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Would have gotten it too. If Mr. Adler hadn’t put his whole arm in front of Phil, shoved him unceremoniously to the deck, and gotten bit himself instead, straight through the skin between his finger and thumb.
Right at that second, there was a giant crash from somewhere underneath them, and the Cassandra rocked hard, nearly going over, like an upended toy. They were all thrown, sliding, to the deck. Ollie’s scream, “Dad!” was lost in the confusion.
Death, thought Brian. Oh God.
7
CHAOS EVERYWHERE, BUT only for a couple of seconds. The Cassandra was a good boat; the violent rocking stopped. The water snake lay limp on the deck, its scales sparkling. Mr. Dimmonds had stepped hard once on its neck where it joined the frilled head, breaking the spine. Its color was already beginning to fade.
Ollie had hurled herself down to kneel beside her dad, who’d gone pale. Two black punctures showed on his hand, running a little stream of dark blood. “Dad,” said Ollie. “Dad, are you okay?”
“I think so,” said Ollie’s dad. “It doesn’t feel great, but I don’t think it’s bad.” He was sweating. “Here, help me up. Phil—” Mr. Adler turned toward him. “Don’t you ever go grabbing at snakes again, do you hear me?”
Phil was white-lipped. “Yes, Mr. Adler,” he said. He looked stricken.
Ollie looked at her dad’s hand, then back to his face. “I’m okay, hon,” he said, seeing her expression. “I’m just fine. Little love bite, really. But—Zelda—I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the boat trip short. Just—to be safe. I’d like to have a doctor check it.”
“Yes,” said Coco’s mom. “Yes, for sure. We’ll turn around right now. Put out a distress call, have an ambulance meet us . . .”
Brian had learned about snakebites in the Scouts, although he hadn’t learned about any silver water snakes with frilled necks on freaking Lake Champlain. He said, “You ought to cover it up, Mr. Adler. And save t
he snake, if you can, to show the hospital.”
Mr. Adler nodded, grimacing. His hand probably hurt him.
“I bet the Cassandra has a first aid kit,” said Phil. “Somewhere.”
“Yeah,” said Mr. Adler. “Yeah, that’d be good.” His hand was puffing up around the fang holes.
“Dane would know,” said Coco’s mom, straightening up. “Dane?”
They all looked around. Mr. Dimmonds was nowhere to be seen.
“Did he fall into the water?” asked Coco.
Mr. Dimmonds popped out of the stairway like a gopher out of a hole, holding a tape measure and a digital scale. He wore an expression like it was Christmas morning. He didn’t seem worried about Ollie’s dad. He hurried to the water snake, pulled it straight, and began to measure it, muttering to himself, “Four foot—no, make it four foot two . . .”
“Dane!” snapped Ms. Zintner. “Can’t that wait? You have an injured passenger. Where’s the first aid kit?”
“By the wheel,” said Mr. Dimmonds absently. His gaze was still fixed on the snake.
Brian ran to get it. Phil was looking at Ollie’s dad with a sick, guilty expression. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, I’m really, really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Mr. Adler. His forehead was covered with fine drops of sweat, and his breathing was shallow. His hand must really hurt, Brian thought. “Totally fine, son.”
“Dane, we need to get back to shore,” said Ms. Zintner, just as Mr. Dimmonds said, “This is it!”
No one understood. “This,” said Mr. Dimmonds impatiently. “This is Champ. A new species. Unknown in the lake. A snake. A lake monster.” He picked up the dead thing with an expression of reverence.
Brian was pulling out the first aid kit, only half listening. At least he could bandage the punctures . . .
Ms. Zintner said, sounding outraged, “I—you—Roger is hurt. That thing—bit him. Never mind what it is! We need to call 911 and to get back to shore!”
“I’m okay, Zelda,” said Mr. Adler. “But yeah, I think we might have to wait on science, Dane, I’m sorry. Can we get this boat moving?”
Brian knelt down by Ollie’s dad, with the first aid kit in his hands. He’d found the disinfectant, the gauze pads, the scissors. Ollie was next to him. She was still sickly pale. “What do we do about snakebites?” she said urgently. “I read that you’re supposed to suck out the venom?”
Brian shook his head. “That’s a myth,” he said. “You bandage it, keep the—the limb elevated, and go to the hospital.”
