Pathways - Jeri Taylor [35]
The reptile was beginning to move more quickly now, having refocused on its proper prey. Over his shoulder, as he clawed at the wall, Chakotay called out, “You’re supposed to be my spirit guide!” But the snake seemed unmoved. Chakotay grabbed a clump of damp dirt and flung it at the snake’s head. It landed solidly, right on the eye, and the serpent twisted slightly, momentarily blinded.
Chakotay’s scrabbling fingers suddenly found something solid—another section of tree root, just over his head. He dug furiously at it until it was exposed, and then clutched at it, pulling. It held. Without checking again to see if the snake was heading toward him, he hauled himself off the floor of the pit and drew his legs under him.
He looked down to see that the snake was just beneath him, grotesque head lifted off the ground, peering up at him. Fortunately for Chakotay, its heaviness prevented it from lifting any more of its body; it couldn’t reach him so long as he clung like this to the side of the pit. But how long could he do that?
Light from the beacon still illuminated the trap, and he looked upward, willing another handhold to be present. He saw it in the shape of a rock that jutted sharply from the dirt wall. He was able to get a firm grip with one hand, then another, and to use the tree root as a step for his feet. Now he was well off the floor of the pit and almost within reach of the top.
Beneath him, the snake had begun to emit a strange squeal, unlike the sound of any animal he’d ever heard, something between an owl and a pig. The sound made his stomach clench in a sudden, violent spasm, and he became even more desperate to get out of the pit.
The faint light from the moon silhouetted something on the lip of the pit above, a shadow-shape that formed a loop of sorts. He hoped it was the curling root of a tree, and he hoped it was sturdy. If it weren’t, there would be no second chances.
The only way to reach it was to jump. He found the sturdiest grip he could with his feet, then bent his legs slightly. With the squeal of the snake growing louder, he sprang upward with as much strength as he could muster, grabbing for the dark circle above.
His hands found it, grabbed, slipped slightly, then held. His entire weight was now supported by the loop, which felt that it must be part of the root of a tree. He hoped it was an old, well-established tree whose root would hold him, or he would plunge back into that dreaded pit and into the coils of the now-angry snake.
It held. He began walking his feet up the wall, and finally was able to fling one hand onto the surface, grabbing for purchase, finding the extension of the tree root and using it to pull himself farther out.
Suddenly a dark shape loomed above him and a searing pain erupted on the back of his hand. A heavy-booted Cardassian soldier had driven his heel into Chakotay’s hand as it clutched the root of the tree. If he let go of it, he would slide back into the pit.
That thought gave him an instant surge of strength. As the Cardassian lifted his leg to deliver a vicious kick at Chakotay’s head, he swept out with his other hand, grabbing at the leg and deflecting the blow, toppling the Cardassian off balance. As the soldier unwound himself and got to his feet, Chakotay pulled himself the rest of the way from the pit, and then rolled quickly as the Cardassian dived for him.
They collided, pounding at each other in a silent, deadly contest, punctuated only by the eerie wailing of the snake’s cry, still emanating from the pit. The Cardassian was going for Chakotay’s eyes, Chakotay for the other’s throat. They kicked and clawed and rolled on the ground, grunting and huffing like water buffalo, each knowing he was fighting for his life.
Chakotay was a big man, but the Cardassian was bigger, and hadn’t just used all his strength trying to climb out of a pit. His blows took their toll on Chakotay, who felt bones shatter in his jaw as the soldier landed a solid punch. Chakotay summoned every reserve of strength he had and shoved the Cardassian off him