The Activist (Theodore Boone 4)

After lunch, the Falcon Patrol left camp and headed for the peak of Mount Thatch, a leisurely five-mile hike that would consume most of the afternoon. Mount Thatch was nothing close to a real mountain, but more of a tall hill with some big rocks on the top. It was thick with woods and trails and adventures, and had the reputation of being well stocked with copperhead snakes. Neither Theo nor any other member of the Falcon Patrol had ever seen a copperhead, or a rattler, or any other poisonous snake for that matter, but deep in the woods there was always the chance of a sighting. Four months earlier, Al Hogan of the Warthog Patrol had spotted a copperhead near the peak of Mount Thatch, and this had thrille

d the troop like nothing else. In the frenzy of the moment, Al had snapped a photo with his cell phone, posted it on Facebook, and half the kids in Strattenburg had seen the snake. When sighted, it was barely two feet long and lounging peacefully in the sun. Twenty-four hours later, though, it was being described, by Al, as “massive and very aggressive.” He was lucky to have survived the encounter.

When the Falcon Patrol marched out of camp, all eight Scouts had backpacks with water, snacks, and first-aid kits. The enemy was out there, waiting, and the Scouts were prepared. The Major warned them to be careful and instructed them to return at precisely 4:00 p.m. He kept a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt and wanted updates on the hour.

But the snakes were either hiding or too frightened to attack the Falcons, and the hike proceeded with no drama. At the peak, Theo and his gang sat on rocks and ate cheese crackers and looked at the gorgeous lake below them. Theo, the wise, old historian, told the story of the small town of Coldwater and the floods and how it was still out there, two hundred feet below, an entire town wiped out. Woody called him a liar. They argued and bickered and finally bet one dollar. Theo couldn’t wait to get back to camp and have the Major verify the story.

On the descent, with Theo in the lead and some of the others straggling behind, the lazy afternoon changed quickly when Percy yelled, “A copperhead!”

Every Boy Scout patrol has at least one kid who is always screwing up. The kid who forgets to pack his socks and underwear; the kid who knocks over the watercooler; the kid who forgets his flashlight and toilet paper; the kid who gets scared in the middle of the night; the kid who gets sick and vomits too close to the tents; the kid who pees too close to the tents; the kid who burns the pancakes; the kid who leaves dirty dishes; the kid who lets the campfire go out; the kid who’ll always be a Tenderfoot because he’s not smart enough to advance; the kid who can be dared into doing anything; and the kid who’ll do anything in an attempt to prove he’s either cool or brave.

And, the kid who thinks a copperhead is something to play with.

In the Falcon Patrol that kid was Percy.

On a rocky ledge near a cliff, there was indeed a copperhead, a long, thick one, frozen for the moment and glaring at the humans as they gawked at him. The eight Scouts formed a nervous semicircle and stared in disbelief at the deadly creature, which, before now, existed only in the brightly colored pages of nature books. It looked much more dangerous in real life. Aside from the danger, though, the snake’s color and markings were striking. It was a very bright copper, a shiny color that seemed to glow in the sun.

It was twelve feet away, a safe distance, and it showed no sign of attacking. The boys showed no sign of advancing upon it, at least for the moment. Theo knew the boys should back away and clear the area. He knew that as the patrol leader it was his responsibility to order them away from the danger. He knew this, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the snake.

“Is it really a copperhead?” someone asked.

“Sure it is,” Woody said. “Look at its color and markings, and look at its triangular-shaped head. That’s where the venom is.” Woody had owned several snakes, of the nonpoisonous variety, and knew more about the reptiles than anyone else, though at that moment there were several experts in the group.

“It seems big for a copperhead,” someone said.

Indeed it did.

“I think it’s a male,” added another.

“You can’t tell with snakes,” Woody said. “You have to pick ’em up and look on the underside.”

“Let’s pick him up,” Percy said.

“No way,” Theo barked, and the very idea of advancing on the snake made everyone take a step back.

The standoff continued in silence for a few seconds, then the snake, perhaps sensing its own danger, slowly coiled into a defensive position. (Or was it offensive?) It lifted its head as if ready to strike, its slippery black tongue darting through the air.

“Oh boy,” someone said.

“Let’s back away.”

Instead, Percy decided to prove either his courage or his stupidity by suddenly moving toward the snake. He had a stick, a crooked tree limb, which he thrust at the copperhead.

“Get back Percy!” Theo yelled.

“You moron!” Woody yelled.

Phillip reached to grab Percy, who took another step forward with his stick. The snake struck quickly at the stick and missed. Its quickness was startling, and even Percy paused for a split second.

What happened next would be debated for months and remembered for years. Percy would swear that Phillip, the closest kid, somehow tripped him, and he, Percy, was sent sprawling toward the snake, with bad results. Phillip would swear that he attempted to grab Percy by the shoulder and Percy, already off-balance, simply fell on his own. Since the other six Falcons were staring at the copperhead, they were not sure what propelled Percy forward. However, knowing his tendencies, they would always side with Phillip.

Percy yelled in horror as he hit the ground hard and tumbled toward the snake. He screamed when the fangs made contact. The copperhead nailed him on the fatty part of his right calf, halfway between his knee and his ankle. The strike occurred as Percy was on all fours, trying to scramble away. By then everyone was yelling this and that, and in the total panic of the moment, the copperhead slithered between two rocks and disappeared.

Percy was wearing shorts, as were all the boys, and within seconds his lower right leg had a tennis ball–sized growth on it. He was wailing and crying and twisting in horror. Woody dragged him to a patch of grass and the other Scouts, all stunned by what they had just seen, circled him.

It was a Boy Scout’s dream. A real, live, genuine snakebite, on the leg of someone else. It was too cool!

“Do something Theo!” Percy yelled between sobs. “Quick! I’m dying here!”

Theo was the only member of his patrol with the First Aid merit badge, plus he was the leader. All eyes were suddenly upon him. He looked at Woody and said, “Better radio the Major.” Woody, the assistant patrol leader, kept a walkie-talkie on his belt. He radioed the camp and informed the Major that there was a casualty.

“What should we do?” Woody asked.

Over the air, the Major said, “Where are you?”

“We just left the peak.”

“So you’re two miles away. I’m on my way. Tell Theo to treat the wound.”

“Okay.”

Theo had already unpacked his first-aid kit. He was nervous and when he heard “treat the wound,” his stomach flipped.

Bo, a clown, said, “Those snakes always travel in pairs.” And every other Scout jumped out of his skin. They looked wildly around, saw nothing, then turned their attention back to Percy.

Theo attempted to take charge. He knelt beside Percy and said, “Look, first of all, you gotta lie down and stay still, okay?”

Percy yelled again. He was kicking, writhing in pain and fear. “Do something, Theo, do something!” he screamed.

“Just lie down and keep your head up. Your head has got to stay above the snakebite, okay?”

Percy seemed to hear this and for a moment tried to relax. He reclined on his