Rocked Up

“This way, come on!” Roar shouts, running toward the trail as Lael follows.

“What do I do with this?” I ask, referring to the ravenous snake in my hand. I have no experience with reptiles and I’ve gotten myself into quite the situation here.

“Throw it!” Roar yells.

“Throw it?!” I would like to say I’m concerned for the snake’s safety, but the truth is I don’t see how it won’t try and bite me the moment I relax my grip. “I have never handled a snake before!” I yell back, frozen in fear.

“Well, how the hell did you end up with one in your hand? You looked like a fucking professional when you grabbed the thing!” Roar shouts back.

“I don’t know, man. I just reacted, and now I don’t know what to do!” To say that I’m panicking would be an understatement.

“Throw it!” Roar shouts again.

“I can’t!”

Roar mumbles something and heads back toward me.

“Look, just set it down, point it away from you, and let it go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

I bend over, and to Roar’s credit he’s right beside me, speaking in a calming whisper. “Okay, you ready? Yeah? Now just let it go, man. Just let it go.”

Snap! Another snake strikes from within the brush, and as quick as a wink Roar once again pins it down with his stick.

“Ahh, grab it, grab it!” His high-pitched Norwegian accent has the sound of genuine fear.

“What?” I question.

“Last time you grabbed it!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “I just said I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Oh my god, it’s coming for my leg. The stick isn’t working! Ahhhh!”

“Ahhh!” I join him and we yell cowardly together.

Without thinking, I grab the snake with my free hand.

“Thank you, thank you, Brad,” Roar says, breathing hard, his eyes wide with fear and relief.

“Well, fucking hell,” I say, trying to keep both snakes as far from my body as possible. “What the fuck do I do now?!”

“Let go of them. But let me get a head start,” he says, turning around and running back along the trail to his house.

“Oh fuck that! Coward!” I muster up some courage and run through the grass following him while both snakes slither and whip themselves back and forth, wrapping around my forearms.

I don’t stop when I see Lael, I keep on running with my arms high in the air and snakes in hand. I run along the trail all the way back to the house with Roar and Lael close behind me.

When I get there I see there are at least twenty people hanging out in the back area.

“I could use a little help here!” I shout to the small crowd, showing them the angry snakes.

“That’s Brad Snyder!” someone shouts.

“And he has rattlesnakes in his hands!” someone else yells.

Everyone oooohs and ahhhs as if I’m Alice Copper and this is my theatrical entrance. I try and quickly explain my situation without ruining my sudden mystique when a young bohemian girl steps out and gives me a dirty look.

“You’re hurting them.” She carefully takes them from me and walks far into the brush, disappearing. I don’t get her name but that girl is my fucking hero.

Lael sidles up to me with wide eyes. I glance at her, my chest rising and falling from being out of breath, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Better that than snake venom.

“Okay, I am totally in the moment now,” I tell her.

She gives me a broad smile and a quick hug.

Roar comes in and hugs the two of us, then lets us go and says, “I have never seen that, my friend. I mean, first, I have never seen someone take a nap in the middle of Rattlesnake Valley. Seriously, guys. There are like hundreds of snakes out there. Second, I have never seen a guy run full-tilt waving snakes around like a wild man. You really are a rock star, Snyder.”





Chapter Nine





Brad




A few hours have passed and we’re sitting lazily next to a fire. The sun has almost disappeared behind Rattlesnake Valley. Twilight is my favorite time of day, so I relax and take it in. This eccentric group of people in this setting reminds me of a B movie. The budget film is in black and white, save for the fire that remains a vivid red. In fact, the color of the fire is so vibrant it causes arbitrary things to pop in contrast with the black and white setting. There is a group across from me playing music—a red guitar glows, a patterned shirt shines red. Behind the band, a young lady dances, and her red rimmed glasses glow as well.

Then dusk is gone, and it’s night, and with it comes the demons. This film is a horror flick, of course, with young non-conformist types dancing around a fire. What monster is going to come from the shadows to interrupt their uninhibited joy? Could it be a madman wielding a chain saw, or maybe some vampires or zombies?

“What on earth is going on in your head?” Lael’s voice brings me back to earth, sweet and soft as she touches my arm.

“Nothing,” I answer, giving my head a shake.

I no longer have to dream up a villain for this movie—I’m in the moment and a real-life villain has presented itself.

Cocaine has taken over. The band is no longer playing, the girl with the red glasses isn’t dancing, and the focus has shifted.

Things continue to change around the fire. Everyone is talking to hear their own voice, rolling their jaws, twitching, and doing line after line. Usually there is an attempt to keep it hidden, but with this group of misfits it’s all hanging out. Someone spent a rather large amount of money on a rather large bag of coke, and it’s safe to say that person is Calvi, judging by the fact everyone seems to be his best friend all of a sudden. The intensity is growing and my patience is dwindling.

Lael and I sit in our chairs and fight off drug-induced conversations with random people that zero in on us. They all want us to do a line, they sincerely feel it’s in our best interest, and I have to swat them away like buzzards.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Lael.

“I don’t think you can call a taxi from here,” Lael says. She’s handling things slightly better than I am—her voice is playful and calm. Her ambivalence concerns me, especially now, and the thought of her on blast makes me cringe.

“Come on.” I get up and Lael follows. The crowd continues to grow—it’s a wonder where they’ve all come from considering we’re in such a remote location. I’ve also wondered the same thing about buzzards.

I lead Lael to Roar’s shed. The desert wind has worn the wood down and the building is at the end of its life. There are large double doors that open up to the driveway, and I swing them open to see what Roar has hidden away.

“What the hell is that?” Lael asks.

The thing in question is some kind of homemade dune buggy that’s taking up most of the realestate in the shed. It smells like rubber and gasoline, and looks like something a cartoon villain would drive. It’s much larger than the one the fellas were playing around with earlier.

“This will work,” I tell her.

“What do you mean, this will work?”