James Chase - The World in My Pocket

Trying to control his breathing, he lay motionless, listening. Kitson was the first to reach the road. He came to an abrupt stop and looked to right and left, surprised and startled to see no

sign of Gypo.

Panting and cursing, Bleck joined him.

‘Where is he?’ Bleck gasped.

‘Looks like he’s gone to ground,’ Kitson said.

Both men looked towards the stretch of shrubs. It was the obvious and only place where anyone could hide on this bare mountain slope.

‘That’s where he is!’ Bleck said, pointing, then raising his voice, he bawled, ‘Gypo! Come on out of there! We know you’re in there!’

Gypo flinched at the sound of Bleck’s voice, but he flattened himself further into the sandy soil, holding his breath and waited.

Bleck turned to Kitson.

‘Let’s get after the creep! You go in at the top and I’ll go in here!’

He walked to the shrub patch and pushed his way in, but he had only forced his way forward for about ten yards or so before he stopped, realizing the labour and the time it would take to cover the whole vast patch of ground. Unless he was lucky enough to walk right on to Gypo he would probably never find him.

Kitson, too, moving into the dense tangle of shrubs, also realized the difficulty of the task and he also came to a stop.

The two men looked at each other over the sea of green, tightly growing shrubs.

‘Gypo!’ Bleck shouted, his voice shaking with rage. ‘This is your last chance! If you don’t come out I’ll give you a beating you’ll live to remember! Come on out!’

Hearing the rage and despair in Bleck’s voice, Gypo remained motionless. He realized that if he only kept his nerve and remained right where he was, he stood a good chance of getting away.

Bleck began to move forward again, but without much hope and Gypo heard him forcing his way through the shrubs, going away from him. He could also hear Kitson crashing through the undergrowth, and also going away from him.

He waited, getting his breath back while his pounding heart slowly returned to a more normal beat.

After some minutes, the noise of the two men searching for him began to fade into the distance, and Gypo decided it would be safe to make a move. If they were going to cover the whole of the ground, it would be safer for him to keep shifting his position.

He started off, pulling himself over the sandy ground, manoeuvring his body past the short thick stems of the shrubs, careful not to disturb the head of the shrubs that now formed a screen above his crawling body.

He had been crawling forward for some thirty or forty yards, almost relaxed in his feeling of safety, when he saw the snake. He had just put his right hand out, his arm fully extended, his fingers digging into the soft soil to pull himself forward, when he glanced ahead, and there was the snake, coiled, its flat, diamond head within a few inches of his hand.

Gypo sucked in his breath in a hiss of terror. His reflexes became paralysed. It was as if he were turned to stone. Fear chilled his blood and sent his heart pounding so violently that he felt suffocated.

The snake, too, remained motionless.

Several agonizing seconds passed, then with his breath whistling through his clenched teeth, Gypo snatched his hand back.

As he did so, the snake struck.

Gypo felt the sharp stab of pain in the heel of his hand. He sprang to his feet with a wild, terrified scream, and started a blind, blundering rush through the shrubs.

Bleck and Kitson had reached the end of the shrub patch and were turning to come back at another level.

Gypo’s scream made both men stiffen and pause.

Then they saw Gypo running, his arms thrashing the air, and they heard his blood-chilling yells.

‘The lug’s gone crazy!’ Bleck said, and breaking into a run, he started to crash through the shrubs after Gypo, followed by Kitson.

Gypo’s panic-stricken run carried him clear of the shrubs, then when he reached the steep slope of the mountainside, he fell and began to roll down the hill, setting up a cloud of dust and dislodging stones as he rolled helplessly down the slope.

Kitson, racing ahead of Bleck, was the first to reach him. He dropped down on his knees beside Gypo, who had come to rest on his back, wedged against a rock.

‘Gypo!’ Kitson panted. ‘It’s okay. I won’t let him touch you! What’s the matter?’

He was shocked to see that Gypo’s face was livid and his eyes were like holes in a grey-white sheet.

‘The snake,’ Gypo managed to gasp.

Bleck came blundering up, his breath rasping at the back of his throat.

‘You yellow rat!’ he snarled. ‘I’ll kill you for this!’

He aimed a kick at Gypo’s prostrated body, but Kitson blocked his swinging foot with his arm.

‘Cut it out!’ Kitson said. ‘Can’t you see there’s something wrong with him?’

‘The snake,’ Gypo sobbed and tried to lift his paralysed right arm to show Kitson.

Kitson leaned forward and saw how red and swollen Gypo’s hand was. He touched the swollen flesh, and Gypo gave a squeal of pain that sent a chill up Kitson’s spine.

‘What happened?’ Kitson asked, squatting down beside Gypo.

‘The snake,’ Gypo panted. ‘I crawled right onto it.’

Kitson saw the two telltale punctures in the inflamed flesh.

‘Take it easy, Gypo,’ he said. ‘I’ll fix it. Don’t get scared.’

‘Get me to hospital,’ Gypo moaned. ‘I don’t want to die the way my brother died.’

Kitson took out his handkerchief, and twisted it into a cord, then he tied it around Gypo’s wrist.

‘You mean he’s been bitten by a snake?’ Bleck said, grabbing Kitson by his shoulder. ‘Then how the hell are we going to open the truck?’

Kitson shook him off. He took out a penknife from his pocket and opened one of the blades.

‘This is going to hurt, Gypo,’ he said, catching hold of Gypo’s wrist. ‘But it’ll fix it.’

He dug the point of the knife into Gypo’s hot, swollen hand and cut down.

Gypo screamed, hitting Kitson with his left hand feebly and trying to pull free.

The wound Kitson had made began to bleed. Still keeping his grip, Kitson tried to squeeze out the snake poison. He was alarmed at Gypo’s pallor: he looked as if he were dying.

‘Alex,’ Gypo gasped, ‘you are my friend. I didn’t mean what I said. Get me to hospital.’

‘I’ll get you there. Take it easy,’ Kitson said. He tightened the handkerchief around Gypo’s wrist, then stood up. ‘I’ll get the Buick.’

Bleck said, ‘You’ll do — what?’

‘I’m getting the car and I’m taking Gypo to hospital,’ Kitson said. ‘Look at him! He’s in a bad way.’ He turned and started up the hill towards the road.

‘Kitson!’ The snap in Bleck’s voice made Kitson pause and turn.

‘What is it?’

‘Come back here!’ Bleck shouted. ‘Have you gone nuts? Look up there!’ He pointed to an aircraft that was slowly circling the mountains. ‘You bring the car out of cover and they’ll spot it. How long do you think it’ll be before the cops come up here to investigate?’

‘So what?’ Kitson said angrily. ‘We’ve got to get him to hospital, otherwise he’ll die. Can’t you see that?’

‘You’re not to bring the car out of cover,’ Bleck said.

‘It’s thirty miles to the hospital,’ Kitson said. ‘What do you expect me to do — carry him?’

‘I don’t give a damn!’ Bleck snarled. ‘You’re not bringing the car out on this road in daylight. He’ll have to take his chance!’

‘Oh, go to hell!’ Kitson said and, turning, he started up the side of the mountain towards the road.

‘Kitson!’

The threat in Bleck’s voice made Kitson pause and he looked back.