4. The smell of blood
The sun burned hotly down on the desert. But Bill was so angry that he didn't even notice it at first. Like a hunting dog, his gaze had fixed on the ground covered with racing chicken tracks. The racing lane guided him further and further north-east.
After almost an hour the sunburn pinched his back and he was forced to seek shelter under a stone until the hottest phase of the day was over. Then he took up the chase again.
He had only come a few miles when he paused petrified. Wind had come up and blew away the tracks. Even smelling the ground with his tongue didn't help him any further. Every particle of sand, the smell of which the bandits still had on it, was ruthlessly carried away by the wind.
Cursing, the Gila monster hit the ground with his fist.
"Damn it!" In rage, he looked up and stared in all directions. "I'm gonna getcha! I assure ya!"
He straightened up and looked around. There was nothing to be seen far and wide, except desert and cacti. He had no choice but to continue following the original route to the north-east.
The shadow in front of him grew longer and longer. The sun was about to touch the horizon and the Gila monster hadn't met anyone yet. Only when he was already thinking of breaking off the search for today, he suddenly caught a different smell. But it wasn't the gang's or any other desert smell, no. It was something that smelled of something edible.
He looked around searching. Then he stopped. In the last light of the sun stood a few houses near a hill. But no human houses. They were shacks made up by animals.
Without hesitation, he ran towards it with the last of his strength reserves that he still had. No sooner had he reached the first house, he noticed a group of roadrunners standing around a water trough.
"Get out of my way!"
With the head first, the lizard dropped into the trough and drank out almost all the water of it.
After quenching his great thirst, he was preoccupied with another question.
Who did the roadrunners belong to?
He flickered his tongue and sniffed at every animal, but none of them had the familiar traitorous smell of these bandits on them.
"Wrong track," he thought bitterly and looked at the houses.
One was an old barn, a restaurant, and a couple of apartment buildings. Each of them was rottener than the other.
"Hello stranger."
Bill winced. He hadn't noticed the old rodent on the rocking chair.
"You are lost here, right?"
The old rodent giggled hoarsely, which Bill didn't like. "I haven't lost anything, but someone stole from me! Did you see a bunch of guys ride by here? One was a fat lizard, two of them lousy, worn fur bunnies, the rest a nefarious bunch of small animals. Have you seen them?"
The rodent looked at him in surprise when he mentioned "fat lizard" and narrowed his eyes carefully.
"You've got a sunstroke, huh?"
The Gila lizard clenched his fists. "In this case, you didn't. I'm just wasting my time here."
Bill was about to turn around when he noticed his sore feet. It looked like he might need a little break after all, so he turned back around.
"Is here a place to sleep?"
Sighing, Bill slouched his shoulders when he opened the barn doors.
"No money, no acceptable accommodation," he growled grimly.
His gaze wandered up to the ceiling. Well, at least he had a roof over his head.
It was almost dark outside by now. Sullenly, he sauntered past the haystack until he decided on one that he thought was most perfect for the night.
Without thinking further, he dropped into the straw. After rolling back and forth a few times, he thought he had found the right lying position and dozed off slowly.
Suddenly he felt a rustle next to him. The lizard looked up briefly.
"Mm, woodlice," he muttered and lay down again.
He flickered his lizard tongue briefly. But then he opened his eyes. There was a smell in the air that frightened him. But it wasn't the smell of food. It was the smell of... blood.
Startled, he sat up. In the next second, a scream got stuck in his throat. Two glowing eyes had lit up beside him as if out of nowhere.
"Company, how nice," came a dark, gloomy voice through his ears.
"AHHHH!"
Bill tumbled off the heap of straw and slid backwards across the ground a few meters.
A gigantic creature of immense proportions rose before him.
Bill had reached the next wall and was pressing his back against it. Without a weapon, he felt extremely helpless.
The creature began to curl up, revealing its long body. The lizard's eyes widened even wider. It was a snake. Even worse. A venomous snake.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...," Bill stuttered. "Was that your sleeping place?!"
The snake giggled darkly. "I was just about waking up." He bared his teeth. "To get on my way again."
Bill looked at him in surprise. "In the night?"
The snake hissed loudly. Then he laughed. "Just crawl back into your bed, little lizard."
Such a voice would melt away a bold lady, but for a guy, especially in small stature, all the blood vessels in the skin-covered body froze instead. Bill was unable to move either as the snake slipped past him and crawled through the barn door.
But when he saw the snake's tail, he was startled again. The tip of the tail was absent. Instead, a blood-soaked bandage adorned the end.
Slowly Bill got a clear head again and he had to realize that he was looking at a rattlesnake - but without a rattle.
"Wh-who a-are you?" He stuttered.
A twinkle in the creature's eyes back to him made him freeze again. But then, a cold smile crossed the snake's mouth.
"Everyone will know me one day," was his simple answer.
Then he turned his long back on him again and looked down briefly.
"Remember one thing... if you see a shadow flying over you... you should run away quickly."
Then he crawled away into the darkness.
For a moment Bill stood like paralyzed. It took more than a minute for him to screw up his eyes.
"Weird guy."
Finally, he turned back into the barn and lay down on the straw again. Gradually he calmed down, but kept looking around just to make sure there weren't any more such creatures lurking around.
He looked thoughtfully through a small hole in the ceiling where the stars shone. But he didn't care about the question, where we come from. Instead, he just wanted to know: Where were those damn bandits with his money?