AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As he said that, Brian happened to glance up from where he was cutting a gauze pad to fit the punctures. Mr. Dimmonds was not instantly grabbing for the radio, calling 911, and starting the sailboat’s motor.
“He’ll be okay for half an hour, won’t you, Roger?” said Mr. Dimmonds. “I’ve never seen anything like this little guy before. Besides, there’s no venomous serpents on the water in Vermont. I should know. Been here twenty years! And Vermonters are tough—he’ll be okay.”
Ms. Zintner’s mouth pressed into a long, thin line. She got to her feet. “Dane,” said Ms. Zintner. “You are going to put away your specimen, call 911, and get us back to Burlington, please. Right now. Or by God, I will write such an exposé of the safety protocols on this boat that you will never get another tourist on here ever again.”
Mr. Dimmonds’s mouth opened and shut. First, he looked shocked, and then he looked annoyed. “Come on, Zelda,” he said, like she was only joking. “Be a good sport. Thirty minutes won’t matter! I need to do some quick measurements of the lake where we found this thing! Temperature, depth, take a sample . . . Feel free to call 911; we’ll get underway in just a few. Doing all right, Roger?” he added to Ollie’s dad. “You’ll manage, I’m sure. I just need to test . . .”
He hurried down the stair-ladder before Coco’s mom could say anything else. She was staring after him in disbelief.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “I’ll have to get on the radio, Roger. We’ll have a rescue helicopter out here before you know it.” She hurried.
A steady beeping had started from somewhere. Brian hardly noticed; he was carefully bandaging Mr. Adler’s snakebite.
“Guys?” said Coco.
No one answered. Brian and Ollie were bandaging. Phil had gone over to try and help Ms. Zintner with the radio.
“Guys!” said Coco, at the top of her voice. They all turned to look at her. She was peering over the stern of the boat, frowning down at the water. “Guys, the motor is gone.”
“What?” said Ms. Zintner, and went to join her daughter. “Oh my God.”
Brian finished taping. A bandage wouldn’t do anything about the actual snake venom, though. They needed a hospital. Ollie was holding her dad’s unbitten hand. He’d managed, with Ollie and Brian helping, to get himself to one of the padded benches in the front of the boat. He sat down. He was kind of grayish, Brian thought. That couldn’t be good. “Way to keep your cool,” Mr. Adler told them. “So proud of you guys. We’ll be back in port in a second.”
Then he closed his eyes.
“Mr. Adler,” said Brian, suddenly alarmed. “Ollie, I think—I think it might be better to keep him awake. Mr. Adler, don’t go to sleep.”
Mr. Adler’s eyes opened again, and he gave them both a twitch of a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Ollie-pop,” he said. “M’here. I’m right here . . .”
His voice trailed off. In the little silence, the beeping filled the deck. “What does that sound mean?” asked Ollie. Her voice was small and thin.
“It’s the pump,” said Coco’s mom, peering at the electronic displays near the boat’s steering. Brian twisted around to look at her; she sounded like she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. “It’s the boat pump—it’s pumping out water. We’re—the boat—it has a hole in the side. Where the motor—the motor was, I suppose . . .”
“The motor?” asked Brian. “A hole? How? We’ve just been sitting here—”
“Something knocked it off,” said Ms. Zintner. “A rock . . . ?”
Ollie broke in, her voice loud and worried. “Zelda, did you call 911 already? And where is Mr. Dimmonds?”
“Where’s Phil?” Brian added.
“He went down below to talk to his uncle. I tried using the radio,” said Coco’s mom. “But—it was weird, actually, I—”
She broke off. Below their feet, in the cabin under the deck, someone screamed.
Brian shot to his feet. “I’ll go,” he said. “Ollie, you okay?”
She nodded once. Brian ran for the ladder steps that led to the hold. Behind him, he heard Ms. Zintner asking, “Does anyone’s phone work?” Brian flicked his own phone out as he ran.
no service, said the phone. Shouldn’t they have service? Even a little? One bar? And if they didn’t . . .
He went down the steps, calling for Phil. It wasn’t hard to find him. Phil was standing right there in the cabin under the deck, near the stairway. Water surged and sloshed around his ankles. The boat’s leaking, Brian thought. But how? We didn’t hit anything.
Somewhere, he heard the loud whine of motors churning. Not the boat’s motor—no, that motor was definitely gone. It must be the pump motors, trying to get the water out.
They weren’t succeeding, though. Even Brian, whose knowledge of boats wasn’t enormous, could tell that there was no way they were getting all that water out. It was nearly past their knees; a gusher was pouring in.
“Phil!” he said. And when Phil didn’t respond, he shouted again, “Phil! Hey, I’m right here!”
