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The blood.
The bowl of blood.
No matter how far gone you are, how completely you have already accepted the idea of death, there is always a tiny voice in the background yelling at you to for God’s sake get us out of here. And as I looked at the bowl of Anna’s blood the thing stood on its tiptoes and yodeled for all it was worth.
Pick up the blood. The snake likes blood.
Ah, said the part of me that had already quit. But I can’t really move. So it’s useless, you see?
Try. Wiggle your fingers.
All right, but what’s the point? Look, they wiggle, so what?
So pick up the bowl of blood. Pick it up now!
My right arm was free from just below the elbow down, outside the snake’s coils. It hurt like hell, but I could just do it. I picked up the bowl of blood.
Okay; now what?
The snake moved its head past my face, tongue flicking. I had its attention and for a moment it wasn’t squeezing quite so hard. That huge flat head moved past mine and waved down to the bowl. It dipped into the blood.
Cappy moved close, purring to the snake, coaxing it back to duty. He put one hand out for the bowl and one on the snake’s head.
Now! screamed my annoying little voice.
I threw the bowl. It wasn’t much of a throw, more like a flip using just my wrist, but it worked. It hit Cappy in the chest and the blood soaked him.
Cappy looked at himself, annoyed. The snake looked at him, too. And slowly, very deliberately, it moved off me and onto Cappy.
He scolded it. He wheedled. But the scent of blood was too strong. The snake slid onto his shoulders and threw a couple of gentle coils around Cappy, relaxing, exploring the blood.
I leaned on the altar, panting, watching. The most wonderful feeling I had ever had was the air moving into my lungs. Breathing took everything I had. If Cappy wanted to kill me with his bare hands now, I could not raise a finger to stop him.
I watched, wondering what I would do when Cappy had the snake back under control again. And it seemed like he did. He turned toward me, the snake wrapped around him, weaving its head at me again. I had bought a little time, a couple of beautiful breaths, no more.
Cappy stepped towards me, the snake coiled around him, head raised alertly. And somewhere far away I heard a small flat sound that didn’t fit with the background of the drums. The snake jerked, convulsively squeezed. Cappy’s eyes bulged and his hands went to the coils around his neck.
I looked for the sound. I saw nothing anywhere on deck but the last of the party, a final group, mostly children, moving toward the rail and looking over at the skyline of Miami so close.
The last two guards were running towards me at full speed. Too bad. I had almost made it, but there was nothing I could do to stop them. I could barely move.
The flat popping sound came again, twice, three times.
The closest guard pitched forward onto his face without slowing down and slid another six feet before ramming headfirst into the altar. The man behind clutched his stomach and crumpled to his knees, then fell over and lay still.
I looked far away, up to the top of the wheelhouse. Something moved. A small form stood there in classic pistol shooting stance, both arms out in front.
Nicky had found his gun.
He waved at me and I blinked back. Closer at hand I heard a gurgling. I looked.
Cappy had gotten one hand between the snake and his throat. It wasn’t helping. Nicky’s shot had taken the snake in the head and it was in its death throes, squeezing with everything it had, loosening for a half second, squeezing again. Each time it squeezed, it forced Cappy’s knuckles deeper into his throat. Each time, Cappy got a little weaker.
He dropped to one knee. He was not smiling anymore. I saw his lips move, trying to whistle, but he didn’t have enough air. The snake squeezed, there was a delicate crunching sound, and Cappy fell over. The snake still thrashed around, squeezing convulsively, and I did not want to get too close to check for a pulse. But Cappy’s eyes were already glazing.
He was dead.
I turned to Anna. As I fumbled to stop the bleeding, Nicky ran up beside me.
