Page 17 of Uncharted Desires
Kat’s heart pounded against her ribs, the blood roaring in her ears. She fought to keep the panic at bay, but it threatened to consume her. What options did she have? He was going to die, and she was going to hyperventilate to death.
Kat had to pull it together. She wasn’t some simpering person who caved under pressure. She could save him. She just had to think of how. Before Kat had left for college, she and her grandmother had spent a lot of their time learning about Native medicine; she had the knowledge, she just had to put it all together.
After hours upon hours on the tour bus, Kat, along with Cher and Lydia, had seen countless documentaries on animals when they hadn’t been watching others on cooking or travel, and she racked her brain for any on snakes.
Knowing they were coming to Bali, they’d watched a travel series on the island, and if she remembered correctly the green snake was definitely the pit viper. Based on West’s reaction to the bite, there was indeed poison coursing through his body. She had to make an antivenom and apply it to the wound, and she should have had it on him say . . . now, or West would die.
No pressure.
Once again, Kat hoped for a great creator, not just in the sky but all around her, as she needed all the help from the spirit she could get. Her family was staunchly Christian, but she preferred the old teachings of her people. These teachings had been effectively whitewashed out of her family. But ultimately, she didn’t believe in much of anything. The problem with being a semi-atheist lost on a deserted island needing to save someone’s life was that there wasn’t anyone to pray to. Which meant she sincerely hoped she was wrong, for West’s sake.
As the venom coursed through his bloodstream, his body twitched and writhed in her lap, his muscles spasming. With each quiver of his skin, concern churned within her. If she wanted to save him, she had to act quickly. She inspected the bite mark on his foot. Fortunately, it seemed the viper hadn’t sunk its fangs in deep.
Stupid, stupid man, walking around the deck without shoes. Not that he knew he would be thrown overboard, but that was beside the point. If he’d had shoes on, he would be awake, still teasing her, frustrating her, and making this situation more bearable, and she wouldn’t be holding back tears while racking her brains for how to make this antivenom.
Lying him down on the rainforest floor, water became her first inclination. She didn’t have a cup and searched for the largest leaf she could find.
Her gaze fell upon a towering banana tree, its leaves swaying mockingly just out of reach. Kat felt tears prick at her eyes as she realized there was no way she could scale the tall trunk with West in tow. But then, a glimmer of hope appeared—a lone coconut had fallen from one of the palm trees above. Without hesitation, Kat rummaged through West’s pockets until her fingers closed around the small pocketknife she knew he always carried. West now lay stock still, not a good sign, and Kat tamped down the sense of dread that reared its ugly head.
The coconut was going to have to wait.
Her grandmother had a distrust of modern medicine after losing her husband to cancer. Personally, Kat felt there was a place for both in the world, but she still loved learning about the old ways. Kat had wanted to be closer to nature and understand the ways nature provided for them. Closing her eyes, she thought about the story of a boy bitten by a rattlesnake; the remedy had been chewed tobacco, the milky root of prenanthes alba, the bark root of the tulipier, spiraea trifoliata, and because it was a serious case, they added sage for good measure.
Surveying her surroundings with a heavy heart, she knew the plants used in the remedy were native to North America and wouldn’t grow here—except maybe the sage. There seemed to be plenty of different varieties of that growing in abundance here.
Kat paced back and forth, wringing her hands as she stared down at West. If only they were back in the States—in America, she knew exactly which plants to look for. Little blue and yellow ones with white roots that could save his life.
Kat tried to recall any knowledge she might have. What did they watch together? Hear about? Almost ten years of living in the city and being on the road had made her disconnected from the natural world.
Think, Kat . . .
She paused as her eyes fell upon a stack of tiny white flowers, resembling the trifoliata, and as she stared at the tiny little white plants, a voice played in her head—the tour guide from one of their visits while in Bali.
They’d gone to Tanah Lot, also called Snake Island, a Hindu temple surrounded by snakes. Come to think of it, maybe West should have chosen a different vacation spot that hadn’t been so full of snakes.
The tour guide had assured them the snakes wouldn’t bite, and they would all be fine. Then she remembered what he’d said. There was a hospital easily accessible, but that before modern medicine, locals used Mucuna leaves as an antivenom by grinding up its leaves or the purple beans found in the buds and applying it directly to the wound.
As she studied the delicate petals of the white flowers, her fingers rubbing over them, her thoughts turned to West. If she combined traditional healing methods from both cultures, perhaps she could save him.
Cringing, she knelt beside his infected foot. The first thing the people had done was suck the venom out of the wound in the story of the boy. Her stomach roiled at the thought of possibly poisoning herself, but she knew this step would be critical in slowing the poison. Kat placed her lips around the punctures and sucked, immediately spitting out the fluid that entered her mouth. West owed her big time for this. After a few more tries at sucking out the venom, she ran to the stream and rinsed her mouth out. She would go to her grave with West never knowing she sucked on his foot.
He’d never let her live that down—if he survived.
Next, she needed to find Mucuna leaves, or beans, and sage; this island had to have something close. It was uninhabited, and humans hadn’t destroyed its ecology yet. She’d read that Indonesia had upward of six thousand uninhabited islands, so this one had to have something useful.
Grabbing the knife, she took one last glance at West. “Please don’t die,” she pleaded as she ran off, searching for the plants she needed.
Later, as the sun began to set, Kat felt a surge of adrenaline course through her body. With determination, she had searched for the specific plants she needed—Mucuna leaves and sage. She had climbed trees, foraged bushes, and even chased off a bird to get what she needed.
Finally, she found her way back to West and checked his pulse—it was weak but still there. She grabbed the coconut and tried to crack it open with her knife, but the hard shell refused to budge. Panic rising, she desperately searched for anything that could help her break through the tough exterior.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a fallen tree with a branch jutting out. With one swift motion, Kat slammed the coconut onto the branch but only managed to scrape her hand against it.
“Dammit!” She continued cursing as she hit the stubborn coconut against the branch. West’s life depended on it—she needed to break it open so she had a place to grind the herbs into medicine. Time was running out.
With trembling hands and aching muscles, she finally cracked it open. Without hesitation, she gulped down half of the precious milk and saved the rest for West. Time was of the essence—she needed to get the poultice on him. She quickly returned to her task, using the butt of his pocketknife to mash together various plants and herbs. She didn’t have chewing tobacco, but she remembered her grandmother’s trick—spitting into the mixture for added potency. Every second counted as she searched for something to put it on, eventually settling on a piece of her own torn pants.
West was only in his shirt and shorts, while Kat had layers upon layers—linen pants, a tank top, and a hoodie.