Snakebite
Author's Note: Spoiler for “Snakebite” – S3/E6
*****
“Station 51, KMG365.”
How many times have I heard that same response? I don’t even want to begin to
count. It was a part of my life like showering and shaving every day or enduring
the Phantom’s practical jokes.
What I didn’t know was that today was going to be different. I didn’t know that
by the end of the day I was going to wish that life did come with the guarantee
that a healthy twenty-seven year old man couldn’t die. I’d even take that time
out and I’d definitely take the second chance.
But I wasn’t sure it was up to me. Maybe in was up to the spirits of my
ancestors or maybe even God. Sometimes things just happen that we have no
control over.
The squad and engine left the station with lights and siren. The call was for a
car that went off a cliff on the Bear Mountain Fire Road. We’ve been there
before. It’s a dusty, dry area especially this time of year. I was almost going
to bet Roy that the car was being driven by teenagers, probably speeding along
the little used road. I smiled, knowing he wouldn’t take that bet.
We drove a ways down the dirt road, dust flying everywhere. With the help of
Tractor 2 we made our way down the side of the hill and tended to our patients.
Once the three of them were stabilized, the rest of our guys helped us get the
teens back up to the road and loaded onto the chopper. Roy jumped in, ready to
fly to Rampart. I cleared the whirling blades and headed back to the squad.
That’s when I realized my handie-talkie was still down by the wrecked car.
Cap had just cleared Engine 51 when I told him I had left my handie-talkie down
the hill and was going to get it. I searched around the yellow car and found the
elusive radio. And that’s when I heard it, less than a second before I felt the
sharp burning pain in my leg. Rattlesnake! That’s all I needed.
Chet and Marco were down the hill in mere seconds and thanks to Hector and his
tractor, I was soon lying on the neatly folded hoses atop the engine with Chet
at my side. I’ll tell you, that ride to Rampart was the longest half hour I’ve
ever had. Too bad I wasn’t awake for the last ten minutes of it. I remember
starting my own IV. Me, who hates needles, had to start his own IV. Remind me to
never have to do that again, please.
Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah, the ride to Rampart. I could feel the effects of
the venom as it coursed through my body. My mouth tingled and became numb and I
was getting drowsier with each minute. The sound of the sirens became farther
and farther away. Thirty minutes wasn’t that long unless poison was
threatening…we won’t go there; let’s just say I was scared. I may not admit it
to anyone, but I was.
I knew Chet was talking to me; I could hear his voice, but I wasn’t sure exactly
what he was saying. I’ll bet that ‘you’re going to be fine’ and ‘hold on’ were
in there somewhere. Maybe even a promise that the Phantom would lay off the
water bombs for a while. Then again, maybe not. I appreciated his words even
though he couldn’t guarantee that there was any truth in them.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, feeling lousier than
I’ve ever felt before.
But I was alive.
Maybe there are second chances in life. If so, I know I found one.