Chapter Eight
God, it burned.
Troy hadn’t known pain like this existed.
He wanted to beg Brian to knock him unconscious, but it was so hard to make words.
He whimpered pathetically. So hot, but cold at the same time, and as Brian pressed his hand to Troy’s head with deep furrows creasing his face, Troy knew being cold wasn’t good.
His whole body throbbed, muscles screaming as the burning seemed to spread. He blinked down at his foot, half expecting to see it engulfed in flames.
“Drink,” Brian commanded, sounding far away beyond the rushing in Troy’s ears. Troy obediently opened his mouth. The water felt good in his parched throat, rinsing the metallic tang of his blood, but the effort to swallow felt enormous.
At least Brian had found him, and he was here in their teepee. He clung to that comfort. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat on the jungle floor, terrified he was dying, the poison spreading with each frantic heartbeat.
God, please don’t let me die.
The light touch of Brian’s hand brushing back Troy’s hair sent a fresh shiver through him. He wasn’t alone, and for that he was profoundly grateful. Brian’s hand disappeared, and Troy moaned softly, suddenly bereft.
Brian, don’t let me die…
“Drink.”
Blinking in the darkness, Troy drifted back and parted his lips. Had he slept? The flickers of fire outside the tent sent shadows and light over Brian’s pinched face, and Troy wanted to say everything would be okay. He wouldn’t leave him if he could help it. But all he could do was moan.
Brian brushed a hand over Troy’s hair again, this time leaving his palm on the crown of Troy’s head. As Troy floated away in the flames, he concentrated on the solid sensation of Brian’s hand, an anchor holding him there.
“Bri?” Troy pried his eyes open. In the gloom, Brian sat at his side under the net, his legs pulled to his chest. His head whipped up from where it had rested on his kneecaps.
“How are you feeling? Drink.” Brian leaned over him and pressed the plastic to Troy’s lips, slipping a hand under his head.
It was still hard to swallow, his throat too thick and raw, but Troy drank. He managed to ask, “Time?”
Light flared for a moment. “Two-twenty. I’d ask how you feel, but that’s a stupid question.”
The back of Brian’s hand pressed against Troy’s forehead, and Brian mumbled something.
Troy tried to keep his eyes open. It was too dark to see his foot, which was still propped on the pack.
His back ached and he wanted to curl up, but when he moved his leg so much as an inch, fiery needles shot through his body.
He had to bite back a scream, and blood tingled on his tongue.
“Hey, hey,” Brian said sharply. “Remember what we said? Don’t hold it in.”
Troy could only nod. Everything hurt, his muscles begging to be in another position. “Need…sit up.”
“Okay.” Squeezing his arm under Troy’s back, Brian heaved him up and shifted around to kneel behind him.
Troy’s head swam, the hot and cold sensations battling.
He collapsed back against Brian’s chest. His foot was a bulking shadow in the soft starlight peeking in through the low doorway.
He didn’t know a limb could be that swollen.
It felt like some foreign thing taking over his body. Tremors rocked him.
“Let’s get you out of this.” Brian tugged at the hem of Troy’s soaked and filthy tank top.
Lifting his arms was a monumental task, but he managed, barely. It did feel good to have the damp material away from him, even though he shivered in the night.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Brian rubbed Troy’s chest, banishing the goosebumps.
Brian was warm wrapped around him, and Troy was so grateful he wanted to cry. At least if he died, he wouldn’t be alone.
But then he thought about what it would be like for Brian if he did die. Brian would be left here, and Troy imagined him alone, day after day, night after night. For how long? Months? Years? His throat tightened, eyes overflowing.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped.
Brian’s voice was low in his ear, his breath warm. “For what?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“You won’t.” It was almost a command. “You’re going to be just fine. You’re not going to leave me, and I’m not going to leave you.”
“Shouldn’t have gone into the jungle alone. I was pissed. Restless.”
Brian’s sigh flowed over Troy’s cheek. “It’s my fault.”
Troy wanted to argue that it wasn’t, but more words were too hard. He managed to shake his head.
“Let’s have a couple more pills. Open up. And a bit of fruit, hmm? Don’t want your stomach to get too empty.”
Gulping down as much water as he could, Troy swallowed the pills and let the papaya Brian fed him with a shell spoon slip down his throat. Brian settled him on his back again, Troy’s foot still propped. Even a breeze against the swollen skin felt like a cheese grater.
All Troy could do was pray for sleep and that he’d wake in the morning.
The gasp caught in his dry throat, and Troy coughed, a sound completely dwarfed by the morning fiesta of the parrots. He opened his eyes to see Brian bolted up beside him, his hair standing up. Brian swore under his breath and blinked at Troy.
“How are you feeling?” He rolled onto his knees by Troy’s side, leaning over him to peer at his foot.
In the dawn, it was still twice its size and dark red, but the swelling hadn’t progressed past his shin. That was good, right? After a moment, Troy realized he hadn’t asked aloud. He wanted to, but his mouth was too dry and he only croaked.
Brian was already uncapping a bottle and lifting Troy’s head. “Drink up.”
When Troy settled back down, he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Brian pressed the back of his hand to Troy’s forehead. “Feel a little cooler. Hopefully the pills are working. Still cold? You’re not shivering the way you were.”
His brain muzzy, Troy pondered it. “Little better. Not so cold, and the burning isn’t as bad. Had weird dreams.”
“I bet.” Brian eyed Troy’s foot and winced. “I can only imagine how awful it is.”
He echoed back Brian’s words from after the crash. “Doesn’t tickle.” Stretching his arms over his head, Troy brushed the mosquito net. “So stiff.”
“I know. Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
Amid all the pain, he realized there was indeed pressure on his bladder. “Yeah. Just piss.”
“I could get a bottle?”
“No. Need to move.”
Of course it was sheer torture, and poor Brian had to bear his weight as Troy hopped outside. It took some doing to stoop through the door. Troy pissed at the edge of the jungle, leaning into Brian with Brian’s arm secure around his bare back.
It was a little weird, whipping out his dick and pissing with another guy right there, but it was Brian. Last men on earth. Although Troy knew the rest of the world was still out there beyond the sea, it was unreachable. He swelled with another pang of gratitude for Brian’s steady presence.
Part of Troy wanted to stay outside, but with the sun coming up, he knew the last thing he needed was to burn his swollen foot. He had more pills and settled back down. If Brian hadn’t been there, he’d have had to crawl everywhere.
While Brian got fresh wood and started the fire when the sun topped the trees, Troy dozed. His mind still whirled, images and memories vibrating through him. When fear overwhelmed, he concentrated on the sounds of Brian puttering around outside.
He wasn’t sure what time it was when Brian’s hand rested on his arm. Troy shook off a dream about being on stage and falling down, not able to get back up. The faint whiff of fruit and fish reached his nose. “Hmm?” The day was hot, and sweat dampened his skin, but not as badly as the night before.
Brian peered down at him, a half coconut shell in his hand. “You need to eat protein. I caught a couple fish.” Propping Troy up again, Brian knelt behind and awkwardly fed him with the curved shell. “Come on. You need to eat.”
Troy tried his best, but a few bites of chewing the fish felt like a trial. “Enough.”
“Nope. Choo-choo’s coming, open up the tunnel.” Brian pressed the shell to Troy’s lips.
The little ripple of laughter felt so good. Every pore still ached, and the burning throb of his foot overwhelmed, but at least he could still laugh, even just a bit. Troy opened his mouth and chewed.
When he was resting again, Troy reached out and caught Brian’s hand. “Did I say thank you?”
Brian smiled, the worried creases in his face smoothing out for a moment. “Yes. Don’t worry about anything.”
Doing his best, Troy drifted off again.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” Brian frowned and adjusted the pack under Troy’s foot. Was it high enough now that Troy was sitting up? Brian wasn’t sure. But at least the swelling had gone down. Not to normal yet and the skin was still red, but hopefully that would fade. “Comfortable?”
Teeth flashing, Troy smiled, gazing up at the stars.
“It’s perfect. Feels amazing to be outside.
” He inhaled deeply. “It gets so hot in there. Although the past couple days have been damp as hell.” He shifted his butt a little, leaning against the rock pile Brian had created for a seat back and padded with his own blanket.
“At least the clouds are gone. That was weird, huh? All that rain?”
“Yeah. Guess that’s what it’s like in the rainy season.
Unrelenting.” The thought made Brian’s belly tighten.
They hadn’t had any fire the past couple days, and he’d had to weave another few layers of leaves to cover up their wood store.
Wet fronds burned okay, but the wood had to be at least partially dry.
But in rainy season, they might barely have enough breaks in the downpour to get the fires lit. How were they going to cook their fish? The fruit would be fine, but raw fish was asking for bacteria. Their supply of medicine was almost depleted. One little silly infection and…
“Brian?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked what you’re thinking about. You’re all frowny.”