I had to wait for the images to cycle to see why: now Lucia had her lips on the tube and appeared to blow powder up the woman’s nose, the overweight witch reeling back as if stunned. Soundless laughter-no audio-which made it appear as if it was all happening underwater.
I moved away and continued to search. All around me were terrariums and shelves of acrylic trays that contained snakes. More than a hundred pit vipers, Theo had bragged. Diamondbacks and pigmy rattlers, bushmasters, moccasins and copperheads. Banded kraits and cobras were spaced along the far wall. As I passed by, a cobra flattened its head in warning and watched me with satanic eyes.
The prize specimens, though, were two dozen coral snakes that shared a terrarium in the center of the room. Nearby was a milking table. I shuffled over for a closer look, but not too close-if I fell, I would crash face-first because my hands were behind me. Mounted on the glass was a plaque. It bore an inscription which I had to scrunch down to read:
In Memory of My Loving Mother
Lydia Rom Slew
Artist, Actress, Showman, Historian,
&
Descendant of Egyptian Queens
Theo, even when not in the room, had something to say. The serpentarium had been named for his mother, who, before dying of snakebite, had passed down her interests to her son, along with her out-of-control ego.
Egyptian royalty. Bizarre. But her middle name, Rom, tugged at a recent memory-something Birdy had said regarding Gypsies.
It didn’t matter.
My attention shifted to the coral snakes. Their bodies were slim, a couple of feet long, with skin as colorful as jelly beans-red and black segments separated by yellow in Life Savers bands. Under any other circumstances, I would have marveled at their beauty. Now, though, I only considered their possible usefulness.
I’m not terrified of snakes, but I avoid them and have never had the desire to handle a venomous reptile. If I had to, though, I would choose a coral snake. Only once had I seen one in the wild-actually, it was under my mother’s house. The snake had been so docile, it was no surprise when I’d read that corals seldom coil and strike. The few people bitten usually made the mistake of surprising them or handling them roughly. A dangerous mistake because their tiny fangs inject a neurotoxin far more powerful than any snake in North America. Slow-acting-almost a full day before the human nervous system shuts down-but deadly.
“It takes two years and fifty thousand milkings to produce a pint of venom,” Theo had claimed. “And if bite victims don’t get antivenom within twenty-four hours, they die. Any wonder why I’m a rich man?”
A deranged egocentric, more like it. It was weird to be in this space while, at the same time, Theo appeared on one of the computer screens and reached for the bamboo tube Lucia had offered.
Snorting more drugs, I thought. Good. More time to get my hands and ankles free before he comes back.
Chin-high near the milking table, I noticed, was a shelf full of equipment: heavy gloves as long as my forearms, a catch pole with pincers hanging near an aluminum pole-a snake hook-and something Theo had forgotten about, a box cutter lying in plain sight.
Did the box cutter contain a razor blade?
I’m no stranger to the strengths and weaknesses of tie wraps. I keep a pack on my boat. They bind like steel under pressure, but a nick and sudden snap will pop them like string. Using my mouth, I dropped the box cutter on the table, then backed against it, hoping it had a razor. My fingers fumbled around until they became familiar with the case and sliding blade. Minutes later, my hands, then my legs, were free.
The first thing I did was confirm that Theo was still at the party. Then I rushed to the sink and washed myself clean of Krissie’s blood. The sight and smell of the red swirl spinning down the drain almost caused me to retch.
There’s no time for that. Weakness can wait, staying alive can’t.
Talking to myself helped. I washed my face, too, while I wondered, How do I escape from a windowless room made of concrete? Well… maybe through the air-conditioning ducts.
I took a look. I’m a large woman, with shoulders from years of swimming. The ducts weren’t wide enough. I had heard a dead bolt slam on the main entrance but tried the front door anyway. It was locked.
The second door caught my attention-two doors, actually: an outer door of steel, the inner door all bars like a jail cell. The next room, possibly, was where valuable snake venom was stored. I wanted to believe that. But then remembered Theo staring as he threatened to put me in a cage with the chimps. That worried me. Something else: what looked like a mail slot was actually a hinged pass-through large enough to fit a tray stacked with food.
I didn’t want to believe that.
Why house adult chimpanzees next to a room full of snakes? It makes no sense.
It was a high-security room, I reasoned. Had to be. Probably refrigerated. I pictured a big stand-up safe inside, too. The prospect didn’t offer much hope as an escape route, but I went to the door and turned the latch anyway.
Surprise. The bars swung open on rusty hinges. I caught the frame before it banged the wall. A brass lever controlled the next door, which would also open inward. I reached to try it but stopped myself. There was no dead bolt on my side. And no way of knowing if the internal lock was engaged. If I turned the lever, the door might open. But the same was true if someone, or some thing, opened the latch from the other side.
The thought of what awaited me was unsettling. The image of Krissie’s mangled body appeared in memory: faceless, her flesh gnawed to the bone. Oliver and Savvy-one of the chimps was a monster, maybe both. What if they were on the other side of the door?
I stood for several seconds. My eyes shifted from the lever… to a fist-sized dent above it… and finally focused on the pass-through. The opening was covered by a metal flap. Lift the flap, I could look through to confirm what was in the next room. Caution demanded that I do it. So I knelt and leaned one hand against the metal sheeting. When I did, the door settled into its frame with a soft click-click.
Instantly, from the other side, I heard tap-tap… tap as if in reply.
The space around me, already quiet, began to hum with a dense and dreadful silence. I’d been too overwhelmed to worry about paranoia or the effects of the drug. But now told myself, You’re imagining things. Open the flap and look.
I did. Lifted the little metal lid, which was light and loose to the touch. I leaned my face to the opening… then exhaled, relieved. Almost smiled because in the next room all I saw was a wedge of tile flooring and a desk where books were stacked near a lamp that was on but not bright. A couple of dog toys, too-a retrieving bumper, a chunk of rope-and something else: a window. The window was closed, but it was a glass window. No bars. Force the door open, my freedom lay on the other side.
I stood and caught my breath. Rather than act in haste, I decided to check on Theo one last time. As I stepped away, though, I heard it again: tap-tap… tap.
Three distinct sounds. Like a fingernail signaling from the next room. I cocked my head and listened. Heard the compressor whine of air-conditioning… an October wind in the trees outside.
Wind. That might explain the noise. Even so, I tiptoed to the door… knelt, and was again reaching for the metal flap when a more familiar sound stopped me-a dead bolt snap at the front door, the door yet to open because there was still a padlock to deal with.