I used to think the scariest things in life were student debt and unemployment 3 months of living on ramen noodles and dodging my landlord's calls had taught me the special kind of desperation that comes with watching your bank account drain like a Civ what I didn't know then was that desperation has levels and I hadn't even scratch the surface of what that word really means the email arrived at 317 a. m. during another sleepless night of job hunting my laptop screen cast a pale blue glow across my studio apartment as I scrolled through endless listings demanding over 5 years experience for entry-level positions that's when I saw it immediate opening Everglades boat tour guide $95 an hour with housing included no prior experience required for the job start tomorrow contact for detail I must have read it 20 times searching for the catch jobs like this don't just appear especially not when your bank account is hovering at $472 3 and your environmental science degree seems about as useful as a paper umbrella in a hurricane but when you're 24 and the only thing in your fridge is half a bottle of ketchup and a questionable yogurt you learn to silence that voice of reason I sent my application at 3 22 a.
m. the response came at 3:23 a. m.
position is yours bus ticket attached arrive tomorrow at aapi station someone will meet you looking back I should have wondered why they responded so quickly why they didn't ask for references or even a phone interview but desperation has a way of making red flags look like welcome banners the Greyhound ride to Florida was 18 hours of crying babies mysterious smells and a steady descent into what felt like the world's largest sauna I watched through foggy windows as civilized Florida gave way to something older Wilder strip malls became swamps highway signs became less frequent the air grew thick enough to chew aapi Florida turned out to be less of a town and more of a suggestion one gas station with half its letters missing a diner that looked like it had last seen fresh paint when Kennedy was president and everywhere the Everglades an endless Maze of water and green stretching to the Horizon like Nature's version of an MC eer painting the bus wheezed to a stop in front of the gas station and I stepped out into air so humid it felt like breathing through a wet towel my shirt stuck to my back before I'd taken three steps a palmetto bug the size of my thumb scuttled across my path and I fought the urge to jump back welcome to Florida the gas station's Bell chimed as I pushed open the door seeking refuge in the Blessed air conditioning behind the counter an elderly woman with Cotton white hair looked up from her crossword puzzle her name tag though the letters were so faded they barely qualified as legible you must be the new tour guide she said not even a question her voice had that distinctive Florida cracker draw smooth as honey but with an edge of something sharper underneath that obvious huh I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve already regretting my choice of long- sleeved shirt she smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes we don't get many newcomers around here especially not ones carrying everything they own in a duffel bag she paused studying me like I was one of her crossword puzzles you're headed to to Marty's dock I nodded pulling out my phone to check the directions I'd been sent won't get any signal out here Betty said tapping her pen against the counter 2 miles that way she pointed East follow the road until you hit water can't miss it she paused again and something in her expression made me uneasy you know anything about the Glades boy environmental science major I said trying to sound more confident than I felt did my thesis on Wetland ecosystems studied the impact of climate change on she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh books don't tell you everything The Glades they've got their own rules best learn them quick I bought a bottle of water and a pack of beef jerky more to be polite than hungry as I turned to leave she called out hey college boy when Marty gives you the rules follow them all of them no matter what the walk to the dock was like traveling through soup even the insects seemed to be moving in slow motion too heat stunned to do more than Buzz lazily past by the time I arrived my clothes were soaked through and I drunk half my water the dock itself was a weathered wooden structure that looked like it had survived more hurricanes than it should have several airboats were tied up their metal hands gleaming in the harsh Florida Sun the wood creaked under my feet as I walked and I noticed how some of the planks seemed to have been replaced recently their color slightly off from their neighbors Marty turned out to be exactly what you'd expect from someone who'd spent their life in the Everglades leather skin permanent squint and a cigarette hanging from his lips like it was surgically attached his gray eyes sized me up as I approached taking in my city clothes and already wilting appearance appearance Ben he asked voice like gravel in a blender yes sir got your email about the job he grunted taking a long drag from his cigarette the smoke curled around his head like a Halo in the humid air you're early good means you might actually listen he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper edges worn soft like old money the paper looked old really old like it had been handled by countless hands before mine the creases were so deep they'd nearly torn through in places and water stains marked the corners but the writing was still clearly visible written in what looked like fountain pen ink these are the rules he said holding the paper just Out Of Reach before I give them to you I need to know you understand something this isn't some Disney World boat ride The Glades they're old older than anything you learned about in that fancy College of yours and they've got rules break them and he trailed off looking out over the water and what just don't break them he handed me the paper the rules were written in careful Strokes though some parts were smudged as if the writer's hand had been shaking as I read them I felt that familiar urge Ur to laugh the same one I got when someone tried to tell me about their ghost stories or UFO sightings but something in Marty's expression stopped me rules of the Everglades boat tour rule one do not leave the marked paths on the map even if the water looks calm the Deep places aren't meant for us and what lives there doesn't take kindly to visitors rule two if a passenger asks about the old lost towns or ghost boats tell them it's just a myth don't elaborate don't explain some stories shouldn't be encouraged rule three if you spot a man standing on the riverbank with no Shadow turn the boat around immediately he doesn't belong here and neither will you if you acknowledge Him rule 4 at exactly 1:13 p. m. you must stop the boat and let it idle for one full minute something will pass beneath you do not disturb it don't look directly at it don't speak until it's gone rule five do not allow any passenger to bring red flowers on board if you find one throw it overboard before The Boat Leaves the dock they attract attention we don't want rule six if the birds fall silent keep the engine running do not stop moving until the birds sing again what makes them quiet is still listening rule seven at dusk a woman with wet hair May wave to you from the mangroves do not wave back she's looking for someone and you don't want it to be you rule 8 if you hear splashing behind you but see nothing don't turn around it's just trying to trick you into looking keep your eyes forward and pray it loses interest rule 9 the tour ends at the same dock it begins if the dock looks different when you return you're not done yet keep going until you find the right one this has to be some kind of joke I said though my voice sounded less certain than I'd intended the paper felt oddly heavy in my hands like it was made of something denser than ordinary paper Marty lit another cigarette the flame from his lighter dancing oddly in the humid air everything's a joke until it isn't kid come on I'll show you the boat you'll be using the Airboat was newer than the other its metal gleaming under the harsh Florida Sun Marty walked me through the controls throttle steering emergency procedures it all seemed straightforward enough though I couldn't help noticing how he kept glancing at his watch First tours tomorrow morning he said checking his watch again 8: a.
m. sharp small group better for learning the ropes he paused then added the housing we promised is that trailer over there he pointed to a small mobile home set back from the water partially hidden by Palmetto bushes previous guide left in a hurry everything should still work left in a hurry I asked but Marty was already walking away waving over his shoulder remember the rules kid every single one of them the trailer was basic but clean though there was something off about it personal items were still scattered Ed around a coffee mug in the sink a jacket thrown over a chair a book face down on the bedside table it looked like someone had just stepped out and planned to return any minute I spent that first night tossing and turning on the squeaky bed listening to the sounds of the Everglades the frogs created an endless Symphony punctuated by splashes and rustles that seemed to get closer as the night wore on I kept the rule sheet on the bedside table finding myself reading it over and over until the words began to blur morning came too quickly the Florida Sun blazing through the thin curtains like Nature's alarm clock I dressed quickly in the clothes Marty had left khaki shorts a moisture wicking polo with the tour company's logo and a wide brimmed hat professional but practical my first tour group arrived right on schedule Bob and Linda Matthews from Ohio celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary and Mike Chen a photography student from UCLA working on his thesis about Wetland Wildlife they seemed normal enough Bob in his cargo shorts and fishing vest Linda clutching her bird watching guide and Mike barely visible behind his camera equipment welcome to the Everglades I began channeling every nature documentary I'd ever watched before we begin I need to go over some safety guidelines the first hour was perfect I pointed out Birds explained the ecosystem talked about conservation efforts Bob and Linda were the ideal tourists gasping with delight at every bird siding and asking thoughtful questions about the mangroves Mike barely spoke too busy with his cameras though I noticed he kept framing shots of empty water as if expecting something to appear then it happened the birds went silent it wasn't a gradual thing one moment the air was filled with calls and songs the next nothing just the low hum of the boat's engine and the splash of water against the hull the silence felt physical like a weight pressing down on us rule number six flashed through my mind if the birds fall silent keep the engine running do not stop moving until the birds sing again what makes them quiet is still listening my my hands tightened on the controls until my Knuckles went white I kept the Boat Moving trying to act natural as I scanned the water that's when I heard it a soft Splash behind us like something large breaking the surface what was that Linda asked turning to look her face had gone pale beneath her sun hat probably just a gator I said quickly remembering rule number eight they love to follow boats best not to look wouldn't want to encourage them the splashing continued growing closer Mike raised his camera but I stopped him fish are camera shy I lied you'll get better shots up ahead for five agonizing minutes we moved through the water with that thing following us I kept my eyes forward even when the splashing got so close it sounded like it was right beside the boat the water rippled in ways that didn't make sense creating patterns that seemed to form and dissolve before you could quite focus on them finally a single bird called out then another and soon the air was filled with normal swamp sounds again I checked my watch 1:10 p. m.
