Joseph Delaney - Partners

Except for the chickens, Brutus, Big George, the gander, and a couple of half wild cats there were no other animals on the place. Time was that Mel and Alice had raised a few hogs and kept a small dairy herd, but they quickly discovered the meager profits weren’t worth the effort. The domestic market had been depressed since government subsidies had been abolished. Imported meat was cheaper, and dairy farming was a job for specialists, usually agricultural corporations whose diversified operations enabled them to grab enough market share to compete.

So, thanks to the rain, Mel was close at hand when Alice needed help, as she did when she encountered the snake again.

She had been working near the arbor, reseeding the corner of the devastated lettuce patch and using her hoe to dig furrows. The pattern of strange tracks in the mud of a drying puddle, which she took at first for those of a dung beetle, alarmed her as soon as she realized these had toes, which insects lacked. The toes were in a birdlike pattern, three pointing ahead, and one backward.

She didn’t connect these with the snake until she glanced ahead and saw the snake crawling up one of the posts toward the grapes. Clearly, these were its tracks.

Mel came running over in response to her call, and when he arrived she said nothing, she simply pointed.

“It was real,” he gasped. “And,” he added, “he really doesn’t seem to care much that we’re watching him.”

“I told you he was uppity, Mel. Here, take the hoe. Watch him until I get back with my snare. This time, I’m going to get him.”

Mel took the hoe, knowing from experience that if he didn’t go along with Alice’s plan it would be a long while before he heard the end of it. Besides, her plan was a good one, provided… Mel suddenly realized the snake’s uppity attitude might be justifiable confidence.

After all, it suddenly dawned on him, that’s exactly the same smug attitude you find in the average skunk. The biggest danger a skunk faces is getting smacked by an eighteenwheeler—because skunks are so used to things running away from them that they just can’t imagine an enemy that stands its ground.

Proof of that was the thousands who annually strolled out onto highways to feast on road kills and who never made it back to the shoulder.

Alice returned with her stick, prepared to move in on the snake.

Mel stopped her. “Wait a minute,” he said, “something about this thing bothers me. Since he isn’t in any rush to leave let’s not take any chances, let’s get some more firepower.” He reached out for the stick. “Let me hold that. You run inside and get my twelve-gauge pump.”

“That’ll pulverize it, Mel—”

“And that, Alice, is the general idea. If it gets away from me or looks like it might strike you can pulp it, OK?”

Alice nodded, and decided Mel was right. Besides, it sounded to her that he planned to let her do any shooting that might be necessary. She wouldn’t kill the snake if she could help it.

A moment later she was back, shotgun in one hand, bandolier in the other. She found it was fully loaded, so she hung the bandolier over her shoulder. “I’m ready, Mel, anytime you are.”

“I’m waiting until he starts to gobble another grape,” Mel answered. “It’ll be hard for him to bite anybody with a grape stuck in his throat. There he goes—now!”

Mel lunged. The fork of the stick caught the creature by surprise but it didn’t quite pin him to the post. He slipped loose and dropped to the ground, simultaneously coughing up the grape.

It started toward Mel, though not with any deliberate speed. It looked almost like it was expecting Mel to flee. When he didn’t, the snake stopped, and that was when Mel pounced again.

This time Mel’s aim was better and he could shove the points of the fork deep into the soft dirt. As he did so, drawing the noose tight and immobilizing the head, the snake coiled the rest of its body around the end of the stick.

“Look out, Mel,” Alice screamed, training the shotgun on the snake. “Mel, it’s not the head that’s dangerous, it doesn’t bite, it stings, like a wasp.” She pointed to a couple of glistening amber beads on the dull colored stick. “Those have to be poison. Get back, I’ll blast it.”

“No, Alice! Just keep it covered. I think I can manage.” Mel took the hoe in his other hand and used it to pin the tail to the ground. He held it in such a way that by bearing down he could have cut the tail section and the sting off if the snake tried to free itself.

Then, he manipulated the noose in front of the head and slipped it over. The snake did not seem to care. It did not resist, but instead concentrated on trying to free its tail.

“I got it, Alice.”

“I think we should kill it, Mel. It’s too dangerous.”

“Nothing doing, Alice. Come on, let’s get to the can, then you can run inside and call Eddie.”

“The can might not hold it, Mel.”

“I’m going to keep the noose on it too, Alice. Now go, I’ll be fine.”

Alice made the call and rejoined Mel outside, clutching the shotgun like a rag doll. She was already beginning to regret not using it.

In a few more minutes they heard a siren. It was the sheriff, whose office was across the hall from Eddie’s. The squad car came roaring up into the driveway and screeched to a halt, scaring the pants off Brutus in the process, even though he wasn’t wearing any.

Eddie literally tumbled out of the back seat. He was followed an instant later by Jake Fletcher, who was generally regarded as the county’s most experienced snake handler. “You got him, huh?” Jake exclaimed as he approached. “Guess there’s nothing for me to do unless you’ve got some more.”

“Believe me, Jake,” Alice answered, “this one’s enough. We re pretty sure it isn’t a snake, though, and that it stings instead of biting.” She paused, realized that might not be so, and added, “At least we’ve seen it stinging—it might bite too, but—”

“That’s no snake, Alice,” Jake replied.

“Or anything like a snake,” Eddie added, “except in the way it’s shaped. It’s warmblooded, and it’s got legs, and it’d be my guess that it’s almost blind.”

“How do you know that?”

“Those feathers are to keep it warm. Cold-blooded animals don’t have them, and they’d be a distinct disadvantage because they’d make it harder for the animal to warm up to active state. They’d block out sunlight, and insulate the body underneath so it’d stay cool.

“I’d bet it’s a burrower, at least for most of the time, though it clearly doesn’t hesitate to come out and forage. Its shape, and those little feet would make it easy to get around in tunnels. Underground, where eyes are next to useless, they generally atrophy—and, there’s a sort of horny shield above the thing’s snout that would make a pretty good spade.

“The creature probably prefers soft ground, maybe only a few inches below the surface, making tunnels something like what moles live in. Since it’s a vegetarian the sting is probably for defense only, but even so, it’d be my guess the venom’s uncommonly potent. I can’t wait to get a sample.”

“Here you are,” Mel said, handing the stick to Eddie. “There’s some of it drying right down there.” He pointed to the two amber blobs on the shaft.

Eddie turned to Jake. “What do you think? Is it safe to drop him in the can?”

“I don’t think I would, Eddie. Tell you what, let’s get some cord and lash him to the pole, then put him in the can. That way we can open it again later without having to fight it off.”

They followed Jake’s advice. A couple of minutes later, as Mel and Alice watched the squad car drive away they both suddenly realized this wasn’t the end, that life on the form would get a whole lot more complicated than it had ever been before.