Race Against the Serpent

Dr. Novak wiped sweat as she swore softly. Her pulse pounded against her skull as she fumbled with the venom extraction kit. At her feet, Alexander’s leg mottled like overripe fruit. The puncture wounds oozed black ichor. He moaned in pain with each shallow breath.

“Johan get me a blood sample now!” her voice was hoarse. They had little time.

Johan, her field assistant, knelt by Alexander’s side and plunged a needle into the side of the purple leg.