Page 24 of The Strawberry Field
Jake looks at me, all business now.“Where exactly is it?”
“Bathroom at the end of the hall. Under the towel shelves.”
“Do you think there’s any way it got out?”
“No. I blocked the door with a towel. Nothing else was open.”
He nods.“Okay. You stay back.”
I do.
He cracks the door, peers in. Then opens it wider and steps inside, kneeling to look under the shelves.
And that’s when it happens.
A black streak darts from the bathroom. Right at me.
I scream. Loud. Embarrassingly loud.
Jake bolts from the bathroom, grabs the snake mid-slither with the tongs, lifting it high into the air.
It’s huge. At least six feet long.
I collapse against the railing, heart pounding, chest tight, legs weak.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I cannot believe you just did that.”
He grins.“Practice.”
“Where are we putting it?”
He shrugs.“Outside.”
“She won’t come back, will she?”
“Probably not. We’ll check for entry points. But she might’ve slipped in through an open door or crack somewhere.”
We walk down the stairs, Jake holding the snake out in front of him, its long body hanging limply.
“She’s fine,” he says, reading my concern.“The tongs won’t hurt her.”
We cross the yard to the woods. Jake lowers her gently to the ground. She doesn’t hesitate, just races off into the leaves.
I exhale, finally, shoulders dropping.
“How do I even begin to thank you?”
“You don’t have to,” he says.“I get it. Lots of people are afraid of snakes. That one was harmless. A black rat snake. But still. I wouldn’t want to wake up with it next to me either.”
“Please don’t say that,” I say, laughing despite myself.“Now I’m going to have nightmares.”
“You can buy repellent, stuff that smells like peppermint oil. Supposed to keep them away.”
“Where do I get it?”
“Hardware store. Or online. I can send you the link.”
