Edge: Ten Grand

Then the grin was gone and if the buzzards had not lost interest they may have considered their wait worthwhile. For the man was at once unmoving to the extent that he suddenly filled his lungs with air and held it, his chest expanding and the veins of his neck standing out with the effort. The slithering sound of the snake’s length as it hauled itself down into the creek bed and the periodic rattle from its swaying tail were magnified by the silence.

Without moving his head, the man swiveled his eyes to the right to their full extent, looked along the rocky bed and saw the diamond-back approaching. The snake seemed unaware of the man stretched across its path, saw him merely as a low obstacle to its progress. If it did see glistening beads of sweat ooze from wide open pores and form into rivulets to cut irregular courses across dust streaked flesh, it chose to ignore them. It moved at a regular, unhurried pace, muscles expanding and contracting to inch its thick length across the broken surface, cold eyes blinking, forked tongue flicking out through half-opened jaws in which its venomous fangs glinted.

The man, his muscles aching with the strain of their enforced quiescence, his crowded lungs gaining only slight relief as he allowed stale air to trickle out through his nostrils, watched the snake without fear but with a deep respect for the reptile’s ability to kill him.

The diamond-back had reached him now, raised its head to survey the extent of the obstruction. The man watched the tiny eyes, could sense the working of the reptilian brain which decided after several moments of thought that it was easier to slither up and over rather than by-pass the obstacle. The decision taken, the snake chose a course across the man’s chest and his eyes swiveled in their sockets, watching the head, fighting the urge to blink as saline sweat spread over the irises. The dry warmth of the reptile’s body penetrated the man’s shirt, threatening to cause an involuntary quiver of his flesh. Then the snake’s head found the rocks on the other side of the man and the animal seemed anxious to get clear, began to drag itself along at a faster rate, the frequency of the tail rattle increasing.

The man allowed his pent-up breath to escape more rapidly, felt the first tremor of dizziness just as the snake slithered clear of him. He remained immobile a moment longer, sucked a great gust of clean air into his aching lungs and sprang to his feet, ignoring the needles of pain that jabbed his face. The rattler heard and saw the movement, and its head came up and turned, mouth gaping, fangs glistening. Instinctively the man’s hand went for a gun, his face twisting into silent rage as he found the holster empty. His left hand tried for the knife at the small of his back and the vacant sheath raised a roar of frustration to his throat. The rattler began to coil the length of its body, head swaying, tongue flicking, eyes unblinking.

It was as fearless as the man, with its own brand of animal respect for threatened danger. Then there was a blur of motion, the man crouching to snatch up a rock with his left hand as his right streaked to the back of his neck. The rock left his hand with enormous force, smashing into the coil of body, causing the diamond-back to writhe in agony. Then the man was out of the crouch, leaping forward with feet together, the heels of his boots landing with a terrific impact upon the snake’s neck. Then, as the reptile struggled to twist, to strike at vulnerable flesh, the man’s right hand swung down, the blade of an open razor sliding from the finger tips. The edge, keened to a perfect sharpness, sliced through the neck of the snake with hardly a slowing of its momentum to indicate it had passed through solid matter. The headless body of the reptile gave one convulsive jerk of dying tissue and was still.

The man, who had been born with a full name but who was now called 'Edge' stood for several seconds on the dead body of the diamond-back, then wiped the blade of the razor clean of blood on his pants’ leg before returning it to the neck pouch. Then he looked around him, eyes narrowed against the hard brightness of the sun, rested upon a deep patch of shadow thrown by a large boulder. As he finally moved, dragging heavy feet, towards the shade, the sunlight glinted on the tin star pinned to his shirt front.

He eased his tense, aching body to the ground and sighed, his features set into a hard expression of bitter pensiveness as he recalled the events of the morning

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO