“Yeah,” Dave said, “just sentiment. I agree.” He pressed down with his thumb again, and this time a weak flame sprang up. Quickly he cupped his hand around the flame and lighted the cigarette, dropping the top over the wick immediately to conserve fuel.
“Here you are, my boy,” he said. “Keep it well.” He gave the lighter back to Neil.
“Maybe you’d better hang onto it,” Neil suggested.
“Nope. I’ve got about eight cigarettes left. If I had the lighter, I’d smoke them all in a few hours. This way, I can only afford that luxury when you’re around.”
“Okay.” Neil pocketed the lighter again.
“Say,” Dave exclaimed, “about time for chow, isn’t it? Come on, I’ll walk you back to the city.”
They started back through the forest, Dave leading the way.
“I know this woods like the back of my hand now,” Dave said. “I can even find my way back at night.”
They walked in silence most of the way, while the monkeys swung in the trees overhead, gossiping noisily.
When they reached the edge of the forest, the city in plain view, Neil stopped and faced Dave. His face was serious, and his blue eyes looked into Dave’s searchingly.
“Dave. Will we really have to spend the rest of our lives here?”
Dave squinted at Neil, concern on his features. He rubbed a hand over his broken nose as he said, “I don’t know, Neil.” Softer, then, “I don’t really know.”
They walked into the city, and Dave left Neil as he went to wash up. Neil saw Erik standing beside a tall tree, talking to Talu, or at least trying to talk to him.
Talu was shaking his white-thatched head vigorously when Neil approached.
“What’s the trouble?” Neil asked in Swedish.
Erik grinned and ran a big hand through his fiery beard.
“Nothing, Neil. I was just asking our friend if he would feel safer if my men and I gave him our weapons again.”
“And?” Neil asked.
“You saw,” Erik said. “He refuses. He thinks we need our weapons for protection in the woods.”
“What’s there to fear?” Neil asked Talu, switching tongues.
“Many animals,” Talu said. “Jaguars…”
He stopped, his eyes glued in fascination to the branch of the tree overhead. His words seemed to catch in his throat, and they gave way to a slight intake of breath, an almost soundless cry.
Neil’s eyes darted rapidly to the hanging branch.
Curled there, the powerful muscles of its body wrapped tightly around the branch, slithering downward, jaws opened wide, flat, ugly eyes dull, fangs pointed and bared, was an enormous green snake.
Neil gasped as the snake reared back and halted in its downward glide.
With a quick sideward motion, Neil threw Talu to the ground, tumbling on top of the priest.
“Erik!” he screamed. “Be careful! A snake!”
The flat, ugly head drew back like the taut string of a bow.
Then, without warning, its jaws stretched wide to reveal a yawning red chasm, its fangs gleaming whitely, it struck!
Neil rolled over again, his arms wrapped about the Maya priest. Together, like two wrestlers, their bodies spiraled in the dust. The great head struck with vicious speed, striking the dust, sending a billowing cloud into the air. Then with the same alarming speed, the snake drew back its head, its enormous coils corkscrewing backward along the branch of the tree, from which the beady eyes surveyed the two figures sprawled in the dust.
A forked tongue darted out rapidly; jaws opened wide, fangs dripping, and then clamped shut again. Still the flat eyes were motionless, pinning Neil and Talu to the ground.
The head reared back, gauging the distance for the strike, poised murderously between branch and earth.
“Don’t move!” Erik commanded.
Neil lay still, his breath coming in rushed gasps. Beside him, Talu covered his eyes with a skinny hand and waited. The snake, apparently unaware of Erik, hung from the branch, its flat head cocked back.
Slowly, barely moving, inch by inch, Erik’s fingers crept to the ax hanging at his side.
The snake’s eyes flicked sideways for a moment, and then darted back to their prey.
Like a character in a slow-motion movie, Erik slid the ax from his belt, slowly… slowly…
Neil watched the painful process, wondering when that head would come flashing down, those fangs sink in a death grip. The ax was free. Neil drew in a deep breath.
Without warning, as suddenly as the flick of a bull whip, the head lashed out. With devastating speed, jaws widespread and fangs darting pin points of light, it flashed toward the figures lying in the dust.
The ax slashed through the air, swishing wildly in a metallic, murderous arc.