I whirl around toward the fallen tree, looking for what assaulted me. I feel the blood drain from my face when I spy the beautifully patterned, rust-colored snake coiled inconspicuously on the back side of the log. Its head is still lifted and it’s facing me as though ready to strike again. Pain is radiating down the back of my calf already and all I can think, in total Jake style, is oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I know virtually nothing about snakes, so I don’t know whether I should move or not, or how much trouble I’m in. I do the only thing I can. I yell for Jake.
“Jake! Help!”
My pulse is pounding in my ears and my leg is on fire as I stand perfectly still and watch the snake. I’m relieved when I hear the crashing of Jake coming through the woods toward me.
As if sensing that danger is on the way, the snake slithers off its perch and sneaks into the bracken surrounding the fallen tree. Overwhelmed with relief and feeling a bit lightheaded from the pain in my leg, I sink to my knees just as Jake finds me.
“Laney, what’s wrong?” he asks. There’s panic in his voice, which actually makes me feel like smiling. But I don’t. The pain in my leg seems to be increasing by the second.
“A snake bit me,” I breathe.
“Where? And where is the snake?”
I roll slightly to the side and point to the back of my leg. Jake examines it and then looks back to my face. He gently takes my chin between his fingers and looks closely at me.
“Which way did it go, Laney?” he asks quietly.
“Off the back of the log, into the woods.”
“I need to find the snake. I need to know what bit you. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Jake promises. He brushes my lips with his, so tender and sweet it makes me want to cry, before he stands up and turns a complete circle. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he takes a good-sized rock from the ground and hefts it a time or two, as if to check its weight. With it tucked against his palm, Jake walks to the log, steps cautiously over it, and moves farther into the forest.
I pray hazily for God not to let him get bitten, too, as I lie back against the cool ground. I would be devastated if something happened to him because he was trying to help me.
I don’t know how much time has passed when Jake comes back. Gone is the rock, replaced by a length of wiggling snake body.
I gasp in shock. “Jake, it might—”
He holds the snake up just long enough for me to get a good look at it. And see that it’s missing its head. “Is this what bit you?”
I look closely at the snake. The color and markings are unmistakable. “Yes, that’s it.”
“It’s a copperhead,” he says, tossing it back into the woods. Jake’s face is solemn, which worries me. He bends and gently sweeps me into his arms, careful not to jostle my leg or put too much pressure on the bend of my left knee. “We need to get you out of here.”
I’m not panicking. Mainly, I’d say, because my leg hurts so badly it’s hard to think of much else. I just want the pain to stop.
“Copperheads are poisonous, right?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to cut it and suck the poison out or something like that?”
Jake grins, but it doesn’t completely erase the look of concern on his face. “Do you want me to cut you and suck the poison out?”
“Well, if that’s what you’re supposed to do . . .”
“With some venomous snakebites, that might be the case, but with a copperhead, fortunately their strike is their warning, so they don’t often inject very much venom. I’m going to get the first aid kit and clean it then we’ll head down the mountain.”
I consider this new information, feeling somewhat relieved. But still, my leg is hurting so bad!
“What about all your stuff? The camp?”
“I don’t care about all that shit. My main concern is getting you to the hospital so they can give you some antivenom and something for the pain.”
Jake sets me in one of the chairs in front of what used to be the fire. I watch him dig through a metal box in the back of his Jeep and produce a small white square. As he walks back, I notice the fresh blood on his arm and one thigh. When I twist my leg and look down at it, I see the blood running from the wound at my knee.
“Bleeding is a good thing, right? To clean out the bite or something?”
“Copperhead bites bleed quite a bit. It has something to do with the way the venom affects your blood cells.” Jake kneels in front of me, opens the white box and sets it on the ground at my feet. “This is gonna sting, but I need to clean it before I put some gauze on it, okay?”
I nod.
Whatever Jake pours onto a cotton ball is liquid hell. I’m sure of it when he presses it to my already hurting leg and it makes it hurt even more.
“Almost done,” he says, dabbing gingerly.
I glance down and see the blood trickling even as he swipes at it. Nausea creeps over me like a swell of unbearable heat. Sweat beads on my forehead. “Jake, I feel sick.”
“Slow deep breaths. We’ll be on the road in a minute.”
With quick-yet-competent movements, Jake folds a few squares of gauze into a thick pad and presses it lightly to the snakebite. He then winds a roll of gauze loosely around my knee and fastens it with tape. It’s just enough pressure to keep the gauze in place.
“Not the best job, but it’ll do,” he says, closing the white box and then standing to his feet. “Let’s blow this joint.”
Before he can scoop me up into his arms, I have a moment of clarity. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”
He’s still naked. And I’m still mostly naked.
Jake looks down at this body then back up at me. “Well, you’re wearing my shirt. How ’bout we settle on a pair of shorts for both of us?”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
Jake ducks into the tent and, after a few seconds, emerges wearing shorts and tennis shoes, carrying my shorts from last night. “Here,” he says, holding the shorts open at my feet, “step into these and then I’ll carry you to the Jeep.”
He pulls me slowly to my feet and I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself as I step into my shorts. It’s so sweet that, before I can do it for myself, Jake pulls the shorts up and fastens them at my waist.
When he meets my eyes, he winks. “Strange. I never seem to fantasize about getting you into your shorts.”
His calm charm makes me feel more at ease. Careful to mind my leg, Jake reaches for me, swinging me up into his arms and heading for the Jeep. I lay my head on his chest. I know I should be afraid. Up here in the mountains, hurt. All alone with a bad boy, someone the whole town looks down on. But I’m not afraid. I’m in good hands. I have no doubt.
The drive back down the mountain seems twice as long, although, according to the dashboard clock, it’s actually shorter. Of course, I wasn’t in pain on the way up, either.
When we pass over the river at a spot I remember as being fairly close to the bottom, Jake takes out his phone and powers it up.
“I should have signal by now,” he says by way of explanation. He punches in a short couple of numbers and then holds the phone to his ear. “Yes, ma’am, I’m on my way down the mountain behind the Theopolis peach orchard. I have a friend with me who’s been bitten by a copperhead. Could you send the paramedics?”
Jake answers a few of her questions and then gives the woman his address. After a few seconds of listening, he thanks her and hangs up.
“Why did you do that? I can make it to the hospital.” I’m not sure how to take his actions, but I’m not feeling good about them. Should I be more worried? Is this bite more serious than I think? Or is Jake just trying to get rid of me?