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My legs shake. My chest rises and falls fast, not enough air entering its passageways as recognition strikes me.
Tim is dead. The same salesperson who just yesterday accosted me inside the art supply store and Theodore saved me from.
How? Why the hell is he here?
His throat is sliced clear across and the skin around it has what looks like small teeth marks embedded across the marred flesh. Several bites. Not human. He’s pale and tied up—a horror-struck expression on his face as the pain registered before his last breath.
“Call the cops,” I say, ordering myself with a steady voice that is devoid of the true panic building within. Every inhale is becoming harder. Every blink is failing to clear the sudden fuzziness in my vision, but it’s the slithering of something large and white making its presence known that breaks me.
My steps back are clumsy. Like a newborn colt without control of its extremities, and I trip, a helpless cry leaving my throat as I crash to the floor butt first. The sudden impact hurts, the pain shooting up my coccyx shocking me into a frozen state as I take in its appearance.
The animal’s eyes are on mine with its forked tongue flicking in and out, sensing the air around us. Its posture is unthreatening, yet it moves closer as it crawls over the dead body half lying within my home and half on the back porch.
I’ve never seen a snake like this, but I can automatically tell it’s an albino constrictor, though if it’s a python or boa eludes me. Moreover, no matter how hard my heart beats inside my chest, I press my lips hard together and remain still. Its movements are majestic, a predator knowing it has no threat here, and I’ve seen enough animal shows to know snakes sense movement and prey through their tongues.
And the last thing I want is for it to strike.
I want to appear bigger and unafraid. I want to get up and run. God knows I do, but I’m unable to so much as flinch while trapped in its gaze. The large body slides off the cadaver a few inches from me, coiling into itself while the head and a few feet of its body stand upright. Eyes a milky blue, the snake lifts its head and tilts it to the side, then waits. And waits.
No movement. No striking.
The only signs of its menacing power are the dead body and the albino skin wearing splatters of blood along the body and drying across its mouth. How did Tim get here? How did this snake end up here, killing him?
My rational mind isn’t looking at the gash across the man’s neck, but instead focusing on the bite marks and ripped skin straight across. Was it the pressure of a constrictor’s hold that forced the skin to split open, which he then further ripped apart with its jagged teeth?
A possibility? Yes. I’ve seen enough wild animal documentaries to know that they’re powerful and once the teeth sink in, tearing the flesh apart is the sole way to extract them.
Even as my mind conjures scenarios, the snake continues its perusal of me—judging my reactions while flicking its tongue lazily in and out. We stay like this for a while, without so much as a muscle twitching. A few beads of sweat dot my upper lip and brow, and yet, the animal isn’t showing any signs of aggression. His body is unmoving—watching.
I wait for the right time, psyching myself up to run toward the laundry room, when my cell phone rings. The sound is loud and the animal’s reaction is swift, turning away from me and slithering down the back porch area and then disappearing into the trees. This catches me off guard; one second it’s staring at me and the next, it’s gone, completely lost within the greenery and limbs of trees and the leaves on the ground.
I’m unable to move. I have no idea how long I stay with my eyes set on the area the constrictor disappeared to.
Again my phone rings and I ignore it until a loud banging at my front door accompanies it. Then, there’s the Ring alert telling me someone is at my door, and only then do I stand, noticing how much warmer the morning feels. My movements are on autopilot while my reaction is cold, eyes sweeping across the dead body before walking in the direction of the noise.
I don’t know how to act. I can’t even comprehend that this is real.
Is it, though? Could I still be asleep?
“This nightmare sure took a twist tonight,” I mutter under my breath, glaring at my front door as it comes into view. Someone is pressing incessantly on the doorbell, fist pounding, and I’m tempted to punch the person for making an even weirder dream more annoying. Without pause, I open the door and glare. “What now?”
At my outburst, Tero stops all movements, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
“No.” A bubble of laughter escapes me; the sound is shrill and a bit manic. “There’s a dead body in the back, a snake tried to charm me, and I’ve completely accepted that insanity has overtaken me. This is all probably a hallucination, and you aren’t even here.”
“Can I come in?” He’s talking to me as if I were a scared animal. Unpredictable.
“Sure. Be my guest.” I wave my hand in a gesture to proceed, and then frown when I catch Theodore standing by the all-black SUV outside my door. “Why are you here?”
“You didn’t show up and didn’t answer your texts. Mr. Astor has been trying to get ahold of you for the past hour; it’s midday now.” He’s walking deeper into my home, almost following the growls of my dog, and I’m right behind him. His footsteps don’t make a single sound, something I find odd and reaffirms my belief it’s all a dream, but the presence now behind me refutes the thought.
Theodore doesn’t have to utter a single word, but I feel him. His touch seeps into my bones, making my heart race. His scent makes my mouth water, the temptation almost too great, and I catch myself before turning around and embarrassing myself.
There’s something about his presence that overtakes my senses—pulls me closer—and when his warm, large hand grips my arm and tugs me back a step, reality smacks into me with the force of a freight train.
This is all real. This. Is. Not. A. Dream.
I’m awake.
