too light to be squirrels, too heavy to be mice. Large mice? Small rats?
Moments later D’Augie heard chattering sounds in one of the eaves that were probably baby squirrels. Though he had spent little time in the country, he knew that in the animal kingdom, new mothers are often fiercely protective and rarely stray far from their litters. So he made a mental note to stay away from the eaves. That wouldn’t be a problem, assuming Creed returned soon. But if he didn’t, D’Augie would be forced to stand and walk around a bit to keep his muscles from cramping up. Nothing ruins the element of surprise like jumping through a plywood door and attacking Creed on your knees.
The itching and burning in his thighs and crotch had escalated far beyond anything D’Augie’s meditation could handle. It felt like someone was repeatedly burning his nuts and thighs with miniature branding irons. Bad as the stink in the attic was to deal with, the fire ant pain in his loins was worse. D’Augie scratched his crotch vigorously, and experienced instant relief.
For about five seconds.
Then the itching and burning returned, and when it did, it was worse than before. D’Augie clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and handled the itch and burn for about twenty seconds. Then he gave in and scratched his crotch again. And again.
…And managed to scratch the scabs off his wounds.
He’d been sweating profusely since entering the attic, and sweat contained salt, so D’Augie wasn’t surprised that the sweat stung his private area when it seeped into his open sores.
What did surprise him was how badly it hurt.
He wondered why this attic attack seemed like such a great idea earlier in the day. Now he was dealing with itchy crotch,
What was that?
More scurrying on paper, only much louder.
And then a thwack.
And then the muffled squeaking sound a rat might make if it had been crushed in the jaws of…
…Of a huge snake.
D’Augie felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, as if something cold were blowing on them. If that was a snake it was a large one, and very close by. And where there’s one it’s almost certain there’ll be another. The attic was virtually pitch black. Snakes could be slithering all around him, and he would never know it. They could be surrounding him at that very moment.
D’Augie was a city boy, not a country one. But he wasn’t completely clueless. He knew, for example, that most snakes are not venomous. But he didn’t know how many were.
He tried to remain calm. He drained his bottled water and put the empty in his carry sack. Then he did something a country boy would never do: he suddenly introduced a fresh food source into an enclosed attic space where wild animals and reptiles were trapped, fearful, and starving to death. He removed a peanut butter meal replacement bar from his carry sack and tore off the wrapper, releasing the scent of peanuts and chocolate into the air. As he started to move the food toward his mouth, something happened that caused him to forget his itchy, burning crotch and all the rest of his attic problems.
The battle was over as quickly as it started. D’Augie screamed and leaped through the plywood door with a snake on his face and two squirrels biting various parts of his neck and shoulders all the way to the floor. His elbow landed on the snake’s head, crushing it, and the squirrels panicked and ran through the house. Before D’Augie could get to his feet, a dozen more squirrels came pouring out of the opening like lemmings, followed by half as many snakes, representing several varieties. As the creatures landed on or around him, D’Augie scrambled to get to his feet.
But couldn’t.
Along with the numerous cuts, scrapes, bites and bruises he’d acquired before and during the fall, he’d apparently broken an arm and leg at the end of it.
“This is bullshit!” he screamed, covering up and waiting for the last of the critters to stop raining down from the shattered plywood hole above him
When at last things had quieted down, D’Augie secured his shoulder bag and began the slow and painful process of getting himself down the stairs, out the door, and to his car a quarter mile away.
Chapter 14
IT WAS FRIDAY morning, and Rachel was upstairs making herself pretty. I was in the kitchen, cooking up a storm for the guests, and Beth was setting the dining room tables. Wherever the rats and mice were hiding, it worked, because the two couples that checked in yesterday made it through the night without screaming.
“What is that heavenly scent?” Beth asked.
“I’m baking a caramel bread pudding custard.”
She walked back into the kitchen and eyeballed me. “You’re joking.”
“Want to see it?”
I led her to the oven and opened the door and said, “You’ll get the full aroma in about twenty minutes.”
“You’ve made this before, right?”
“Let me put it this way: within a week people will travel from parts unknown just to eat breakfast here.”
“If you cook as well as you brag, my troubles are over.”
I put my hand on my heart and bowed. “No one can brag as well as I cook. Not even me.”
She looked past me, to the box on the far counter. “What’s this?”
“Fresh flowers for the centerpiece.”
