Prompt 16 – Toxin/Poison/Prompt 21 – Anaphylactic Response
The setting Mediterranean sun was warm on the Rats' backs as they set up camp for the night, with the goal of heading out at dawn's first rays. The Allies were making good progress, working their way up through Italy. For now, the Rats could rest, but still had to keep a lookout for stray Germans and Italians that could happen upon their little campsite.
Moffitt had a small fire built some distance away from a wooded area. His first order of business for the evening was brewing his tea, while keeping watch as the other Rats scouted the area. He turned when he heard Troy returning from the woods behind him. "Anything?"
"Nope. We're clear," Troy replied. "Get some shuteye, head out tomorrow morning." He set his Thompson submachine gun down in order to take out his lighter and pack of cigarettes. After lighting a cigarette, Troy glanced at Moffitt. "You doing okay?"
"Me? Yes, I'm alright," Moffitt replied. "Why?"
"You have that look on your face that you always get when you're thinking."
"I do?"
"Yeah." Troy's expression became one of concern. "You're not gonna have a s—"
"No." Moffitt shook his head. "No. I'm not. I'd be behaving a lot stranger if I was."
"Okay. Let me know if you start feeling off."
Anah had been resting on a rock nearby, listening to the conversation. She looked up at Moffitt. "Something… does feel a bit strange, dear. Like something is about to happen."
Moffitt nodded. "There's that."
All three turned when Hitch came sprinting over, face pale and sweaty. "Sarge, Moffitt! Come quick!"
Without question, Moffitt scooped up Anah, and he and Troy followed Hitch down a well-worn path. At the base of a gently sloping hill was Tully, lying on the ground. He looked like he was having trouble breathing. Saliva was running from the sides of his mouth, as he couldn't swallow. His eyes were swollen shut. Ugly, red hives had spread over his right arm. His right hand was as badly swollen as his eyes and turning varying shades of blue, purple, and black, with two oozing puncture wounds just below his pinky.
"Bloody hell," Moffitt breathed. A horrid twisting in his gut started as something deep inside was telling him this was the work of a snakebite. He had seen Anah and other snakes bite several people in North Africa, with terrifying results, but none of those incidents had been nearly as dramatic as this. "Troy, get the first-aid kit. Hitch, what happened?"
Hitch panicked. "I-I don't know! I came here a-and Tully—"
"Slow down," Moffitt said, calmly. "We'll fix this, but I need to know what happened." He started to wonder who he was trying to convince to be calm—himself or Hitch. Maybe both.
Hitch took a moment to breathe. "Okay… Okay… I came here to check on Tully, and he was holding his hand, said a snake bit him."
"A snake," Moffitt repeated. "Alright. I need to know what type of snake." I should know. I should know. I should've sensed this! I should know!
"Clearly a venomous one!"
Hitch's panic wasn't helping. Moffitt ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to look like he was shaking. "Hitch, please, stay calm. Did you see the snake at all?"
"N-No."
Moffitt turned when he heard Troy running up behind him. "Moffitt," Troy said, handing him the first aid kit. "I took a glance in the guidebook we were given when we landed in Sicily. Tully was most likely bit by an asp."
"Thanks." I should've known that already. Why wasn't I paying attention? Moffitt opened the first aid kit. Along with the usual assortment of bandages, gauze, and field surgery tools, there was an added section containing several syringes preloaded with a red-to-reddish orange substance—Moffitt's own blood mixed with snake venom, prepared as a potion. All were marked as antivenoms for various species of dangerous snakes that the Rats could encounter. Moffitt took out one labeled for use against the European asp. "Hitch, hold Tully's left arm down."
Hitch's face was pale as he looked down at Tully, who was shaking badly. His struggles to breathe were becoming more pronounced, which forced Hitch to act more quickly than he would have otherwise, given his nervous fear. He held down Tully's arm. "Hang on. Hang on, Moffitt's got something that'll help."
"Don't move," Moffitt said after pulling the cap off the needle. He drove the needle into Tully's arm once he located a vein, then began pressing down on the plunger. "Hopefully, this'll work."
"Why wouldn't it?" Troy asked. "This worked when we had to help that British major bitten by a regular Egyptian cobra a few weeks before we received our orders for Italy."
"He wasn't having an allergic reaction to the cobra's venom," Moffitt replied. "Tully's reacting very badly to the asp's venom." He tried to keep himself from trembling while continuing to inject the potion into Tully's arm.
"Wouldn't that making giving this potion to him a really bad idea? It contains asp venom."
"Neutralized asp venom. Still, we've never done this with someone allergic, but I'd rather do something than nothing." This never should have happened in the first place. I should've been paying attention. How am I this bloody foolish? I'm such a failure. Troy should kick me off the team. He and Hitch and Tully shouldn't trust me anymore. No one should. I was given this ability and I'm too stupid to use it properly! Moffitt's heart was pounding faster and harder as his thoughts continued spiraling out of control. He kept pressing the plunger down until the syringe was empty, then pulled the needle out. The horrid discoloration and swelling in Tully's right hand was steadily fading, but it remained an angry red. The hives were still present, and his eyes were still too puffy to open, but Tully's breathing was slowly improving.
"Hang in there, Tully," Hitch urged through clenched teeth. "Come on."
Moffitt looked at his watch. When five minutes passed, he administered another dose. Relief flooded him when he noticed Tully's symptoms further alleviating, but a feeling of anxiety lingered, prodding inside his stomach. Even with the evidence of Tully's recovery right in front of him, Moffitt was flooded with guilt. It formed a strong current in his mind, threatening to pull him away from any sense of control over himself. He tried to focus on the task at hand. He felt a third dose would be too much, especially since Tully's symptoms were fading quickly and he was breathing more easily on his own. When the swelling in his arm and face disappeared entirely, all that remained were the two little puncture wounds on his right hand. They bled, but the blood had returned to a normal color and consistency. Hitch cleaned and wrapped the wounds, and stayed by Tully's side as night fell over the landscape.
Moffitt went back up to the campsite to have his tea, but didn't feel nearly as eager to drink it as he normally did. He looked down at his left arm, recalling the day he gave the blood that would become the antivenom they just used. He had saved the British major's life back in North Africa, and he had saved Tully's life just now.
And yet, he felt… strange. He felt guilty for allowing this to happen. He had been given several gifts, and yet he couldn't use them properly. Whatever role I'm supposed to fulfill as the snake in the prophecy, I'm clearly not doing a good job. Why was I chosen for this? I'm not suitable for it.
"Are you alright, dear?" Anah asked.
"Yes. Mostly," Moffitt replied.
"If we did not have the antivenom potion, Tully would have died. There is no need to think about this so much."
Moffitt wasn't going to bother asking how she knew any of what he was thinking. He sighed. "I think it's going to take a while for me to truly accept this. Yes, I did something good, but… sometimes, it doesn't feel real."
Anah nuzzled him. "It is real, dear."
Moffitt reached up to touch the cobra's tail. As small of an act that seemed to be, it still reassured him of the reality of everything that had happened since finding her in the temple back in Tunisia. A reality he wasn't sure he was worthy of.
A few hours passed before it was Moffitt's turn to watch over Tully. The usually quiet Kentuckian was sitting up with his back against a rock. "Hey," Tully said. "Thanks."
Moffitt felt that a normal person would accept that "thanks" and move on. He sat across from Tully, his gaze shifting to the bandage on his driver's hand. The white of the bandage stood out in the darkness of night.
"You okay?" Tully asked.
"I should be asking you that," Moffitt replied.
"I'm alright. Feeling pretty good actually. A bit sore, but I'm alive. That's all that matters."
A feeling of guilt mixed with panic rose into Moffitt's chest from his stomach. Such a combination was noxious and volatile. His hands shook. "I… I-It was a snake that nearly killed you. I-I should've been looking out for it. I should've been paying more attention. I-I should've—"
"Moffitt, take a deep breath," Tully said. "It's alright. It's not your fault."
"Y-You nearly died! How could you not be upset?!"
"Why should I be upset?" Tully gave Moffitt a sympathetic look. "It's not your fault. No one has to be mad at anyone, especially you. You saved my life. I'd be stupid to be mad at you."
"It never should have happened in the first place." I didn't try hard enough to prevent this. I should've been paying attention. I wasn't paying attention. I didn't think about this. It's all my fault. It's all my fault! Moffitt could no longer fight the current in his mind that was dragging him toward the whirlpool of pitch-black guilt. The feeling of being unable to surface, of drowning in his own thoughts, crushed his chest.
"You're right—in a way. I should've been watching where I put my hand when trying to get over a rock to get a better vantage point," Tully said. "Probably scared that viper half to death. It thought I was coming to hurt it, so it used what it was given to defend itself. It's funny—I got stung by bees and wasps and ants as a kid but never had anything worse than a bad itch. First time I get bit by a snake and I felt my face blow up like a balloon."
Moffitt knew Tully was trying to make him feel better, and he was trying to take his words to heart. It wasn't often that someone wasn't scrutinizing his actions. His mind was replaying a moment when his father had laid several of Moffitt's papers from secondary school in front of him and wanted to know why his grades weren't all high marks. "You won't be getting into Cambridge if this doesn't improve!" his father said. Contrary to what his father believed, Moffitt's marks were actually impressively high. They just weren't perfect. Nothing I do is perfect. Moffitt felt his composure falter. His throat closed as a desire to cry came over him, but he resisted it as best he could. Why am I feeling bad when Tully is the one who was bitten? Why am I thinking about myself? I'm so selfish. So bloody selfish! Selfish failure! His hands started shaking, and he stood up. "I'm sorry, I… I need to be alone."
When he went to a spot where he could sit on the crest of a hill, overlooking the darkened, green landscape, Moffitt wasn't alone for very long. The distinctive smell of a lit cigarette told him exactly who was coming over to sit with him. Troy didn't even ask if he could join the lanky Englishman—he sat down next to him, sighing a little while setting down his Thompson submachine gun. "Talk to me, Moffitt," Troy said quietly. "What's the matter?"
Moffitt stayed silent for a moment. "I should've been paying more attention to our surroundings. Tully wouldn't have been bitten by the asp if I'd done that."
"Accidents happen," Troy said. "Don't beat yourself up over this."
"But—"
"It was an accident. You saved Tully's life. I'm honestly struggling to understand why you're upset."
"It shouldn't have happened in the first place."
Troy thought for a moment, continuing to smoke his cigarette. "You still stepped up and did something."
"True that may be, but I… I can't be trusted."
Troy took his cigarette out of his mouth. "You know, that might be the biggest load of bull I've ever heard in my life." He looked at Moffitt. "Seriously."
Moffitt kept looking down at his lap.
"Do you want people mad at you?"
"I don't… don't know."
"No one's mad at you. Only you are. That's got to stop." More often than not, Troy was firm with his men. For this particular moment, he was gentle. "Moffitt, look at me, please."
Moffitt tried to fight a tide of shame as he looked at Troy from the corner of his eye.
"I don't know what's made you feel like you need to apologize for everything under the sun, including your own existence, but it needs to stop. I've only been serving alongside you for about eight months, and it feels like years. You are one of the best damn soldiers I've ever encountered. Don't let anyone—or yourself—tell you otherwise. I can put blind faith in you, and you're good at convincing me to look at more diplomatic avenues. I'm not sure how much longer this war's going to last, but I want to keep going by your side. Okay?"
Moffitt nodded. For a moment, he felt he could pull himself out of the inky whirlpool of guilt. It wasn't the last he would ever see of that whirlpool. It was granting him only a temporary reprieve. He let out a sigh, remembering how he expected Troy to be a lot tougher, a lot stricter, and a lot colder when he was first assigned to the Rat Patrol. Granted, Troy was tough and strict when he needed to be, but he was far warmer than he would let himself appear to outsiders.
"Anything else on your mind?" Troy asked.
"Well… I feel I've been selfish. Tully was the one bitten and nearly killed, and here I am… moping and feeling horrid."
"It's not like your guilt and stuff is a secret to us."
"Still—"
"Is Tully mad at you?"
"No."
"Then don't worry about it. Well—" Troy smirked, "—as much as a bundle of nerves like you can try to not worry." He took a draw on his cigarette, then looked at Moffitt. "You didn't have your evening tea, yet, did you?"
"No, not yet."
"Alright. Go make yourself a cup. I'll stand watch with Tully." Troy stood, and paused for a moment before giving Moffitt's hair a single, rough tousle.
Moffitt was a little stunned by the gesture, but he knew it was Troy's way of saying he cared. "Thanks," he said. He hesitated at first, then stood to go back up to their campsite, where Anah was already preparing a fresh cup of tea for him. Once he sat down to drink it, Anah climbed into his lap. He gazed into the fire while having his tea, wondering what it would take to stop blaming himself. He then felt someone tap his arm, and turned to see Hitch, lying on a blanket. "Do you need something?" Moffitt asked.
"Just wanted to say thanks for saving Tully, and for trying to keep me calm," Hitch said.
Moffitt was tempted to deny everything. Instead, he looked at Hitch, and said, "You're welcome."
In the morning, Tully was in a much better state, though the others told him to take it easy. While getting into their jeep, Moffitt again tried to apologize for his behavior, but Tully shook his head and waved his hand before getting into the driver's seat. "Don't worry about it," he said, before putting a matchstick in his mouth.
"It was still quite rotten of me to do," Moffitt said.
"Nah. It's not like I want everyone fussing over me or giving me a pity party." Tully grinned at him after starting the jeep and driving behind Troy and Hitch. "This means I owe you one."
"Oh, don't look at it like that."
"I insist. I'll try to get you something nice. We're in Italy after all. Probably easier to find a good gift compared to North Africa."
It didn't take long for Moffitt to think of something. "I wonder what sorts of tea they drink here."
