harmless.
“Harmless, harmless, harmless,” she whispered, as if chanting the word repeatedly could somehow protect her. But a niggling little voice in the back of her mind said, “He said it wasn’t poisonous anymore, but it can still bite.”
Shea forced herself to study the cage’s lid. A simple slice of glass, hooked firmly on two sides. With her eyes on the snake, she undid the hooks with trembling fingers. But she didn’t lift the lid. Not yet.
Keeping her eyes on the sleeping Mariah, she reached down with one hand to grasp one of the bags from the bottom shelf. It was a gunny sack made of beige canvas, with a drawstring closure. She dropped the sack onto the table beside the cage and yanked its neck fully open.
The stick with the noose on one end was right where the whisperer had said it would be, hanging on the left side of the glass cage. Shea reached for it tentatively, willing her hand not to shake.
I am actually going to do this, she thought with a mixture of horror and awe. I’m going to pick up this tool … and she did. I’m going to lift the lid of this cage … and she did. I’m going to reach in and loop the noose around this snake’s head and then I’m going to tighten the noose and then I’m going to pick the snake up and drop it into that sack and carry it out of here.
This she did not do. Because the snake was asleep, its head cozily resting inside that coil of reptile flesh. There was no way she could get the noose around its head while it was asleep.
She would have to wake it up.
Shea tapped lightly on the glass, then more firmly.
The noise woke up the snake.
It lifted its head sleepily, fastening cold, beady eyes on Shea.
Afraid the snake would lie back down and the moment of opportunity would be lost, Shea moved quickly, automatically. She dropped the loop into place, the noose sliding easily over the snake’s head, and jerked the stick backward so the loop tightened gently.
She had done it. Her knees were so weak she had to lean against the table, and her breath was coming in painful, choked little gasps, but she had done what she had thought she could never do.
Swiftly, before her shaking fingers could accidentally let go of the stick, dropping it back into the cage, Shea lifted the startled reptile and thrust it into the waiting sack. With her free hand, she yanked on the drawstring, pulling the neck of the sack tightly closed, with half of the stick protruding from the top so that she would be able to grab it when it was time to unleash the snake on room 620.
Done!
The snake was hers.
Her knees were knocking against each other, her arms felt like all of her bones had melted and her lower lip was quivering uncontrollably, but … she had done it.
Except …
Except that she wasn’t finished.
Chapter 9
A S SHE HURRIED FROM the lab across a deeply shadowed campus to Lester, Shea held the canvas bag away from her, as if it were a ticking time bomb. She could feel the writhing movements of the shocked and protesting Mariah, angry at being yanked out of a contented sleep.
Campus was deserted. Those who weren’t out partying were in their rooms studying or sleeping. Shea was grateful. What could she possibly say to someone who caught her running across campus holding a wriggling gunny sack out in front of her as if it were about to explode?
She darted into Lester, and, unwilling to risk encountering someone in the elevator, took the stairs to the sixth floor. Her heart was pounding ferociously and, by the time she reached the fourth floor landing, she felt dizzy and lightheaded.
But she kept going, telling herself it would all be over soon. In just a few more minutes, she’d pull off this stupid stunt and retreat to her own room. Tomorrow, she’d get the tape and the paperweight, destroy them, and put all of this nastiness behind her and get on with her life.
Room 620 was quiet, with no light shining under the door. Bethany and Annette were either asleep or out.
A
“Harmless, harmless, harmless,” she whispered, as if chanting the word repeatedly could somehow protect her. But a niggling little voice in the back of her mind said, “He said it wasn’t poisonous anymore, but it can still bite.”
Shea forced herself to study the cage’s lid. A simple slice of glass, hooked firmly on two sides. With her eyes on the snake, she undid the hooks with trembling fingers. But she didn’t lift the lid. Not yet.
Keeping her eyes on the sleeping Mariah, she reached down with one hand to grasp one of the bags from the bottom shelf. It was a gunny sack made of beige canvas, with a drawstring closure. She dropped the sack onto the table beside the cage and yanked its neck fully open.
The stick with the noose on one end was right where the whisperer had said it would be, hanging on the left side of the glass cage. Shea reached for it tentatively, willing her hand not to shake.
I am actually going to do this, she thought with a mixture of horror and awe. I’m going to pick up this tool … and she did. I’m going to lift the lid of this cage … and she did. I’m going to reach in and loop the noose around this snake’s head and then I’m going to tighten the noose and then I’m going to pick the snake up and drop it into that sack and carry it out of here.
This she did not do. Because the snake was asleep, its head cozily resting inside that coil of reptile flesh. There was no way she could get the noose around its head while it was asleep.
She would have to wake it up.
Shea tapped lightly on the glass, then more firmly.
The noise woke up the snake.
It lifted its head sleepily, fastening cold, beady eyes on Shea.
Afraid the snake would lie back down and the moment of opportunity would be lost, Shea moved quickly, automatically. She dropped the loop into place, the noose sliding easily over the snake’s head, and jerked the stick backward so the loop tightened gently.
She had done it. Her knees were so weak she had to lean against the table, and her breath was coming in painful, choked little gasps, but she had done what she had thought she could never do.
Swiftly, before her shaking fingers could accidentally let go of the stick, dropping it back into the cage, Shea lifted the startled reptile and thrust it into the waiting sack. With her free hand, she yanked on the drawstring, pulling the neck of the sack tightly closed, with half of the stick protruding from the top so that she would be able to grab it when it was time to unleash the snake on room 620.
Done!
The snake was hers.
Her knees were knocking against each other, her arms felt like all of her bones had melted and her lower lip was quivering uncontrollably, but … she had done it.
Except …
Except that she wasn’t finished.
Chapter 9
A S SHE HURRIED FROM the lab across a deeply shadowed campus to Lester, Shea held the canvas bag away from her, as if it were a ticking time bomb. She could feel the writhing movements of the shocked and protesting Mariah, angry at being yanked out of a contented sleep.
Campus was deserted. Those who weren’t out partying were in their rooms studying or sleeping. Shea was grateful. What could she possibly say to someone who caught her running across campus holding a wriggling gunny sack out in front of her as if it were about to explode?
She darted into Lester, and, unwilling to risk encountering someone in the elevator, took the stairs to the sixth floor. Her heart was pounding ferociously and, by the time she reached the fourth floor landing, she felt dizzy and lightheaded.
But she kept going, telling herself it would all be over soon. In just a few more minutes, she’d pull off this stupid stunt and retreat to her own room. Tomorrow, she’d get the tape and the paperweight, destroy them, and put all of this nastiness behind her and get on with her life.
Room 620 was quiet, with no light shining under the door. Bethany and Annette were either asleep or out.
A
Similar Books
