The man had come back. Seen from my low angle, his raw-boned body, dressed in reeking boots and worn jeans, loomed like a heavy cloud blocking the sun.
“Hey, down there,” he yelled. “Hey! Eve!” He made a vulgar gesture, grinned. “Wanna bite my apple?”
I turned my back on the hick and paced to the other wall of the dusty pit.
“Oooee, Eve,” he warbled. “If I had my Kodak, I’d make your picture.”
“Show time,” I muttered, hitching my ridiculous outfit up in front.
Lucy slid over my foot, circled my ankle and inched upward, unblinking. My sensual animal act, ‘Eve’s Serpent,’ is the biggest sideshow draw Shaw’s Traveling Carnival Revue has ever had.
Old man Shaw himself dreamed up the billing, two years ago. He’d even designed my skimpy fig-leaf costume. Too bad his sleazy imagination hadn’t stretched far enough to envision a more Eden-like locale. I told the old poop right off that his geographical metaphors were mixed; but that sensational phrase, Snake Pit, was fixed in his showman’s mind. Another thing he missed: the original Eve wouldn’t have been blue-eyed and blonde, like me.
I settled back against the dusty tarp lining the four-foot wide pit, grasped Lucy’s mid-section and hoisted her to my shoulder. “Lucy is a reticulate python,” I announced, adjusting my patter to the crowd. (A majority of school-age children wins the science lecture.) “These snakes can grow to thirty feet, or more.”
The hick looked impressed. “How tall are you, doll?”
“Four and a half feet shorter than her,” I answered crisply as Lucy glided along my outstretched arm. “She’ll have to retire soon. Pythons are unpredictable and hard to handle after they reach ten feet.”
The crowd listened to my description of Lucy’s latest transformation, her last shedding of skin. The tallest youngsters cringed, no doubt relating Lucy’s mysterious, uncontrollable process to their own rapid growth.
“Could she squeeze a body right to death?” quavered a little old lady.
I shrugged. “Under the right circumstances.”
A youthful voice called out another question. “What does she eat?”
“Lucy is a meat-eater.” Deciding to spare my audience, I omitted any description of the snake’s lubricating mucus and the astounding opening mechanism of her jaw. “In her native habitat, she’d climb a tree and wait for some small animal to come along. She’d drop down -- ”
“Oooee,” the heckler sang out. “Hey, I’d sure like to drop down on Eve here.”
Slowly and deliberately, I squeezed my elbow to my body.
The responsive python tightened around my arm and raised her triangular head. Her thick middle, laced in a scaly network of gold and black, coiled around my shoulder.
Another quick elbow squeeze made Lucy lift straight up. Her long-drawn hiss matched the crowd’s collective gasp.
“Watch out!” someone yelled.
A wide-eyed toddler, holding an apple with caramel thick enough to extract a tooth, began to cry. The entire group retreated from the lip of the pit, but soon stepped back with embarrassed laughter.
Everyone except the hick.
Good girl, Lucy.
“That’s all for now, folks,” I said apologetically. “Lucy has been alert lately. She must be getting hungry.”
***
Dust stripes roped my body by the time I had the unruly python untangled and stuffed back into her carrier. Burdened by the heavy carrier, I headed back to my trailer.
Tumultuous shrieks of terror were rising from the direction of the roller coaster.
After tucking Lucy’s carrier under the trailer’s steps, I took a quick shower, blew my hair dry and changed into a crop-top and cut-offs.
With time to kill before my next show, I decided to stroll the Midway. When I wandered past the ‘Bottle-Up’ game, Eddie, the operator, stopped me with a wink.
“Free game,” he called out, his hustler’s voice loud enough to attract attention. “Free game to the pretty little lady. Hubba, hubba, Blondie.” He motioned me closer. “Try your luck, sweetheart. Win a prize.”
People began converging in front of the booth. I did my part by engaging Eddie in back-and-forth banter. When a large crowd had gathered, I bent over to snug up the laces on my tennis shoes, and peeked beneath the platform.
Good. The shims were in place.
Eddie passed me a pole with a ring attached to a string. “Give it a try, Blondie. All youse hafta’ do is stand a bottle up.”
I went through the farce, failed, and handed the pole back to Eddie with a shrug. Several cocky teenage boys pushed me aside, eager to prove they could do better.
Good luck, lads.
It’s hard enough to beat the game when the bottles are level.
I left the suckers to their rigged game, and ambled down the midway, passing more booths, breathing in air thick with the aroma of sausages and popcorn. Suddenly ravenous, I swung back to Donnie Morales’ wagon, where I ordered a diet Pepsi and a chilidog with everything.
Donnie, an old, stringy-looking Carney, shot me a crooked smile as he deftly pulled a hot dog from the steamer with tongs. “Hey, Eve. How’s it going? Expect you’re taking it easy on this gig.”
“Me? Easy? No way.”
“Way.” Donnie grinned wider, showed the gap in his front teeth. “I know the peculiar folks ‘round these parts. They can see what you do every week.”
“How so?”
Donnie didn’t answer, busy layering chili on top of onions on top of relish on top of mustard.
I laughed. “Don’t I get catsup?”
The old Carney squirted some watery tomato sauce over the hot dog, wrapped the dripping sandwich in a paper napkin and handed it over.
“Onna house,” he said, flashing his spacious grin as the carousel calliope whistled over the hum of the crowd.
“What a guy. Thanks.”
“Like I was saying, Honey, folks in this here part of the state are a touch weird.”
I took a cautious bite. “Like you, Donnie?”
“Nah, not me.” He laughed. “Nobody in my family ever married no cousin.”
“Sure about that?”
He leaned closer. “Over in the east section of the county, not moren’ thirty-forty miles from here, there’s some real odd folks. Freaky-weird. They got themselves one of them snake-handling churches.”
“Are you serious, Donnie?”
“Would I lie?”
“Like a rug.”
He straightened. “It’s the honest truth. Like I said, this country round here is my old stompin’ grounds.”
“Snakes, in church?” I snorted. “Right in front of God and everybody?”
“Guess it proves they got the Spirit.”
I took another bite, swallowed. “Yeah, they got something all right.”
Donnie laughed, then got busy with other customers.
Hunger satisfied, I scrubbed goopy mustard off my chin, then walked back to my trailer, passing, along the way, more so-called games of skill, like Wiffle Ball, where you have to bounce a ball into a basket, but the lip of the basket just isn’t quite far enough out to catch it.
When I reached the trailer, my steps faltered. Shocked to see Lucy’s overturned carrier on the ground, I frowned. Suddenly, in a heartbeat, a sweaty hand covered my mouth and a brawny arm circled my mid-section.
I lifted my feet off the ground. Struggled. Kicked. Butted with my head.
All the colors of the rainbow exploded in my brain, faded to white light.
***
When I returned to consciousness, I found myself in the trunk of a moving car.
I tried to breathe, but dust filled my nostrils.
Tape covered my mouth; my hands were tied behind me.
How long had I been out? What time was it? Had the crew missed me yet?
Two more performances were scheduled for this evening. Tomorrow, the carnival would break down, pack up and head for the next set-up, somewhere farther north in Alabama, some dinky little rural town near Montgomery.
The road got bumpier.
I moved my hands. Something was holding down my chest: something weighty in a burlap bag. When the something moved, I screamed silently, lips straining against the tape covering them.
The bag writhed as Lucy’s wedge-shaped head poked out.
Relieved, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m not afraid of much, but close quarters and restricted freedom ranks just under chain saws and maniacs. Easing to the left, I dumped Lucy, then rolled right, drawing my knees up as I stretched my bound hands under my feet, and then to my front.
My shaking fingers tugged the silver duct tape away from my mouth. Then, using my teeth, I went to work on the twine knotted around my wrists.
Finally free, I sucked in a deep breath, and shouted at the top of my lungs. When my throat gave out, I kicked my feet, and punched my fists raw against the trunk lid.
The rattletrap car slowed, stopped.
The trunk opened. I blinked up at a man who looked like a clone of the hick I’d seen earlier, only this one had a wider, more open face, redder hair, and more freckles. He didn’t appear dangerous, but appearances can deceive.
Naked fright stilled my tongue, but not my thoughts.
Could rape and a beating be the best-case scenario here?
My body felt paralyzed, but I sat up anyway, hoping to throw him off guard with a show of bravery. The man lifted me from the trunk.
“No.” He grabbed my hand. “Leave the snake.”
“Let me go,” I yelled. “She’ll die in there.”
“Simmer down!”
I glared at him. “Listen, you whacko, your muffler is shot to heck, and your trunk is rusted through.” The latter part of that statement was true enough. There was no way I was going back in that trunk. “It’s a wonder the carbon monoxide hasn’t killed us all.”
He didn’t reply, but at least he dropped my hand.
I dragged the burlap bag out, dropped it by my feet, and peered at a deserted stretch of unpaved road.
At my right, a graveled roadbed sloped down to a shallow ditch dotted with tall cattails. The lowering sun dappled stubby weeds in an open field to the left.
“Time to get a move on.” The freckled man pointed at the car with his thumb. “You best ride up front with me.”
“I’m walking.”
“Oh, no, you ain’t!” he countered.
“Watch me.”
“Okay. I’m watching.” He lowered his lids suggestively. “What’s a gal like you doing in the carnival, anyways?”
“It’s a job, like any other,” I said, feeling Lucy coil around my ankle. “Besides, you jerk, my resume shows a varied work history since I ran away from home at fifteen.”
“Don’t give me no back-talk.” The man picked up a big stick, hostility flickering in his eyes. “I told Ray Boy I’d have you there by seven. Move it, now!”
“Who’s Ray Boy?” I blinked. “Have me where?”
“Church,” he answered tersely.
“What’s your name?” I coaxed, hoping he’d find it harder to hurt a personal acquaintance. “I’m Eve.”
“Billy.” He gestured. “Shut your smart mouth, and get in the car.”
I held my ground. “Does your church congregation handle snakes?”
“There’s a stupid question, Eve.” He swaggered closer, made a move as if to prod Lucy. “How else can a body prove they’re right with God?”
“I can think of a couple other ways.”
Billy’s hand lifted, holding the stick in a defensive position.
I sensed fear behind his action. Snakes, symbolizing both wisdom and evil, have always been both admired and dreaded. I pondered a significant question: If this geek is afraid of reptiles, then who put Lucy in the burlap bag?
“Think you have it figured, don’t you?” Billy dug the stick into the ground. “Do you know why the church brethren take up snakes, instead of some other creature?”
I shrugged, and then recalled trivia from a Mythology book I’d read. “Maybe it has something to do with the huge serpent that hatched from the mud, after the Flood.”
“That ain’t in the Bible!” he said, then intoned: “... And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents -- ”
“Billy!” I interrupted. “If you need my snake for some crazy church service, why did you snatch me, too?”
He laughed, nastily. “Blondes sure are dumb.”
“Don’t look at me.” I took a step backward, dragging Lucy. “Don’t think for one minute I’ll let you touch me.”
“You’re aiming to tempt me, just like the serpent beguiled Eve in the garden.”
A distant noise: an engine, coming closer.
“Please,” I begged. “Let me go, and I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”
Billy’s husky voice dropped to a whisper. “God cursed the serpent. He made it go upon its belly and eat dust.”
I didn’t answer, but managed a sneer, feeling my heart batter my ribs as the engine’s hum grew to a rumble.
“God cursed Eve and all other women after her,” Billy panted, lumbering several steps closer. “Her desire was for Adam, her husband, and he ruled over her.”
I waved my arms wildly at the approaching green truck.
Seven or eight men were riding in the open flatbed. The truck slowed.
“Stop, please!” I screamed, making eye contact with the driver. “Help me!”
To my horror, the truck picked up speed and swerved to the edge of the road, spewing gravel as it swept around and passed the Ford Fairlane. As it sped down the road, dust obscured its silhouette, but the cloudy grime couldn’t block the mocking laughs of the men in the back.
Tears swam in my eyes, but I blinked them back.
“You won’t get away with this, Billy. They’ll report what they saw to the law.”
“You got it wrong way around.” He laughed, squinted at the disappearing vehicle. “It’s you who won’t get away. That was Marty behind the wheel.”
I curled my lip. “So?”
“Marty is the Sheriff’s First Deputy, and Ray Boy’s uncle.”
“I don’t give a flying leap if the Sheriff is your Auntie Sue,” I screamed. “Someone else will come along. Someone who isn’t related to you clowns.”
Billy hitched one thumb in his belt loop. “You surely are one biggity gal, Eve. You got nice bazooms, too.”
I swallowed. “Listen, Billy. If you take me back to the carnival, I’ll tell you which games are gaffed. I’ll show you how to beat the others. Think of it. You could win lots of prizes for your girl friend.”
“Bull-squirt.”
“It’s not bull,” I argued.
Lucy slid over my foot.
Graceful in movement, she began to uncoil her splendid black and gold length. She pulled one way, then the other. Her tongue flickered, tasting the air. She didn’t like the rough, gritty gravel; she was used to the feel of a smooth tarp.
Billy glared at me. “Let’s go.”
I forced a nonchalant smile. “Listen. This one’s free. Here’s one sure way to win when you play one of the dart booths. Never aim at an under-inflated balloon, because the darts will bounce off.”
“Put the snake in the bag. Get in the car.”
“You’re no gentleman.” I pouted. “Aren’t men supposed to be chivalrous and mannerly in the South?”
“Only thing I’m supposed to be is on time when I carry you to Ray Boy.” He brandished the stick. “You’re getting on my nerves. Let’s go.”
Lucy had reached the road’s edge.
Her unblinking, fathomless eyes studied the ditch.
A sudden idea brightened my mind. If Lucy would only slither into the grass, I could pretend to retrieve her, jump the ditch, and keep going.
I glanced at my captor, knew I could out-distance him. After all, hadn’t I outrun more than one truant officer during my wayward youth? Back then, I was always racing somewhere, eluding an incestuous stepfather, escaping an abusive mother, slipping from school, fleeing poverty and ignorance and desperation.
With any luck, I can run away from this foot-heavy farmer, too.
Lucy inched toward a drooping cattail, her glittery black hypnotic eyes on the field beyond. Billy shook the stick again, stepped closer. My legs quivered, but I hesitated. Lucy couldn’t survive in the wild. If she saw a field mouse, she’d expect it to be delivered to her in a plastic baggie. It wouldn’t be right to leave her.
I picked her up and wrestled her into the burlap sack.
Billy manhandled me back into the Ford.
***
The farther Billy drove, the more anxious and uneasy I became.
I told myself another opportunity for escape would present itself.
I’d just have to be ready for it.
After what seemed forever, the Ford stopped in a grassy yard filled with vehicles. I noticed the flatbed truck parked in front of a drab building with tarpaper roofing and a steeple. Common sense whispered a warning, but I obeyed when Billy ordered me out.
“Oooee,” sang a male voice.
“Hey, Ray Boy,” Billy exclaimed. “Done like you told me.”
I swung around, and saw a familiar man exiting a red pick-up truck.
The hick’s jeans had been exchanged for a too-small and shiny blue suit. “I was aiming to go look for you, sweetheart,” he said. “Sure hope Billy didn’t hurt you none.”
My voice was ragged with fear and anger as I responded with an obscenity.
“Now, now, honey.” Ray reached through the open window of his pick-up. “Don’t worry. Lila June said you could have the borrow of her best frock.”
I glared at the white garment he thrust into my hands. Heavily covered with ribbons, bows and ruffles, the dress was even more ridiculous than my fig-leaf costume.
“Put it on,” he directed, leering at me. “You can’t hardly wear them shorts in church, Eve. Ain’t decent.”
I threw the dress on the ground.
Billy picked it up. “You want I should tan her hide, Ray Boy?”
“No, no, never mind.” Ray shook out the dress, tugged it over my head and stuck my arms through the sleeves as if dressing a child. “There, now. Ain’t you just pretty as a picture?” He grinned. “Don’t be riled, sweetheart. You’ll be happy after on.”
“Listen to me, you cretin,” I screamed at him. “If the snakes you handle are venomous, Lucy could get bitten. She doesn’t have immunity to their poison.”
Ray scratched his chin. “Where’d that come from? Nobody’s going to hurt your snake. I only took it on account of you seemed to favor it so much.” He turned from my confused look. “Ain’t you told her, Billy?”
“Told me what?”
Billy grabbed my upper arm. “Don’t fuss now, girlie. Everything is all set up with the preacher.”
“The church has moren’ one ceremony,” Ray added, his meaty hand tightening around my other arm. “Come on, Eve. You and me are getting hitched.”
