Snakes and Ladders Read online

  “Okay.” She pulled herself over to a rock. Under normal circumstances it would have been the perfect height to serve as a comfortable seat from which to enjoy the view of the valley below. In her current condition, it seemed an almost insurmountable height. She pulled herself up, then slumped back against the rock behind it, her breath rapid. “Okay, I’m sitting up.”

  “Good job, Pumpkin. Now, no cutting your leg, no trying to squeeze the venom out, that won’t help. Do you understand?”

  “No cutting. No squeezing.”

  “That’s right. The best thing you can do—and I know this is easier said than done—is to try to stay calm. You’re just as likely to shock your system by panicking as by being bitten.”

  “Okay, I’ll try.”

  “Remember what you learned in yoga class. That’s going to be a big help to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back with help, Pumpkin.”

  “Okay. Uncle Owen?”

  “Yes, Pumpkin.”

  “Hurry.”

  30

  Millard listened to Ballard and McNally from beyond a bend in the trail. Things seemed to be progressing nicely. He had avoided the challenge of getting the buckets through the Eye by coming to the Needle from the other end of the trail. Getting both the snakes into one bucket had been nerve-racking, but it was easier to manage one snake-filled bucket than two. Plus, maybe they would rile each other up so that they would be conveniently irritated by the time Ballard stepped through the Eye. He had upended the bucket, lid still on, just next to the Eye, and then slid the lid out from under it. There had been a hair-raising moment when one of the snake’s tails had wriggled out from the edge of the bucket, but he had poked it back under the bucket with a stick.

  The bend in the path provided the perfect vantage point from which to listen to his plan play out, and a large rock provided a hiding place for the bucket and for the rope he had used to pull it off the snakes from a safe distance. If Ballard managed to get past the snakes without getting bitten and continued up the trail, Millard would appear to be just another hiker headed in the opposite direction.

  She hadn’t gotten past them. There had been a tense moment when first one and then the other snake had slithered down the path just a foot from where he stood, but they seemed intent on putting distance between themselves and the annoying human who had disturbed them, not in engaging in another confrontation. He was glad they had gotten through the encounter unharmed—he had begun to feel a sort of kinship with them, as if they were a trio of workmen out on an assignment.

  Now McNally was gone, no doubt waddling as fast as his fat legs would carry him in search of a cell signal. Millard could hear Ballard’s hitching gasps of breath. A minute ticked by and the gasps became further spaced and quieter. In another minute, he couldn’t hear them at all.

  Millard held his own breath, listening. All he could hear was the wind and, just barely, the distant hum of traffic on the freeway.

  After another minute, he eased himself around the curve in the path.

  She was sitting on a small boulder next to the Eye, her body sagging back against the base of the Needle. He watched her for some time but could see no movement.

  His research hadn’t suggested that death could occur from a snakebite in so short a time—at this point he would have expected her to be exhibiting difficulty breathing, perhaps even convulsions—but she was so still. Still as death. Maybe this plan had worked out even better than he had hoped.

  He picked up a stone and tossed it down the path in her direction. It bounced and clattered down the hill. She made no movement.

  He stepped out from behind the rock and took a step toward her, then another. There was no response. When he reached her, he stood over her, watching for any movement, even the rise and fall of her chest. Still nothing.

  He leaned toward her, curious to see the bite marks at closer range.

  She opened her eyes.

  Millard managed to keep from jumping back. “Are you okay, miss?” he asked.

  The muscles in her neck corded as she sat forward. “I got bitten by a rattlesnake,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “Jesus.” Millard looked around nervously. “Is it gone?”

  “Yeah, there were two of them and they’re both gone.” She winced and licked her lips. “What direction did you come from?”

  Millard jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t see them,” she mumbled, sitting forward unsteadily to examine her leg. Her ankle had swollen to the size of her calf, the bottom half of her leg a taut column of flesh. She groaned and slumped back onto the rock.

  “We need to get you some help.” Millard took his phone out and tutted at the No Service message he knew he would see there. “I can help you back to the trailhead. My car’s there, I’ll drive you to the ER.”

  “No, I shouldn’t move. My godfather went to get help.”

  “And left you here?” Millard reached for her arm. “It’s best if you’re up and moving around.”

  “No!” she said sharply.

  He stepped back. “Sure, not if you don’t want to. How about a tourniquet? That would keep the poison from getting to your heart.”

  He was gratified to see that this seemed to light a flicker of incipient panic.

  “He didn’t say anything about a tourniquet.” After a moment she shook her head. “I think it’s best to leave it alone.”

  “Are you sure he knows what he’s talking about? I read a lot about hiking safety and first aid, and they all say that you should apply a tourniquet.”

  Ballard clamped her lips over another groan and twisted on the rock, trying to look through the Eye in the direction McNally had disappeared.

  “No,” she said. “He’ll be back soon.” But her voice was uncertain. The sheen of tears was bright on her cheeks.

  “Maybe cut it with a knife,” Millard said, continuing to run through the list of actions that every article he had read had warned against. “Let the poison out that way.”

  “No!” yelled Ballard. “Go away! I don’t want you here. I want Uncle Owen.”

  Millard took another step back. “Okay, okay, don’t get upset, that’s the worst thing you can do.” He was going to push it further, see if he could fan the panic back to life, but decided he didn’t want to risk having her alarm at her situation turn into anger at his meddling. “I’ll just sit over here and keep you company until your uncle comes back.”

  “Okay, but stay quiet,” she said through gritted teeth.

  She lay back on the rock again and closed her eyes. Her breath rasped in and out a few times, and then began to even out. The muscles along her jaw relaxed, the lines around her eyes, which at first were squinted shut, began to smooth out. In a minute she was breathing deeply and slowly. She didn’t even seem aware of his presence. If making her death look like an accident weren’t so important, it seemingly would have been easy to take care of her now. But he remembered how alert those eyes had been when they popped open.

  Millard recalled Gerard Bonnay’s caution to his wife not to underestimate Owen McNally. Millard was skeptical of that advice based on what he had seen of McNally, but Ballard was another matter. She might be a seventeen-year-old girl, but there was an old soul in those eyes. Underestimating Lizzy Ballard was not a trap he would let himself fall into.

  31

  Owen felt as if his lungs were going to tear and his heart hammer its way out of his ribcage.

  He knew that running was beyond him, but he kept up a fast walk, occasionally breaking into a lumbering trot for a few steps. Every half minute or so he would slow to check his phone for a connection. Still nothing.

  He was almost at the trailhead when a single bar of reception appeared. He dropped onto a rock and pressed in 911 with shaking fingers.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “My goddaughter was bitten by a rattlesnake,” he gasped. “We’re on Thread-the-Ne
edle Trail and she had just stepped through—well, I guess it’s the Needle—when she got bitten. She’s still there. I had to leave her there to be able to call you.”

  “Which side of the Needle is she on?”

  “The side further away from the trailhead.”

  “There are actually two trailheads. Can you describe which one you came from?”

  Owen managed to provide enough detail that the dispatcher could identify Lizzy’s location.

  “She’s only about half a mile from the other end of the trail,” said the dispatcher. “We can get to her that way. Hold one moment please while I get an ambulance on its way to you.” Owen didn’t have to wait long before the dispatcher was back on the line with him. “They’re on their way.”

  “I can drive around and meet them at the other trailhead,” said Owen. ““How do I get there?”

  “It will be faster for you just to walk back to the Needle.”

  “I can’t get through it to the other side. I’m … rather large.”

  “Gotcha. Don’t try to force yourself through. Last year some guy got stuck in there and we had to use about a million packets of Surgilube to get him out. We don’t want you getting stuck. Or worse.”

  “I agree,” Owen said with a shudder.

  “Hold on, let me check what they want you to do.”

  There was some indistinct conversation between the dispatcher and, Owen assumed, the EMTs en route to Lizzy’s location.

  “They said to go back to the Needle,” said the dispatcher, “but stay on your side. Keep her company—and keep her calm—until they get there. Then you can meet up with them at the hospital. We’ll probably lose our connection as you go back, but the EMTs should be there soon.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  The connection did drop almost as soon as Owen started back up the trail, his legs unsteady from the unaccustomed effort, and from anxiety.

  As he approached the Needle, he caught a flicker of movement through the opening. He hoped that Lizzy wasn’t moving around, and he found it hard to believe that the EMTs had gotten there so quickly. He hurried to the opening.

  “Pumpkin, I’m back,” he called. “An ambulance is coming. They can get you out from the other end of the trail.”

  “Okay,” he heard her answer, her voice weak.

  He saw the flicker of movement again. “Is someone over there with you?”

  There was a long pause, then Lizzy answered, her voice quavery. “Some guy.”

  A male voice spoke. “I happened upon your goddaughter and thought I’d stay with her until help arrived.”

  “He wanted me to walk around,” said Lizzy, “but you said to stay still.”

  “Yes, staying still is the right thing to do,” Owen replied. He strained for a better view through the opening.

  “Well, there are differing opinions on that,” replied the male voice. He had disappeared completely from Owen’s view, but it sounded like he was now standing near Lizzy.

  “Come over here where I can see you,” said Owen sharply.

  In a moment, a face, bearded and tan, appeared on the other side of the opening. Owen compared it to Lizzy’s description of George Millard.

  “Who are you?” asked Owen.

  “Jim.”

  Owen waited for more, but the man was silent.

  “Can you come through to my side?” asked Owen.

  “Sure, I could, but don’t you think it’s better if someone is over here with your goddaughter?”

  “I think it’s better for you to come over here so I can talk with you face-to-face. It sounds to me like she’s doing fine without either of us. And the EMTs are on their way,” he added.

  “I think I hear them coming,” said Jim.

  Owen thought suddenly of the danger Lizzy might pose to the EMTs.

  “Pumpkin, don’t forget that these people are here to help you.”

  “I know, Uncle Owen.”

  “There you are!” he heard a hearty voice call in a Spanish accent. “The white knights have arrived!”

  “Sir,” a different voice said, evidently to Jim, “are you the young lady’s father?”

  “I’m her godfather,” called Owen. “I’m her guardian.”

  One of the EMTs came to the Eye and glanced through. “Okay, sir. I’m Harold and my partner is Jose. We’ve also got some guys from the Verde Valley Fire Department over here. What’s your goddaughter's name?”

  “Lizzy.”

  “Okay, we’ll let you and Lizzy know what we’re doing.” He disappeared in Lizzy’s direction.

  Harold narrated their actions—checking vital signs, providing oxygen, starting a saline IV—while Owen could hear Jose’s soothing reassurances to Lizzy. After a few minutes, Jose said, “Harold’s just going to let your godfather know where we’re taking you. Is it okay if we give him your knapsack to keep for you?”

  Owen heard a faint affirmative sound from Lizzy.

  In a moment, Harold squeezed through the Eye to Owen’s side. “We’ll be taking her to Yavapai Regional Medical Center. Do you know where that is?”

  “I don’t, but I’m sure I can plug it into my GPS.”

  “Okay, we’ll meet you over there—just go right to the emergency room when you get there.” He held up Lizzy’s knapsack. “Anything in here she would need on an emergency basis? Meds? Inhaler?”

  “No.”

  “Can you hold onto it for her?”

  “Sure.” Owen took the knapsack. He tried to peer through the Eye. “How is she?” he asked softly.

  “The doctors will be able to give you a better assessment when they get her to the hospital, but she’s a trouper.”

  Owen lowered his voice further. “The man over there with her—I’d rather he didn’t know where she’s going.”

  “Won’t be a problem,” said Harold. “He left when we arrived.” He clapped Owen on the shoulder. “We’ll see you at the hospital.” He disappeared back through the Eye.

  Owen wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned that the man had left, but didn’t have the mental bandwidth to consider it at the moment. He leaned as far into the opening as he could. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, Pumpkin!” he called.

  There was a pause, then Jose said, “She’s giving you a thumbs-up!”

  He heard shuffling sounds of what he assumed were the EMTs lifting the stretcher, then their steps on the path as they trooped away from the Needle.

  Owen turned and headed down the trail as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him. As soon as he picked up a signal on his phone, he plugged Yavapai Regional into his GPS—twenty minutes away. He bet he could make it in fifteen.

  32

  The ER staff had given Owen a sheaf of forms to fill out, and he quickly decided that putting anything other than his and Lizzy’s actual information on the forms would be asking for more trouble than they already had. Forms now completed, he sat in the waiting room, frantically scanning the search results for rattlesnake bite and treatment on his phone.

  The search screen was replaced by an alert of an incoming call: Andy.

  He thumbed the Accept button.

  “Hey, bro, what’s up in sunny Sedona?” asked Andy.

  “Lizzy’s in the ER. She got bitten by a rattlesnake.”

  “Holy shit—is she okay?”

  “I’m waiting to hear.”

  There was silence for a moment, then Andy said, “It was an accident, right?”

  “I don’t know. She got bitten when she stepped through a narrow place in the trail. Maybe it was just a good place for a snake to catch some rays. If they even like that kind of thing.” Owen typed rattlesnake sunbathing into his phone.

  “Or maybe someone laid a trap for her,” said Andy.

  Owen sighed. “Maybe. There was a man there.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Claimed he had just happened upon her on the trail after she got bitten and while I was going for help. But Lizzy said he was telling
her to do some questionable things, like walking around.”

  “Yeah, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” agreed Andy. “Did you get a chance to ask her if she thought it was Millard?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk with her yet. And she probably wasn’t in much of a condition to do a careful examination in any case.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments, then Andy said, “Want me to come out there?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “It would double the number of McNallys keeping an eye on her.”

  “But who knows how long you’d have to be here. If it was an accident, we might as well stay here—I suspect she’ll need rest when she gets out, assuming—” He stopped and rubbed his eyes.

  “Yeah,” said Andy, his voice unaccustomedly serious.

  Owen drew a deep breath. “And if it wasn’t an accident, and she’s in any condition to travel, we need to get out of here as soon as we can.”

  “Back here?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think straight at the moment.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Owen laughed humorlessly. “Maybe we should swap places. I can come back to Philly and cover for you and look after Mom and Dad, and you come out here and keep an eye on Lizzy. It seems like she ends up in the ER an awful lot while I’m on duty.”

  “That’s not fair, bro—there’s no way this is your fault. And her last trip to the ER was the only way to get her away from Bonnay and Mortensen.”

  “I suppose.”

  A ring tone emanated from Lizzy’s backpack, which sat at Owen’s feet. He found her phone in one of the outside pockets. The caller ID read Philip.

  “Listen, I’ve got to take a call that’s coming in on Lizzy’s phone,” he said to Andy. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  “Okay,” said Andy. “Good luck.”

  Owen ended the call on his phone and answered the call on Lizzy’s. “Hello, Philip. This is Owen McNally.”