Fascinated, Lynx stared at the reptile until it stopped and lifted its head four or five inches to gaze around. An idea occurred to him and he slowly eased his chest lower. Since he was already bent over at the waist, his hands were within half a foot of the serpent’s noodle. If he could just ease down—
The roar of outboard motors being started shattered the stillness of the swamp, and the noise rose in volume as the motors were revved.
Lynx glanced toward the water. The weeds screened the shore, hiding the boats from view. He listened in mounting chagrin to the motors as the craft headed eastward. If he didn’t get his butt in gear, he’d lose them.
Uncharacteristically anxious, he resumed lowering his hands toward the cottonmouth. In another minute, if the snake didn’t move, he’d teach the reptile to mess with his tootsies.
At the raucous sound of the outboards the serpent had elevated its head another inch.
Smirking at his impending victory, Lynx had to crane his head farther to keep his eyes on the unwanted hitchhiker.
The cottonmouth, oblivious to the danger, stared eastward, tongue flicking.
Got you now, you suck-egg slimebucket! Lynx thought and paused with his right hand within three inches of the reptile’s head. He tensed to make the final lunge.
Abruptly, without any warning, Eleanore groaned and shifted in his arms.
Lynx almost lost his balance. He had to grip her with all his strength so she wouldn’t fall, and he inadvertently shuffled a half-pace forward.
Oh, no!
The blood seemed to pound in his temples as he stiffened in anticipation of being bitten. He looked down at the snake. The cottonmouth was gazing up at him.
Uh-oh.
Lynx stared into the reptile’s unblinking eyes and felt a chill ripple along his spine. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but he intuitively sensed the serpent knew that its body was wrapped around a leg and not a sapling. The next few moments would be critical. The cottonmouth suddenly opened its mouth wide, exposing the lighter-colored lining on the inside for which it had been named, and its fangs. Normally tucked back along the jaw, the fangs of a viper were designed so they would swing forward when the mouth was open.
Lynx swallowed and riveted his gaze on that deadly maw, his dread becoming outright apprehension at the realization he was powerless to prevent the snake from biting. A heartbeat later the cottonmouth closed its mouth. Eleanore moaned again.
Lynx couldn’t afford to put off the inevitable any longer. The reptile might strike at any second. He saw the head begin to tilt toward his leg and he went into action, sweeping his right hand downward, knowing if he missed he was dead. Because Eleanore partly blocked his view, he had to rely on his finely honed instincts and hope his hand closed on the right spot. There was no margin for error. The serpent’s mouth started to open again.
Do it!
Lynx’s hand clamped onto the cottonmouth at the base of its jaw. He felt the cool scales on his palm, where the fur was thinner than almost anywhere else on his body, and squeezed, gritting his teeth as his sinews went as rigid as steel.
The reptile snapped the air, then attempted to bite his leg.
Lynx increased the pressure, exerting himself to his limit and beyond, feeling the neck and head collapse and squish between his fingers. Still he strangled the serpent, unwilling to relent for an instant. The thick rope of a form lashed and whipped his ankles as it wound and unwound, hissing all the while.
Die, damn you!
Eleanore tried to turn over, causing his arms to slacken. He almost lost his grip.
Dingbat!
The thrashing and convulsing halted unexpectedly and the cottonmouth went limp.
Lynx expelled a long breath and straightened, raising the serpent for a closer inspection. The snake’s eyes were bulging from their sockets and its red tongue hung from its parted lips.
Got you!
Uttering a soft groan, Eleanore awakened and glanced blankly around as if she couldn’t comprehend the situation in which she found herself.
“Who—?” she said, and happened to look at the crushed snake in his hand.
“Done taking your nap?” Lynx joked.
Eleanore’s lips moved, she voiced a plaintive squeak, and fainted.
“Yo-yo,” Lynx muttered, and was about to cast the cottonmouth from him when he heard the distinctive metallic click of a submachine gun cocking handle being pulled back. He looked up.
There were two of them, tonton macoutes in their black uniforms and mirrored sunglasses. They had their weapons trained on him.
“Look at what we have here,” declared the skinny man to the right. “A snake-killer.”
“Another freak, man,” said the second one.
“You wouldn’t win any beauty contest, yourself, pal,” Lynx responded arrogantly.
“And it talks!” exclaimed the skinny man.
“What’s a beauty contest?” inquired the other.
“They hold them in the Civilized Zone,” Lynx explained. “Once a year they have a Miss Civilized Zone Contest. A lot of human broads with big boobs prance across a stage in a bathing suit and wiggle their fannies for drooling judges. Sort of pitiful, if you ask me. They don’t even issue napkins to the judges.”
“You’re jerking us around, man,” the skinny man declared.
“What do we do with them, Louis?”
“What else, Alex?” the skinny man rejoined. “We take them to the Baron.”
Lynx took a step toward them, almost laughing when they backpedaled a few fleet and hefted their weapons. “Don’t move!” Louis barked. “Not unless you all want to look like a sieve,” Alex added.
“I just want to put this dingbat down. My arms are gettin’ tired,” Lynx stated.
“Tough, man,” Louis said. “You can carry her to the bayou, then set her down.” He backed up and motioned with his barrel for Lynx to follow.
“Let’s go,” Alex prompted, staying next to his companion.
Lynx dutifully walked after them, the snake clutched in his hand. He serpent might come in handy, he decided, “I suppose my buddies are long gone, huh?”
“Those other freaks and the big one are your friends?” Alex said. “To be expected. And yes, they are out of sight by now. But don’t fret. In a couple of hours you’ll be reunited.”
Louis snickered. “For the last time.”
Lynx plastered a patently phony smile on his mouth; walked along the trail for 15 feet until he came to a thin strip of shore bordering the swamp.
To his right, pulled partly onto the soft ground, rested a boat.
“Now you can place the woman at your feet,” Louis stated.
“Slowly, man,” mentioned Alex. “And no tricks or will blow you away.”
“You guys must be terrors at a party,” Lynx cracked. He knelt and gingerly deposited Eleanore on the soil, paused, his right hand next to his leg. “Poor kid has been through a lot,” he said, and glanced at the tonton macoutes. “I don’t suppose either of you morons would have food?”
“Don’t be insulting us, freak,” Louis snapped.
“She’ll eat when we reach the estate, if then,” remarked.
“The woman is starving,” Lynx said.
Louis chuckled. “Should we cry now or later?”
Straightening slowly, Lynx moved his right arm behind his knee, the snake rubbing against his calf. “Okay. How do you want to play this?”
“First we will bind you,” Louis announced. He reached into his right pants pocket and withdrew a black nylon cord.
“Just happen to have one of those with you?” Lynx quipped good-naturedly.
“We are required to apprehend enemies of the Black Snake Society wherever we find them. Besides, there aren’t enough handcuffs to go around,” Louis divulged.