The Last Resort(47)
‘Smoke signals?’ Scott laughs. ‘Oh, hang on.’ He takes his phone out of his pocket and holds it up towards her. ‘Got a message. Remember I sent that WhatsApp earlier? Didn’t really think it would go through. I must’ve picked up that Wi-Fi Tiggy mentioned.’
‘Who did you send a message to? Are they coming to help us?’
He grins, rocks back on his heels. ‘You betcha. I messaged my mate Mark. He’s one of those people who always knows a way to get out of a bind, if you catch my drift.’
She doesn’t really, but she doesn’t care either. Scott’s mate could be a Russian spy for all she cares. Her own phone is in her handbag on the plane, and she’s no idea of anyone’s number – so if Scott has some sort of ‘fixer’ in his contacts, then good. She hopes he can come soon though, because the pain in her leg is starting to make her feel sick.
‘I’m hoping he can somehow find us with GPS, you know, with us having no idea where we are . . .’ His voice trails off, as if he’s just realised this.
What’s the point in asking for help if no one knows where to find you?
Brenda swallows. ‘Listen, I don’t normally take anything myself – I mean, I never get sick. But I don’t suppose you have any painkillers on you? I thought I saw you taking something when we first started out.’
‘They aren’t painkillers,’ he snaps. ‘What I mean is . . . they aren’t your usual over-the-counter type of things. I, um . . .’
‘I thought you were a health guru. I assumed you’d have some sort of herbal remedy.’
He laughs, then raises both his palms in a ‘you got me’ gesture. ‘Well, they do come from some sort of natural resource. You’re welcome to one, but, well . . . they’re not like M&M’s, you know. I’m not sure of your tolerance.’
She blows out a breath, readying herself, then slowly lifts the left leg of her shorts. She tries to roll it up, but her leg has swollen so much she can barely move the fabric.
‘Holy shit!’ Scott recoils from her as he takes it in.
Her skin is roasting hot, sticky with sweat and something else that she doesn’t even want to think about. A pale, gummy trail oozes from the wound towards her knee. The site of the snakebite is even redder, almost purple, a thick welt with a yellowing crust around the two puncture marks that seem to have swollen wide open.
Scott’s voice comes out in a choked whisper. ‘I thought you said it didn’t bite you?’
‘I lied. I think I was in some sort of denial. Besides, I didn’t want to make a fuss.’
‘Make a fuss? For Pete’s sake, Brenda. They would’ve sent help for you, like they did for Giles. You need medical attention. You might need an antivenin – do you even know what kind of snake it was?’
She shakes her head slowly. Having the breeze on her leg feels good, and she doesn’t want to roll her shorts back down. ‘I thought it was just an adder, maybe, or a grass snake – not that I really know anything about them. Snakes in general, I mean. I hate them. I can’t even look at a picture of one without feeling like I’m going to have a panic attack. But it had this weird white mouth – I couldn’t stop staring at it. It was sort of mesmerising.’
‘That doesn’t sound much like a harmless grass snake,’ Scott says. ‘Jeez, if you’d gotten help sooner, it’d be nothing but a memory by now. But that’ – he points at her leg – ‘that does not look good.’ He turns round, looking here and there, as if trying to find somewhere for them to sit. There’s a raised, flat rock. Behind it, a couple of crates that look like they’ve been abandoned for some time. They’re peppered with bits of moss and spatterings of bird droppings. He shifts one of them and the lid slides off. ‘Well, what d’ya know?’ He takes out a bottle of water, offers it to Brenda, then takes out another for himself. He flips off the cap and drinks greedily. ‘This stuff is gooooood. I can’t work out what’s in it, but did you notice that James never drank any of his? No alcohol either. No prizes for guessing what his big dark secret might involve.’
Brenda takes a sip. ‘You think this water is drugged? And that James is a recovering addict?’
‘No such thing, in my book. You’re either addicted or you ain’t. I’m the latter of the two. I know what I like, but I know I don’t need it. I just like it. All that vitamin stuff I sell to those yoga-hippies and alpha-moms? Total B-S.’ He takes another swig, then reaches into the deep pocket in his shorts – this time pulling out a small plastic bag. He holds it up, shakes it. It’s full of different-coloured, different-shaped pills. ‘So . . . I got uppers, downers, sleepers, jiggers and holee shit that’s good’ers. Looking at you though, I think you might need some combination therapy.’
‘Anything. Please. I just need to get rid of this pain.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Scott says, digging around in the bag. He hands her a pink capsule and a small round yellow pill. ‘Knock yourself out. Literally.’
‘Don’t we need to keep going . . . and get to the house?’
He shakes his head. Pops a red capsule in his mouth and washes it down with the rest of his water. ‘Don’t worry about that. My mate Mark will find us. I promise.’