drew in a breath of air. His heart rested a moment. He said, “Help me.”
“Sure, son, what happened to your leg?”
“Snake bite.”
“What kind of snake, son—do you know?”
“Rattler.” Saying the word made him shiver. His leg jerked again and he cried out.
The big cop straightened. “Hey, Bert,” he called, “get the hospital on the double.”
“My leg’s on fire,” Lennie moaned.
“Tell them a kid’s been bit by a rattlesnake,” he yelled. “We’re bringing him in. Then get over here and help me.”
“My mom—” Lennie began.
“Yeah, son, who is your mom?”
“She runs the Fairy Land Motel.”
“We’ll get your mom—now you just lie quiet. When did it happen, son—can you tell me?”
“It was right after you drove off the second time.”
“We knew you were there. We saw your wet footprints on the front porch.”
Lennie nodded. The boat leaked, his sneakers were wet, he had left his footprints.
His leg twitched again, and the hot pain shot through his whole body. He began to cry.
“Don’t cry, son. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Won’t take us five minutes.”
“I can’t help crying.”
“I know. A buddy of mine got snake-bit—we were on a picnic down at Wandover Falls, and my buddy was reaching in the grass for a baseball, and the snake caught him on his little finger, right there, by the nail. My buddy cried too, and he was a grown man, forty years old.”
Lennie groaned.
“Give me a hand here, Bert,” the big cop said. “I’ll steady his leg.” They got Lennie into lifting position. “Here we go.”
Lennie cried out as they picked him up—his leg couldn’t stand the slightest touch now—and then he felt himself being rushed to the car.
“Can you get the door?” the big cop asked.
“Yeah.”
As they struggled with the door, Lennie stared up through the golden leaves of the trees. He was a moon, in the late afternoon sky. It was white. A children’s moon they called it when it came out like that in the daytime. Lennie’s grandfather had told him so. There was a story connected with it, but Lennie didn’t feel like remembering it. He moaned as they slid him into the back seat.
“Now, you just stretch out there and try to relax. You all right?”
“I don’t know,” Lennie groaned.
“I’ll stay back here with you,” the big cop said. “Bert, you drive.”
He crawled in and sat on the edge of the seat. He said, “I wish we’d found you the first time we came by. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I do too,” Lennie said.
“Where were you?”
“Under the house.” Lennie turned his head away. “I didn’t know snakes stayed under houses.”
“I reckon they do.” The car started. “Here we go,” the big cop said.
Chapter Fifteen
L ennie glanced out the car window, and he got one last look at the stone house. It was just a gray-and-brown blur now. It had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t his house, any more than a theater he had watched a movie in was his theater, or a diner he had had a meal in was his diner.
It was strange the way objects could be valuable one moment and worthless the next. It was the way colored Easter eggs seem like real gold when you’re on a hunt, running through the grass with an empty basket swinging at your side. And then the next day one of those same colored eggs can be just a cracked smelly object.
“How’re you doing, son?” the big cop asked.
Lennie closed his eyes as if to shut out the question. “I don’t know.”
“You just hang in there.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Lennie wet his dry lips. Without opening his eyes, he said, “What happened to your friend that got bit by the rattlesnake? Did he die?”
“Naw, he didn’t die. That was old Hank Thompson, Bert—you remember him. Big fellow. Used to coach Little League. He missed two weeks of work, as I recall it, and he never has stuck his hand down in deep grass again.”
“I’ll never
“Sure, son, what happened to your leg?”
“Snake bite.”
“What kind of snake, son—do you know?”
“Rattler.” Saying the word made him shiver. His leg jerked again and he cried out.
The big cop straightened. “Hey, Bert,” he called, “get the hospital on the double.”
“My leg’s on fire,” Lennie moaned.
“Tell them a kid’s been bit by a rattlesnake,” he yelled. “We’re bringing him in. Then get over here and help me.”
“My mom—” Lennie began.
“Yeah, son, who is your mom?”
“She runs the Fairy Land Motel.”
“We’ll get your mom—now you just lie quiet. When did it happen, son—can you tell me?”
“It was right after you drove off the second time.”
“We knew you were there. We saw your wet footprints on the front porch.”
Lennie nodded. The boat leaked, his sneakers were wet, he had left his footprints.
His leg twitched again, and the hot pain shot through his whole body. He began to cry.
“Don’t cry, son. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Won’t take us five minutes.”
“I can’t help crying.”
“I know. A buddy of mine got snake-bit—we were on a picnic down at Wandover Falls, and my buddy was reaching in the grass for a baseball, and the snake caught him on his little finger, right there, by the nail. My buddy cried too, and he was a grown man, forty years old.”
Lennie groaned.
“Give me a hand here, Bert,” the big cop said. “I’ll steady his leg.” They got Lennie into lifting position. “Here we go.”
Lennie cried out as they picked him up—his leg couldn’t stand the slightest touch now—and then he felt himself being rushed to the car.
“Can you get the door?” the big cop asked.
“Yeah.”
As they struggled with the door, Lennie stared up through the golden leaves of the trees. He was a moon, in the late afternoon sky. It was white. A children’s moon they called it when it came out like that in the daytime. Lennie’s grandfather had told him so. There was a story connected with it, but Lennie didn’t feel like remembering it. He moaned as they slid him into the back seat.
“Now, you just stretch out there and try to relax. You all right?”
“I don’t know,” Lennie groaned.
“I’ll stay back here with you,” the big cop said. “Bert, you drive.”
He crawled in and sat on the edge of the seat. He said, “I wish we’d found you the first time we came by. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I do too,” Lennie said.
“Where were you?”
“Under the house.” Lennie turned his head away. “I didn’t know snakes stayed under houses.”
“I reckon they do.” The car started. “Here we go,” the big cop said.
Chapter Fifteen
L ennie glanced out the car window, and he got one last look at the stone house. It was just a gray-and-brown blur now. It had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t his house, any more than a theater he had watched a movie in was his theater, or a diner he had had a meal in was his diner.
It was strange the way objects could be valuable one moment and worthless the next. It was the way colored Easter eggs seem like real gold when you’re on a hunt, running through the grass with an empty basket swinging at your side. And then the next day one of those same colored eggs can be just a cracked smelly object.
“How’re you doing, son?” the big cop asked.
Lennie closed his eyes as if to shut out the question. “I don’t know.”
“You just hang in there.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Lennie wet his dry lips. Without opening his eyes, he said, “What happened to your friend that got bit by the rattlesnake? Did he die?”
“Naw, he didn’t die. That was old Hank Thompson, Bert—you remember him. Big fellow. Used to coach Little League. He missed two weeks of work, as I recall it, and he never has stuck his hand down in deep grass again.”
“I’ll never
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