Page 2 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

Oh, no!

Hissss!

The sibilant sound echoed through her brain.

For the love of Jesus! No!

Screaming in sheer terror, she frantically threw back the covers and scrambled backward on the bed in a single motion. The snake, its reptilian eyes reflecting the red of the dying embers, hoisted back its sharp, triangular head.

Shrieking, trying to fly off the bed, her legs tangling in the covers. “Mom!”

Too late!

Quick as lightning, the snake struck, its coppery head still visible. Fangs sunk into her leg, hot pain searing.

“Mom!” Amity screamed, reaching for the side table, her fingers touching the base of the kerosene lamp, turned so low as to barely glow as the snake slithered quickly off the bed. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! Mom!” In a full-blown panic, Amity grabbed the lamp and threw it hard against the wall, glass shattering, kerosene bursting in a blinding flash that quickly died.

The snake.

Where the hell was the snake?

I’m going to die . . . Oh dear God. “Mom! Where the hell are you?

“Mom! Help! Snake!” she yelled. Afraid to get off the damned bed, she turned toward the door to the porch, only to see a dark figure hiding in the shadows. “Help! Oh, God, I’ve been . . .” Her heart was pounding, sweat collecting on her body. “Mom?” she whispered, scared out of her mind. “The snake just bit me! It’s still in the house, oh, holy crap! Did you hear me?” Tears began running down her face, her heart pounding wildly. “We have to get to the hospital!”

Movement.

Was the figure one person? Or two?

In the dark, without her contacts, Amity couldn’t tell. Didn’t care. Were they kissing? For the love of God! No, maybe wrestling?

“Mom!” No, wait. That wasn’t Mom, was it? It was only one person, kind of wobbly on their feet. Or not? Chaotic footsteps pounded in the loft above her. Her siblings!

“Niall! Blythe! Stay upstairs!” she cried when she saw, in the faint light, silhouetted in the figure’s hand, the image of a pistol.

Was Mom going to shoot the snake? In here? In the dark? Why the hell didn’t she turn on the lights and—

She realized the gun’s muzzle was aimed at her.

“No!” Cowering in the corner of the sofa bed, she pointed toward the corner where the snake had slithered. “It’s over there. A damned copperhead, I think. Mom—”

Blam!

A deafening blast roared through the cabin.

A flash of light.

The muzzle of a gun as it kicked back a little.

Amity’s body slammed against the musty pillows of the couch, pain searing through her abdomen.

Disbelief tore through her mind. She’d been shot? Someone had shot her? No way . . . but the blood running through her fingers told a different story, confirmed to her unwilling mind that someone wanted her dead.

She was still screaming as the world went black.

December 2nd

First Interview

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