Ruby's Story
“Ruby Ann Brown you come back here this instant!”
I hear my mother’s voice calling after me, but I ignore her as I run into the jungle. I used to be afraid to go into the jungle alone, worried about giant snakes or wild cats attacking me. But they couldn’t be any worse than the abuse that Father doles out. Sometimes I lie awake at night and pray that a big wild cat will just come into the settlement and drag my body deep into the jungle where no one will ever find me.
Sweat drips down my back, making my pink cotton tee-shirt even wetter. The past couple days have been so stressful. Father and his trusted commanders have been so angry since word came down that the man was coming from America to try to destroy all that we had created. I know that it is a sin, but deep down I hope that he does take us all home.
I push my limp hair out of my eyes as I continue to run past the lush greenery of the jungle. I can hear the birds calling in the morning air, warning me to keep going as fast as I can. I may only be twelve years old but I have learned to listen to that little voice in my head. My daddy used to call it Jiminy Cricket, like the bug from Pinocchio. And Jiminy has been screaming in my head all morning that something bad is going to happen. That’s why I’m running away. I begged mom to leave with the man from the States but she refused. She was so angry that I wanted to go with him. She told me that those back home didn’t understand what Father was trying to create, what we stood for.
The tears in my eyes blur my vision and I trip over a root that is sticking up from the ground. On my hands and knees I take huge gulps of heavy air and try to catch my breath, all the while listening for the sounds of feet running after me. Only the sounds of the jungle greet me.
To my right is a tree with low hanging leaves. I can hide there providing there’s not already some wild animal lurking behind the leaves, just waiting to pounce. Moving slowly I creep over to the leaves and carefully push them aside, peering into the darkness for luminous eyes. It appears that I am alone so I crawl inside and lean back against the tree. Once I know that I am safe and alone, I let myself cry in silence. I learned early on upon coming the People’s Temple, never to let Father hear you cry. The punishment was brutal.
As the tears stream down my dirty face I think about my Dad. I miss him. He and my mother came to the People’s Temple together when I just eight years old. They were searching for something better my mother tells me. I remember the first time I met Father. I hated him. With those glasses on his nose and his dark clothes he looked like the devil himself. I told Mama and Dad that this was a bad place, but they didn’t listen. Dad found out though, a couple years later. He discovered that Father thought I was old enough at ten to engage in sex. Daddy tried to protect me, but Father’s power was too strong. Daddy just disappeared one night. Father said Daddy was weak minded and that Mom and I are better off without him. I don’t believe that. I like to think that Daddy is looking for a way to get me back to the States. But my heart knows that Daddy is gone to heaven. I know that Father killed him.
There are no more tears and my eyes are heavy. I send a silent prayer up to the heavens that someway, somehow I can go home. I miss home, my dad and my grandparents. As my eyes slowly close I think about my grandparent’s farm in Merced. I dream of my childhood when I used to chase chickens and pet the baby cows.
I awake with a start. The sounds of screaming and gunfire pierce the air. There are no jungle sounds now, just the horrible sounds of anguish. The bad thing I sensed was happening, now. I pull my knees up to chin and try to make myself very small as I hide in the leaves of the great jungle tree and I rock back and forth as my mind pretends that it is my mother rocking me, like she used to when I was little.
I don’t know how much time has passed, the jungle is quiet now. The screaming has long since subsided. My legs are stiff from sitting in this position for too long. Slowly I crawl out from my hiding place and with dread in my heart I make my way back to Jonestown.
I don’t understand what I am seeing. The pathway heading towards the jungle is littered with bodies; they are bleeding from their backs. My mind reasons that they have been shot. I continue along to the main worship building, am I now so cold and my legs and arms feel as if they are made of lead.
I see it now, the horrible thing that sent me fleeing into the jungle. There in the center of the settlement is my family. Hundreds of people are just lying down in the rust colored dirt amongst the litter of paper Dixie cups. No one is moving. I look around at the horror. There are couples with their arms wrapped around each other and parents whose children are clinging to them, even in death.
My eyes are dry and my mouth is parched as I ever so slowly approach the throne; the chair where Father would sit and watch over his children. He’s there now, with those damnable glasses on his face, but now he is not moving. I see the trail of blood that is trickling down from the hole in is temple and as I collapse onto the ground next to Father I see his gun on the ground next him.
My whole body shakes and tears finally come as blackness threatens to engulf me. I want the darkness, I need the peace of oblivion but as I slip off into unconsciousness I realize that finally my nightmare is ended. Now, now I can go home.
