The Jumbee Queen

The Jumbee Queen

​ The bayou steams and drips. Twisted vines and sucking mud line the banks of a muddy creek. Clancy, 10, fishes in the fetid stream. He watches his line, pulled downstream by the current, unaware of a form, sleek and slithery, sliding through the water straight towards him. Suddenly an arm reaches out of the darkness beneath the bridge and jerks him out of the stream. He starts to yelp but a creaky old voice hushes him. “Cottonmouth, boy.” He sees the head rise out of the water, jaw unhinged, lash at a scurrying muskrat and drag it underwater with a silent, deadly splash.

​ Clancy shivers and shakes loose from the crooked arm. Startled, he recognizes Tantoo, the old JuJu woman who lives somewhere in the tangled vegetation under the bridge. He steels himself, both not to cry and not to anger the old crow, with her sunken, toothless mouth, ghastly white crumpled skin, ragged robes and matted mass of filthy gray hair. He stutters “Thank you,” grabs his bucket and tries to dash to the path back home. 

​Tantoo grips his tee shirt, cackling. “I’m not going to eat you boy. Tantoo ain’t no water moccasin sneaking up to…” She claws at his neck,  “…bite you.” Clancy jumps and nearly falls into the swamp water. Tantoo slaps her knee, her mouth a wide-open, soundless howl.  “Tantoo save your life, hear? You just bring her something, some little fishies or scraps of bread sometime. Hear? Now scoot.”     

​ Weeks later, on a sultry evening full of the hisses, snaps and whispers of the bayou, Clancy stands on the bridge and clangs the bucket against the railing. “You got something for Tantoo?” she calls up from under the bridge.

​ Clancy looks in his bucket. “Just some little catfish this time.”

​“I’m coming up there, I got something for you.” Tantoo stomps up the rickety ramp. She holds a cage in her hands with two skittery lizards. 

​“What’s this” Clancy asks.

​“Jumbee lizards,” she replies.

​“I never heard of ‘em.” He peers into the cage. “They’re kind of cool looking.” He watches them closely. One is slick and green and the other is horned and mottled green and black. The horned lizard faces Clancy and extends a long, forked tongue. His eyes glow red. 

“You gotta take them from old Tantoo, boy. These are ancient lizards, sacred. He’s the king, she the queen. I’m too old to take right care of them. Don’t worry. If they live in that cage they won’t get too big.” Tantoo places the cage on the ground in front of Clancy. He backs away.

“Wow, Tantoo, thanks. But, um, I don’t think I should take them. My dad, he won’t like it. He’ll flush them like he did my frog.”

Tantoo shakes her finger at Clancy. “Don’t you let him do that boy. These are royal Jumbees. Mated for life. You let that king out and he’ll hunt for her, feed her. If she die, he die. But if he die…” She places her gnarled hand on Clancy’s shoulder and glares into his eyes. “Don’t let the king die boy.” She moves quickly down the ramp and disappears into the gloomunder the bridge. Clancy stares down at the cage, the only sound the dripping of rain from the trees.

A few weeks later Clancy creeps out of his sagging, rusted mobile home with a flashlight and takes the tarp off the cagebeneath the trailer. He opens the cage and the king, eyes bright red, scrambles out of the cage. Clancy trains the flashlight on the weedy, moss-covered yard. The king scurries back with two live geckos in his mouth. Clancy quickly closes the cage and watches in fascination as the king feeds the geckos to the queen. Clancy sticks out his tongue and the king lizard flicks his long,forked tongue back. Clancy hears footsteps in the trailer, says goodbye to the lizards, stows the cage back under the tarps and goes inside.

The next day Clancy’s father, Zeke, rummages through the crumbling wooden shed in the yard. He’s bent, disheveled and unshaven, in a stained tee shirt and filthy jeans. He pulls a large snare trap out of the shed and heads over to the trailer. He starts to reach for the tarps underneath. Clancy bangs out of the trailer wide-eyed. Zeke stops to look at him.

​“What are you doing?” Clancy asks.

​“Got a call to trap an alligator. Need the tarp to drag him out. What’s it to you?”

​Clancy sputters for a moment. “There’s that spider under there that nearly killed you last year. I’ll look under there with my flashlight first.”

Zeke eyes Clancy and shrugs. “Go ahead boy. You bring it down to the boat then. Quick goddammit.”

Days later Clancy has just let the king out when a light snaps on in the trailer. Zeke runs outside in time to see the king running back with a small snake writhing in its mouth. Zeke reaches under the steps and pulls out a gig, snaring the king by the throat. The lizard’s eyes glow bright red. He curls up and lashes at Zeke, scratching his cheek, drawing blood. Zeke angrily rubs his cheek, seeing blood on his hand. He holds up the king and glares at Clancy. “What are ya doing with this? Huh? This here’s the devil’s spawn.” Zeke spits on the ground and grabs a shovel from beneath the stairs. He lays the squirming lizard on a rock and, as Clancy screams, decapitates the king lizard with the shovel. The queen’s shrieks mix with Clancy’s. Zeke hands him the shovel. “Now bury that goddam mess. And don’t bring nothing like that here again.”

In a panic, Clancy grabs the queen’s cage and runs down to the swampy creek. He hurls the cage into the muddy water. 

As the cage bobs away in the current, the unlocked cage door swings open.

Twelve years later Clancy sits in a brightly lit café. He is now a handsome young man of twenty-two with an auburn stubble, sitting with Julie, a pretty blonde in a crisp white sundress. They sip wine. Clancy clears his throat. “Um… nice to finally meet you. What do you think so far, Julie?”

She smiles. “Nice. It’s not that I do dating apps a lot but it’s really hard to meet nice guys working at that fishing resort.”

“Me neither. But since my dad died I haven’t been out much. I get pretty busy.”

“So what kind of animals do you work with?” Julie asks.

“Trap. I trap them. Well, we got possums, racoons, the usual. Some foxes and bobcats. Some more slithery types,” Clancy replies.

“That sounds a little creepy,” Julie says.

Clancy laughs. “Depends on how you feel about snakes and lizards. And alligators and crocodiles.”

“Yeah, the guys at work are always joking about feeding me to the crocodiles.”

Clancy looks down at the table. “That’s kinda mean. And anyway, there’s no crocs here. Just gators.” He clears his throat. “Maybe I can take you out in my boat some time. Show you that the lazy gators just sleep in the mud all day.”

“Sounds scary,” Julie says.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

A few nights later Clancy stands in his tiny, moldy bathroom, shaking, staring at his hands. Small, sharp claws protrude from the tips of his fingers. The skin around his nails is tinged greenish with small, transparent scales. Eyes wide, he looks in the mirror and slowly sticks out his tongue. A slight dimple in the end looks vaguely forked. He slams his head against the mirror, cracking it. Blood runs down his forehead. He pushes out of the bathroom, tears out of the trailer and runs through the thick brush to the riverbank. He guns his skiff, speeding up the river. He grabs his flashlight and steers the boat towards the fishing bridge. At the bridge, he rips off his shirt, props it on a fishing pole and sets it on fire. “Tantoo!” he screams. “Tantoo you ugly hag. Come out or I’ll set you on fire.”

Tantoo saunters out, her wizened face fierce in the firelight. “Hush boy. You’ll wake the dead that ain’t already been waked. You burn me you don’t learn nothin’.”

Clancy puts the burning shirt down on a rock. He thrusts his hands towards Tantoo. His eyes glow red. He rages. “What’s happening to me? What curse did you put on me?”

“I didn’t curse you boy. That queen. You killed her mate. Then you let her go,” Tantoo replies.  She shakes her head and kicks at the dying fire with her rubber boots.

“It wasn’t me. And that was years ago.”

“No matter. They were yours to protect. That queen been sleeping all the while. But you a man now. She awake and looking for a new mate. She hungry.”

“So what? I’m going to be her goddam lizard king? How do I stop this?” Clancy yells.

Tantoo points a finger and jabs at his chest. “Feed her.”

The next evening Clancy frantically checks his traps and tosses dead possums and raccoons into wooden boxes. His fingers are green and scaly. Inch-long claws scrape the wood. Other traps yield live catch including lizards, snakes and river rats. He fills a sack with the live animals and tosses it in the boat. He wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and licks his lips. His tongue is thin and forked.

Panting, he steers his boat in the hazy moonlight. The sack twists and turns on the bottom of the boat. He pulls into a cove where water flows into a deep black cave. Scraping sounds, claws on stone, echo out of the cave, followed by a piercing shriek. Clancy, red eyes glowing, pulls out two boxes of dead animals and the bag full of struggling prey, shoves them into the wet mouth of the cave and turns away. Moments later he hears thrashing and crunching and a muffled shriek. He shines his light on the mouth of the cave, revealing a small heap of fur, guts and shards of the wooden box. He shines the light on his hands. The scales and claws are gone. He licks his lips. His tongue is normal except for a slight dent in the tip. 

Weeks later Clancy faces Tantoo and shines his flashlight on his hands. They are green and scaly. “It’s getting worse. I feed her more and more but I’m not… not getting back to myself.”

Tantoo grunts. “Maybe it’s not how much you feed her, boy. Maybe it’s what.”

A few nights later Clancy, sweaty and disheveled, sits in hisdark cluttered living room. He watches a small black and white TV. A picture of Julie comes on the screen. The broadcaster announces “Julie Martin has been missing for two weeks. Anyone knowing her whereabouts should call the number on the screen.” Clancy looks down from the screen and studies his fingernails. He pokes his fingers in his mouth, feels his tongue and shudders. 

The next night Clancy steps out of the trailer, sits on the steps, rubs his eyes and hangs his head. He looks up at the sky, then buries his face in his hands as if to cry. His phone buzzes. He looks at it, stands and shakes himself, as if shaking off cobwebs. He walks away from the trailer, swallows hard and answers the phone in a warm and friendly voice.   

“Amber. Thanks for calling. I, um, would like to get together. I know a great little place where we can meet…” He goes back inside the trailer and into the bathroom. He trims his beard in the cracked mirror. He has deep bags under his eyes, and the pupils have an odd, nearly diamond shape. He walks into the cramped kitchen while pulling on a clean polo shirt.

Later that evening Clancy pulls the hand of a laughing, tipsy, heavyset woman, urging her down the riverbank. The air is heavy with a soft steady drizzle. She slips on the weedy bank and Clancy sits down next to her and smiles. “Come on, Amber, it’ll be fun. What could be more romantic than a boat ride in the rain?”

Amber hiccups and frowns. “What about the weather report? It said thunderstorms.”

“It’s the bayou, darlin’. There 's always thunderstorms,” Clancy replies. He grabs off her shoes and pulls her up. She giggles and they run and slide down the bank. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Clancy helps her into the boat as she pulls strands of wet brown hair from her face.

Amber anxiously turns to Clancy. “OK, hon but I’m a wet, sopping mess now. Are you sure about this? It might be cozier up in that trailer of yours. Besides, I think there really is going to be a thunderstorm.”

“I grew up on this river. I know how far away the storm is. We’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you want a real Cajun adventure?”  

Lightning flashes in the distance. The rain is heavier, wind ripples through the leaves. Amber sobers slightly.  “No really. I think I don’t want to do this.” 

Clancy speaks quickly. “Come on honey. I’m going to take you to see a genuine JuJu woman. Won’t that be cool? She’s a harmless kook, of course, but it’ll look great on Instagram.”  He motors hurriedly along the shoreline. Thunder rolls and seconds later, lightning streaks the sky. Low hanging vines snatch at Amber’s hair. She jumps and wildly grabs at the branches.

​“I want to get out now,” Amber says frantically. 

Clancy steers sharply away from the shore.  The wind whips, thunder roars and lightning cracks above them. Rain hammers down into the boat. Clancy turns and Amber sees a glint of red in his eyes. She flinches.

“What was that?” she cries. “Oh my god, what was that?”

“Relax,” Clancy says. He waves his phone in front of her. “Just my cellphone. We’re almost there.” 

Amber whimpers. “I don’t want to go there anymore. I want to go home.”

Clancy ignores her. She grabs at his sleeve but he brushes her off and turns away. His long, forked tongue flicks out. He pulls up to the fishing bridge and yells for Tantoo. She shuffles out and looks over Amber, shivering in the boat. The wind is a frenzy now. Thunder booms, followed by lightning blazing across the sky. 

Clancy gestures towards Tantoo. “Come on, old woman, let’s get a picture.” He notices his scaly hands and claws and quickly puts his hands in his pockets. 

Amber stands up and shrieks. “What is wrong with you? Take me home!”

Clancy pushes her down, scratching her cheek with a claw. Wild-eyed, Amber wipes her cheek and looks at her hand, seeing blood. Tantoo cackles. “You best go. She’s a nice one all right. But mind you boy…” She shoves the boat off with her yellow boot. “That queen, she grows. Needs more. Then whatcha gonna do?” Tantoo flings out her arms, throws her head back, and laughs wildly up to the violent sky.

Clancy motors the boat away from the bridge. He breathes deeply, composing himself. “Geez, Amber, I’m sorry. I guess the weather has us both spooked.” Amber rocks back and forth on the seat, sobbing. Branches and debris float by on the swirling river. The sky has quieted. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the sky brightens with sporadic flashes of light. Rain is steady, falling straight down. Clancy pulls the boat into the cove and ties it to a rock. He gestures for Amber to get out. She ignores him. “Look,” he says, “she’s just a crazy old lady. You come on out now. It’ll be dry in the cave. That storm’s coming back and we’ll be safer in there.”

Amber continues rocking, cradling her cheek. Suddenly, a huge clap of thunder and crack of lightning roar overhead. Wind whips the boat and shoves Clancy. The thunder is deafening, the lightning blinding. The wind wails. Clancy yells at Amber over the storm. She jumps up at a furious bolt of lightning and Clancy grabs her. His hand is a scaly claw. Amber screams. Through the noise of the storm, out of the cave, comes an ungodly shriek. Clancy grips Amber by the shoulders, shredding her dress. Blood runs down her arms. A long burst of lighting reveals Clancy, eyes glowing red, long tongue flicking, shoving Amber into the cave. She screeches as a giant claw pierces her through the middle. Clancy turns and unties the boat. As he pulls away, he looks towards the cave and sees Amber’s blood-soaked dress, laced with patches of long brown hair, land on the stone floor with a “thwap.” 

The storm subsides into a gentle shower. Clancy shines the light on his hands. They are normal. He rubs his eyes and stares up at the rain, weeping. 

The next evening Clancy sits in the dank, dark living room and types a number into his cell phone.  In the same warm, friendly voice as before, he says, “Hello LouAnn. Yes, I’d love to meet you, too. Great. You know what would be a fun get together? A boat ride. Bring a friend.”