“Gemma?”
Your voice startled me so much I almost fell. But I clung on and got myself around the rock. You were standing, facing me, your arms outstretched. For a second I thought you’d been waiting for me like that, waiting to hug me to you, enclose me like you had done the night before. The sun was bouncing full onto your chest, making your skin bright. There were still traces of paint on you. I wanted to run toward you, but something in your eyes held me back.
“Where are your boots?” you whispered.
I frowned. Then I remembered what you were supposed to be doing. “The snake.”
You nodded. “I thought I found it, but then I heard you coming. I wasn’t expecting you to follow me.” Your eyes were soft as they looked at mine, curious. You smiled a little. “It’s OK,” you whispered again. “This snake’s not aggressive. You just need to stay still … stay there and don’t step onto the sand, OK?”
“Really?” My voice was suddenly shaky. I coughed, not wanting to sound nervous. “Maybe I should go back to the house?”
“No, it’s better if you keep still. It’s somewhere near; I don’t want it distracted by your movements.” You looked me over. “Just sit on the rock there, be still, watch. I’ll keep looking for it.” You flicked a piece of hair out of your eyes. “Don’t worry, Gem; I’ve caught hundreds of these guys before.”
I did as you said and knelt down cautiously on the rock. You stepped slowly, moving like a crab. You stuck one foot out first to feel the sand carefully before moving the rest of your body.
“What are you doing?”
“This snake hides. He buries himself underneath the sand so nothing can see him. He’s shy and clever. His prey comes to him—he never really has to hunt.”
As you stepped closer toward me, the small black tip of a tail darted up from a bundle of dried leaves near my rock. I started backward.
“He’s here,” I whispered.
“Don’t move.”
My body tensed, wanting more than anything to race back to the house. I looked at where the tail was. Around the leaves was a smooth lump of sand. The snake was underneath. You crouched a little, coming toward me like a ninja, eyes focused on the patch of sand in front of me. “It’s OK, he’s looking at me,” you said. “He knows I’m the threat.”
You shuffled toward that small mound in the sand, getting just a couple of feet away. Then the snake raised its head, throwing off its camouflage. My breath faltered. Its body looked long, its skin the same color as the sand, with thin yellow bands circling its middle. It hovered there, watching you … each of you waiting to see what the other was going to do.
“Be careful,” I whispered.
Those words made you glance up at me. The snake saw. He chose his moment to escape. Unfortunately that escape path was back toward the rock I was sitting on, and the snake slithered quickly in my direction. I saw the length of its body, the large triangular lump of its head, and the darting of its tongue. With the snake looking at me, you took your chance and stepped toward it. But the snake felt your vibrations; it turned back. Its tongue was darting in and out constantly, trying to find the threat. When it found you, it moved its head backward, its body curling into an S, ready to strike. You stopped, your arms outstretched. There was only a pace or so between you. One movement was all it would take. The snake wavered a little, watching. You were ready to spring. But the snake surprised us both. It spun away from you and again slithered fast across the sand toward me. You lunged at it, grabbing the black tip of its tail. But it slipped through your fingers easily. It picked up speed, swishing from side to side across the sand.
“It’s trying to get away,” you shouted as the snake got closer. “Don’t move. Stay exactly where you are. It’s just scared.”
But I couldn’t help it. The snake was only inches away. Its head was bobbing slightly, its pink tongue stabbing in and out. I pushed myself backward and leaped toward the surface of the boulder, trying to claw my way up it. I got a foothold with my right foot.
But the snake was going in the same direction. I felt its heavy body slither over my other foot. I looked down at it, screamed, then lost my balance. My foot slid down the rock face. I tried to push myself into the rock, tried to stop my foot from falling farther. The snake was sliding fast toward a crevice at the bottom. But not fast enough. My foot slammed down hard on its tail and it twisted around toward me. I saw its huge triangular fangs, its jaws open wide, warning me. I arched backward, trying to get away, but the snake didn’t like the movement. Its head darted toward me. It sank its fangs into my leg.
Then it disappeared into the crevice in the rock.
You were at my side immediately.
“Did it get you?” You reached for my leg, turning it over. “I saw it strike.”
You held my leg carefully, pressing gently at the skin. You felt all the way up to my knee and back down. Then you found what you were looking for. There were small scratches on the skin above my ankle, as if I’d brushed against a sharp thorn. You ran your thumb over these, then over the skin around them. You looked at me.
“I need your shirt,” you said.
“What? Why?”
“It’s either your shirt or my shorts, you choose. I need to stop the venom from going up your leg.”
I looked at your serious blue eyes. “Take the shirt.”
“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I know what to do. I have antivenom.” You tried a smile, but it didn’t look that genuine. I just stared back at you, still in shock, I think. You moved closer to me, sitting beside me so that I could lean against you. “Come on, your shirt.” You tugged at the bottom of it.
I crossed my arms and pulled it over my head. You took it from my hand instantly. I wrapped my arms around my bra, but you didn’t stare once at my body; you just found a long, straight stick and pressed it to the bottom of my calf.
“Hold the stick there,” you said.
I pressed it against my skin and you tore my shirt down the middle. You wound it quickly around my leg, securing the stick by pulling the material tight.
“I can’t feel anything,” I said. “Are you sure it got me?”
“It got you.” You frowned. “But maybe it didn’t release any venom. Let’s hope so. But if someone had stood on me that hard …” Again, the forced smile when you couldn’t finish your words. You took my head in your hands, suddenly serious. You stroked your thumb against my cheek. “From now on, you must tell me everything you are feeling … headaches, sickness, numbness, general weirdness … anything. It’s important.”
There were beads of sweat on your forehead. I reached out and wiped them away.
“OK,” I said. “But I feel fine now.”
“Good.” You grabbed my hand. “But you need to stay calm and still, don’t move too much. Whether there’s venom in there or not, we need you relaxed.”
I nodded. I didn’t like the seriousness in your tone. I glanced at my leg. I thought I could feel a numbness starting around my ankle. I closed my eyes and tried to keep myself from panicking.
“Keep your leg as straight and as still as possible,” you said.
Carefully you fed your arm underneath my knees and placed your other arm beneath my shoulders. You stood, slowly, lifting me up. You held me out, slightly away from your body, trying to keep me as flat as possible, holding me steady. I could see the muscles in your arms twitching with the effort.
“I’m taking you back to the house,” you said.
You walked carefully, choosing a route between the rocks and plants. You winced as you stepped on a pile of twigs.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” you whispered.
You hurried past the camel, your breathing becoming more labored. I could feel your muscles shaking with the effort of holding me like that. I shut my eyes against the sunlight. The rays were so bright and piercing. I turned my face to your chest, pressing my forehead into your skin.
“What’s wrong?” you murmured. I fe
lt the words rumble in your chest. I whispered back.
“I’m starting to get a headache.”
You let out a quick breath before moving on. “I’ll fix it,” you said. “I promise I’ll fix it. Just don’t panic.”
I didn’t say anything. There was a dull pain in my ankle, working its way up my leg. I concentrated on that.
You backed through the doorway and carried me quickly into the kitchen. You laid me gently on the table. You disappeared for a moment and I heard you in the hall, throwing open the closet. The light was bright through the door so I turned away toward the kitchen cabinets. You came back with a couple of towels. You rolled one up and placed it underneath my head.
“How do you feel?”
“A bit weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Just weird. I don’t know. Like I’m getting a cold or something.”
You swallowed. “Anything else? Pain around your ankle? Numbness?”
I nodded. “A little.”
You felt for the pulse in my wrist and touched the back of your hand to my forehead. Lightly, you pressed the skin around my ankle. You shook out the other towel and frowned as you laid it over my chest.
“Maybe I should get you a T-shirt, huh?”
“What?”
You nodded toward my chest and bra, your cheeks pinking slightly. “Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You raised an eyebrow, then forced that smile upon your face again. “And I’ve got to concentrate here, too, you know.”
You went to get the T-shirt. Through the open door I heard the squeal of a bird, circling high above the house, but that was it. I felt along the top of my leg. Just how serious was this snakebite? I couldn’t figure out whether your joking tone was because you weren’t worried about it, or because you were trying to mask your fear.
You were back quickly, handing me a shirt, supporting me while I put it on so that I didn’t have to move my leg too much. You left and returned with a metal box. You flung it open, took out a roll of bandage, and started winding it over the shirt on my leg. You wound all the way from my foot to my hip, rolling up my shorts to get to the top of my thigh. My skin tickled as you touched it. You pulled the bandage tight.
“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” you muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“I let you get bit, didn’t I?” You placed the metal box on the floor and rifled through it loudly. Gauze and bandages and rubber gloves fell out as you searched. “I should’ve caught that snake days ago,” you continued. “I should at least have tried to desensitize you to it. But, well, snakebites never happen to me, and I guess I kind of hoped … I thought we had time for all this….”
Your words faded away as you found what you were looking for. You took your hand from the box. As you uncurled your fingers, it looked like they were shaking. Inside them was a key. As you stood, I saw how pale your face was. It reminded me of how you’d looked when you’d had the nightmare. I had a sudden urge to touch it. I stretched my fingers a little toward you.
“I stole antivenoms from a research lab,” you explained. “You’ll be OK.”
You strode to the locked drawer beside the sink, stuck the key in. You rifled through it, your back preventing me from seeing exactly what was inside. You took out several small glass vials with different colored lids and a plastic bag full of clear liquid and put them on the bench; then you took out a strap and something that looked like a needle. You left the drawer open while you turned back to me. You grabbed my arm and slapped at the veins. I glanced back at the vials. They were the same ones I’d seen once before, spread out before you on the kitchen table … the ones I’d thought contained drugs.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I whispered.
“Course.” You rubbed your forehead. “You’ll be OK. The snake’s not that dangerous anyway….”
“How dangerous?”
“I’ll be able to fix it.” You wound the strap around my arm, pulling it tight above where you’d been pressing my veins. “Look away,” you urged.
I looked toward the open drawer. I heard a crack as you opened something. I felt the jagged prick of the needle go in, the jolt as you attached the plastic bag … the release as you undid the strap on my arm. Then a rush of fluid, straight into my veins.
“What is that?” I asked, still looking toward the drawer.
“Saline solution, also from the research lab. I’ve mixed the death adder antivenom into it. It should start filtering into your veins right away; you should start feeling better.”
I turned my head back to you, registering your words. “Death adder?”
You stroked the side of my cheek. “His name’s worse than his bite.”
I looked at the bag of fluid slowly seeping into my body, at the tube stuck into my arm. “How do you know how to do this?”
Your eyes darted away from mine. “I practiced on myself.” You tapped the side of the bag, checking how fast it was flowing.
“Now what?”
“Now we just wait.”
“How long?”
“About twenty minutes, dunno. Until the bag’s used up.”
“And then?”
“Then we see.”
You scraped a chair from under the table and sat beside me. You ran your finger lightly over the needle in my arm.
“Will I be better after this?” I asked, nodding at the bag.
“More or less.” Again I saw the sweat on your forehead. I saw your temple pulsing quickly.
“You’re worried,” I whispered. “Aren’t you?”
You shook your head. “Nah.” Your voice was breathy and your mouth fixed in a smile. “You’ll be ‘right. I have another vial if you need it. You’ll be fine, though. Just relax, wait.”
But your eyes were unsettled as they looked at me, twitching slightly at the corners. You breathed out, deliberately slowly, and pressed your fingertips to the twitch.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered. “What are you hiding?” I felt my breathing speed up, my throat tighten around it.
“Nothing,” you said quickly. “Just don’t panic; that’s the last thing we need. When you panic, your blood travels faster, speeding up the venom.” You pushed your hands against my shoulders, rubbing at the muscles in my neck. “Relax,” you whispered.
But I couldn’t calm down, not properly. I just kept thinking about dying out there, on a kitchen table, in the middle of a billion grains of sand. My breathing sped up further, and you put your hand against my mouth to shush me. You stroked my hair.
“Don’t worry, it’s OK,” you were saying, over and over. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I shut my eyes. I saw darkness behind my lids. Perhaps that might be all I’d ever see again. Perhaps the numbness that was taking over my leg would soon be taking over my body, then my mind, and then that would be it. My heart would stop and an everlasting numbness would replace it. I’d be under the sand then, grains below and above and all around me. I gripped at the table, scratching my nails into its wood.
“Calm down,” you murmured.
I’d thought about death before, so many times. But the death I’d imagined would be violent and painful and caused by you, not numb and clinical.
“You won’t die,” you whispered. “You just need to wait it out. I’m here, and I know how to help. Just don’t panic.” You stroked the edge of my face. “Gem, I won’t let anything happen, not to you.”
You peeled the sweaty strands of hair away from my forehead.
“You’re hot,” you murmured. “Too hot.”
About half of the bag’s fluids had gone into me, but I could still feel a dull ache at the bottom of my leg. Was it from the snakebite, or from the bandage being too tight? You checked my pulse again.
“Do you want to be sick?” you asked.
“Not really.”
“Any pain in your stomach?”
“No.”
You put your fingers over your mouth, thin
king. You looked carefully at my bandaged leg. “This is still sore?”
“Yes.”
I thought I could feel that dull ache around my knee now, traveling slowly up my thigh. I stretched my hand down and touched near to where I could feel it.
“It’s there,” I said. “The pain’s there.”
You shut your eyes for a second. Again, there was that twitch at the side of one of them. You pressed your hand against where I was feeling, then ran your fingers down to my ankle.
“Venom’s traveling fast,” you whispered, to yourself, I think. “It’s all swelling up.” You glanced at the bag of fluid, then tipped it to see how much was left. “I’m putting the other vial in.” I watched you use the needle to draw up the antivenom. Then you injected it into the bag and swirled it around. “This will give you a rush,” you said. You tried grinning, but it was a crooked grimace instead.
“That’s the last one, isn’t it?” I asked.
You nodded, your face tight. “It should be enough.”
You started wiping my forehead again, but I reached for your hand. I didn’t want to be alone right then, I guess. I didn’t want you to be alone, either. Your eyes opened wide when you felt my fingers touch you. They looked over my face, my cheeks and mouth, skimming down over my neck. I was the best view you’d ever seen. It gave me a buzz, the way I made you look, right then.
“Are you dizzy?” you asked.
“A bit. It feels a little like I’m floating.”
I gripped your hand tightly, wanting some of your strength to seep out into me. You held my gaze. There were questions in your eyes, and thoughts behind them.
“The antivenom should be working by now,” you said. “I don’t know why it’s not.”
“Maybe it takes time.”
“Maybe.”
I could feel the tension in your fingers. You glanced at the fluid bag. Then you got up quickly and stood beside the open door. My fingers went cold as you left them. I blinked. The kitchen cupboards were fuzzy around the edges. Everything was slightly fuzzy. I was floating in a haze. You were pacing around it.