The Serpent's Bite (28 page)

“Getting back safely should be our only consideration,” Scott pointed out.

Their father shook his head and rubbed his chin. Obviously, this was a painful decision.

“Doesn't Tomas realize that he'll be blowing his job?”

“I'm sure he does,” Scott said.

“He's fed up with being kicked around by a bigoted drunk,” Courtney said, again playing the compassion card. “Being called a spic and treated like scum. You've seen it.”

Their father nodded.

“He has been awful, I'll grant you.” He was obviously struggling with indecision.

“The man's a mean drunk. You've seen it.”

“The worst kind,” Courtney interjected.

“So he took our offer for cash?” their father said, his businessman's instincts triggered.

“He jumped at it,” Scott said, glancing at his sister.

“Does Tomas know Eagle Pass?” Temple asked. “I thought we had all agreed that wouldn't do.”

“He says he's been over it many times,” Courtney said.

“All those narrow switchbacks. Remember last time?”

“Any more dangerous than being guided by a drunk?” Courtney said. “Hell, Dad, we're in the middle of nowhere. It's dangerous country all around us. We need someone sober and alert to avert disaster. And we want to get out of here the fastest way and not risk being caught by Harry.”

“I understand. Still—” He broke off the sentence. Scott was tempted to berate him for being soft with everybody except his own children. But that was a moot point now.

“Dad, please,” Scott continued. “Let your children, for once, be put in charge of the decision. As far as we can see, there is no downside. Tomas has been over Eagle Pass before. He assures us he knows the way.” He watched his father's face.

“Suppose we just found a way to keep him from the booze?” their father suggested. “Just dump all the booze.”

“Ever see an addict in withdrawal, Dad?” Courtney said. She was growing increasingly panicked by his hesitation. Scott felt a sense of increasing desperation.

“I'm sure he'll be fine, Dad,” Scott pleaded. He felt trapped. It was a messy business. He wanted to be rid of the responsibility, put all this angst behind him, pay off Tomas's blackmail, get back to Seattle, start a new life in a new business. Observing Courtney, he felt a sense of deep self-disgust. He no longer looked at her with affection or desire. It was over, he told
himself. Enough! It was an obsession that brought him nothing but pain and bad luck.

Above all, he did not want to confront himself, to review his past, to list his mistakes or revisit his guilt, his fears, his failures. He wanted to be transported to nothingness, to dissolve and disappear. He had given his life away to stunted and forbidden desire. He hated himself for his weakness. His sister had led him into a quagmire, which recalled the image of his father's struggle to extricate himself.

His father was good and decent and truly loving. His mother, too. They were great parents, and he had betrayed them. He was beyond forgiveness, lost in his own private hell.

“You have got to make a decision, Dad. Time is running out.”

They waited for his response, hearing only the night sounds of the wilderness, like a Greek chorus seconding their dilemma.

Then, as if it were inevitable, cutting into the night sounds was a piercing human scream.

A
nother scream followed, an ear-blasting cry of extreme pain. For a moment all movement in their father's tent froze. Scott was the first to move. He peered out the tent into the darkness. Shots rang out.

The screams were coming from the direction of Harry's tent. It took Scott a moment to focus, but he could not comprehend what was happening. Harry's tent had collapsed and seemed to be alive, pulsating and moving. An odd unfamiliar stench filled the air. As the agonizing screams continued, another sound rent the night, an animal's roar. He saw Tomas crouching, moving forward toward Harry's tent, waving his arms.

“Grizzly!” he cried. “No come.”

The screams continued as Tomas moved forward, shooting into the rippling canvas. A desperate roar of pain belched into the darkness. Then he saw the bear, a giant wounded silhouette, struggling free of the downed tent, swinging his massive head, his jaws holding something indistinguishable, lumbering away, dragging his load.

There was no measuring time. Scott's heart had leaped in his chest, his mind unable to fully comprehend what was transpiring.

“Stay put,” he cried to his sister and father then crawled cautiously out of the tent.

He could see the bulky form of the grizzly lumbering away. The sound and image vanished quickly and silence came again.
Then he saw Tomas standing near the remains of Harry's tent. His flashlight's beam cut the darkness.

He heard his father's voice calling. The flap of his tent had opened, and Scott could make out the faces of his father and sister.

“What is it?”

“Grizzly,” Scott cried. “Stay where you are.”

He watched the beam of light move over the remains of Harry's tent. Tomas was standing over the tent. It had collapsed. He could make out the glint of moisture on the tent's fabric. Coming closer, he noted that the moisture was blood. Tomas pulled the canvas across the ground, revealing what was beneath. Scott could see Harry's head and torso. Below the waist there was nothing.

“What is it?” Courtney cried, her head visible in the flap of her father's tent.

“Better not come,” Scott responded. He turned away from the site and dry heaved.

“Shit, man,” Tomas said, avoiding the body but searching the scattered objects in the shambles. The heavy scent of booze, fecal matter, and other vile odors rose from the remains. Tomas continued to search the scene, concentrating on the scattered remains and the various objects that littered the ground.

“What is it?” Scott's father called, as he moved outside the tent.

“Stay away, Dad,” Scott cried.

Courtney, notwithstanding her brother's warning, crawled out of their father's tent and came close enough to view the scene of horror, uttering a loud groan.

“Christ. I said stay away,” Scott ordered.

“You listen, woman,” Tomas said. Courtney turned away in disgust.

“What about him?” Scott asked, looking briefly at the terrible remains, moist and shining in the faint beams of the starlit night. Tomas, ignoring the question, looked toward the edge of their camp clearing where the bear had disappeared.

“I go find. I kill him now.”

Rifle in hand, Tomas moved swiftly, following what he presumed was the grizzly's tracks.

Scott turned away from the gruesome sight and moved to where his father and sister stood. He could see their faces now. Close up they were like pale masks. By then, he had recovered somewhat from the first shock wave, and his mind was beginning to fully grasp the situation. His knees felt weak, and his nausea had not subsided. The appalling odor seemed to cover the area like a blanket.

“A grizzly attacked,” he managed to explain hoarsely. “It looks like it tore Harry apart.”

“Oh my God!” their father cried.

“How?” Courtney asked, her voice tremulous.

Scott shrugged, baffled by the attack.

“And Tomas?” his father asked.

“Out there. After the bear. He took Harry's rifle.”

“Thank God, he's okay,” their father said.

Scott, noting the irony, shrugged. So much for misplaced compassion.

Before he could explain further, a shot rang out. Then another and another, blasting through the silence.

Nobody moved, as if confusion and shock prevented any action. From the direction of the shots, they heard movement, and Tomas appeared, dragging what appeared to be human legs still in jeans. Courtney turned away in obvious disgust.

“I don't believe this.”

Coming closer, Tomas dropped his burden. He had shouldered the rifle.

“He not go far. I got him before. I finish him,” he said. He paused for a moment, watching them. “Soon we go. I take you back.”

“And him?” Scott asked, pointing with his chin.

“We bury him first. Otherwise other animals come.”

“What about the authorities?” their father asked. “They have to be notified.”

“You tell them when you get back. Tell them Señor Harry attacked by grizzly. You all see what happened. You tell.”

“But you're the witness, Tomas,” Temple said.

“I tell you. You tell them. I illegal. They don't believe.”

Temple exchanged glances of confusion with his children.

“You remember this,” Tomas said, his arm outstretched toward the wreckage. His remark had the force of an order.

“Who can forget, Tomas?” Scott said, perplexed by the suggestion. “How could we possibly forget?”

The sky was beginning to lighten with false dawn. The scene, despite his reluctance to look, kept drawing his glance like a magnet.

“But why?” Temple began.

“Bear hungry,” Tomas replied, showing a sinister smile. “Now we bury.”

He turned to Courtney and her father, raising his hand, pointing to them with his finger, waving it in front of them.

“Now you listen. I get you out of here. You do what I say. Give me no shit. Okay? First we bury.” He was aggressively taking charge. Their father looked confused.

“Bury?” Temple asked.

“We bury in shit hole,” Tomas responded.

“Am I hearing correctly?” their father queried. “In the latrine?”

“We bury, then we leave.”

“I don't understand. Are we just going to leave?” their father asked. “Shouldn't we do something? We have a dead man, an incident. We bury the remains in the latrine and just leave? Is that it?”

“Let's just do as he says, Dad,” Courtney said. “No point in second-guessing him. We don't really have much of a choice.”

“Courtney's right, Dad,” Scott said.

“How could we?” their father asked, casting a brief glance at Harry's partial remains.

“You shut mouth. We bury,” Tomas said. “You wait.”

“But …” their father began. He appeared to be on the verge of a confused protest. Scott quickly intervened.

“Dad, please. He knows what he's doing.”

“What makes you so certain—?”

“I take care,” Tomas interjected. “I take you out of here. You do as I say. Hear me.”

It was obvious that Temple was uncomfortable with every move Tomas made. Tomas remained silent, glancing at Scott, who took it as a signal to justify the Mexican's actions, an increasingly difficult chore.

“I don't know how to put this,” their father pressed. “It's just plain wrong. Bury this man's remains in a latrine?”

“For crying out loud, Dad,” Courtney snapped. “Can't you leave it alone? There would be nothing left of him if his remains were exposed.”

“But in the latrine? Surely we could dig another hole.”

“I'll grant you it is undignified, but the hole is already dug,” Scott said, with growing impatience.

“It's insulting to the man's dignity. It's bad enough to die out here.”

“Shut up, old man!” Tomas shouted. “I told you.”

“But Tomas,” Temple persisted. “We have to explain this to the authorities.”

“No more talk, gringos. I take care. We bury Harry, then we move.”

“It's just that—” Temple began again.

“Enough, Dad,” Courtney cried. “The man is dead. Nothing can help him now. We need Tomas to get us out of here.”

“Courtney's right, Dad.”

“You listen. You want me to take you out? I do it. No more talk.”

“Don't we have to report this to authorities, Tomas?” Temple asked, stubbornly persistent. “There are lots of questions here. Why this sudden grizzly attack? What set him off? This is a terrible tragedy.”

Suddenly Tomas unshouldered the rifle and leveled it at Temple's chest.

“You listen, you stupid fuck gringo. I boss here now. I know what I do. You understand? I get you out. No more questions.”
He looked toward Courtney and Scott. “You tell him shut his gringo mouth.” He jabbed the rifle into Temple's chest.

“Cool down, Tomas,” Scott said, on the verge of panic. “He means no harm. We're cool. Right, Dad? Tell him we're cool. And, Tomas, please don't point that rifle at my father. It will spoil everything. ”

“No more questions, Dad,” Courtney said. “Please.”

Tomas lowered his rifle and motioned with it to Scott.

“You help.” Then he looked toward Courtney and Temple.

“You no move from here.”

“I still don't—” their father began.

“Damn it, Dad, stop,” Courtney screamed.

Despite his revulsion and periodic gagging, Scott helped Tomas drag Harry's remains to the edge of the camp where he had dug the latrine. He was carrying the upper torso, Tomas the lower.