterical.
“The scum! The trash! The poison! You all just want me to eat it!”
His dad stood back now, concerned and on verge of fear.
Jason continued. “If you’re in on it, they’re all in on it! You want me to fail! You want me to die! I won’t be your puppet!”
He jumped from the bed, and backed away from his dad and the nurse in a half defensive, half combative manner. Once he reached the door he turned and ran for the doors.
What am I doing? The thought tried to calm him, but it was too late. He was committed now and they wouldn’t be able to get him now. He wouldn’t let them change him, he wouldn’t let them poison him!
He ran down the road. He ran through the trees and past the bayou. He ran and ran even though his body had nothing left to give. Something else took over. It was the fear, or the anger, or the fact that he was at high levels of dehydration mixed with heat stroke and his mind was slipping away from him.
Bursting through the door, he had one thought on his mind.
I. Will. Drink. Something.
The thirst was conquering his sanity. It had only been a day. Or had it been more? Did he sleep in the hospital? When did he leave Marcel’s? Did he sleep through the night on the couch? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was drinking something.
He went for mouthwash first. Trying to gulp it down faster than he could realize anything was in it didn’t work. Something hit the back of his throat and instantly made him gag. It all came out. The brown viscous liquid mixed with black tar, and the object that had hit the back of his throat. A cigarette butt.
He threw the bottle to the side and went to the sink, turned it on and stuck his head under the faucet.
The water didn’t run; it sloshed.
Onto his lips and onto his face. The smell was horrendous. How sour it was offended his senses.
He looked in the mirror and the goo and slime dripped off his cheeks.
“AAAH!”
The scream echoed in the bathroom.
I will drink something! He repeated the thought like a mantra.
Looking around the bathroom his gaze paused on the shampoo. No.
He continued searching.
Hand soap. No.
Toothpaste. No.
Dental floss. No.
Cotton balls. No.
Q-tips. No.
Lotion. No.
Deodorant. No.
Hair gel. No.
Hair spray. No.
Shaving cream. No.
Razor. No.
Bandages. No.
Petroleum jelly. No.
Lip balm. No.
Prescription bottles. No.
In the cabinet under the sink his search landed on a white bottle with a blue label.
Yes. It thought.
He knew what this could do to him. He wasn’t oblivious to what happened when people drank bleach. But for some reason it felt right. Everything else was trash. It was all scum and garbage. If it was all dirty then the ultimate cleaner had to fix it.
His dad’s voice echoed through the house. “Jason? You in here?”
Shit. He won’t let me. The thought rang through his mind like a warning siren.
Footsteps grew louder as Jason’s dad searched through the house.
Jason reached up, locked the door, opened the bottle and only paused for a moment.
Thoughts of his dad rushed into his mind. Thoughts of when he was little and they used to go to the park. He remembered camping and cooking eggs that tasted burnt. He remembered the first time he saw his dad cry, and probably the last, when his mom had died. His dad had always been there for him. Even when he decided to move out here, he had supported whatever decision Jason had made.
But now… Now his dad wanted him to suffer. His dad wouldn’t let him clean this stain from his body.
He was too tired to fight anymore. Too exhausted to put up much of a fight. He had to fix this now.
Jason took a deep breath and let out a choking cry before putting the bottle to his lips and….
Don’t litter in the Bayou.