The Stories of the Wild One (continued)

John’s throat closed tight and his eyes went wide as he also froze in place. Something slender and dark extruded itself from the patch of shadow. It moved slowly, gliding cautiously outward. There was no doubt in John’s mind what it was.

Fuck, he realized. A snake. A goddamned snake.

He became aware of just how locked in place his body had become. He attempted to move, to back carefully away, but his muscles refused to obey his brain. Able to slowly shift his eyes, John saw that the older officer had not moved.

“Randall,” the older man said calmly, his voice barely above a whisper. John was certain that he heard just the faintest quaver in it.

“Yeah, Sergeant?” he answered casually, evidently unaware of that anything unusual was taking place within the interior of the automobile.

“Draw your weapon.”

A prolonged silence answered him.

“Sergeant?” Randall’s tone clearly conveyed his puzzlement.

“Draw. Your. Goddamned. Weapon.”

Although the older officer never raised his voice, John was certain that he would have obeyed on its tone alone.

“Okay . . .” Randall replied. “Done.”

“Get back, son,” the older officer whispered to John, his eyes never leaving the shadow of the serpent emerging from underneath the seat.

John inched slowly backward, grateful that he now found himself able to move. He kept his eyes on the passenger side floor, trying to decide whether or not he would leap forward if the snake lunged at the officer.

Slowly, the older officer carefully extended his baton toward the snake. John realized that he positioning it near the snake, not aiming at it.

The snake paused, its tongue testing the scent of the baton. John guessed that it must have tasted the officer’s perspiration on it. Unhurriedly, the snake slid itself onto the baton, wrapping its body around it as if it were a tree branch. It continued to glide upward, moving toward the sergeant’s blue-gloved hand. John suspected that the thin vinyl would provide the officer with next to no protection from the serpent’s fangs, should it decide to strike.

When the snake’s head reached the baton’s grip, John saw the sergeant’s shoulder tense. Instinctively, he backed further away. He did so with only a few seconds to spare. The sergeant suddenly rose to his feet. At first, John thought he might have been attacked by the snake. Then he sergeant hurled the baton across the garage.

Randall, although he probably had no real idea what was going on, began firing. The sergeant drew his his pistol from its holster in a single, smooth motion. He fired two shots, and then lowered his weapon.

Josh stared. Five small chips of concrete surrounded the now-dead serpent. Two additional bullets had struck the name: one just an inch or so below its head, and one almost directly in the middle of its head. Granted, it was almost unrecognizable as one now. John had no doubts from whose gun those two bullets had come.

Randall strode over and stared down at the dead creature. His gun remained in his hand. A look of disgust passed across his expression and then he stepped back, holstering his weapon.

“I guess we know what happened here,” Randall said.

The sergeant grunted in response, frowning. He turned to look at the blanket shrouded figure on the ground.

“I suppose we do,” he agreed, although John heard a lack of conviction in his tone.

“What do you mean?” Randall asked, heading back toward John and the sergeant.

The sergeant walked over and nudged the limp form of the snake with his boot.

“Unless I’m mistaken,” he said, looking down at the deceased serpent, “this kind isn’t from around here.”

John realized that he was shaking. He probably had been since the older officer had pulled the snake from the car. Now, though, a sick, hollow feeling joined it.

What he had assumed had been a rather unfortunate (and messy) accident might very well have been murder.

#

Sabrina fought to keep from placing her head in her hands when she heard Alex’s voice come from the computer speakers. There was a long pause before Samantha answered. Sabrina could understand why. She was not sure that she could explain the problem without it sounding like a bad joke, making her seem like a total idiot—or both.

“Sam . . .” Alex said warningly.

Samantha looked toward Sabrina for support, but all that she could provide was a slight shrug of her eyebrows.

“It’s . . . it’s okay,” Samantha said.

She did not sound convincing, even to Sabrina. Sabrina was certain that Alex would not be fooled.

“Haven’t discussed this before?” Alex asked. Although Sabrina could not see Alex clearly on camera, the tone of exasperation was clear.

Before?

Sabrina tried to think whether she might know what Alex was referring to.

Oh, she realized a few moments later. That.

“It’s nothing like that,” Samantha protested, sounding more certain this time. “This is nothing like the thing with Victoria.”

Sabrina let out a slow breath, remembering that incident.

Samantha’s right, she silently agreed. This is nothing like that.

She considered the comparison for another moment.

It’s worse.

“So there is a ‘thing’,” Alex persisted, sounding just slightly victorious.

Damn, Sabrina thought. Then, with some resignation, she added, Well, Alex is a lawyer . . .

Sabrina waited while Samantha decided what to do. She found that she actually had no advice to offer. There were too many unknowns.

Which is why we were discussing it in the first place . . .

She suddenly realized that Alex had moved closer to the screen and was staring at her. Sabrina doubted that her expression revealed much, particularly given the crappy connection, but she still felt like she was being scrutinized like an unwelcome lab specimen.

“Maybe one of you would like to start at the beginning,” Alex suggested. “Just to make certain that you two get your lies straight.”

Sabrina bristled slightly at this. Neither of them had lied to Alex—certainly she had not. They simply had not been particularly forthcoming with details about the truth. Sabrina suspected that Alex was going to make it difficult for the two of them, or at least Samantha for certain, since they lived in the same house, until some believable answers were given.

And that could be a problem, Sabrina considered, for the truth might not be wholly believable, particularly given the few facts that they currently had.

“It’s not like that,” Samantha tried again. “There’s nothing you can do right now.”

“I can keep your ass out of jail,” Alex snapped coldly.

Samantha looked toward Sabrina pleadingly. Sabrina wished she had something persuasive and rational to say, but everything she thought of sounded either petulant or hostile. Neither of those attitudes was likely to gain her any favor with Alex.

“Fine,” Samantha conceded with a sigh. She glanced toward Sabrina for support.

Sabrina raised her hands, palms up, gesturing her surrender. She did not like it, but she could see no immediate alternative. She needed to go to bed soon, assuming that she could actually sleep, and did not want this to drag on all night.