Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition

48

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

Saturday, 15 July 2006. 2:34 a.m.

Harel woke up startled by Andrea’s screams. The young reporter was sitting on top of her sleeping bag, grabbing her leg as she cried out.

‘God, it hurts!’

The first thing Harel thought was that Andrea had got cramp while she slept. She jumped up, turned on the infirmary lights and grabbed hold of Andrea’s leg in order to massage it.

It was then that she saw the scorpions.

There were three of them, at least three that had come out of the sleeping bag and were running around crazily with their tails up, ready to sting. They were a sickly yellow colour. Terrified, Dr Harel jumped on to one of the examination tables. She was barefoot and thus easy prey.

‘Doc, help me. Oh God, my leg’s on fire… Doc! Oh, God!’

Andrea’s cries helped the doctor to channel her fear and think. She couldn’t leave her young friend helpless and suffering.

Let me see. What the hell do I remember about these bastards? They’re yellow scorpions. The girl has twenty minutes at most before things turn ugly. If only one of them stung her, that is. If more than one…

A terrible thought crossed the doctor’s mind. If Andrea was allergic to the scorpion’s poison, she was a goner.

‘Andrea, listen to me very carefully.’

Andrea opened her eyes and looked at her. Lying on her bedding, clutching her leg and staring blankly ahead of her, the girl was clearly in agony. Harel made a superhuman effort to overcome her own paralysing fear of scorpions. It was a natural fear that any Israeli, as she was, born in Beersheba at the edge of the desert, would have learned as a young girl. She tried to put her foot on the floor but couldn’t.

‘Andrea. Andrea, on the list of allergies you gave me, were cardiotoxins included?’

Andrea howled again in pain.

‘How do I know? I carry the list because I can’t remember any more than ten names at a time. Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Doc, get down from there, for God’s sake, or Jehovah’s, or whatever. The pain is worse…’

Harel tried again to master her fear, putting a foot on the floor, and in two leaps she reached her own mattress.

I hope they’re not in here. Please God, don’t let them be in my sleeping bag…

She kicked the sleeping bag to the floor, grabbed a boot in each hand and returned to Andrea.

‘I have to put on my boots and go over to the medicine cabinet. You’ll be all right in a minute,’ she said, pulling on her boots. ‘The poison is very dangerous, but it takes almost half an hour to kill a person. Hold on.’

Andrea did not reply. Harel looked up. Andrea had brought her hand up to her neck and her face was starting to turn blue.

Oh, Holy God! She is allergic. She’s going into anaphylactic shock.

Forgetting to put on her other boot, Harel knelt next to Andrea, her naked legs exposed to the floor. She had never been so aware of every square inch of her flesh. She looked for the place where the scorpions had stung Andrea and found two spots on the reporter’s left calf, two small holes, each surrounded by an inflamed area roughly the size of a tennis ball.

Shit. They really got her.

The tent flap opened and Father Fowler came in. He was also barefoot.

‘What’s going on?’

Harel was leaning over Andrea, trying to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

‘Father, please hurry. She’s in shock. I need epinephrine.’

‘Where is it?’

‘In the cabinet at the end, second shelf from the top. There are some green vials. Bring me one and a syringe.’

She leaned over and blew more air into Andrea’s mouth, but the swelling in her throat was hindering the passage of air into her lungs. If Harel didn’t treat the shock straight away, her friend would be dead.

And it’ll be your fault, for being such a coward and climbing up on the table.

‘What the hell happened?’ said the priest, running to the cabinet. ‘She’s in shock?’

‘Get out,’ Doc screamed at the half-dozen sleepy heads peering into the infirmary. Harel didn’t want one of the scorpions to escape and find some other victim. ‘A scorpion stung her, Father. There are three in here right now. Be careful.’

Father Fowler flinched slightly at the news and moved carefully towards the doctor with the epinephrine and syringe. Harel immediately injected five CCs into Andrea’s naked thigh.

Fowler grabbed a five-gallon jar of water by the handle.

‘You take care of Andrea,’ he told the doctor. ‘I’ll find them.’

Harel now turned all her attention to the young reporter, although by this point all she could do was observe her condition. It would be the epinephrine that would have to work its miraculous effect. As soon as the hormone entered Andrea’s bloodstream, the nerve endings in her cells would start firing. The fat cells in her body would begin to break up the lipids to free extra energy, her heart rate would increase, her blood would carry more glucose, her brain would start producing dopamine, and most importantly, her bronchial tubes would dilate and the swelling in her throat disappear.

With a loud gulp, Andrea took her first breath of air on her own. To Dr Harel, the sound was almost as beautiful as the three dry thuds of Father Fowler’s gallon jug that she had heard in the background as the medicine continued to work. When Father Fowler sat down on the floor next to her, Doc had no doubt that the three scorpions were now reduced to three stains on the floor.

‘And the antidote? Something to deal with the poison?’ asked the priest.

‘Yes, but I don’t want to inject her just yet. It’s made from the blood of horses that have been exposed to hundreds of scorpion stings so that eventually they become immune. The vaccine always carries traces of the toxin, and I don’t want to risk another shock.’

Fowler watched the young Spaniard. Her face was slowly starting to look normal again.

‘Thank you for everything you’ve done, Doctor,’ he said. ‘I won’t forget it.’

‘No problem,’ replied Harel, who was by now all too conscious of the danger they had been through, and began to shake.

‘Will there be any after-effects?’

‘No. Her body can fight against the poison now.’ She raised the green vial. ‘This is pure adrenalin, it’s like giving her system a weapon. All the organs in her body will double their capacity and prevent her from choking. She’ll be all right in a couple of hours, although she will feel like shit.’

Fowler’s face relaxed a little. He pointed to the door.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘I’m no idiot, Father. I’ve been in the desert hundreds of times in my country. The last thing I do at night is make sure all the doors are closed. In fact, I double check. This tent is more secure than a Swiss bank account.’

‘Three scorpions. All at the same time. In the middle of the night…’

‘Yes, Father. That’s the second time someone has tried to kill Andrea.’