Under the mountain’s wall was a waist-high patch of gray scrub. Nick started in, dazed, then stopped. They were now in the territory once known as Rattler Ranch; it was not a place to walk blindly where you couldn’t see your feet. Just exactly as he stopped he heard the loud buzz of what had to be a big snake, and stood frozen by a jolt of adrenalin that hit his heart like bad drugs. It didn’t matter a bit if you liked, forgave, were fascinated by snakes—the sound of a rattler that had seen you first felt like sticking your finger in a light socket. All his familiar litanies rushed through his head—it’s scared, it eats rabbits, it’s MUCH smaller than you are. The noise: like a chorus of crazed mechanical insects, surrounded him, and he wanted to leap, run, shake. Where the f**k WAS it?
“D
