When she regained enough of her wits, Jeanne got to her knees and picked up her purse. Touching Horace on the thigh to get his attention, she asked, “What did you do?
Blinking, as if coming out of a trance, Horace turned and stared down at her.
“How the hell did you make them stop?”
“I simply shouted, ‘In the name of Sobek, you must stop.’ Sobek is the crocodile god of the Nile.”
Horace seemed as shocked and befuddled as Jeanne, the guards, and the traumatized zoo patrons who returned to the scene. “My words could not have caused them to halt their attack. It is merely a coincidence, I am sure. It would have to be, wouldn’t it?” He reached down to help her up.
“Yeah,” Jeanne sounded skeptical. She grabbed Horace’s extended hand and pulled herself back to her feet. “It would have to be, I guess.” She rubbed the back of her head and glanced in the direction of the crocodiles, which turned and lumbered back toward the water. “Let’s get out of here before they decide to pitch another fit.”
Jeanne made a beeline to the nearest restroom facilities and asked Horace to wait while she fixed her hair and makeup.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Horace asked.
“I will be. Just wait for me on that bench,” she pointed.
“Do you have a headache? You could have a mild concussion. Perhaps we should take you to the nurse’s station. I’m sure they have an accident report form that you should fill out.”
“Horace, you’re going to give me a headache if you keep it up. Wait for me and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Jeanne reappeared ten minutes later after using the bathroom, brushing her hair, reapplying her lipstick and makeup, and giving herself a pep talk that included a few bars of “Row, Row, Row Your Barge.”
Horace rose from the bench, seeming relieved.
“Well, as much fun as your adorable pets were,” Jeanne chuckled nervously, “let’s go look at something a little smaller. I don’t think they have any 2,000 pound snakes in the snake house.”
After a couple of steps, Horace slowed and stopped. “Snakes make me uneasy, Jeanne. Do we have to go in there? I would instead prefer—”
“Oh, c’mon, silly,” she insisted. “You stare down a pair of 2,000 pound crocodiles, but you’re afraid of a few overgrown worms? Besides, I want to see the new sound wave, force field technology.” She reached out and took his hand. With Horace in tow, she added, “If anything happens this time, I’ll save you.”
A painted sign proclaimed the brown rock building to be “The Serpentarium,” home of the Franklin Park snake exhibit for more than a century. A plaque beside the arched entryway explained how the “sound screens” worked.
Jeanne read out loud, hoping that Horace might be interested in the technology, if not the snakes. “High-pitched vibrations, far above the human ear’s sound spectrum, have replaced plastic or glass that requires frequent cleaning. The snakes are contained within paper thin walls of sound.”
Horace moaned at the mention of the walls being paper thin.
“When they are touched,” Jeanne continued, “the ‘sound screens’ emit a warm buzz, similar to a vibrating tuning fork. The projected barriers can only be penetrated by an object that vibrates with the same cycles per second as the security system.”
Upon entering the darkened exhibit, Jeanne’s jaw dropped in awe at the gliding, coiling reptiles presented in replicas of their natural surroundings. Some lay upon sand or rocks. Others hung from branches, without discernible barriers to prevent them from getting acquainted with their guests. With no glass or plastic to cause distractive reflections, dramatic spot lighting heightened the experience.
Bending forward, wide-eyed with wonder, Jeanne stared at a brown snake with darker brown, diamond-shaped markings outlined in white on its back. Above, a sign designated the object of her fascination to be “Crotalus atrox,” a western diamondback rattlesnake, native to the south and southwest portion of the United States.
Lost in the moment, Jeanne exclaimed, “Horace, is this totally sick, or what!”
When Horace didn’t comment, she reached back for his hand and turned around. “Horace?” she called out, her hands planted on her hips. “Horace, where are you?” A minute later, she found him leaning against the wall, outside of the serpentarium.
“I told you snakes make me feel uneasy,” he said. “And these aren’t even inside a glass or plastic enclosure. It looks like they could strike at any time.”
“I know, Horace, but the force-field thing won’t let that happen.” She reached out for his hand.
“I don’t know,” he jerked his hand away. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he protested. “Ever since childhood, snakes haven’t reacted well to my presence.”
“Yeah? Well, whether you’d be crowned king at the snake prom or not, they can’t hurt you here, and I really want to see this exhibit.” Jeanne crossed her arms. “Make up your mind, Horace. I can go back in there by myself, after which you can take me home, or we can go back in together and have a nice day, together. Which do you prefer?”
Horace followed her back into the exhibit with his head down, like a condemned prisoner headed to his execution.
Back inside, Jeanne pointed at the rattlesnake information board. “Look, it says his enemies are foxes, coyotes, and birds of prey. I don’t see anything about Egyptian college students.”
The snake’s tail started to rattle as soon as Horace moved out from behind Jeanne and took a step towards the pen. In a split second it reared its head, coiled, and tensed. The rattle became louder.
Horace stepped behind Jeanne, and the snake relaxed. The tail became silent and the reptile’s stiff posture melted into fluid movement. It turned its head and slid past a small, green cactus, disappearing under a couple of large rocks.
“Did you see that?” Horace complained. “It wanted to attack me.”
“Oh, please,” Jeanne replied. “They rattle — that’s their job. It’s what they get paid to do. Quit being such a baby.”
With her right hand and arm she imitated the side to side crawling motion of a snake coming at Horace and said, “Did the big, bad, snakey wakey get out and bite you?”
Horace glared for a moment. “No, but I wager that he would, were he afforded the opportunity. Now, can we go, because—”
“Oooh, look what we have here, Horace,” Jeanne crossed the room and came upon an Egyptian cobra. “You should like this one. They used to call these things asps in ancient Egypt, didn’t they?” she asked. “This is supposed to be the kind of snake Cleopatra used to commit suicide isn’t it?” She melodramatically mimicked pressing a serpent to her bosom.
As Horace approached Jeanne, the cobra reared up. Hissing and swaying menacingly, it spread its hood. The snake struck forward with lightning speed, hitting the force field, which emitted a faint hum. The viper gathered itself up, swayed to the left and right displaying its frightening fangs, and then struck again.
Everywhere they looked, Jeanne and Horace saw writhing, aroused serpents of all shapes and sizes, collectively striking at the invisible confines of their enclosures. The hums of the sound screens became louder and more menacing with each subsequent blow.
Horace put a hand to his damp forehead. “I can’t stand this. I’ve got to get out of here.” He broke into a run for the exit as a 17 foot long African boa constrictor made a futile attempt to reach him. It thumped against its sonic barrier, which resonated louder than any of the others as he rushed by.
As soon as Horace stepped out, the attacks on the invisible barriers ceased and the room reverted to its previous tranquil state. Astonished, Jeanne turned and stared. The snakes were as calm as if nothing happened.
Stepping into the daylight, she wondered, Could I have imagined that?
She found Horace on a park bench. Leaning forward, supported by his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his large hands.
Jeanne sat next to him and wrapped her r
ight arm around his drooping shoulders. “Are you alright?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“You know, yesterday you said there were things about you that I didn’t know. Is what just happened related to those things?” Again, she waited for Horace to answer.
But he didn’t. He sat there, motionless, looking defeated.
Jeanne patted his back and then stood. “I’m going to go get us something to drink, Horace. Would you like a Coke, or—”
Horace reached for her hand and pulled her back onto the bench. Putting his arms around her, he said, “Don’t go. Not yet.”
He seemed so vulnerable she couldn’t help but hold him. How could such a big, powerful man, capable of staring down a pair of enraged crocodiles, be so intimidated by a room full of penned-up snakes? Jeanne wondered. I could be kidding myself, but I don’t think he’d act this way with anyone else.
She liked the fact that he didn’t feel compelled to maintain his poker face with her. If he can share his fears and insecurities with me, he might be open and honest about other things, as well. Maybe I can trust this man, after all.
~~~
While Horace programmed the Maserati to make the trip to the Virtuarama, Jeanne’s shoulder harness automatically closed over her and tightened. “Horace,” she asked, “did you notice that the lions and tigers stopped what they were doing and turned their heads to watch you as we passed their cages?”
Pressing the ignition button, Horace replied, “No, I did not notice, but I am not surprised.” He turned and looked over his right shoulder, and then turned the other way, peering over his left shoulder before backing out. The Maserati hummed smoothly as they left the parking lot and began to accelerate into the flow of traffic. “I have always wondered why I seem to exert an influence over certain animals. It is one of many questions to which I do not have answers.”
Reaching forward, he pressed auto-drive on the wood grain dash, released the steering wheel, and turned to face Jeanne. While the vehicle steered itself around a long, sweeping curve, he said, “Ever since I can remember, animals have reacted strangely to me. I know this will sound odd to you, Jeanne Mosley, but—”
“Horace, will you stop using both my first and last name every time you speak to me? We’re on a date. You don’t have to treat me like a dignitary. Call me Jeanne...puuulease!”
“I apologize. I did not mean to offend you...Jeanne. I am so clumsy with how to—”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a little weak in the smooth talk department. So, what were you saying would sound odd to me?” Jeanne’s eyebrows arched as she waited.
“Do not take this the wrong way, but I got the impression that those crocodiles may have been trying to protect me. I think they believed that you represented a threat to me.” Horace and Jeanne both glanced forward and then back at each other when the car automatically slowed and downshifted to maintain a safe distance from the one in front as traffic on the expressway bogged down.
“Wha, what are you trying to say?” Jeanne sputtered. “You think those crocodiles were trying to attack me? Well that’s a crock, mister. A crock of shit! I mean, think about it for a minute. Do you think those snakes were happy to see you?”
“No,” Horace admitted as the Maserati gained speed. “I told you I wasn’t fond of snakes. Snakes and scorpions have always been adversely affected by my presence. It is as if they mean to harm me, but I cannot fathom why.”
Turning away from Horace’s gaze, Jeanne crossed her arms and stared straight ahead through the windshield, which darkened to reduce the glare from the sun. “For a minute, back there, I thought I might learn to trust you, but I’ve never heard anything so preposterous.” She twisted to face him, her forehead wrinkling with confusion and a touch of anger. “What kind of a fool do you take me for? I want some honest answers!”
“I promise you, I am not trying to be mysterious. There are things about me that even I do not understand. But I have been promised by the vizier—”
“The vizier?” Jeanne interrupted. “What the hell is a vizier?”
“He is the man in charge of me and my education. He manages my instructors—”
“Your instructors? You mean the professors at MIT?
“No, I mean those who tutored me before I came to this country. They still act as advisors. The vizier and my instructors oversee every aspect of my life.”
“Every aspect? Did they tell you what kind of roses to buy for me? Did you tell them about our date?”
“They know nothing about our relationship.”
“Relationship? What relationship?”
Horace placed his hand tenderly on Jeanne’s shoulder. “I have been warned by the vizier to shield my heart from the injection of love’s poisons. He would be most displeased if he knew—”
“If he knew what?” Jeanne shrugged away from Horace’s hand. “This is our first date, Horace. We aren’t going to be injecting poisons or anything else today.”
Horace winced. “Do not be angry with me, Miss Mosley. Sometimes I struggle to adequately explain my...” He stopped and sighed, looking absolutely helpless.
“Where’d you learn that look?” Jeanne huffed. “It’s like Puss-in-Boots from Shrek. How can I badger your ass if you’re going to stare at me all pitiful, like that?” She shook her head. “Has Thomas been coaching you on how to handle me by showing you his favorite movies?”
“Speaking of movies...” Horace breathed a sigh of relief and removed the mini-keyboard from the Maserati’s console. As the car idled at a stop sign he typed in ‘Virtuarama previews’. While he and Jeanne viewed the selections on the dashboard’s monitor, the Italian two-seater turned left and proceeded to navigate towards its programmed destination.
Arriving at the Virtuarama, Horace disengaged the auto-drive and lowered his window. When the preceding vehicle finished its transaction and pulled away, he rolled forward to slip his currency card into the ticket dispenser. He carefully pressed the part of the touch-sensitive screen that displayed the film title he and Jeanne chose.
They selected the new Virtual John Wayne film, Rooster Cogburn Rides Again. Co-starring with the great cowboy icon were computer-generated images of Katherine Hepburn and Jimmy Stewart. Mixed in with the “virtual” actors and actresses were live, mature, Hollywood divas Brittany Spears and Lindsay Lohan, appearing as aging ladies of ill-repute, running a saloon.
“Those roles didn’t require much of an acting stretch for them,” Jeanne remarked.
The screen flashed the charge of 94 dollars, which covered parking, two admissions, a medium sized popcorn, two soft drinks, and one trip each to the restroom. Additional restroom trips would cost an extra seven dollars...each.
“It’s a good thing we came to the matinee,” Jeanne remarked. “The regular prices at night are atrocious!”
After the movie, Horace returned the motion-simulating recliner to its upright position and removed the 3D glasses that took the place of screens and projectors. Containing an incredible array of nano-electronic wizardry, including behind-the-ear, bone-penetrating, sound-transference technology, the optical devices were no larger or heavier than a pair of Foster Grants.
“How’d you like the stage coach ride down the side of that mountain?” Jeanne asked, opening the console on her armrest and placing the glasses back in their designated receptacle.
Doing his best to imitate the Virtual John Wayne’s distinctive style of speech, Horace replied, “Well, I think they oughtta post a warnin’ at the entrance for people with loose dentures, partner.”
Jeanne rolled her eyes at the pathetic impression.
~~~
When they reached her apartment, at her door, Jeanne put her arms around Horace’s neck. She kissed him several times, the first one on the cheek. They were short, soft kisses, nothing more.
Horace wanted long, hard kisses, and more.
She thanked him for saving her from the crocodiles. Horace bowed politely and peered into her eyes, st
ill wanting to kiss her again. He considered asking if he could come in. If she says yes, perhaps we might...but no, she said it earlier, we are only on our first date.
Before turning to go, he said, “Jeanne Mos — err, I mean, Jeanne. See? I am improving. May I call you tomorrow?”
Jeanne didn’t say yes right away. She cocked her head to the left and squinted as if she needed to think it over before she finally nodded and said, “Okay.”
“I am still concerned about the bump you received on your head. You should have it examined.”
“You’re right,” Jeanne agreed. “I should. After the things that happened today, I should definitely have my head examined for saying you can call me tomorrow.”
Fearing he might upset Jeanne again, Horace chose to simply bow his head as she fumbled for her keys. When she found them and looked up, he said, “Good evening, fair lady,” turned, and headed down the stairs.
~~~
Thomas saw Jeanne’s name on his caller I.D. and tapped the crystal of his watch-phone. “Is Casanova gone?”
“He just left,” she replied.
“He isn’t spending the night?”
“No, and that’s not funny Thomas. You’d never believe what happened at the zoo.”
“What? Did they put you in a cage and try to keep you there?”
“Aren’t you a riot tonight, Mr. Franklin? No, they didn’t put me in a cage, but when we went to see the crocodiles, they tried to attack us and almost got out of theirs!”
“No way.” Thomas thought she might be conjuring a wild story, for the fun of it.
“Yes way!”
The tone of her voice told Thomas she meant every word. “Are you serious? Tell me everything,” he demanded.
When Thomas heard a knock on his door, he had only been off the phone with Jeanne for a couple of minutes. Expecting Horace, he jumped up from his recliner. “Hey man, how’d it go with Jeanne?”
“A most enjoyable social engagement,” Horace replied as he headed to the refrigerator to get himself a cold bottle of beer. He opened it and then tossed the cap under the sink where Thomas kept his kitchen trash can.
The Falcon and His Desert Rose Page 4
