Silent Protector by Barbara Phinney Page A

moved any?”
    She shook her head. “No. I picked the bag up, and I was ready to put my things in but gave it a shake to open it. That’s when the snake fell out.”
    Ian backed up another small step. Liz watched the snake intently. It didn’t move. Apart from slithering a little bit when it fell to the floor, it hadn’t moved at all. But its mouthgaped open, revealing a white interior as it tipped its head back. She looked up at Ian, who had taken yet another step back. Still the snake did not move. “See? It hasn’t moved at all.”
    Ian frowned. “Something’s wrong.”
    She let out a derisive snort. “Apart from the fact I had a huge poisonous snake in my bag? Whatever could it be?”
    He ignored her biting sarcasm. He looked up from the snake. “I mean, that thing should be acting a lot more aggressively than it is.”
    “Really? All I noticed was a wide-open mouth and fangs. Then I jumped up here.”
    He quirked up a smile. “In one leap?”
    “Yeah, no rebound board needed.” She blew out a sigh. “But you’re right. Something’s wrong with it. It’s not moving.”
    He reached behind him for the door and opened it gently. “I’ll be back. Don’t get down.”
    “Wasn’t planning to.”
    He eased out of the restroom and ran into his office. In the key press, he found the key he was looking for and quickly hurried back to the storage closet. There, he found the tent bag, dumped it and grabbed the longest pole. After grabbing the ax from the rest of the camping gear, he returned to the restroom.
    “What took you so long?”
    “I needed these. Did it move?”
    “No, thankfully.”
    He maneuvered the pole over the snake’s head and lowered it down. The snake moved its head with odd slowness, as if drugged. But still it did not strike. The tongue flicked only once.
    He looked up at her, his gaze calm, reassuring with a gentle hint of a smile as he nodded. “Ready?”
    “For what?”
    “Watch.” As fast as he could, he slammed the pole down on the snake’s neck and stepped on the length of graphite to pin the snake. It thrashed its tail briefly, but still, it didn’t move.
    Swinging the ax down, Ian cut off the snake’s head. The harsh ring of metal hitting ceramic tile bounced around the quiet room.
    Liz pointed to the bag nearby. “Okay, now shake that bag to make sure he didn’t bring a friend.”
    With the pole, Ian lifted the mouth of the bag. “There’s nothing in there.”
    She blew out a heavy sigh. She shifted her feet over the edge of the counter, then gingerly jumped down, feeling the ache of staying in an awkward position, especially after the bit of whiplash she thought she might have received from the car accident. “That tow truck driver was right to be concerned about snakes. Imagine it swimming into my bag.” She shivered again.
    Ian walked out and then returned with latex gloves and a large, clear plastic bag. He stooped to lift the snake’s body by the tail. He avoided the head for the moment, knowing that it could still bite, even after decapitation. The body didn’t readily lift up.
    “It’s stuck to the floor,” he said.
    “How is that possible?”
    “I don’t know. It must have stuck to your bag, too.”
    “I flapped the bag several times to open it. That must have loosened it. But why would it stick to things?”
    Ian didn’t answer her but rather examined the underbelly of the snake, tapping the scales experimentally. “There’s glue on it.”
    “Glue? Whatever for?”
    “I’m not an expert, but I think this snake was half dead when it fell to the floor.”
    “How is that possible? I mean, it would have had to swim into my bag.” She thought again of how Ian had saved her from drowning. The sloppy, soft bottom of the inlet took its time absorbing her car, but shock and hitting her head on the steering wheel had caused her to lose consciousness, however briefly. She could have easily stayed underwater without Ian’s help.
    “No, water moccasins