We stepped onto the icy sidewalk and skated our way to Benny’s door. The glass in the door at the bottom of the stairs was broken. Pieces littered the ground, blending into the bits of ice and the fine snow that covered everything like powder.
“There’s no way that happened very long ago,” Christopher said, showing me the broken window. “That’s from today. He kept his room up there warm. The heat is leaking out.” He held his hand up to feel the waft of warm air. “He’d have covered it or boarded it up if he was aware.”
“Agreed.”
“Benny,” Christopher called through the hole and up the stairs. His voice was loud and echoed in the staircase. “It’s Christopher and Elizabeth from Portland. You up there?”
There was no answer.
“Benny?” He spoke through the hole again. “We’re coming up.”
The door wasn’t locked and Christopher led the way. The familiar musty odor filled the air as we ascended, though it wasn’t as hot as the last time we’d come. I glanced back toward the sidewalk several times as we climbed the stairs, biting my lip. I didn’t know what I expected to find, but I had a creeping sense of unease.
We were almost at the top of the stairs when a low moan sounded from above. My eyes met Christopher’s.
“Mr. Jacobs, are you here?” Christopher’s booming voice echoed through the stairwell.
There was no reply.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for conflict. We bounded up the final two stairs and around the corner. I stopped and Christopher sprinted forward, his body in motion before I realized the reason.
Benny lay on his back on the floor near the snake tanks in the middle of the room. His skin glistened with sweat while his skin looked pale, though his cheeks were flushed. He appeared unconscious. They’d rolled his left sleeve up past his elbow, exposing his flesh where he had two double sets of puncture marks in his forearm. A thin trickle of blood ran from each hole in his wet arm and stained the cheap linoleum. I couldn’t wrest my gaze from the injury.
“Benny, what bit you?” Christopher crouched beside Benny’s prone form and gave him a gentle shake.
There was no answer, just another faint moan.
“I’ll bet it was the cottonmouths. He’s right by their tank,” I said, bustling into the room. “Call 911. I’ll look for his antivenom. He said he keeps it handy.” I remained alert for a snake that could be loose, but saw nothing.
The shelves behind his desk held only office supplies and books about venomous creatures. Benny kept a bar fridge in the corner. Inside were over a dozen white rectangular packages. He’d left the ends opened for easy access. He’d labeled them in black marker with big writing over the original packaging: scorpion, Gila monster, tarantula, black widow, coral snake, rattlesnake, etc. I fumbled to locate the correct package. At first, I didn’t see one for cottonmouths, but then I remembered they were called water moccasins. I grabbed a box from the top shelf.
My ears roared, and my heart chugged like a freight train. In the background, Christopher spoke on his phone. My hands shook, and I almost dropped the antivenom kit. Everything became slow motion as I scampered across the room to join Christopher. I didn’t know how to inject Benny with the antivenom. I was out of my depth. My hands trembled.
I met Christopher’s scared eyes, and he asked the person on the other end of the line about the antivenom. His hand covered my icy one.
“911 said to wait. They’ll have someone here in two to three minutes. They’ve dispatched the police and an ambulance.”
I took a deep breath to steady myself and nodded. A lump formed in my throat. I wouldn’t be much help with the explanation. Benny’s forehead was hot beneath the back of my hand. How long had he lain on the floor before we’d discovered him? What if we’d gone for dinner when he hadn’t answered?
“It’s better with an IV and a professional to make sure he doesn’t have an allergic reaction,” said Christopher, relaying information from the voice on the other end of the line.
My ears strained as I listened for the ambulance. Sirens. In the distance, but coming.
“The door was open at the bottom of the stairs,” said Christopher into the phone. “It was unlocked, the window broken at the bottom.”
Outside, the siren wail stopped and feet pounded up the wooden stairs. Red lights flashed through the window facing the street. Two paramedics in navy blue jackets rushed in and we backed away. Christopher put his arm around me. One put in an IV right away while the other checked Benny’s vitals.
“Breathing is shallow, heartbeat is erratic.”
“How long since you found him?” The paramedics spoke to each other or us without taking their attention from Benny.
“Seven minutes,” Christopher said, checking the time.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.
“Was he conscious when you found him?” asked one paramedic.
“We heard a couple of moans, but that’s it,” Christopher jammed his hands in his front pockets. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “This happened a while ago.”
