Avraham Azrieli - The Masada Complex

The snake twisted back, the rest of its body slithering, constantly reforming.

Masada tried to shift her position.

The snake stuck up its tail and rattled its multiple rings. Trrr! Trrrrrrrrr!

The sound deprived her of the capacity to think.

Its head rose high, supported by a curve of its muscular body, parallel to the ground, pointing at her like an arrow on a tight bow. Its neck arched back behind the head with enough twisted length to strike at her face. Parting its jaws, the snake hissed at her, its tongue moving, fangs unsheathed.

Masada forced air into her lungs slowly and watched the rattlesnake without moving a limb. Its head kept shifting from side to side until it froze, as if reaching a decision. It opened its mouth even wider and tilted its head backward, the fangs aimed at her face. She was about to reach forward and grab it before it struck-what did she have to lose? — but the rattler closed its mouth, its tongue resuming a series of quick pokes at the air between them. It was giving her a chance to use her only weapon. But how could she draw it from the brace?

Forcing herself to avert her eyes from the snake’s menacing gaze, Masada slid her right hand under the mattress and slowly reached for the brace. But her leg was straight under the weight of the mattress, the knee beyond reach.

The snake must have sensed the movement, because it glided closer to her, its head swaying in precise angles. She strained the muscles in her right leg, trying to bend it, causing the mattress to shake.

Trrrrr! Trrrrrrrr!

The snake jerked its head, fangs like white hooks with dagger ends. Its palate was pink and wet with rows of tiny teeth. It lunged forward so fast she could barely see the movement, the gaping mouth flying at her face. She choked with fear and shut her eyes, ready for the bite.

She felt a light puff of air on her neck, as delicate as a feather. Her eyes opened, and she found the snake back in position, adjusting its aim. She waited for pain to spread, but none came. Had the snake made a fake attack? A practice strike to measure the distance for the next, venomous strike?

Masada focused on reaching the brace. By leaning to the side, she could bend her leg closer. Certain that her movement was subtle enough, she was shocked when the snake shifted simultaneously, maintaining its aim. It began a series of rocking motions, back and forth, its tongue emerging and retreating in quick lashes, as if it were sampling scent and sight and smell, collecting all the information it needed for a perfect strike.

Time was running out. Masada knew the rattler would strike soon-it had enough of torturing her. She tried to plan her defense. On her left, the mattress was flush against the wall. On the right, there were the reading lamp and Silver’s book on the night table. She could topple it if she managed to get from under the mattress and leap sideways, all that without getting bitten. But the intensity of the snake’s focus on her made it clear that its lightning-fast strike would reach her as soon as she tried.

As if reading her mind, the snake hissed and slithered, inching closer.

Tucktuck! Trrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Another pull, and she managed to bend her right leg enough to reach the brace.

The snake sensed her fleeting movement and grew more agitated, its head moving sharply, the diamond pattern on the tight, scaly skin changing with each contour of the slimy, tubular body.

Masada’s fingers reached below the brass knee cap to the shin part of the brace. She slipped a finger under the leather flap and fished out Srulie’s bone from its hidden sheath over her shin.

Her enemy sensed danger and raised its rattle, paralyzing her with a different sound, a deeper grinding. Krrrrrrrr! Krrrrrrr! Krrrrrrrrrrrr!

The snake’s head swiveled on its curved neck as if taking a radar reading of the room, then returned to glare at her, its head high, parallel to the floor, shifting sideways, its tongue taking air samples.

Masada forced herself to look away from the snake’s mesmerizing eyes. It was relocating itself to her left, selecting the optimal striking spot. She had once read that snakes rely on heat sensors to trace their targets. And here, within an arm’s reach, a live rattlesnake zeroed in on the heat emanating from the large neck artery that supplied blood to her brain-the best spot to inject its deadly venom. She had no illusion about what would follow such a strike. The venom would shoot up with the blood directly into her brain and begin dismantling the chemical blocks that formed her mind.

The snake repositioned itself in a fluid rhythm, its head high on a loop that would provide the force and length for an effective strike.

Her right hand clasped the bone just under the small ball that had once been part of her brother’s elbow. She would have one chance, resulting in a death-either a quick death for the snake or a slow, horrible death for her.

Masada’s right hand emerged from under the mattress, holding the dry bone as a dagger, rising slowly.

Khhh! Khhhh! Trrrrrrr!

The snake suddenly pulled its head back, its neck curved in a wide arc, its mouth open, fangs drawn. It was reading her mind!

Trrrr! Trrrrrrrrrrrrr!

With no time to think, Masada realized it would now strike her neck, too close to miss. She was pinned down like a trapped rabbit.

Now!

She passed the bone to her left hand, raised it above her head, the dagger pointed downward, and with her right hand reached sideways and snatched Silver’s book from the night table.

The snake hissed. Its arrow-shaped head made a snap adjustment of position. Its fangs unsheathed and aimed.

Her hand drew back with Silver’s book, and the rattler struck, its gaping mouth moving so fast it became a blur. It punched the book like a fist, pounding the cover into her face. Its fangs burrowed deep, piercing the book, determined to inject venom through an inch of printed pages into her pulsating artery.

Numb with fear, Masada let go of the book. It flew from her hand, the triangle head of the diamondback attached to it by the hooked fangs. The snake thrashed furiously to release itself for a second strike. She willed her left hand to strike down with the pointy bone, but the snake’s eyes swiveled upward and met her gaze.

It stopped moving. Its greenish eyes glowed, drawing her. It shook its head from side to side, never letting go of her eyes, until its fangs unhooked from Professor Silver’s book.

The rattler’s mouth opened in a wide grin as its body slithered, re-forming itself into a spring for another strike.

Masada shut her eyes, breaking the spell, and her arm stabbed downward with all the force it had.

She opened her eyes. Her brother’s bone had pierced the scaly skin just behind the rattlesnake’s head, nailing it down through the comforter into the mattress. The snake looked at her, its mouth open, its fangs drawn forward. Its body coiled and recoiled in crazed twitching. Its tongue darted rapidly. Its eyes bore into her, still trying to possess her mind.

Masada struggled to free her legs from under the mattress. She stepped over the twitching snake and across the room. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched the rattler, pinned down by the bone dagger, until it ceased to move.

A corner of the comforter had flipped backward during their battle, exposing a crumpled pillowcase. On it, spray-painted in mustard-yellow, was a crude fist that clenched a letter J.

Professor Silver paced the basement floor from wall to wall, puffing smoke that gathered thickly under the low ceiling. In his haste, he had rolled the joint with too much hashish. The glue parted, and he kept it together with the fingers of both hands like a flute.