P Deutermann - The Moonpool

There was a three-foot-wide gravel path bordered by four-by-six posts lying horizontally, to which the cages’ front screens attached. Three stainless steel kitchen tables on wheels were parked along the pathway. Some of the riotous vegetation had poked through the screens and overhung the path. The large black pipe ended three feet into the jungle in a blank cap. Some kind of heat exchanger? The whole place smelled like greenhouses always do, moist, composted earth, wet vegetation, and high humidity, but with another smell overlaying it all. I recognized that smell.

“Now what?” Tony said, clearly implying that we’d seen all we had to.

“I’m going to check this place out,” I said. “You can wait here, stand guard if you’d rather.”

“No fucking way, boss,” Tony said.

“You want to go first?”

“Hell, no.”

“Because usually, with snakes, it’s the first guy pisses ’em off, and the second guy who gets bit.”

“I’ll go first.”

We went in single file, stepping carefully, although logic said that the handler, or was it the keeper, had to have one totally safe route through his reptilian kingdom. I’d seen some snake-handling sticks hung on the wall back by the utility room, but didn’t want my hands encumbered by anything but my trusty SIG. I told Tony to fish out his flashlight in case the lights went out.

“Why would the lights go out?” he asked.

“Because the alarm we didn’t see summons the owner?”

“Another good reason to get the fuck out of here,” he pointed out.

The cages were on either side, filled with greenery that I didn’t recognize. There were water feeders like the one I’d seen on the boat in all the cages, and sometimes rock piles or artificial burrows. Each cage had two stainless steel padlocks on its door. And, yes, there were snakes.

Most of them were smallish, compared to the Burmese monster. Some looked plain enough; others were dramatically patterned, with pronounced, flattened triangular heads sporting muscular, protruding venom glands on either side. All of them that we could see were tracking us with flickering tongues and glittering eyes, and I realized that the lights coming on probably meant feeding time to this crew. One thick bastard, which I recognized as a Gabon viper, coiled aggressively as we walked by. I saw Tony’s finger slip down onto the trigger of his Glock, and then realized I’d done the same thing.

About half the cages were empty, or else the inhabitants were enjoying a postprandial coma in one of those artificial burrows. I wasn’t about to open any doors to find out, nor did we have keys. We turned the corner into the base of the U-shaped complex, and came upon some really large cages and some equally large snakes: pythons, anacondas, and some other constrictors I didn’t recognize from my days as a National Geographic subscriber. Some ignored us, some watched. I wondered if Trask threw the rats in dead or alive. I’d read somewhere that snakes could live for months after ingesting one good meal.

The final wing had a set of double doors made of clear Plexiglas, which created an airlock. When we stepped through the second door, we encountered a much drier heat. Gone was the jungle. This wing was more like a desert, and the cages were filled with sand, rocks, the ubiquitous water feeders, some deadwood from the beach, and not much else. The temperature gauges read eighty degrees, but it seemed hotter. Even the lights were different, although still not very strong. They’d been greenish in the other section; in here they were more like orange. Strangely, all these cages appeared to be empty, unless the whole crowd was down in their holes.

“ Now can we boogie?” Tony said.

I was about to say yes when we both noticed that there was no exit door. We’d have to go back the way we’d come.

“What makes a man want to associate with reptiles, and especially snakes?” I asked the air.

Then the lights all went off.

We froze and listened. I hadn’t heard any sounds from the outside except the offshore night wind starting up. I hadn’t felt any pressure changes in the air indicating a door had opened to the outside. The dogs hadn’t barked or set up a fuss outside. We both flicked our flashlights on at the same time. I pointed to the way we’d come, and we started back, keeping the lights down on the gravel just to make sure we hadn’t missed a hissing something.

The airlock was still empty. We paused to listen with our flashlights off. Nothing seemed to move around us. I told Tony to keep his light off so as to lessen the target, and I pushed through the Plexiglas door. We were back in the jungle. I thought I could hear water gurgling through the heating pipes, and it seemed warmer than it had been the first time. A faint glow of lingering daylight came through the glass panes. It was difficult not to just bolt down the path, but one didn’t go running in the dark in a snake house. I felt some vines brushing my face as we moved across the base of the complex and finally into the entrance wing. All we needed was some jungle birds making alien sounds off in the trees.

We stopped on the other side of the airlock door to listen. We could hear sounds out there in the dark, faint rustles and scrapes, but nothing that sounded human. That wasn’t necessarily comforting. Was Trask here? Had there been an alarm we’d missed? He could just as easily have a house nearby where he parked the boat-we hadn’t looked. The heated water continued to gurgle, and a metal pipe joint somewhere clanked in protest. I could hear a low hum, which had to be the water pumps. So it hadn’t been a power failure. Had someone opened the breakers down there?

We listened some more. As our eyes adjusted to the gloom, we could see the ribbon of gravel path stretching out in front of us. All we had to do was start walking. Get to the screened-in utility room and keep right on going. Two hundred feet and we were out of there.

You can get in, but you won’t get out, the little sign said. I nudged Tony, and we started walking, me in front this time, him right behind me. I could hear his breathing and then realized I could hear my own as well. I tried to ignore any movement in the cages as we passed them. Metal screens. Two locks. No problem, no matter what was in those cages. I formed a mental image of that thick viper with its murderous head and made sure I was in the exact center of the path

One hundred feet. The humming sound was getting louder.

Something hissed and struck hard against the screen to my right, and I damned near jumped out of my skin. Tony snapped his light on, and we saw a six-foot-long green snake disentangling ivory fangs from the screen, twisting its head to get them loose. Those fangs looked as long as toothpicks.

Tony turned his light off, and we kept moving. It was really hard now not to break into a full run. My mouth was dry and my heart was thumping in my chest. Steel screens. Double locks. No way they could get out.

Fifty feet.

More activity in the cages now. Snakes expecting dinner and now the lights had gone off? With no chow? Small sounds. Leaves moving. Scales against sand. Prolonged dragging sounds. One long exhalation.

Thirty feet to the door, which we could barely see now that we were closer. I focused on the door, trying hard to ignore the angry reptiles on either side, as I recited the mantra: Steel screens. Two locks. No way.

Fifteen feet. No way-and then something black rose up in the visual frame of the utility room door.

Tony collided with me when I stopped short, and we both switched on our lights. Directly in front of us was a dark green snake about ten, maybe twelve miles long. Okay, feet. The front five feet of him were vertical, weaving slowly back and forth as if he were range-finding. I thought it might be a cobra, but there was no hood. I moved my flashlight out away from my side, and Tony did likewise, going in the opposite direction. The snake’s head stopped when the lights moved, and the base of the vertical part began to bow out toward us. It gave a low hiss and opened its mouth, which was jet black. Then I saw the end of that black pipe, which was no longer capped.