Christie had, in fact, forgotten about it when she collapsed on the stretcher in her tent after lunch that Sunday. She felt exhausted and drained of her vitality in the heat, and she had barely closed her eyes when she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
She must have slept for hours. It was dusk, and considerably cooler when she awoke with the sensation that her skin was crawling. Curious, yet reluctant to wake up, she lifted her lashes a fraction to see Lyle standing inside the flap of her tent. She thought at first that she was dreaming, but his face was strangely white, and she felt a very real stab of alarm. What was he doing in her tent? Her muscles tensed as she prepared to leap to her feet, but something made her lower her gaze, and what she saw was enough to chill the blood in her veins.
'Don't move!' Lyle's deep voice commanded softly, but with an underlying severity. 'For God's sake, don't even move a muscle!'
Christie could not have moved at that moment even if she had been paid to do so. Stark fear had injected a numbness into her body that held her motionless on the stretcher while her terrified eyes were fixed on the reptile slithering across her legs, and up towards her right thigh. It's colour was grey, its length interminable, and its cold, slithery body was in no apparent haste to get wherever it wanted to be.
'In heaven's name, Lyle, do something!' she begged urgently through her clenched teeth.
'If I attempt to distract its attention it might just become infuriated, and it could turn on you,' he explained sotto voce, dashing her frantic desire for a quick escape. 'It's a black mamba, and it's dangerous.'
That last bit of information was of no comfort to her at all, and her heart was drumming out a violent tattoo of fear which brought her close to fainting. Oh, God, if only I could faint! she thought helplessly. Her face was white, and beads of perspiration were breaking out on her forehead like miniature pearls. Instead of fainting, she remained conscious and incapable of tearing her terror-stricken glance away from that forked tongue which darted repeatedly from the mamba's mouth as if he were licking his lips with relish at her discomfort.
It was moving up against her side, and she could no longer bear the feel of that cold, shifting body moving across her bare thighs. She wished now that she had worn slacks rather than shorts, and she suppressed a shudder of revulsion just in time. Lyle had warned her not to move, but if the mamba came near her face she knew that she would scream first, and contemplate the disastrous results afterwards.
Lyle was talking to her, his voice a low murmur of encouragement. She could not hear what he was saying, but it gave her the strength to lie there motionless while every other instinct cried out for her to brush that horrible reptile away from her. Every agonising second seemed like an eternity, and Christie could almost feel herself ageing when the snake raised its head close to her face. Her insides were shaking uncontrollably, and she was positive the mamba had picked up the vibrations emanating from her when she saw its head swaying back and forth while that forked tongue darted agitatedly from its mouth.
'You're doing fine,' Lyle encouraged, his voice finally penetrating that barrier of terror in her mind. 'It won't be much longer now.'
If one's supply of strength could be measured in quantity, then Christie was scraping together the dregs to survive the remaining seconds of this ordeal. That viperous head was lowered slowly, and that cold, slithery body brushed against her bare arm which was still raised on the pillow as she had slept. She closed her eyes momentarily, not sure how much she could bear, and then, miraculously, it was all over. The mamba's long body dropped to the floor, and Lyle moved in that instant with the speed of lightning. The downward thrust of a long-handled spade almost severed the viper's head from the rest of its wriggling body.
Christie found herself standing in the farthest corner of her tent. She had no recollection of how she had got there, but she was aware that she was shaking all over as Lyle lifted the reptile by the tail end of its body. It was almost as long as Lyle was tall, and a succession of shudders shook through her when he strode past her to fling it out of her tent. He turned, and his eyes were like dark pools in his white face as he stared at her. Christie was not conscious of moving, but she was in his arms the next instant, clinging to him a little wildly with her fingers digging into his muscled back, and her face buried against his broad chest. Lyle held her in silence until the tremors in her body subsided, and he continued to hold her when the silent tears of relief finally spilled on to her pale cheeks.
His hands worked their way through her hair, his touch comforting and soothing after the nightmare she had lived through, and she relaxed against the hard length of his body. There was comfort, too, in the familiar, woody scent of his masculine cologne, and she pressed closer to him as the horror of what might have happened shuddered through her. Her hands moved unconsciously across his back in a desperate need for reassurance rather than a caress, but she realised what she had done when she felt his body stiffen against hers.
'Damn you, Christie!' he muttered thickly, forcing her face out into the open, and her defences were down when he set his hard mouth on hers.
Her lips parted beneath the pressure of his, and he invaded her mouth with a mixture of anger and passion that seared her like a flame. She knew that she ought to push him away from her, but she felt too weak to do more than cling to him for support while her world dipped and swayed crazily about her. Her shattered mind was suddenly split in two. The one half issued a warning, while the other half preferred his angry passion to the savage hatred with which he had kissed her before.
She was released with an abruptness that brought an involuntary protest to her lips, but she knew the reason for it when she heard raised voices outside her tent.
Dennis and Alan stepped inside a second later with Erica and Valerie hovering directly outside. Christie stood like someone drugged while four pairs of eyes surveyed Lyle and herself with a mixture of expressions. She was vaguely aware that Lyle had. regained his calm, unruffled appearance, and she could almost hate him for it when she was convinced that the evidence of his kisses were clearly visible on her tingling lips.
'Is that the snake Aaron was talking about this morning?' Dennis shattered the awkward silence, and he jabbed his thumb characteristically over his shoulder.
'I sincerely hope it is,' Lyle answered with some gravity. 'I suggest that we continue to exercise caution until we're sure this mamba didn't have a travelling companion.'
'Where did you find this monster?' the girls wanted to know, and their query was followed by a little shriek when Alan held the reptile up for the inspection of several other students who had gathered around the entrance to Christie's tent.
Christie shuddered at the sight of that long, grey body, and her reaction did not escape Lyle's notice. 'I found it in Miss Olson's tent,' he said abruptly and without elaborating the horrifying circumstances. 'Please dispose of it, Alan. I think Miss Olson has had her fill of snakes for one day.'
Lyle lingered a moment to see that Alan carried out his instructions, then he strode out of Christie's tent, and left her feeling oddly bereft.
'Are you all right?' Dennis asked with concern, sliding a protective arm about Christie's shoulders. 'You're very pale, and you're trembling.'
'I—I'm fine,' she lied, her mind cruelly giving her a visual replay of what had occurred, but she pulled herself together hurriedly when her skin began to crawl with the memory of that reptile sliding over her. 'What I need most at this moment is a bath.'
'We're coming with you,' Erica and Valerie said almost in unison, and Dennis wandered off a little dejectedly while they collected their towels and hurried down to the pool before the darkness of night made it unsafe for them to bathe.
Christie was relieved to know that she had company, and relieved also to have a valid excuse to get away from her tent. The mere thought of having to return to it sent shivers up her spine, and she felt certain that she would never spend another peaceful night on that stretcher after what s
he had endured. The girls seemed to sense her reluctance to be alone, and they remained with her in her tent while she changed into fresh slacks and a cool sweater. Their conversation was light, their laughter almost gay, and Christie was terribly grateful to them for attempting to take her mind off what had occurred.
That night, when they sat around the open fire singing to Alan's guitar strumming, Christie lingered longer than usual. She was afraid to walk unescorted into her darkened tent. What if there was another snake, and what if Lyle was too late this time to help her? She shuddered at the thought, and she was tempted to ask someone to accompany her, but she could not bear the thought of Lyle's mockery.
The group around the fire diminished gradually, and Christie knew that she would make her nervousness obvious if she continued to sit there until everyone had gone. She got up at length, said good night, and literally forced her unwilling legs to carry her in the direction of her tent. Her skin crawled, and uncontrollable shivers raced up and down her spine when she pushed the flap aside and stepped into the tent. Her teeth were clenched so tightly together that her jaw ached, and she could feel the perspiration breaking out on her forehead when she fumbled for the box of matches. Her fingers were shaking so much that she had difficulty in lighting the candle, and when it was burning she cast a swift, nervous glance around the interior of the tent. There were too many shadows, and too many dark corners which she could not see into, but she undressed herself quickly and almost leapt on to her stretcher for fear that something might be lurking in the shadows beneath it.
She doused the flame of the candle, but she knew that she would not sleep. She sat curled up on the stretcher until the singing had stopped and everyone had gone to bed, but even then she knew that sleep would continue to evade her. She found herself listening intently for any little sound which might indicate that she was not alone, and her body was so tense that her muscles began to ache in protest.
Christie had no idea how much time had elapsed while she sat there trying to summon up sufficient courage to close her eyes and go to sleep. She struck a match to look at the time. More than an hour had passed; an hour of straining her ears for the sound of a possible intruder, and she shivered again at the memory of what might have happened if Lyle had not been there to help her through that ordeal.
'This is ridiculous!' she muttered to herself angrily.
She pulled her slacks and sweater on over her skimpy pyjamas, and swung her feet to the ground to push them into her sandals. The incident that afternoon had been something quite out of the ordinary, she told herself. It was quite likely that the snake had innocently sought refuge in her tent, but that did not eliminate the horrifying fact that she had been in the tent at the time.
An involuntary shiver ran up Christie's spine. She had to be sensible about this, and a breath of fresh air might help her come to her senses. She pushed aside the tent flap and stepped outside, her wary glance carefully avoiding the spot where the snake had lain after Lyle had flung it out of her tent, and she drew the cool night air slowly and deeply into her lungs to steady herself.
The moon was full in the star-studded sky, and the earth was bathed in a silvery glow that made it possible for her to see every blade of grass, and every motionless leaf on the trees. Something stirred to her right, and her heart skipped a nervous beat. She turned her head sharply in that direction, and saw Lyle standing at the entrance to his darkened tent. He was smoking a cigarette, and he was gazing so intently in her direction that her natural instinct was to dash back into her own tent, but she forced herself to remain where she was.
Christie stared back at him in silence. She had not intended to seek out his company, but she was suddenly desperate for his comforting presence. She wanted to walk up to him, but she remained hesitant, and after seemingly endless seconds it was Lyle who made the first move. He dropped his cigarette, and crushed it beneath the heel of his shoe before he sauntered towards her.
'Can't you sleep?' he asked when he stood no more than a pace away from her.
'No, I can't,' she laughed shakily. 'I know it's silly of me, but I get the shivers at the mere thought of shutting my eyes and going to sleep in that tent.'
'It's a natural reaction.'
His reply, devoid of mockery and derision, stunned her momentarily into silence. She had not expected such calm understanding from Lyle, and she found herself relaxing slowly.
'I haven't thanked you yet for what you did this afternoon.'
'Forget it,' he said abruptly, his fingers latching on to her arm. 'What we both need is a stiff drink.'
He was ushering her towards his tent, and somehow she was incapable of protesting. He drew up a chair for her, and she sat with her hands locked together nervously in her lap until Lyle had lit a candle. He produced a bottle and two glasses from somewhere, and poured a shot of amber liquid into each glass while Christie observed him surreptitiously. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he had pulled it out of the confining belt which hugged his grey slacks to his lean hips. His dark hair lay across his forehead as if his fingers had paved their way through it incessantly, and she felt guilty when she sensed his annoyance and agitation.
'I'm sorry, Lyle. I never intended to make a nuisance of myself.'
He turned abruptly, glass in hand, and an unfathomable expression in his eyes. 'Drink this.'
'What is it?' she asked cautiously, carefully avoiding the touch of his fingers when she took the glass from him.
'Brandy,' came the clipped reply.
'I don't—'
'Drink it and shut up!' he interrupted harshly, and something in the set of his hard jaw told her that it would be wiser to choose the path of least resistance.
Christie raised the glass to her lips. The smell was enough to make her wrinkle her nose in distaste, but the first mouthful had her choking and gasping for breath until tears streamed down her cheeks. The inside of the tent dipped and wheeled as she brushed away the tears with the back of her hand and, when she finally got her breath back, she gasped, 'It tastes revolting!'
'You're to drink every drop,' Lyle instructed, swallowing down a mouthful of his own drink. 'It will settle your nerves.'
'It will make me tipsy,' she protested as the interior of his tent began to right itself around her.
'If it does make you tipsy, then you may consider it part of the adventure you were looking for when you applied for this job,' he mocked her.
'You're being nasty again,' she pointed out, that burning warmth inside her building up a confidence which bordered on boldness.
'Didn't you say you wanted to do something different—something adventurous?' he demanded, the mockery in his eyes deepening as he observed her heightened colour in the candle-light.
'Yes… sort of,' she admitted reluctantly, 'but that didn't include a frightening encounter with a snake, and getting drunk in the middle of the night.'
'It's the unexpected that makes life an adventure.' His mouth curved in a cynical smile. 'Didn't you know that?'
'I'm learning,' she answered drily.
His glance was lowered to the glass in her hand and it rose again to meet hers. It was a silent command to finish her drink, and she raised the glass to her lips. The second mouthful was not as lethal as the first, and the remainder was almost bearable. A stab of fiery warmth hit her stomach, and from there it spread into her limbs to make them feel curiously limp while her brain felt as if it was being stuffed with cotton wool. She was beginning to feel dizzy and light-headed, and totally unlike herself when she leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table.
'More brandy?'
'No, thanks,' she declined hurriedly. 'I think my nerves have been shuffled back into their proper order, but I wish I could say the same about my head.'
'You never did have a head for alcohol,' he reminded her, draining his own glass.
'You're right,' she laughed, her brain still clear enough to register the fact that the pitch of her low, musical voice was a semi-tone higher
than usual. 'One glass of champagne is usually enough to give me the giggles.'
'I know.'
Those two words were sufficient to flood her mind with memories she would have preferred to forget. She was reminded of her wedding day, and her nervousness despite the fact that she had been very much in love with Lyle. That night, in their hotel room, he had ordered a bottle of champagne and, after one glass, she had erupted into a fit of giggles which he had found amusing rather than annoying. The giggles had eventually subsided, but it had also stripped her of her inhibitions, and she had followed rapturously where Lyle had led during that night of love.
Hot and embarrassed by the intimate trend of her thoughts, she rose abruptly to her feet, but that was a mistake. Her action had brought her so close to Lyle that her senses were at once tormented by the faint odour of his masculine cologne. The alcohol had helped to lower her guard, but she still had the sense to know that she had to leave before she made a complete fool of herself.
'I think I should—'
'Why did you cut your hair?' His quietly spoken query cut into her polite attempt to excuse herself from his now disturbing presence.
'The long hair was part of the image Sammy had wanted me to project,' she heard herself answering him. 'When my contract expired I shed the image along with my hair.' His maleness was still as potent as a drug, and she knew that if she was to escape unscathed she would have to get away from him quickly. 'Thanks for the drink, I think I'll sleep now.'
Christie moved away from him, almost stumbling over the chair in the process, but Lyle was beside her in an instant. 'I'll walk with you to your tent.'
'That won't be necessary,' she protested, her nerve ends quivering in mad response to his nearness. 'There's a full moon, and I can see quite clearly in the dark.'
A Moment in Time Page 6