Page 83 of Work It Out
“I take it that means the Hunt is on,” Rayah said before he could tell her exactly where he meant to put it.
Zandar rushed up to them. “Hurry. I just saw him. Almost had the little fella, but the stupid airhorn scared him off. He ran that way.” He pointed in the direction of a thick section of half-dead underbrush.
“I don’t—” Rayah began, still traumatized by her near miss with the rattlesnake in her office. The damn things were supposed to hibernate, but that was a veritable hide-and-seek playground for more critters than spinies.
“No snakes,” Jake said reassuringly, reading her mind again. “They’ve all gone to ground for the winter. Now, spiders…” He swallowed hard. “There could be lots of spiders. Maybe we should take the path down to the creek. I wouldn’t want them to freak you out.”
“But I saw him!” Zandar cried, genuinely distressed. “He ran that way. You’ve got to catch him. He could get hurt!”
“I thought he’d been out here for sixty-some years,” Rayah whispered.
Jake shrugged. “All right, Zandar. Calm down, man. We’ll find him.”
“You have to. He’s just a baby. I never should’ve brought him here.” He stomped into the undergrowth muttering to himself.
“Don’t dothat.” Jake stabbed a finger in Zandar’s direction. “The animals are hibernating, not dead. Watch where you put your feet and walk gently.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
November 1
Flagstaff Journal, Online Events page
“Next weekend a new, or rather, a very old festival with a new spin is taking place in the tiny mountain town of Bigbone. With a contest for the biggest crystal harvested, rides for the kids, and fabled animals on the loose, The Poisonous Spiny Hunt promises fun for the whole family.”
Despite the threat of creepy-crawlies, Jake loved hiking near Bigbone. He did, however, prefer to stick to the trails. Pierce used to laugh at him, but Jake liked to think of it as possessing the bare minimum of survival instincts. Still, when his grandfather’s oldest friend went crashing through the bracken, looking like he’d lost one of his children, Jake didn’t have much choice but to put his worries of the eight-legged variety aside and follow the old loon.
The Hunt was supposed to be a lovely, romantic way to spend some time alone with Rayah, damn it. He threaded the fingers of their shackled hands together again. They’d help Zandar search around the water’s edge for a few minutes, then slip away. The creek wasn’t that deep into the woods. Already, he heard the quiet babbling of water over smooth rock. Peaceful. Soothing.
Up ahead, halfway between the creek and where they stood, a large bush shook.
“Shit!” Jake jerked to a stop and shoved Rayah behind him.
“Snake?” she whispered, her fist wrapped in the fabric of his shirt, face buried in his back.
Only if it’s a python. He kept that to himself.
The bush shook again. Hard. Yep, something was in there, something significantly larger than any snake or spider native to Arizona. For a long second, all was silent but for their harsh breaths and the distant gurgle of water. Zandar moved down to the bank, shoving at bushes and making kissy noises. A low, grunting sound emanated from the shaking bush, followed by chuffing snuffles. Almost like…
No way.
“Is that—” Rayah began.
And then they heard it, a faint, barely audibleoink.
Zandar’s head popped up from the bush he’d been inspecting like a whack-a-mole. “You hear that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Here, baby, baby. Come on, sweetie.” More kissy noises.
Jake started toward the now-wriggling bush cautiously. When he was still a good distance away, it gave a violent shudder and something streaked out, through the tall, scraggly grass, and toward the creek. Whatever it was stood low enough to the ground to be covered in the overgrowth. The only thing Jake caught a glimpse of was long, thick…
Spines?
“Did you see—” Rayah seemed unable to finish her sentences. He didn’t blame her. He’d been listening to legends about spinies and stories of sightings his entire life. They were Bigbone’s version of Sasquatch or the Loch Ness Monster—a fun, fictional claim to fame to draw in the occasional tourist. They weren’t supposed to be real.
“Come on.” He tugged her toward the fresh trail of trampled grass.
“That thing’s the size of a small dog,” she said behind him. “There has to be a rational explanation, right?” She lowered her voice. “One that doesn’t involve Zandar actually being an alien who lost his pets forever ago.”
