The Decapitated Chicken and Other Stories Read online

  “The result,” she concluded: “two men out of combat, and two of the most dangerous. Now all we have to do is to eliminate the others.”

  “Or the horses!” said Hamadrías.

  “Or the dog!” added Ñacaniná.

  The Royal cobra insisted, “The horses, I believe. I offer this as a basic fact: as long as the horses live, one man alone can prepare thousands of tubes of serum, with which they will immunize themselves against us. Rarely—you well know—does the occasion present itself to strike a vein, as it did yesterday. So I insist we must direct our attack against the horses. Then we shall see! As far as the dog is concerned,” she concluded, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Ñacaniná, “he’s beneath contempt.”

  It was evident that from the first moment the Asiatic serpent and the indigenous Ñacaniná had taken a dislike to one another. If one, in her role as a venomous reptile, represented an inferior type to the Hunter, the latter, because she was strong and agile, provoked the hatred and jealousy of Hamadrías. So the old and tenacious rivalry between venomous and nonvenomous serpents seemed about to become even more strong in this final Congress.

  “In my opinion,” answered Ñacaniná, “I believe that the horses and Men are secondary in this struggle. No matter what good fortune we might have in eliminating them, that is nothing compared to the fortune the dog will enjoy the first day it occurs to them to beat the bush, and they will do it, be assured, before twenty-four hours pass. A dog immunized against any bite, even that of this lady with the sombrero in her throat,” she added, pointing sideways at the Royal cobra, “is the most fearful enemy we can have, especially if one remembers that this enemy has been trained to follow our trail. What do you think, Cruzada?”

  Everyone in the Congress was aware of the singular friendship that united the viper and the snake; possibly, more than friendship, it was a reciprocal awareness of their mutual intelligence.

  “I agree with Ñacaniná,” she replied. “If the dog is set on us, we are lost.”

  “But we will strike first,” said Hamadrías.

  “There’s no way we can strike first! I am definitely for the cousin’s plan.”

  “I was sure you would be,” said the snake calmly.

  This was more than the Royal cobra could hear without her rage rising to fill her fangs with venom.

  “I don’t know to what point we should value the opinion of this talky little señorita,” she said, turning her slanted glance toward Ñacaniná. “The real danger in this affair is for us, the Venomous ones who have Death as our black standard. The Snakes know very well that Man doesn’t fear them, since they’re completely incapable of doing him any harm.”

  “Now that’s really well said!” said a voice unheard before.

  Hamadrías, who thought she had noticed a vague irony in the tranquil tone of that voice, whirled and saw two great brilliant eyes observing her placidly.

  “Are you speaking to me?” she asked disdainfully.

  “Yes, to you,” the interrupter replied calmly. “Your statement is fraught with profound truth.”

  The Royal cobra again sensed the same irony, and, as if by presentiment, she measured with a glance the length of the interlocutor’s body, coiled in the shadow.

  “You are Anaconda!”

  “That is correct,” Anaconda replied, bowing her head. But Ñacaniná wanted to clarify everything once and for all.

  “One moment!” she exclaimed.

  “No,” interrupted Anaconda. “Allow me, Ñacaniná. When one is well formed, agile, strong, and swift, he overpowers his enemy with the energy of nerves and muscles that constitute his honor—as do all the fighters of creation. Thus does the hawk hunt, the jaguar, the tiger; so do we hunt, all beings of noble build. But when one is dull, heavy, not too intelligent, and incapable, therefore, of fighting openly for life, then one is given a pair of fangs to assassinate by treachery . . . , like that imported lady who hopes to dazzle us with her great sombrero.”

  And in fact the Royal cobra, beside herself with rage, had dilated her monstrous neck, preparing to throw herself upon the insolent speaker. But, upon seeing this, the entire Congress rose menacingly.

  “Be careful!” several shouted. “Our Congress is inviolable!”

  “Lower your hood,” Atroz rose, her eyes like burning coals.

  Hamadrías turned toward her with a hiss of rage.

  “Lower your hood,” Urutú Dorado and Lanceolada slid forward.

  Hamadrías had an instant of mad rebellion, thinking of the facility with which she could have destroyed one after another of her rivals. But seeing the belligerent attitude of the entire Congress, she slowly lowered her hood.

  “Very well,” she hissed. “I respect the Congress. But I ask that once we have adjourned . . . don’t provoke me!”

  “No one will provoke you,” said Anaconda.

  The cobra turned toward her with concentrated loathing. “Especially not you, because you fear me!”

  “I fear you?” said Anaconda, advancing toward her.

  “Peace, peace!” everyone shouted. “We are setting a very bad example. Let us decide what we must do!”

  “Yes, it is time for that,” said Terrífica. “We have two plans before us: Ñacaniná’s proposal and that of our ally. Do we begin by attacking the dog, or do we throw all our forces against the horses?”

  Well, although the majority was perhaps inclined to adopt the snake’s plan, the bearing, size, and intelligence demonstrated by the Asiatic serpent had favorably impressed the Congress in her favor. Her magnificent attack against the personnel of the Institute was still vivid in their minds; and whatever might become of her new plan, it was certain that they already owed her for the elimination of two men. Add to that the fact that, except for Ñacaniná and Cruzada, who had already been in the campaign, none realized the terrible enemy an immunized, snake-tracking dog could be. Then you will understand why the Royal cobra’s plan finally triumphed.

  Although it was already very late, since it was a question of life or death, they decided to set out immediately.

  “Forward, then,” concluded the rattlesnake. “Does anyone have anything more to say?”

  “Nothing!” shouted Ñacaniná. “Except that we’ll be sorry!”

  And the vipers and the snakes, all the species, prepared to advance toward the Institute.

  “One last word!” warned Terrífica. “As long as the campaign lasts, we are still in Congress and we are not free to harm one another. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, yes, enough words!” they all hissed.

  The Royal cobra, as Anaconda was passing, looked at her somberly and said, “Later . . .”

  “Certainly,” Anaconda dismissed her happily, speeding like an arrow to the vanguard.

  X

  The personnel of the Institute were keeping watch over the peon who had been bitten by the yarará. Soon it would be dawn. An employee looked out the window where warm night air was entering and thought he heard a noise in one of the sheds. He listened awhile and said, “I think it’s in the horses’ shed. Go see, Fragoso.”

  So Fragoso lighted a lantern and went outside while the others listened, attentive, alert.

  No more than half a minute had passed when they heard hurried steps on the patio, and Fragoso appeared, pale with surprise.

  “The stable is filled with snakes!” he cried.

  “Filled?” the new chief asked. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. . . .”

  “Let’s go.”

  And they rushed outside.

  “Daboy! Daboy!” the chief called to the dog, moaning in his dreams, lying beneath the sick man’s bed. And they all ran to the stable.

  There, in the light of the lantern, they could see the horses and the mule kicking and defending themselves against the seventy or eighty snakes inundating the stable. The animals were whinnying and kicking against the stall, but the snakes, as if directed by a superior
intelligence, were avoiding their blows, striking with fury.

  The men, impelled forward by their precipitous entrance, fell amidst them. At the sudden blaze of light, the invaders stopped for an instant only to throw themselves, hissing, into a new assault in which, given the confusion of men and horses, it was difficult to determine which was the target.

  Thus the personnel of the Institute saw themselves completely surrounded by snakes. Fragoso felt the thud of fangs against his boot tops, only a half centimeter from his knee, and he struck at the attacker with his stick—the hard flexible stick always available in a house in the bush. The new director chopped another serpent in half, and the other employee crushed, on the very neck of the dog, the head of a large viper that had wound itself with alarming swiftness around the animal’s body.

  All this took less than ten seconds. The sticks rained furious blows upon the always-advancing vipers striking at their boots and attempting to climb their legs. Amidst the whinnying of the horses, the shouts of the men, the dog’s barking, and the hissing of the snakes, the assaulting troops were gaining more and more advantage over the defenders when Fragoso, throwing himself at an enormous viper he thought he recognized, stepped on a body and fell: the lamp shattered into a thousand pieces and went out.

  “Fall back,” yelled the new director. “Here, Daboy!”

  And they rushed back to the patio, followed by the dog, who fortunately had been able to disentangle himself from the skein of vipers.

  Pale and panting, they looked at one another.

  “That was the work of the devil,” the chief murmured. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What’s the matter with the snakes of this region? Yesterday, two men bitten, as if mathematically planned. . . . Today . . . Luckily, they are unaware that they saved the horses for us with their bites. It will soon be dawn, and then it will be different.”

  “I thought I saw the Royal cobra among them,” Fragoso ventured as he bandaged his aching wrist muscles.

  “Yes,” the other employee added. “I saw her clearly. And Daboy, is he all right?”

  “Yes, he’s terribly bitten. . . . Fortunately he can resist anything they give him.”

  The men again returned to the sick man whose respiration had now improved. He was drenched in sweat.

  “It’s beginning to get light,” the new director said, looking out the window. “You stay here, Antonio. Fragoso and I are going out.”

  “Shall we take the nooses?” asked Fragoso.

  “Oh, no,” the chief replied, shaking his head. “We could have caught any other vipers in a second. But these are different. We’ll take sticks and, certainly, the machete.”

  XI

  The enemy that had assaulted the Antivenom Institute was not any different but simply vipers who had, before an enormous danger, countered with the collective intelligence of the species.

  The sudden darkness following the broken lantern had warned the combatants of the danger of more light and more resistance. Furthermore, they could feel in the humidity the imminence of day.

  “If we wait a moment longer,” Cruzada exclaimed, “they’ll cut off our retreat. Fall back!”

  “Fall back, fall back,” they all shouted. And slithering and sliding over one another, they rushed toward the fields. They moved as in a troop, frightened, routed, seeing with consternation that day was beginning to break in the distance.

  They had been fleeing for twenty minutes when a sharp, clear bark, still distant, stopped the panting column.

  “One minute,” shouted Urutú Dorado. “Let’s see how many we are and what we can do.”

  In the faltering light of dawn they examined their forces. Eighteen serpents had died under the hooves of the horses, among them two coral snakes. Atroz had been chopped in two by Fragoso, and Drimobia lay behind, her skull crushed as she strangled the dog. Coatiarita, Radinea, and Boipeva were also missing—in all, twenty-three combatants annihilated. Those remaining, without exception, were bruised, stepped on, kicked, their broken scales covered with dust and blood.

  “A fine testimony to the success of our campaign,” Ñacaniná said bitterly, stopping for an instant to rub her head against a stone. “Congratulations, Hamadrías!”

  But she kept to herself what she had heard—since she had been the last to leave—from behind the closed door of the stable. Instead of killing, they had saved the horses who had been dying precisely because they needed venom! (It is known that for a horse that is being immunized, venom is as indispensable for its daily life as water itself, and it dies if it fails to receive it.)

  A second barking sounded behind them on their trail.

  “We are in imminent danger!” Terrífica shouted. “What shall we do?”

  “To the grotto!” some shouted, slithering forward at full speed.

  “They’re mad!” Ñacaniná cried, as she ran. “They will all be crushed there. They’re going to their death! Listen to me: we must scatter!”

  The fugitives paused, irresolute. In spite of their panic, something told them that disbanding was the only means of salvation, and, madly, they looked in all directions. One single voice in support, one single voice, and it would be decided.

  But the Royal cobra, humiliated, defeated in her second attempt at domination and filled with hatred for a country that from this time forward would be eminently hostile, preferred to lose everything, dragging down all the other species with her.

  “Ñacaniná is mad,” she exclaimed. “We must not separate. . . . It will be different there. To the cavern!”

  “Yes, to the cavern,” responded the terrified column of serpents, fleeing. “To the cavern!”

  Ñacaniná saw that all clearly, understood that they were going to their deaths. Abject, routed, maddened with panic, the vipers were going to sacrifice themselves in spite of everything. And with a haughty flicker of her tongue, she, who could easily have saved herself with her speed, moved with the others directly toward death.

  She felt a body by her side and was happy to recognize Anaconda.

  “You see now,” Ñacaniná said to her with a smile, “what the Asiatic serpent has brought us to.”

  “Yes, she’s an evil one,” murmured Anaconda, as she raced along beside her.

  “And now she’s leading all the others to a massacre!”

  “At least,” Anaconda noted with a somber voice, “she will not live to have that pleasure.”

  And with a burst of speed, the two caught up with the column. They had arrived.

  “One moment!” Anaconda moved forward, her eyes shining. “You do not know it, but I know with certainty that within ten minutes there will not be a one of us alive. The Congress, and its laws, therefore, are concluded. Is that not so, Terrífica?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Yes,” Terrífica murmured wearily. “It is concluded.”

  “Then,” continued Anaconda, turning her head in all directions, “before I die, I would like . . . Ah, that’s better!” she stopped, satisfied, as she saw the Royal cobra advancing slowly toward her.

  That was probably not the ideal moment for a combat. But since the world is the world, nothing, not even the presence of Man hovering over them, can prevent a Viper and a Hunter from solving their private affairs.

  The first blow favored the Royal cobra: her fangs sank to the gums in Anaconda’s neck. Anaconda, with the boa’s marvelous maneuver of turning an almost mortal blow into an attack, lashed her body forward like a whip and wrapped it around Hamadrías, who felt its strangling force in an instant. The boa, concentrating her life in that embrace, progressively closed her rings of steel, but the Royal cobra did not loosen her hold. There was even an instant when Anaconda felt her head crack between Hamadrías’s teeth. But she succeeded in one last supreme effort, and this last flash of will tipped the balance in her favor. Dripping slather, the mouth of the semiasphyxiated cobra loosened its hold, while the anaconda, her head freed, in turn pressed the attack on the hamadrías’s body. />
  Sure of the terrible embrace with which she immobilizes her rival, Anaconda inched her mouth with its short, rough teeth little by little up her rival’s neck as the cobra desperately flailed in the paralyzing grip. The ninety-six sharp teeth of the anaconda climbed, reached the throat, and climbed still, until, with a muffled, prolonged crunch of cracked bones, she clamped her mouth around her enemy’s head.

  It was all over. The boa loosened her coils, and the battered body of the dead Royal cobra slithered heavily to the ground.

  “At least I am happy,” Anaconda murmured, falling lifeless upon the dead body of the Asiatic serpent.

  It was in that instant that the vipers heard less than a hundred meters away the sharp barking of the dog.

  And they, who less than ten minutes before had trampled, terrified, over one another to the entrance of the cavern, now felt flame rise to their eyes, the savage call of the battle to the death.

  “Let’s go inside!” some called, nevertheless.

  “No! Here! We die here!” They choked in smothered hisses. And before the stone wall that cut off any possibility of retreat, necks and heads raised on coiled bodies, eyes like coals, they waited.

  They did not have long to wait. Against the black bush in the still unclear light of day emerged the two tall silhouettes of the new director and Fragoso, holding a dog mad with rage straining forward on his leash.

  “It’s all over. Definitely this time,” murmured Ñacaniná, with these six words bidding farewell to the happy life she had decided to sacrifice. And with a violent push she threw herself against the unleashed dog who fell upon the serpents, his mouth foaming. The animal dodged her attack to fall furiously upon Terrífica, who buried her fangs in the dog’s muzzle. Daboy shook his head frantically, thrashing the rattlesnake in the air, but she would not release her hold.

  Neuwied took advantage of the instant to sink her fangs into the animal’s belly, but also at this moment the men joined in the attack. In a second Terrífica and Neuwied were dead, crushed. Urutú Dorado was chopped in half, and also Cipó. Lanceolada managed to catch hold of the dog’s tongue, but two seconds later she fell beside Esculapia, chopped in three pieces by the double attack.