Chapter 1 #3
Just as she punched her pillow into a comfortable contortion, she heard his pickup coming up the driveway and rolled off the bed, then ran to the window.
Someone was in the seat beside him, and as they passed, she saw another man in the truck bed, then rolled her eyes.
Beau and Razor! They could build anything Floy set them to doing, but they would both be drunk before dark, and the only snake they were likely to find was the one in their pants.
Her mood shifted when she smelled the arrival of food wafting down the hall. “About damn time,” she muttered, and settled into the rocking chair at the foot of the bed to wait.
Within a couple of minutes, she heard footsteps running up the hall and then her husband’s breathless voice after the knock at the door. She had no sympathy for his panic.
“Mayrene, honey, I brought your dinner. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. Why would I be okay? I’m a prisoner in my own house because of you. Just leave the food and go catch that snake.”
Floy sighed. For someone so little, she had a hell of a bellow on her. His shoulders slumped. He put down the to-go sack and left.
She was waiting for him to comment when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel and realized he was already gone without saying goodbye.
She was still at the “itching for a fight” stage and disappointed that he’d just walked out.
She sighed, changed the channel on the TV because it was time for one of her soap operas, then unlocked the door long enough to get her food, and locked herself back in.
The search had been ongoing for hours, and the sun was setting ,as it always did about this time every evening, taking Floy’s hopes with it.
Elvis was still missing, and he was starting to worry.
They’d searched every inch of the woods around their house, looked up trees, crawled into a cave, and were now dragging their spotlight around looking in bar ditches and culverts, but with no success.
“Why don’t we go into Blackjack and look there?” Razor asked.
Floy groaned. “If people see us hunting in town, I’m ruined. I’ll be paying out money for the rest of my life.”
“If you don’t find Elvis, you’ll be paying alimony to Mayrene for the rest of your life,” Beau said.
It was the thought of alimony that got Floy’s juices in gear.
“So, let’s go to town,” he said.
The moment they reached the City Limits sign, Floy turned off the headlights and began taking backstreets, using the streetlights to navigate.
Razor had a whole six-pack of beers in his belly and was uneasy about snake hunting in the dark. What if he passed out and got himself swallowed whole? He was beginning to wish that he and Beau had bought their own beer and gone home hours ago.
“If the cops see you driving without your lights on, they’re gonna ticket you,” Razor said.
Floy pulled up close to the park and killed the engine. “This is a good place to look,” he said.
Beau frowned. “Don’t pythons come from real hot places and live in trees, like jungles and shit? The park is kiddie swings and mowed grass.”
Floy ignored the obvious. “There’s some natural habitat down along the creek that a python would enjoy. Grab your spotlight and let’s go. It won’t take long to check it out.”
Beau and Razor were muttering beneath their breath as they got out, but Floy wasn’t just their boss.
He was their best friend, and they’d come this far, so they followed him into the park and started their search, working their way through the mowed grass with flashlights in hand, going from one end to the other.
Beau was near the trees when he heard noises in the underbrush; lots of leaves rustling and a faint squeaky sound—the kind a small animal would make in its death throes.
He flashed the spotlight at Floy and Razor, then waited for them to come running.
“What is it?” Floy asked.
Beau put a finger on his lips to indicate silence and then pointed to the bushes inside the tree line. They all heard the sounds again—little squeaking, choking sounds.
“Oh shit!” Floy muttered, afraid Elvis was in the process of getting himself a snack and bolted into the brush.
Razor and Beau were right behind him with the spotlight. Beau swung it up and hit the high beam. It was hard to say who was more shocked: the teenage couple in the throes of hot sex, or Floy and the boys.
The girl let out a screech that wasn’t too far off the high note Mayrene let fly, and the boy was grabbing for his pants.
“What the hell! What the hell!” he kept yelling. “Sick-ass perverts! Get away before I call the cops!”
Floy fired back. “You go right ahead and make your call to the cops while I call your mamas. I’ll bet they’d be interested to know what y’all are doing in the bushes. There’s a ten-foot python on the loose, and y’all need to go home.”
The girl was already running, which left the boy no option but to follow.
Floy frowned. “That was awkward.”
“Oh hell, we’ve all done that,” Razor said. “Let’s keep moving and get this over with. I need my sleep.”
“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Floy said.
“You don’t have a light,” Beau said.
“We got a full moon, and there are lights all through the park. I can see good enough,” Floy said. “I’m gonna follow the creek. You guys keep an eye on the trees. Elvis likes to climb.”
“Shit,” Razor muttered and looked up, suddenly aware that damn snake might drop down on him any minute. They walked away.
Floy began following the creek running through the park, trying to remember what the place looked like in daylight.
The water wasn’t more than two or three feet deep, but there was a steep drop-off to get to it and a lot of roots from trees and vines that covered the ground along the slope.
He was being careful until his phone beeped.
He looked down as he was walking and saw the text was from Mayrene.
He paused to read it, then groaned. He’d forgotten her supper, and she was royally pissed.
He sent a quick text.
I’m sorry, Honey Bee. We’re in town searching the park. I’ll bring you some barbecue right now.
He pivoted as he was pocketing the phone, missed his footing, and slid all the way down the creek bank into the water, yelling as he went.
Beau and Razor heard him cry out, then heard all the water splashing, and started running. They reached the creek bank and swung the spotlight beam in Floy’s face just as he was staggering out of the water. Startled, he fell backward into the water again, cursing as he went.
Beau leaned over and yelled down.
“What happened?”
Floy threw up his hands, water dripping as he stood in the ankle-deep stream. “Clearly, I fell in the creek, and I need to get Mayrene some barbecue. I guess it’s time to go home.”
“Good,” Razor said. “I’m done, too.”
Floy climbed up the bank and then realized his phone wasn’t in his pocket.
“Well hell, I lost my phone in the creek.”
“Guess you’ll have to buy yourself a new one,” Beau said.
Floy frowned. Elvis was still missing. He was out four six-packs of beer, a tank of gas, and his phone was gone. The cost of this escape was starting to add up.