Red Rain by Toby Neal

Author:Toby Neal [Neal, Toby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Toby Neal

Chapter Eighteen

Kerry screamed as the snake struck his wrist a second time, but he was still holding it in his panic. Falconer tore it out of his hand and heaved it away.

The young man’s blue eyes were wide and terrified. “Shit! The fucker bit me!”

“I’m sorry!” Falconer grabbed his wrist. “Let me see.”

MacDonald resettled the pig in its carrying rig as Falconer inspected the oozing bite marks on Kerry’s wrist. “Need to get this poison out if we can. I need to make a cut on the marks and suck the venom out. Okay?”

Kerry nodded mutely, eyes huge. Falconer tugged the young man down, and they both knelt. He braced Kerry’s wrist on his knee. “This bite is really close to your vein. I hope it didn’t go right in.” He carefully stabbed the point of the knife into the holes. Kerry shut his eyes, tightened his jaw, and swore. Falconer put his mouth over the cuts and sucked, spat. Sucked, spat.

MacDonald looked away into the jungle, took the M16 from me. “I’ll keep watch.”

He looked like he was going to puke, his face pale and greasy. I felt that way, too, especially when Falconer looked up at me and touched his lips. They were bloody as a vampire’s.

“My mouth feels numb. That’s not good. Give me some water.” I grabbed Kerry’s canteen off his belt and handed it to Falconer. He rinsed his mouth, spat, looked back down at the wrist clamped in his hands. Blood welled sluggishly from the cuts. Kerry lowered his head to his knees, his arm extended across the other man’s knees as if in appeal. All I could see was the young man’s bent back and ruffled blond hair.

“I’ll try again.” Falconer’s voice was hoarse. The poison was affecting his vocal cords. I shuffled over to Kerry, reached down to touch his neck, feeling his pulse.

The man’s heart was racing at trip-hammer speed, but his skin was cold and clammy. “You okay, Kerry?”

He didn’t answer.

Falconer dug in with the knife again. More blood flowed. More sucking and spitting, now interspersed with rinsing his mouth and pouring water over Kerry’s wrist.

Suddenly Kerry leaned to the side and retched. Nothing much came up. Shudders racked the young man’s body. I moved in, squatting beside him, and draped an arm over him, holding him tight. I remembered how he’d held me the same way in the pit, keeping me warm and steady with his body heat.

“Relax, Kerry. Deep breaths. Calm your heart rate down.” I didn’t want to tell him that panicking would speed the poison’s route to his heart. Falconer’s grip tightened on Kerry’s arm, refusing to let go of it. He redoubled his efforts to get the poison out.

But Kerry died anyway, suddenly and without a word—a slight stiffening, which I felt jolt through his body. Then he went limp, slumping in my arms like a puppet with its strings cut. I felt his neck for a pulse.

There was none.

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