Chapter Eighteen

A blizzard blanketed the Gulch in whiteout conditions. The wind shrieked through every nook and cranny of the ancient exterior walls. The old structure rattled and shook as it fought to maintain its integrity against gale-force winds. She awoke and followed the light from the stove’s air vent to the wood box. She refilled the firebox and returned to her blanket.

A dark object lying near it caused her to stop. "I don’t remember seeing that when I lay down," she thought. Stooping, she picked it up and walked to the table. She held it to a candle and examined the tassel by the flickering light.

A thick, six-inch strand of dark hair lay in her hand. Small pink ribbons were tied off at each end. Puzzled, she stared at it. Where would one get hair in the middle of the night? A woman must have kept it as a family keepsake. How did it get on the floor? Her trained eyes would have seen it. Who put it there and why?

Cold chills ran down her spine. She trembled. Frightened, she slowly raised her hand and brushed her hair back.

“You cut my hair!” She screamed. “Why did you cut my hair?” she whimpered.

The creaking and groaning of the ancient building mocked her lamentation.

“I’m going to kill you! You aren’t as smart as you think. He thought he was smarter than me, but I cut Wat … Water … melon’s throat,” she whined. “You want me to tell you something? I loved him, but he was an idiot. He was my walking bank account.”

“The lioness crushed his little skull and ate his stupid brain and his worthless carcass. They scattered his worthless bones. Hey, how do you like that? Why don’t you add his bones to your collection and leave my hair alone?”

Krinna realized she babbled for no reason. If it were him, he wouldn’t answer her. I need to stay awake and alert. I have to escape this snowbound prison.

She ran to her gear with a purpose. She rolled up the blanket quickly, slipped into the harness, and rushed to the back door. Throwing the locking bar to the side, she yanked on the handle. It didn’t move. She jerked it several times. Frustrated, she kicked it and hurt her foot. Determined to escape her death trap, she picked up a three-foot section of fireplace wood and slammed it against the door. It didn’t move. She hit it again. Something cracked. Another blow caused the door to open. She jerked on the handle and faced a sheet of solid ice and snow.

Horrified, she stared at it. The interior heat had melted the snow, imprisoning her. Discouraged, she sat on the floor and cried, “I’m doomed.”

Someone or something disturbed her sleep. Ignoring everything except the sounds, she kept her eyes closed. She recognized the low, soft sound but couldn’t place it. She remembered it as pleasant. It will come to mind soon, she thought.

The sweet aroma of Elple pudding permeated the room and assailed her nostrils. How delightful! Watermelon had cooked one of his Epicurean dishes. She carefully opened her eyes and gazed upon the beautiful display of firelight reflecting from the melting ice blocking the door. One big diamond sparkled with an intensity that hurt her eyes.

Confused, she turned toward the dining area. A seven-stem golden candelabra sat in the middle of the center table, covered in a blood-red cloth. The place setting was genuine silver. Only perfection could describe the scene. She went to it and sat down.

She recognized his long fingers and strong hands as he served the pudding. Lovingly, she touched his arm. “Please sit with me, my love.”

“I am not allowed to sit in your presence. I am not worthy of you.”

“Then serve me, my love, by defining the sound I hear.”

“It is the guest sitting across from you.”

The guest reached out to touch her left breast.

Screaming, she flipped the chair over backward. She ran for the heavenly light shining through the open back portal.

“By the Creator, I hurt,” she said, opening her eyes. Her headache had returned. Rubbing her forehead, she discovered the second knot. She got up, went to the indoor privy, and checked herself in the broken mirror. Bloody lacerations accentuated her black eyes. She gingerly touched her face and wondered if he had cut her while she slept. She needed to wash her face and neck to remove the dried blood. Wet, bloody water ran across the floor from the portal of light.

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Wait a minute. I ran into the ice. Why? The Ba’uu struck at me. Now, I remember the dream. I was sitting at the table when Watermelon introduced my guest. She jerked her head around so fast her neck popped. The overturned chair lay on the floor at the center table. Warily, she went to the stove for hot water. As she massaged her sore neck, she studied the scene, picked up the pitcher, and poured the water into a wash basin. Shocked by the frigid water, she wondered what had happened to the heat. She placed her hand on a burner plate to test for it. No fire burned in the stove.

How long did I sleep? Did I sleep or dream? If it was a dream, then what happened with the chair? Determined to solve her dilemma, she went to the table and walked around it. She quickly searched the dining area. Her fear-filled eyes looked at the four-foot snake skin lying on the bench. A Ba’uu was loose in her sanctuary.

Extreme caution had to be exercised. Every move had to be planned around its deadly presence. Any fast movement would incite the poisonous adder. From then on, she had to sleep in an open space, away from the walls.

She controlled her fear and went to the kitchen to rebuild the fire. She reached for tinder from the box and stopped her hand before opening the lid. Why was the Ba’uu in the building? It's ridiculous; it's wintertime, and they are drawn to the warmth and food sources inside. I can’t make a fire. She slowly withdrew her hand, went to the center of the room, and dropped her gear. She spread her blanket in the middle of the room and sat down. A diligent search of the room revealed nothing.

“I’ve got to find that snake … sorry, Gorga, I mean Ba’uu. What am I doing? I apologize to a stinking, dirt-crawling snake that may or may not exist. It is dried skin. It could have been here before I arrived. Still, I'd better keep my peepers open, or it may close them permanently.” She laughed. It would not be easy with two swollen, black eyes.

Absolute silence invaded the restaurant. It just happened. Was the storm over? “By the Creator, I pray it is finished.”

Something moved under her blanket. Alert, she lay perfectly still. Fear seized her throat muscles. They refused to let her swallow. Cold chills ran down her spine. Her body began to tremble. Taking a deep breath, she regained control of her faltering heart.

It moved closer to her.

A noise, an almost imperceptible sound of her salvation, emanated from her right side. Tiny feet scurried along the front wall. The object of her fear moved out from under the warm blanket. The ominous sound of Ba’uu scales slithered, stopped, slithered, stopped. A sudden squeal declared the demise of the rat. In the waning light, she watched a red Ba’uu unhinge its lower jaw and swallow its furry meal by the head. Mesmerized, she looked until the tail disappeared. Adjusting its jaw, it followed the rat’s scent along the baseboard until it reached the corner.

She marveled as it inched up the vertical wall along an open ceiling joist. After a sigh of relief, she began to weep silently. It had come from the ceiling to find a warm place. She trusted her feet to support her and got up. She went to the privy first and then to the tender box. She would keep the snake so comfortable that it would never leave the ceiling.

A minor shed skin lay on top of the loose, tender flesh. Using a stick, she scooped handfuls of it out onto the floor. She gathered it, placed it into the stove, and lit it. She slowly added wood as the fire roared to life. After closing the stove door, she went to the massive dining room fireplace and built a fire. Satisfied with the results, she returned to her blanket and sat down.

Anxiously, she searched for signs of the Ba’uu. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds in the stillness. Her eyes darted to the ceiling and then to the north wall. The snakes appeared to dominate the empty building. She dared not move around much or go to sleep. The idea that a snake slept with her was disgusting, especially the two-legged one. He had been eliminated, but the long, crawling kind posed an imminent danger.

Heat permeated the room. Her eyelids drooped. She snapped awake. She looked around the dining room and saw nothing under the tables. Carefully, she searched the ceiling joists and the knot holes in the walls. She spotted a large hole deep in the corner shadows near the indoor privy. She detected no movement near it. Focusing on it, she gradually went to sleep with her head on her chest.

The scraping sound registered in the recesses of her mind. It portended danger, but she couldn’t associate it with anything she knew. I have to wake up. She thought. Without raising her head, she opened her eyes to look around. Total darkness filled her makeshift bedroom. The fires had burned out. The red glow from the hot stove told her it had died several hours earlier. A mound of ash-covered embers cast eerie, shadowy patterns across the floor. Outside the dim, wavering light, the ominous noise stopped.

She exhaled the breath she had been holding and slowly sighed in relief. A powerful force struck her between her breasts and knocked her backward. Gasping with her mouth wide open, she suffered the pain and controlled her scream. The Ba’uu could strike again if she moved or cried out.

In a second or two, the viper’s venom would speed through her central nervous system and shut down her heart. She forced herself to relax and accept fate's inevitable hand. This is how it would have been if Watermelon hadn’t stopped Gorga from fanging me. God, I’m sorry, Watermelon. I wish you were here to warm and protect me now. Thank you for giving my life back to me. I’m sorry I never expressed my love for you. Perhaps we can get together on the other side.

Her fading thoughts raced down the corridor of her mind as her body went limp.