by Brian Rella
I reload and aim again. This time my shot is a little closer. The rocket bounces about eight inches high and to the right of the snake and falls to the ledge where the snake is lying. The whistler makes an awful racket and the snake is clearly bothered even though the rocket isn't touching it. POP! The rocket explodes and the snake is moving.
Terry and Paul quickly unload some fireworks from their bags and join in the fun. Paul has made a few enhancements to some of his stash, duct-taping four bottle rockets around an M80. This may have shown promise in theory, but it proves to be flawed in practice. He lights his makeshift missile, but the rockets don't all fire at the same time, so the trajectory is way off. The M80 rocket bomb goes about ten feet on a short arc, falls to the ground, and then hisses for a moment. A huge bang rips through the area. Echoes bounce off the walls and announce to everyone that the game of ‘who can kill the most snakes in the most innovative ways’ has officially begun.
Terry drops M80s into a pile at his feet and starts lighting them and throwing them at the snakes. He's got a good arm and bounces one off a snake’s body. It explodes close enough to apparently stun the snake.
"Whoa!" we all exclaim.
"Nice shot!" I say.
"That was awesome!" says Paul.
It’s a free-for-all. We run around the building with various explosives, tossing them in all directions. After a while, we've maimed or killed several snakes outside the old building. With no more snakes in sight, we move inside and uncover another cluster of targets living among the ruins.
There are probably ten snakes in the immediate area. Some are in close groups and look to be sleeping. From the corner of my eye, I watch Paul pull out a blockbuster and light it. He holds it in his hand until the wick burns down a bit, and then, timing it perfectly, throws it at the group of three or four snakes tangled together. It lands in the middle of them and explodes just as it hits the ground. Snake bits and blood spray everywhere. Some snake gore lands in front of our feet and I start to mock bow in front of Paul and praise him. "Dude, that was amazing! You are the master! King Copperhead Killer!"
Terry has his own innovations. He has a long branch, about ten feet, and he's duct-taped an M80 to the end of it and he’s holding it out in front of me.
"Light me, light me!" he says.
I light the wick and he runs up to a hole in the wall where a snake is half in, half out of the hole. He lifts the stick up to the snake's body just as the M80 goes off and the snake nearly splits in two from the explosion and falls to the ground. The half-snake tries to slither away, but it’s going nowhere fast. We all cheer.
"Dude," Terry says. "Let’s find the nest. There’s gotta be a nest around here and I want to blow it up!"
"The walls," I say. "Maybe the nest is in the walls?"
"Maybe," Paul says. I follow his eyes as they trace the ledges along the roof and then down toward the back to a small room in the corner. "In there," he says. "I think the nest is in there."
"Not in there," says Terry. "Ryan’s right. Look, they're in the walls." He points to the holes in the walls at the back of the front room. I can see a dozen snakes hanging out of holes, curling around broken support beams. Terry walks to a hole where there's no snake and shoves something into the hole. "Watch this," he says with a devious grin.
He lights the fuse and I can see there's about a dozen whistlers taped together. He shoved them in backwards so that the end where the whistling and propulsion comes out is facing into the hole. When it goes off, the smoke and fire that usually launch it into the air push back, deep into the wall instead.
The screech echoes through the old building, then fssssssst pop-pop-pop-pop. The whistlers start exploding. We all just stare for a minute and then we see a couple of baby copperheads drop from the other side of the wall. "You see!" Terry yells. "Look, those are babies coming out of there!"
"Those are adolescents, not babies," Paul says. "Look how large they are. And the yellow is almost gone from the back of their tails. I think they’re moving around in the walls for sure, but they’re not breeding in there. Come on, let’s check the corner room." He moves that way while Terry and I follow closely behind.
The corner room is pitch black inside. There are no windows and the roof is intact. We can see some shadows and debris just inside the door, but that's about it.
Paul grins. "Go ahead," he says and motions to me.
"Screw you! It’s your idea. You go."
He smirks and tosses a pack of jumping jacks into the room. Red, green, yellow, and blue lights dance and zip along the floor, lighting up the room. I can see a few snakes, but the jumping jacks don't make enough light to see the whole room clearly. Paul must be thinking the same thing, I guess, because the next thing he does is gather some broken wood and leaves from around the floor, and begins building a pile in the corner just inside the doorway. His motions are jerky and quick. I can tell he's kind of nervous going in and out of the room. Copperheads like dark and cool places in the hottest part of the day. They live and breed under debris and in wood piles. Paul’s right. This back room is a perfect spot for them to nest.
When Paul has a small pile together in the corner, he breaks open some firecrackers and spreads the black-gray gun powder all over the kindling. Then he lights it with his lighter and suddenly the room brightens from the small fire and we can see almost to the back in the shadowy light. I smile and stand next to Paul in the doorway.
The back of the wall is open and all the plumbing and supports are exposed. There's a large pile of wood and concrete on the floor. Leaves, chunks of brick, and rusted metal are littered all around. We gaze in awe at a room full of snakes. "This must be the nest," Paul says.
I see Terry reaching into his bag, pulling out some fireworks and I grab his hand. "No, let's make a bomb and see if we can blow a bunch of them out of there."
"If we can toss it under that wood pile, I bet we can get a dozen or so. That's where most of them are, probably," Paul says.
We retreat back to the main room and Paul empties his bag onto the floor. He duct-tapes M80s and blockbusters together and starts attaching a long, green fuse to them. We probably have the equivalent of a few sticks of dynamite when he’s finished. It’s the size of volleyball.
"That thing will take your hand off," I say.
Paul is attaching a long fuse to the end. "More like your arm. We'll toss it then light it from far away."
"Dude! This might just take the whole building down!" Terry is dancing around he's so excited. I look around at the decrepit building and decide that he may not be far from the truth. Everything is falling apart and a big enough explosion could send it down on top of us. Paul must have come to the same conclusion, because the fuse he's attaching is long enough to almost reach outside the front of the building, which eases my nerves a bit.
"What are you doing, man?" Terry asks. "That's too long. You gonna light it from Alaska? We'll never see anything."
"You can stay here if you want, genius," Paul says. "I won’t be anywhere near this thing when it goes off."
Terry looks a little disappointed, but his silence tells us that he is in agreement. Paul tosses the bomb under the debris from the doorway. I hear a couple of slithers and hisses.
"Come on," Paul says.
We trot to the front of the old building, letting out the fuse. When we get near the doorway, Paul cuts it. He looks serious. "You ready?" Terry and I both nod and Paul lights the fuse.
The fire jumps along the length of the fuse at a slow pace. There's probably a good twenty-five feet of fuse, so we have plenty of time to get a safe distance away and watch through the windows at the front of the old building. My anticipation swells as I see the small spark on the fuse enter the small room.
A huge flash comes from the room. A thunderous boom shakes the entire building. I can feel a breeze on my face from the blast and my ears ring a little. Debris falls from the ceiling and the walls. I take a step back, concerned that the building may
suddenly collapse.
The old building still stands as smoke and dust billow out of the corner room. "Come on!" Terry says. "Let's check it out!" He runs to the corner room to assess the damage.
At the entrance to the corner room, we light the little fire again and see the carnage. Smoke hangs low over the debris-covered floor. Blood and guts splatter the walls and ceiling like Rorschach pictures. The smells of burnt snake meat and gunpowder fill the air. It’s sweet and smoky as I check the faces of my two friends.
Terry looks aghast as he walks to the back of the room. Paul is wandering near the front, seemingly looking things over. I’m taking it all in from a few steps inside the doorway when suddenly I hear a loud hiss, like the air being let out of a giant balloon. Then I hear shifting dirt and a rumbling sound. I start to panic. The old building…it’s collapsing! I’m gonna die! I turn to run for the door, horrific images of being buried alive flashing through my mind. The ground moves under my feet and gives way and I’m sucked down on my back and when I finally stop falling, I’m looking up from within a deep hole, to where only a few seconds earlier there had been a solid floor.
I take a mental inventory of myself and check my arms and legs and body to make sure I’m not injured. Miraculously, I’m okay. Relief starts to wash over me, but it lasts for barely a second.
Terry is screaming. "Terry!" I shout. "Terry, what's wrong? Where are you?" I'm choking on dirt and dust and there's grit in my teeth that crunches when I close my mouth. I notice a little light coming from above me from the doorway, but I don't see Terry.
I can see the shadow of Paul a few feet away from me. He looks unconscious and is flopped over and buried under a mound of dirt. I can hear Terry still yelling for help. There's a big pile of rubble in the center of the hole. It's big enough that I can't see around it. I circle back to the right, looking for a place to see to the other side. I make out a small opening on the top right side of the pile and think I can crawl over it. I scramble up the mound of dirt and peer over the other side.
I stick my arm and head over and flick on my lighter. Dozens of baby copperheads, their sulfur-yellow tails wiggling in the air, are swarming over Terry's body, biting him. His limbs have begun to swell and I can see his face contorted in pain. “Terry!” I scream.
I grab a pack of jumping jacks, light them, and throw them at Terry to try to scare away the snakes. The loud hissing sound begins again and my eyes frantically scan the area searching for the source.
Back behind Terry, I see something in the shadows. The light from the jumping jacks glistens off of something. I hear the hiss again. Something moves across the ground. A sliding noise, like something pushing over the dirt, gravel, and debris at the bottom of the hole. I toss a few more packs of jumping jacks further back. One pack bounces off something and then ignites—and I see it.
There’s a tunnel about the diameter of a tractor tire. Half in and half out of the tunnel, coming straight for Terry, is the biggest copperhead I've ever seen. We found the nest, all right…and the mother.
The mother’s head is the size of a coffee table. It sways over its babies as they slither over Terry, nibbling at him. Terry has stopped screaming and his head and body have swelled like balloons.
The mother opens its massive jaws, and Terry’s head and torso disappear into its mouth. I scramble backward, fighting back the urge to puke. Jesus, oh Jesus, what am I going to do!? I look around and there is no way out of the hole. And how am I going to get Paul out?
Paul starts to moan. He's waking up. I run over to him and start pulling debris off of him. He coughs as he strains to sit up and then howls out in pain. "I think my leg is broken," he yells.
I look around, frenzied, searching for a way out. That's when I see the first baby slither through the pile of rubble and down the mound toward Paul. I pick up a brick from the floor and throw it, hitting it in the head and killing it. More will come. I've got to get us of here.
I light another pack of jumping jacks and toss it in the corner. The area lights up and the silver light reflecting off my backpack catches my eye. This is our only chance.
"Paul, dig yourself out and find something to cover us with," I say.
"What are you going to do?” he asks. “Where's Terry? You guys gotta get me outta here and to a hospital."
Another baby snake emerges out from the rubble. "Look out!" I shout to Paul as the baby slithers down the mound.
"Oh crap!" He immediately grabs a nearby brick to defend himself.
I'm way ahead of him as I break loose a cinder block from the rubble and toss it at the baby copperhead. It lands with a thud, crushing its little head.
"Paul, there's hundreds of them over there. And…and…the-the-the mother is there too. Terry's gone," I say.
I can't be sure if Paul understands what I've just said, but as he stares over my shoulder, his eyes go wide. "What's that?" he says.
I swing myself back around and look directly into the mother’s eyes. Her eyes must be the size of bowling balls, and they’re fixed directly upon Paul and me.
I’m frozen for a fraction of a second before my instincts force me into action. I snatch my bag from the side of the rubble and rip it open. Grabbing a couple of premade bombs, I light one, and toss it through the hole at the mother snake. It hits her in the eye and falls on her side of the rubble. As it goes off I swear I hear a scream coming from the mother, and then everything is quiet.
"Do you think I killed it?" I ask Paul.
But I have my answer as the rubble starts to shift and move. The mother. She's trying to push her way through!
I light another bomb and drop it back in the bag. I hurl the bag through the open hole just as the mother’s nose is starting to poke through the pile next to us.
"Paul, cover your ears!” I shout as I hurry to pull a large piece of sheet metal over us.
The mother pushing through the rubble grows louder and louder. Come on! Come on! How long is that fuse? She hisses. It sounds like she’s on top of us. I pull the sheet metal close, trying to make sure Paul and I are completely covered. Firecrackers pop, bottle rockets whistle, jumping jacks zip and then…I can feel the percussion as the explosions rip throughout the chasm.
Heat scorches my fingers where they hold the edge of the sheet metal over us. I feel the earth vibrating underneath me as the explosions continue. Two roaring booms leave me deaf and dizzy as the last detonations finish.
My ears are ringing. After a few moments, I push the sheet metal and debris off of Paul and me. The blast has cleared away the rubble in the center of the hole. I can see across the cavern. Part of the mother snake is several feet away from us. Her tongue flicks at the air. Her jaws open and close as if trying to talk, and I grab the sheet metal that had shielded us and throw it at her head.
Through the smoke and soot, I can taste the charred snake meat. I can’t help but think, it tastes like chicken. I get a better look at the mother snake and see that it has gaping holes from the explosions all over its body. Its last meal—Terry—is spilling out on the ground. I feel my stomach churn. I lean over to the side, gag, and puke.
I manage to crawl out of the hole, but can’t do anything to help Paul, who is passed out again. I drag myself to the front of the old building, intent on going for help. I make it to the entrance, where my strength gives out, and I lie on my side, semi-conscious.
For the first time ever, I see flashing lights coming up the trail to the old building. Thank God, I think as police cars pull up and stop a dozen yards in front of me. I see the door open to the first car as my vision starts to blur and, suddenly, everything goes black.
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I want to leave you with a sincere thank you again for reading my debut book and for providing an honest review. I really am tremendously grateful for your continued support. You are helping me follow my dream of being a full time author and I can't thank you enough.
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Brian Rella
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ABOUT BRIAN RELLA
BRIAN RELLA grew up in and around New York City reading Stephen King and comic books, and watching every horror movie the local video store had (yes, he’s old enough to have watched movies on a VCR and gone to a video store to rent them!).
After more than 15 years in corporate America, Brian found his true calling to be a writer. Now he writes the stuff he loves to read and watch.
Brian also blogs about his experiences and challenges as a writer while maintaining a demanding, full-time day job, and raising a young family.
Learn more about Brian, his stories, and his journey at http://www.brianrella.com.