Free Theodore Boone: The Activist by John Grisham

to throw up, just say something. No surprises. Okay?”
    “Okay.” Percy was breathing heavily and had stopped crying. To avoid looking at his leg, he closed his eyes. The leg was getting bigger.
    They shuffled down the trail with the patient getting heavier by the moment. After ten minutes, they stopped to rest. Theo said, “Talk to me, Percy. You gotta stay awake.”
    “I’m awake,” he said with a weak voice.
    “Do you feel sick?”
    “Well, my leg certainly does.”
    “How about your stomach?”
    “Not yet. Am I doing to die, Theo?”
    “No. It’s just a copperhead. They don’t kill people, but you’ll be sick as a dog.”
    “That was a big snake, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes, it was.”
    “Did anybody get a picture?”
    The Scouts looked at each other and realized they had been too stunned by the encounter to take a photo. “I guess not,” Theo said.
    “Should I call my mom?” Percy asked.
    “I think the Major should do that. Let’s go.”
    They lifted him again and continued down the trail. The boys were exhausted when they saw the Major coming around a bend. He was with Mr. Hogan and Mr. Bennett. Percy was still conscious and still complaining of dizziness. They took him to a small open area near a boat ramp and laid him on a picnic table. The Major removed the sterile bandage for a look at the bite, and it was obvious he was impressed by the swelling. As they waited, Percy began clutching his stomach. Soon, he was vomiting.
    The Major held him and kept a wet towel on his forehead and mouth. The more Percy vomited, the more he cried. It was a pitiful scene.
    Finally, they heard the helicopter.

Chapter 9
    I t was a quiet dinner. Very quiet, very subdued. The Falcon Patrol kept to itself, hovered over its campfire, and ate chicken breasts grilled in a skillet and potatoes wrapped in foil and baked in the coals. When it was dark, they moved to the central campfire and joined the other patrols. All of Troop 1440 was quiet and deep in thought. The Major had phoned from the hospital where the medevac helicopter had taken him and Percy. Percy’s parents had arrived and things seemed to be under control. Fortunately, the hospital had plenty of antivenom for copperhead bites, and Percy was stable and sedated.
    His buddies around the fire talked softly as they roasted marshmallows and glowed in the warmth of the burning logs. They wanted to ask the tough questions, like (1) will he die? Or (2) will he lose his leg? But they showed restraint. Oddly enough, they began telling snake stories. This made no sense whatsoever because they were nervous and jumpy anyway. Every leaf that rustled in the wind might have been a rattler. Every burning log that hissed might have been some unknown viper. Every branch snapping in the distance might have been another large copperhead easing up on them from the rear. And every ten minutes or so one Scout would sneak behind another, pop him in the neck with two fingers, and yell “Snake!” This was nerve-racking humor that produced a lot of nervous laughter. Mr. Bennett eventually moved the stories away from the serpents and back to more suitable topics like zombies and vampires.
    Around 9:00 p.m., headlights approached the campsite. It was the Major arriving from the hospital. He stood in front of the troop near the campfire and gave the latest update on Percy and his wound. There was a lot of swelling in the leg and Percy felt lousy in general, but he was awake and expected to be fine. After a couple of days in the hospital, he would be released and sent home. The doctor’s biggest concern was the damaged skin around the bite. There was dead tissue and they expect some scarring.
    After the Major ate a quick dinner, he asked the surviving members of the Falcon Patrol to join him down by the lake. They sat on logs not far from where the waves were gently splashing against the rocks of the shoreline. There was a full moon; it was a beautiful night; and there should not have been