Cold-blooded by Clarke Mayer

Author:Clarke Mayer [Mayer, Clarke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rogue Stories LLC

7

After six long hours by Roger’s estimation, a twitch had developed in his left eyelid. It had happened to him before, once during a bad bout of fever that lasted days, another time only several months earlier when he was sure he had been discovered but hadn’t. This time, the lack of sleep, coupled with an intense and unblinking vision, had been the culprit. Above, the skylight began to reveal a cool hue that suggested the sun was rising. He was starting to feel the effects of prolonged concentration. During the early morning, he’d heard the rumble of several large trucks, followed by the clomping of multiple sets of boots, capped off with the sounds of heavy planes, likely cargo, landing and taking off.

The snake had barely stirred. It remained coiled and focused on him, the two of them locked in a chess match where either could move but neither chose to. With the arrival of light, he saw the creature better, now recognizing some beige patterns along its body when it did move briefly. Had it slept? How did one know when snakes slept, or for how long? The creature was as unpredictable as his enemies.

As the sun rose and a shaft of light cut through the dusty concrete prison, the serpent became even more visible. Roger received confirmation of its alertness: the forked tongue darted in and out with machine-like precision every so often. For the first time since he’d rested, he stood against the wall near the entrance. He glimpsed a half-circle of the sun through the ceiling window, and he squinted in the strength of its light. If the snake didn’t blind him first, the sun might see to it.

As he rose, the snake repositioned itself in response, its long bands shifting gracefully against each other in an endless yarn of body. Coiled together, it only resembled a small, roughly three-by-three-foot patch, but spread out he guessed it might be twelve feet total in length. The head watched him with skilled attention, two glossy black eyes patiently observing its enemy as it carefully maneuvered within a safe distance. Unlike Roger, the snake didn’t blink. The spy thought this trait gave the creature yet another advantage. Roger would give a limb to be able to rest his eyes.

Putting pressure on the knee once more, he found the pain had only grown more sharp. He lifted his slacks to look at the injury, and though his little medical training had suggested that nothing was torn, he was sure he’d done a number on it, potentially shattering the kneecap. He touched it lightly, turning the skin a bluish-white where he moved blood around from the swollen area, and felt several fragments move around the cap—it had indeed been shattered. The thought made him queasy; it wasn’t bad enough that he was locked in the room with the serpent, he would also suffer a handicap.

In this match, the snake was favored in every way except one: strategy. The snake, with

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