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ChapterForty-Two
TESS
The pain is instantaneous and searing. I’d say it’s unbearable, except I’m bearing it. Spencer yells my name, the echo throbbing in my ears. The rest of the stimuli hits next. A taste of copper on my tongue. The spicy scent from the vine maple I fell on. As Spencer’s arms wrap around me, we both see the snake coil again.
He puts himself directly between my body and the snake’s. Then suddenly, I’m in the air, pressed against him, my face buried in his chest. He carries me ten yards down the trail, away from the snake. I squeeze my eyes shut. This can’t be happening.
Make it go away.
“Where’s the backpack?” he shouts. “The one with the first-aid kit!” His voice is a panicked rasp, all his usual calm long gone. I guess I killed it with my clumsy tumble. How stupid to fall into a snake.
“I didn’t bring the pack,” I moan. “Troy and I weren’t planning a hike. We were just looking for his watch. And anyway, we don’t keep anti-venom in the pack.”
“Why?” Spencer shouts, spinning around, like he might find a solution on the trail. As much as I want to stay in his arms, I’m already lightheaded and dizzy. It’s a reaction both physical and psychological that can happen with rattlesnake bites. I’ve been trained to take care of someone else in this case. But not myself. My head is swimming.
Think, Tess, think.
“Put me down,” I say. “I need to get horizontal.” With a groan, that’s probably more from worry than discomfort, Spencer lowers me to the ground, lying me gently across the path. He kneels above me, examining the three-pronged wound on my thigh. It’s red and swollen. Soon it will be purple. “I wish I had a Sharpie to circle it and track the spread,” I say. Spencer’s skin goes pale, the blood draining from his face.
Yeah. I know the feeling.
Suddenly, he’s untucking his shirt and fumbling with the buttons. When he can’t get them undone quickly enough, he rips the shirt open, buttons flying. He yanks his arms out, muscles flexing as he starts tearing at the sleeves.
“Spence? What are you doing?”
He grunts, like he’s mad at himself. “I didn’t wear a tie today.”
“So?”
“So we need a tourniquet. I’m going to tear the shirt into strips.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Not a good idea. Tourniquets don’t work. Trust me.”
“You have a better idea?”
I nod. “Call for help.”
The cords along his neck pulse. “I left my phone in the car. I was so anxious to get to you…”
I cringe. Then I exhale. Then I tell him. “I don’t have my phone either.”
A string of expletives I’ve never heard Spencer utter bursts from his mouth. His frantic questions follow. “How did this happen? Why don’t you carry anti-venom? When is the next hike today? What should I do?” He drags both hands through his hair, jaw shifting, eyes wild.
Meanwhile, I’m flooded with a sense of calm. “There aren’t any after-dinner hikes scheduled.” My voice is even and steady. For now. “The groups are practicing their skits for next week’s talent show. And we can’t call for help. We’ll have to get back to camp ourselves.”
Spencer grips my shoulder and meets my gaze. “Is that safe?”
“No one’s coming. We don’t have a choice.” I reach up to grasp his hand that’s still clutching my shoulder. Our fingers entwine, and I hold him for a moment. In the midst of this crisis, I somehow feel okay.
With Spencer here, I’m not alone. I trust him. More importantly, I trust myself. “Help me up,” I say, “and we’ll start walking together. Slowly.”
He shakes his head and frowns, but pulls me to my feet. His arm is firm and solid around me as I hobble along for a few steps, testing my leg. “I don’t like this at all,” he says.
“Yeah.” I puff out a laugh. “It’s not my favorite first date either.”
“Not funny,” he growls.
“Ah. Not ready for jokes yet?”
