The ants crawl in and the ants crawl out. His penis is floating in a sink. The brigade has dropped them off in this town, this scorching, godforsaken place.
“Just get on the horses and travel South,” the official says, careless, his tassels grazing his suit. “You’ll find it.” And so they do. They saddle some horses and swing themselves up, shielding their eyes from the light.
To reach the plateau, where the road runs out, they must travel for fifteen miles. The boy looks behind his shoulder and watches the stooped, whining woman emerging from the trees. He wonders if she’ll make it. This isn’t her kind of town.
Behind them, the lush jungle beckons. It is transparent, green, and the sun in there is a miracle of life. It kisses streams and coaxes trees, which spiral up into its light. But they must leave the jungle behind. If they don’t get out, they’ll never leave. And the first step of the journey- reaching the plateau- is only fifteen miles down the road.