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“On clean sheets,” said Armpit.
“Drinking milk shakes through a straw,” said Squid.
“Beautiful nurses come by every fifteen minutes,” said Magnet. “And gently pat his head with cool washcloths.”
“Or else, he’s dead,” said X-Ray.
We must have had a hundred similar conversations during my time at the camp. Whenever anyone was feeling lonely or desperate, he’d ask, “What do you think Barf Bag’s doing right now?” And then we’d all try to imagine. I guess it helped.
I don’t recommend taking Barf Bag’s approach. If a rattler bites you, you will need medical treatment as soon as possible. If someone is coming for you, you should lie down, keeping the snakebite below your heart. If you have to go back to camp, take it slow and easy.
The nearest hospital to Camp Green Lake is over a hundred miles away; however, they have a helicopter. It’s about an hour-and-a-half trip each way. In the meantime, the Warden keeps a supply of antivenin.
Antivenin is made from rattlesnake venom. Scientists inject tiny doses of snake venom into a horse until the horse becomes immune. The antivenin is then derived from the horse’s blood.
Mr. Sir sometimes catches rattlesnakes and brings them to the Warden. The Warden extracts the venom herself. X-Ray watched her do it one time.
With one hand, she held the live rattlesnake right behind its head. In her other hand, she held a beaker with a thin piece of rubber stretched over it. She then brought the beaker toward the snake. The snake struck at it. Its fangs pierced the rubber cover, and venom squirted into the beaker.
The Warden showed X-Ray the snake’s venom glands, which were located right behind its eyes. She gently stroked the glands, causing more venom to fill the beaker.
“It was really cool,” he told us.
I don’t know if the Warden used any of this venom to make antivenin. I think it was mainly used for cosmetics.
11
Twitch
Twitch did everything wrong. He is a good example of how not to survive. He was Zero’s replacement.
When he was brought to D tent, he immediately began poking through all the crates. “What’s this for?” he kept asking as he touched all our stuff. “March 22, 1998? I think you can throw this away.” He tossed the TV Guide on the floor. “Whose octopus?”
The tent door slammed in his face.
Twitch’s biggest problem was that he had too much nervous energy. He couldn’t sit still. X-Ray named him Twitch because some part of his body was always twitching.
We tested him. “See if you can sit perfectly still for five minutes,” Armpit challenged. “No moving.”
Twitch sat on his cot, Zero’s cot, and tried not to move a muscle.
Nobody had a watch, but Zigzag said he’d count to five hundred. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi …”
If Zero had still been there, he might have pointed out that Zigzag should count to three hundred. Zero was good at math, but knowing Zero, he probably wouldn’t have said anything. Of course if Zero had still been there, then Twitch wouldn’t have been.
“… Twenty-two Mississippi. Twenty-three Mississippi.”
The muscles on Twitch’s face jumped and fluttered. His eyes blinked constantly. I thought I saw his ear wiggle. “I have a cousin who lives in McGehee, Arkansas,” he suddenly blurted out. “We’d go and drive four-wheelers down by the Mississippi River.”
“Shhh,” Armpit whispered.
Twitch really tried. He just couldn’t do it. Zigzag was at seventy-three Mississippi when Twitch abruptly stood up and said he’d had enough.
Magnet said he thought that instead of blood, Twitch had coffee in his veins.
“I guess I’m a little nervous,” Twitch admitted.
“Seventy-three seconds,” said Zigzag. “He couldn’t even last a minute.”
