Knight, The

Author:Steven James [James, Steven]
Format: epub
Tags: FIC030000
ISBN: 9781441204431
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2009-08-31T14:00:00+00:00

An officer standing beside the front door rushed inside, and I ran up the steps behind him, close on his heels.

The first thing that struck me was the heat—mid-eighties, maybe higher. Someone had cranked the thermostat. All the lights were off, and when I flicked the switch by the door, nothing happened.

The hallway was nearly black.

Turning on my Maglite, I shouldered past the confused-looking officer now blocking my path.

Two CSU technicians stood at the end of the hall staring into the kitchen. “Easy, Reggie. Easy,” one of them said. Then, “Where’s Harwood with that shovel?”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Rattlesnake,” the man said in a hushed tone, as if saying the word softly would somehow make the snake less dangerous. The grimy kitchen window let only a dim haze of light into the room, and as I eased past him, my flashlight beam found the snake: a healthy-sized Western Diamondback, coiled in the middle of the kitchen, rattling its tail.

Beyond the snake, Reggie Greer stood cornered by the sink.

“Forget the shovel,” the guy beside me said. “Just shoot it.”

“Not with Reggie behind it,” I said. “We miss the snake, the bullet could ricochet and hit him.”

“Yeah, let’s not shoot it,” Reggie said.

“There are better ways.” It’d been almost two decades since I’d worked as a wilderness guide and had been trained to deal with venomous snakes, but I figured I could at least remember enough to get the snake safely out of the house.

“Got another one in the bathroom!” someone yelled.

I heard the officers around me edging backward. But one set of footsteps was approaching me. A cautious-looking woman with dark hair appeared beside me. I recognized her. Officer Linda Har-wood. She carried a shovel and a spade.

“Let me,” I said.

I accepted the spade and ventured into the kitchen as she stepped back with the shovel.

The snake wavered its head toward Reggie, then wound its body into a tight circle.

Rattled.

“It’s gonna strike,” Linda whispered.

“Shh.” I lowered the blade end of the spade in front of the snake’s head, and the rattlesnake turned its attention to the spade and tracked its movement. Reggie took a nervous step toward the refrigerator.

“Stay still,” I said. “They’re attracted to movement.”

He stood still.

The rattler was now focused on the spade. Slowly, I moved the blade toward its head and then twisted the handle, hooking the snake’s neck in the crook of the spade like you might do with a real snake pole or snake stick. I slowly rotated the spade, relying on the rattlesnake’s natural inclination to coil and hold on.

Lifted it up.

“Back up,” I told the people in the hall. “Let me through.”

They seemed agreeable enough.

By the time I’d turned around, the hallway was clear.

Carrying the snake, I exited the house and walked to a nearby fence row. Even though I knew that lots of people don’t like snakes and would just as soon kill it, I deal with enough death in my life and I don’t believe in killing things that don’t deserve to die.

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