Oroboros, or the snake that eats its own tail, a symbol for immortality. Has no bearing on this story, but it’s still darn cool. And look, it spins!
You know how you’re not supposed to hitchhike or pick up hitchhikers because you might encounter a crazy person or a dangerous runaway convict doing so? You also know how in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre they had a scene that illustrated very well why you shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers or hitchhike yourself?
I like to comapre this chapter to everything in the previous paragraph, except instead of hitchhikers it’s pulling over to help a motorist in distress. Roman Veretti, the latest member of the Camerlengo Mafia group to become the object of the Snake’s desire to kill, is on the road when he sees a guy on the side of the road. What happens next may make you consider never helping a motorist ever again (and if you knew what happened to the guy, you wouldn’t want to help any motorist even if it was your twin brother!).
Oh, I’m also considering adding a few scenes where the Camerlengo family has to deal with the instability caused by the Snake’s murders: other families are taking territory and killing members of the Camerlengos. But I guess that’s the fallout when a serial killer shows just how easily a formerly-invincible family becomes not-so-invincible. The only problem though is placement: where best do these chapters go if I add them? Probably after Roman Veretti meets his fate; that’s when the Snake shows just how hard he is to stop.
Well, I’ve rambled on long enough. Here’s Chapter 21 as promised; enjoy and please do not hesitate to tell me what you think.
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Roman Veretti was whistling as he turned off the main road and onto the scenic route to Connecticut. The sun was shining, the view was beautiful, the minivan was warm and toasty, the XM radio was playing some of Roman’s favorite jazz and big band songs, “A Gal in Kalamazoo” and “What a Wonderful World”, among others, and there were no other cars on this secret route Roman loved so much.
Best of all, taking the scenic route meant another hour until Roman got to Connecticut, a place Roman wouldn’t have even considered visiting if his wife hadn’t insisted they go and visit her parents that weekend. It wasn’t as if they were bad people—Roman thought that Lizzy’s father was a hilarious storyteller and philosopher—but the house smelled heavily of cleaning products, and Lizzy’s mother always found some way or another to suggest that Roman was a poor choice of husband for her daughter and that Lizzy could do better without actually coming out and saying it. In truth, Roman preferred making sure the prostitutes under his watch made enough money for him rather than spending an entire weekend smelling dish soap and hearing criticisms about his paycheck.
Just wait till I get off pimp duty and get into a real position in the family. Roman thought, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he listened to the music. Mr. Camerlengo’s getting to be real fond of me, and I’m sure that once this whole serial killer thing blows over, I’ll be able to get a job with money enough to shut up that old bat.
Up ahead on the road Roman noticed a car pulled over, its hood up and the lights blinking. The driver was waving his arms in the air, trying to signal Roman as he approached. For a moment Roman considered driving on, but the possibility a few more minutes away from Lizzy’s mother excited him enough that he turned on his turn signal and pulled over to the side of the road next to the car. The driver of the car ran up to Roman as Roman turned off the engine and stepped out of the minivan.
“You saved me!” said the driver, a young man who looked unremarkable save for a pair of brilliant blue eyes. “I can’t tell what’s up with my car and my cell has no signal. Do you think you can help me?”
“Let me see the car.” said Roman. “My dad was a mechanic, so I used to help him out all the time.”
“Well, isn’t that a stroke of luck!” said the driver. “She’s right over there. I figured that son of a bitch was conning me when he sold me this piece of crap.”
“We’ll see about that.” said Roman, sidling on over to the open hood. Peeking in, he examined the engine. To Roman’s confusion, the engine looked brand-new, and nothing he could see indicated any maintenance issues or repair needs.
“I don’t see any problems with the engine.” said Roman, ducking his head out from under the hood. “What’d you say was wrong with it—?”
WHAM!
There was a bright flash of light and Roman felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. He staggered, his hand pressed to his temple, before he staggered and fell over. The last thing he saw was the driver putting on a strange-looking mask before Roman closed his eyes and the world fell away.
I and most of Central Ohio lost power Friday, so I haven’t had Internet all weekend. Plus when I tried to use a public computer, the Internet was soo slooow that before I knew it, I had to be at my next thing before I could finish reading posts or checking my dashboard. Well, I’m making up for that right now, and I’m doing it by first writing this post, which has a small excerpt from my new novel-in-progress Snake.
Rami Ungar The Writer 