John Godey - The Snake

When he noticed that one or two of his men were a little slow getting back to the rock, he sang out with some of the old Marine Corps zip.

Minus profanity, of course, which he had given up when he joined the Church of the Purification.

"Move it, move it, you Puries there. Move it, you hear!" He watched the laggards light out for the rock on the double. "Okay, now. I'm gonna touch it off. Arid when the fuse burns down to the gasoline, she's gonna blow. If the snake is in there, it's gonna get burned up good, but we wanna know about it. I want every eye peeled on the fire. She's gonna burn real bright, so if the snake is in there, you'll see it. Make sure you check out the trees. Look sharp, you Puries, look sharp. And if you see it, I want you to sing out, and I want to hear you sing out. Any questions?"

They shook their heads, or said "No," and one or two of them, like old grunts, sang out a crisp "No questions, sir." Grinning, Buck Pell crouched over the fuse end and cupped his hand around his lighter.

Deep in its burrow, the snake felt the vibrations of footsteps. They moved around for a long time, very close to the burrow. The smell was heavy and rich and alien, and the snake was alarmed. It was the disturbing smell, after the footsteps had receded, that made the snake glide upward toward the second hole of the burrow and stick its head out.

It saw the shadowy figures standing on the rock. Another figure was running in the direction of the rock. Nearby, on the ground, a bright sputtering flame was approaching. The snake slid out of the burrow, and, for the moment, watching the brightness crawling toward it, did nothing.

As soon as the fuse was lit, Buck Pell turned and ran for the rock in long, rangy, ground-covering strides. Someone put a hand out and hauled him up. Seconds later, with a puff, there was a blinding burst of flame.

"Look sharp, you Puries," Buck Pell shouted. "Peel them eyes."

The squad members were leaning forward, peering intently, shading their eyes with their fingers. Suddenly, one of them screamed, "There it goes."

Buck Pell caught a glimpse of the snake, behind the flames, and it was moving so fast that he knew it was not burned or injured.

"Okay," Buck Pell shouted, "let's go get him!"

He had to restrain some of his squad, who, in their eagerness, seemed intent on going straight forward into the burning hollow.

"No, goddamn," Buck Pell shouted, "around it, around it. Forgive me, Lord, for cussing. Let's go." He headed off in a wide are to his left, his troops streaming after him. "Move it," he shouted over his shoulder,

"get the lead out, you Puries!"

Once, before he pulled so far ahead that Eastman had trouble seeing him, Converse turned and looked back. He wants to make sure he's losing me, Eastman thought, the treacherous bastard, so he can play Good Samaritan to that stinking snake. He tried to turn on an extra burst of speed, but just then a squad car pulled up onto the curb and cut him off. Both doors fanned open and two cops came running toward him.

One of them yelled, "Freeze!" and put his hand on the butt of his revolver.

"Freeze, you!"

For an instant, Eastman considered ramming into the cop and knocking him ass over teakettle. But the guy's partner was running up, and he already had his gun in his hand.

Panting, sucking air, Eastman yelled, "On the job," and started to reach for his I.D.

"Freeze," both cops yelled at once, and the second cop crouched and brought his piece to bear, holding it in that terrific two-handed grip he had picked up from television. "Don't make a move!"

"Shit," Eastman said.

There were so many police vehicles on the scene that they were forced to compete with each other for access to the park. Once inside, they streamed onto the main auto routes and walkways, searching for suspects.

The Puries, squads A to H, had left the areas of their fires once they were certain they were burning satisfactorily, but they did not flee. They walked through the park in formation, singing hymns. They offered no uniform resistance to being gathered in by the police, although there were a few minor clashes. The net also swept up a few innocent muggers.

All of the detainees were piled into squad cars and then transferred to patrol wagons with a capacity of twenty persons. They were taken to the Central Park Precinct, where they were booked, charged, investigated, and fingerprinted. Because the Central Park Precinct had no lodging facilities, the suspects were dispersed for the rest of the night to the Two-oh, the Two-three, and the Two-four. The females were sent to Midtown North.

As he rounded into the park, Converse saw flames and black smoke boiling upward almost directly to the east, and he knew that the Puries had ignited the snake's territory. Bastards, they would roast it! But he ran on, though he was certain there was no way he could save the snake now.

Even supposing it had not died in the flames, but had been driven out into the open, were the Puries going to stand by and allow him to bag it?

Still, the snake might foot them. In Africa, during the seasonal burning of the dried grass, black mambas frequently survived by remaining in a burrow under a dead tree or a disused ant heap. Since it was natural to the species and would help explain how it had escaped detection for so long, it was reasonable to suppose that the snake in the park had found such a burrow.

A few hundred yards short of the snake's territory, Converse heard excited voices. He stopped. The voices came closer, and then they came into view, black-clad Puries running, waving their improvised weapons.

He watched as they streamed past him in a loose formation that he remembered vaguely from his ROTC days as an infantryman's extended order drill. From their purposiveness, it seemed certain that they had flushed the snake and were on its trail. From the way they were running they seemed to think the snake would move ahead in a straight line. But, of course, it would zigzag to take advantage of natural concealment, and it might even double back, although the flames would prevent it from returning to its territory. On the other hand, the Puries might actually be on its trail.

Converse hesitated, indecisive, then, on instinct, ran after the Puries.

One of the cops handed Eastman's I.D. back to him and said, "Sorry, captain, but you know how it is."

"No," Eastman said. "Tell me how it is. And put that gun away."

Both cops returned their revolvers to their holsters. The second cop said, "Well, we sure are sorry, captain."

"Tell me how it is," Eastman said to the first cop. His voice was shaking with anger. "Go ahead, tell me how it is."

"Well, we see this guy running-"

"Which guy running are you talking about?" Eastman said. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're running, going like hell, and I spot you, and I says to Joe, my partner-"

"There were fifty goddamn people running," Eastman said. "Why me?"

The cops looked at each other, and after a moment the first one said, "Well, sure there was all these other people running, but we spotted you and we said, we both said, Hey, that big guy, he looks big and tough, you know, well, you know, captain, what I mean, you should of seen what you looked like, what you look like…"

"You dumb sonofabitch," Eastman said, "I know exactly what I look like. I look like a cop." He glared at the first cop. "Don't I"

"Yeah, come to think of it…"

"Don't I" Eastman said to the second cop.

"You sure do, captain."

"Now that we got that straightened out," Eastman said, "I'm commandeering your car. Let's get moving."

"I don't know, captain," the first cop said, "we got our orders from the sergeant, we gotta-

"Get in that car, you pair of shitheads," Eastman yelled, reaching under his shirt, "or I swear I'll shoot you both dead right in your fucking tracks."