THE SNAKE

Joseph and Bayo rushed me as if their lives depended on who got to me first. Joseph shoved my head down and rammed his knee on my back while Bayo packed my legs together, his rough hands holding them in a vice's grip. I stayed in that position, making no effort to come off their grip. I felt warm all over and my heartbeat slowed to a regular beat.

'To the...the wall,' Dracula shouted. 'His...his back to...to...to the wall.'

Joseph jerked his leg away from my back and Bayo threw my legs into the air and they fell on Mr. Potter's motionless body. Joseph dragged my arm, pulling my body along. He brought me close to the wall and stood between the wall and my back. Then he held my hands, twisting them upward on my back. 

'Don't struggle, or I break your arms,' he croaked into my ears. 

Bayo clamped my legs to the floor again and Dracula bent over me, pointing the snake down at my face. The snake hissed and more slime dropped from its mouth. I saw the inside of the mouth, the pinkish and furrowed parts, and then I shifted my eyes to its middle, seeing the little brown lines cutting over the pale stomach. The snake gave out another low hiss.

'Tell him where Tolu is,' Eric said. 'He is holding a viper; its bite can kill in less than twenty-four hours. Tell him what he wants to know.'

Dracula brought the head of the snake closer to my face. The smell of decomposing leaves rose from it and stung my nostrils, and I drew my head back, hitting the Joseph's leg. Dracula pushed the snake forward to cover the space my head had occupied.

'Dracula,' Eric said, clearing his voice. 'Be careful; its bite can kill him.'

Dracula ignored him. 'Tell or...or...or die.'

I swallowed, wetting my dried throat. Cold sweats ran down the sides of my face and from my armpits. Joseph held my head in position even though I did not move it again. I watched the snake's eyes staring into my mine inches away from my nose.

'I...I will....will count to five,' Dracula said. 'Tell or...or die. One.'

My eyes shifted from the snake to his face.

'Two.'

Eric cleared his throat again. 'Maybe he really doesn't know where Tolu is.'

'Thr...ee...three,' Dracula said. 'Joseph, str...etch...stretch out ....his...his hand.' 

Joseph right hand left my head and dragged my arm forward, while his huge knees clamped my other arm from behind and I sat in that grotesque position without moving, without struggling. His two hands held out my trembling hand inches away from the head of the snake.

'Four.'

'Paul,' Eric shouted. 'Tell him what he wants! Tell him now!'

I yanked my hand backward. Joseph held me back in place, the sweat from his body pouring on my head and shoulders.

'Five.'

'Don't do it—' Eric screamed. 

I felt the slime in the snake's mouth before I felt the sharp stroke of its fangs on top and under my middle finger. I felt the pains of pins digging into the finger and I jerked my hand out of the snake's mouth. 

'Let...let him go,' Dracula said, standing up with the snake. 'I...I...I am done.'

Joseph released my hands and stepped away from me. Bayo let my legs go and stood. I clamped my hand on the wall and stood, raising my hand to my face and looking at the middle finger. Two red spots, tiny and pin size, marked the top of the finger. Sharp needle-prick pain shot out from the top of the finger to the rest of my hand with amazing speed, seeping gradually toward my arm.

I raised my eyes and saw Dracula. 

'See you...in...in hell!' he said.

He turned to the wall where he had picked the snake and flung it against the wall. It struck the wall and fell to the ground, twisting and turning over on its belly, coiling and hissing. Dracula picked the stick on the floor and walked to it. He brought the stick on the snake's head with a loud smack and the snake writhed and hissed. He hit it two more times and dropped the stick, breathing heavily. The snake remained motionless, half of its white belly facing the opened roof.

'Let's...let's go,' Dracula said. He pointed his finger at Mr. Potter's body. 'Pick...pick him and get...get...get Pa...ul...Pa...ul...Paul's phone.' Then he turned and walked out of the door without giving me another look.

Joseph deep his hands into my pockets, searching fast. He found the phone in my pocket and pulled it out. He dropped it into his pocket and turned to Mr. Potter; he and Bayo hauled him up and dragged him toward the door. Mr. Potter groaned just before they reached the door and opened his eyes. He stared at me, but I don't think he recognized me or knew where he was. They took him out of the room with his groans following them.

Eric walked over to me. 'You caused this,' he said. 'Nigeria is a jungle; you either survive or you die, that's the way it is. Having a conscience will leave you poor and miserable. Do you think our politicians care whether you die or live? They don't give a damn, one way or another and that's why we also have to do whatever it takes to survive.'

'Er...Er...Eric,' Dracula called from outside. 'Let's go.'

Eric remained where he stood, gazing at me. 'Get to a hospital,' he said. 'See what they can do for you.' He paused. 'And don't go to the police; they won't help you.' He turned and walked out of the room, and I heard the jeep's engine started. The jeep drove away a moment later and I was left alone in the house. 

I stared at my hand; two blood spots stood on the finger, and I saw both the finger and my hand had swollen. I stretched my hand downward, and pain ran upward to my arm with unbelievable speed and vigor. I stood there for a couple of seconds, bearing the pain and trying to come to terms with had happened and what to do next.

I dropped my hands to my waist and unbuckled the belt, pulling it out with my left hand. I placed the head of the buckle in front of me and raised it to my mouth and began to chew the leather around it. I chew and cut, cut and chew—like a rat biting at a trap that has caught it. I tore the buckle from the leather at last and dropped the leather strap away. I picked the buckle and placed it on the floor, pressing the middle hook downward. The iron hook jerked out of the middle and fell apart. I picked up the buckle, now without the hook in the middle and turned it to my swollen hand, looking at the finger. 

I took a deep breath and placed the finger in the middle of the iron buckle. I waited, took a deep breath and braced myself. I stared at the finger lying in the middle of the buckle for several seconds, deciding when to act. 

I took another deep breath and twisted the buckle swiftly and I heard the snap of the finger and the pain at the same time. 

I screamed. 

Raw pain shot out from the finger into my hand and through my arms to my head. I fell on my knees and then to my face, writhing in pain. I lay on the floor for a long while, eating the pain one stab at a time. I turned over and held the hand above my head with the left hand and blood drained slowly out of the side of the broken finger.

I sat up after what seemed like one third of an eternity and the pain gnawing at every cell in my body. I looked at the hand for a moment and then turned my attention to the floor; a pool of blood had gathered and was beginning to cake on the floor. I sat for another ten minutes and after this time, the pain turned into a dull throb, with any movement of the hand waking up the pain. I sat for more minutes, breathing through my nose and mouth, knowing I should finish the job in order not to let the rest of the poison get to my heart.

I turned slowly to where the hook of the buckle lay and picked it up with my left hand. I took another deep breath, exhaled, and took another. I placed the edge of the buckle hook on the broken finger and stabbed the point the finger had broken from the rest of the hand. Blood sprouted out and I cried and dropped the hook, clutching the hand. I held it up, breathing loudly through my mouth. Dark, reddish blood flowed down the hand, moving to my arm. 

I picked the hook and stabbed at the broken point again. I screamed. I stroke again, screaming again, and I kept at it, piercing apart the tendons holding the finger to the hand. The finger came off after the 9th or tenth stroke and I fell on the floor, groaning and covered in sweat. 

I lay for a long time, feeling and seeing the blood flowing out of the mutilated end of my stump finger. The pain ate me alive the way a Honey Badger eats a snake. I looked at the opened roof and the sun's shadow told me it will soon be night.

I have to get out of here, I thought, but I continued to lie down.

I lifted the right hand up after about five minutes and heard a creaking sound as my hand pulled away from the caked blood on the floor. A wave of pain rode through my body again and I groaned. I brought my hand close to my face, peering at the stump in the middle. 

I held the hand with my left hand in this way for several minutes praying that most of the poison had come out with the blood. I placed the left hand on the floor and pushed myself up, straightening. My back and stomach's muscles squeaked in protest, sending cramps around my body.

I stood up and my trouser dropped to my ankles. I bent and pulled it up with my left hand and held it to my waist with the side of my right hand. I held the right hand with the left and walked toward the door, one careful step after the other. I stopped at the door and turned. The severed part of my finger lay in the middle of the room while the snake lay motionless up ahead, close to the wall. I saw hundreds of ants busy over it, mauling and chewing what remained of it and knowing they will soon move to my cut off finger.

Nature wastes nothing, I thought. 

I walked out of the room and stood by the road. I looked to the right and to the left of the road; no human was in sight. The sky had turned a golden yellow by now and the bats were already clicking, eager for the sun to sleep so they could sup. I ambled back toward the direction Mr. Potter, and I had come from, and the one Tolu had run to, praying that the venom left in my body wasn't high enough to cause me to fall dead.