In Limbo

by E. C. Marsh

  “Yes, it is.” Tom's voice even sounded better.

  “Never underestimate what the stress of that situation can do to your body! Like I said, there is no doubt that a snake bit you. Unfortunately we don't have the snake to positively identify it, but we know a little bit about it. My guess is that you were bitten by a copperhead. That, in itself, eliminates the need for antivenin. It's unnecessary in most copperhead bites. But we need to get you a tetanus shot, and we need to get you started on a broad spectrum antibiotic. Then we'll all share a pitcher of iced tea and you can tell me about this float trip.”

  “Are you sure about this antivenin?” I don't know anything about snakebites, but I wanted to be sure that Tom was okay .

  “Oh, absolutely! Every month I have someone in this office with a snakebite of some type. Have lost only one. My statistics show that I see more snake bites then most other providers, but I think that's because people around here take these bites more seriously now. We had one of these religious sects passing through a couple of years back. I'm sure you've heard about them, handling snakes during their services. One of the handlers got bit by a good sized rattler. He chose not to get medical help, and kept with the faith healers. When they brought him to me, he was having seizures. It had been several hours since the bite. He died here in the office a short while later. Word got out. I was pretty upset. I was new here and I didn't need that. So I went and educated myself about the subject, and I've been seeing snake bites ever since. When was your last Tetanus?”

  He talked and listened and talked, and while he talked he cleaned Tom's foot thoroughly, gave Tom the tetanus injection and started him on antibiotics with some professional samples he had. I liked the man.

  Then we regrouped to his porch. He had a big porch swing and Tom immediately lay in it. Tom has a hammock at home, and loves it after a hard day at work. He swings, and relaxes almost instantly. Doc brought out a big pitcher of iced tea and some glasses. He seemed to enjoy the company, and declined to answer our inquiries about his fee. Sam and I told him about the float trip, and Ginny filled in a few things too. He listened quietly, finally he cleared his throat.

  “Ginny, you and I have talked about this before. When I first came to this area, I was fresh out of med school and I was pretty wet behind the ears. I saw myself as a modern day Albert Schweitzer. I was determined to save the world! Why go to the jungles of third world countries when there is such a need in our own rural areas?

  “Well, some corporate headhunters were after me. Including the military. But that was out of the question for a variety of reasons. I'll tell you some other day. I'm from the east coast, but I came out here while I was in college. I visited some friends, went fishing, and I liked it here. Later on, I returned and stayed. Then, over the course of several years, I noticed that more and more testing was being done at Camp Crowder. It was usually very hush-hush. But in a rural area like this, you hear about everything. It seemed that if the feds wanted to test something for its environmental impact, they tried it at Camp Crowder. I read in this morning's paper that the Army, together with a private corporation, conducted some testing at Camp Crowder over the weekend. Yes, here it is.”

  He read aloud:

  “The US Army Public Information Center has announced that agricultural experiments conducted at Camp Crowder over the weekend were successful. A spokesperson for SERPAC, the company conducting the experiment, said that the results indicate the artificially induced rapid maturation of crops may increase harvest yields significantly by allowing farmers additional harvests in the regular growing season. No negative impact on the environment has been determined, and further testing is scheduled.”

  I didn't know what to say. Neither of us did. Tom was softly snoring, which didn't surprise me. Doc had given him some Benadryl, which always puts Tom to sleep.

  But Sam was sitting upright, and Ginny had put down her glass of tea.

  “Now let me see if I got that straight,” she said. “They conducted some testing and it involves rapid maturation of crops, and it was successful and had no negative impact on the environment?” We all nodded.

  “Let me show you a negative impact.” Sam got up and walked out to Ginny's truck. He picked up Marty's plastic-wrapped body and easily carried it up to the porch.

  “Is that Marty?”

  “What's left of her.” Sam sounded angry. “Look, even though she is dead, her body is continuing to change. I can tell you right now, in the short time I've been away, there's less of her now, then there was a couple of hours ago.”

  “Tell me one more time exactly what happened to Marty.”

  Sam carried Marty into the exam room and we again started to tell the story, filling in for Tom, who softly snored on the porch swing. While we talked, Doc cut open the plastic wrapping. There was no more odor, there wasn't anything resembling Marty anymore. It looked like the extremities had come off and the dried up tissues really resembled shredded beef jerky more than anything else I've ever seen. Everything was crumbling under his hands when he touched it.

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” I heard Sam say. Doc went into another room and came back with a very heavy-duty plastic bag and we transferred everything including the plastic into that bag.

  Silently, we returned to the porch. It was dark outside, and we were serenaded by a choir of bugs and frogs and God knows what.

  “It's getting late and none of you has had any decent sleep. Why don't you stay here tonight? I have plenty of room, and plenty of clothes to share.”

  We were a ragged-looking bunch. A shower, clean clothes and sleep sounded heavenly. I looked at Sam and he seemed to think the same, I didn't bother with Tom. He was asleep and wouldn't care either way. I was worried about Allen. I called and talked to him for a while. He didn't mind staying at Grandpa's another day, and Grandpa didn't mind it either. They had been fishing together and had lots to tell. I didn't tell them about Marty or about Tom. I just said that Tom had hurt his foot and we were staying at a friend's house for the night.

  They didn't ask for details.

  Chapter 37

  Sandy didn't have any problems finding the Holsum Community Hospital. There were plenty of blue directional signs. She pulled up in the Emergency Room sally port and honked. Several people responded and helped get Ralph out of the Blazer.

  While they were wheeling him in, she started to move the vehicle to the designated Emergency Room parking area to clear the driveway. But just as she turned toward the patient parking, area the Blazer's engine died. Swearing, she looked at all the gauges and found herself with an empty gas tank. When the engine died, so did power steering and brakes. Unable to control the heavy vehicle, Sandy let it roll downhill, easing it into the employee parking lot at the bottom of the incline.

  Her disposition did not improve as she climbed back uphill to the emergency room entrance. There, she had to fill out paperwork and, although she had expected a mountain of it, she felt overwhelmed and appalled. All she wanted to do was to be with her husband. When she was finally allowed to see Ralph, she was shocked. In the brightness of the ER, he looked pale and frail, truly very ill. The staff had undressed him and cleaned him up a bit and an IV was attached to his right forearm. She desperately searched for something to say to him, to cheer him up, but couldn't come up with anything. So she just pulled up a chair and sat down silently. The ER doctor was an older man with thick, snow white hair and kind eyes. He introduced himself and took a seat.

  “Well, folks,” he said. “Looks like we have a pretty nasty wound here. I'm sure you already realize that it is infected. We've taken some wound cultures and we'll get you started on some antibiotics. I've also prescribed some pain medication for you, so please don't be a hero. Let the nurses know when you need it. I have also asked a surgeon to look at your leg and I will be turning your care over to him when he arrives.

  “We've notified the Sheriff's office, as we are required to do so by law, and have shared your personal data with them
. They took note of it, but it is doubtful that anyone will come by to see you, it's just such an obvious accidental shooting. So now we'll concentrate on getting you back on your feet.”

  “Doctor, how long will he have to stay in the hospital?” Sandy asked.

  “Oh, at this point that's hard to say. I'd like to see how he responds to the antibiotic first, and I'd like to get culture results before we make that decision.”

  He saw them both frowning.

  “Is there a reason why you are in such a hurry? Keep in mind that this is a wound that has been without medical attention for almost forty-eight hours. We're talking about two days of less-than-sanitary conditions. Merely suturing it is not an available option anymore. Who knows what kinds of bugs the river water has introduced into this wound. No, I think you will be better off planning to spend a few days with us, and then we will know more. Once we're sure that you are on the road to healing, we'll send you home, okay?”

  Sandy nodded, but Ralph just closed his eyes.

  “Oh come on, Hon,” said Sandy. “It's not that bad. I'll get hold of my sister and have her come down to meet me. Then she and I can drive back and get the truck, and I'll go home and get some clean clothes for you. I'll call work for you, and I'll let Dr. Miller know so he can help me arrange the transfer for you. In a day or two, we'll have you home. Okay?”

  “No, it's not okay.” Ralph sounded bitter.

  The doctor looked at them both. “I'll leave you to work the details out with the nurses. There's also a social worker who can help you. For right now, I'll have one of the techs clean this wound once more and bandage it. Take care, now, and I'll check on you a little later.”

  A few minutes after he left, a burly young man with an extreme crew cut entered their cubicle. “Hi,” he said. “My name is Tim. I'm one of the paramedics, but I also help out in the ER. I need to work on this wound a little.” He turned to Sandy. “You can stay if you want to, or maybe get a cup of coffee over in the cafeteria. It's free, and it's pretty good.”

  Sandy looked at Ralph, his eyes were closed, his lips pressed tightly together.

  “Do you want me to stay?” She asked.

  “No,” he said, almost with a whisper. “No, call your sister and make the arrangements to pick up the car. The sooner we have transportation, the faster we are home.”

  Sandy shrugged but managed to smile at Tim. “Take good care of him. He's pretty special.”

  Tim measured sterile saline solution into a steel wash basin and added an equal amount of peroxide to it. Then he arranged sterile gloves and gauze sponges. After donning the gloves, he began gently to wash Ralph's thigh.

  “So, you got yourself shot? How did that happen?”

  Ralph didn't even open his eyes. He sighed, and said, “You wouldn't believe it.”

  “Try me! I've heard all sorts of stories.”

  “We went floating with some friends, and we ended up in an area that had been closed off for some top-secret experiment. Somehow, we were exposed to something and one of the women died, I don't know where they are now. When we were on the way downstream, headed home, some gung-ho GIs stopped us and they shot me. There you have it, the short version. I'm saving the gory details for the media and my attorney.”

  “That's quite a story, Mr. Holtzer,” said Tim. “But it says here that you were accidentally shot when you and your wife were having a little too much fun in the tent.”

  “That's just a cover story. Shit, do you really believe I'll tell everyone about this? They'd have me in the funny farm in a New York minute. I don't even know why I'm telling you. I just feel like I can trust you, I guess.”

  He grimaced as Tim began wrapping his thigh with stretchy gauze. “Take it easy, will you. This hurts like hell.”

  “So what kind of experiment did you stumble onto?”

  “Actually pretty interesting, but the fact is, it killed one of my friends and got me shot. It's something agricultural -- supposed to make the crops mature faster. But when I get done with the sons-of-bitches, I'll own the company and the patent. You just don't conduct this type of experiment in a public area where it can endanger people.

  “No, there'll be hell to pay. As soon as I can get to a phone I'll call the media and my attorney. Hell, maybe I'll go to one of those TV talk shows. That would be fun.”

  Ralph paused and took a couple of deep breaths.

  “What would you do, man? Put yourself in my situation. You're out with the wife and friends, just a little float trip. A little leisurely trip down Coon River, overnight camp, camp fire, the works! There were some things the wife and I had to work through and this would have been perfect! But next thing you know, your friend's wife is dead and you are shot, all because you are on a public waterway. In the wrong place at the wrong time. No way am I gonna just roll over and take it.”

  Tim remained silent, and finished dressing Ralph's wound. After taping the gauze to hold it in place, he said, “It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Holtzer. You get some rest now and get some pain medication. Just relax and you'll feel better soon. They'll take you up to the second floor in a few minutes and put you into a more comfortable bed. In a day or two things will look much better.”

  Tim walked away shaking his head, thinking, what a nut! And if he's not nuts, then he's gotta be hallucinating. He shook his head again and went into the dirty utility room to dispose of his trash and wash his hands. Suddenly, a thought entered his mind. Bobby just had the weekend off because of his Reserve thing and he said he would be out at Camp Crowder. Perhaps he's home? Maybe he knows something of this crazy story?

  Using the phone in the utility room, he quickly dialed a number.

  “Hey, Bobby! Tim here. Got a question for you. You were out at Camp Crowder this weekend weren't you?”

  “Yeah, sure was, why?”

  “I'm at work right now. We've got a man here who says he was out camping with some friends and got shot in the leg by some army personnel. It's really a bizarre story. That wound is pretty infected, and I was just wondering if you might have heard of a shooting out there. Otherwise I'm gonna ignore it as hallucinating.”

  “What? He says he was shot while camping at Camp Crowder? What a dumbass! Camp Crowder was closed to all civilian traffic this weekend. He was probably trespassing and got caught.”

  “He said he and his friends got caught up in some secret testing. One of them died, and that's when he got shot.”

  “Secret testing? Man, what a crock! I was out there this weekend. We had a busy weekend and that's that. There was no secret testing going on. He's hallucinating, I hope they admit him to psych. He sounds sick.”

  “Yeah, leg looks pretty bad. Anyway, sorry to have bothered you on your day off. Bye.”

  Tim left the utility room. Bobby would have known if anything had happened out there. He rounded the corner, just as two nurses' aides wheeled Ralph into the elevator. Good riddance he thought. Now you're somebody else's problem.

  Fifteen miles away, Bobby stared at the receiver. Weird, he thought. He clearly recalled hearing some radio traffic during the weekend about civilians getting shot. After a moment's deliberation, he dialed. A friendly male voice answered on the second ring.

  “Ron here.”

  “Hey Ron, what's up.”

  “Bobby! Did you have a good weekend? Play soldier again?”

  “It was ok, it's my patriotic thing to do, you know. We all have our vices.”

  “What can I do for you my friend?”

  “Gotta question for you.”

  “Sure go ahead.” Ron sounded curious.

  “You know I've been part timing it for SERPAC for quite awhile now. Helped you locate the farms for your fancy retreat and all that. You know I have a corporate security clearance.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Did SERPAC do any top-secret testing out at Camp Crowder this past weekend?”

  “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby! You know I can't answer that on this line. Come ov
er, and we can talk in person.”

  “I can't today. I promised Cheryl I'll run her up to the mall. But let me tell you a story I just heard from a good buddy. There in the ER in Holsum is this man, his wife brought him in. He got shot in the leg. The wound is infected. He says it happened out at Camp Crowder. He and the wife and some friends, were out on a float trip and somehow ended up in the middle of some sort of top secret testing being done. One of them dies, he gets accosted by the army and ends up shot in the leg.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Well, that's all I know.”

  “Sounds pretty crazy to me, he probably had too much sun.”

  “Well, just thought I'd check this out with you. I know how paranoid you guys can be.”

  “Go take Cheryl to the mall.”

  Ron pulled off the road to think. Finally he dialed, and the voice of Jonathon Brooks answered.