THIRTY-ONE
Kieran woke to the sound of retching.
Not the dogs. Hank was curled at his feet, Mabel pressed against his side, both undisturbed.
Human. Outside.
“Rory?” He scrambled out of the sleeping bag and unzipped the tent flap, stumbling into the pre-dawn darkness.
The sky was that particular shade of deep blue that meant sunrise was still an hour away. The air was cold, shockingly so after the warmth of the tent.
He scanned the campsite and found Rory about twenty feet away, bent double near a cluster of rocks, one hand braced against a Joshua tree.
“Rory.” Kieran started toward him.
“Stay back,” Rory gasped, holding up his other hand. “I’m fine. Fuck—”
He heaved again, and Kieran heard the unmistakable sound of his stomach emptying onto the sand.
“You’re not fine,” Kieran said, stopping a few feet away. “What’s wrong?”
“Something I ate,” Rory managed, spitting. “I’ll be okay in a minute. I just need to…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Instead, his body made a different, more urgent decision.
Rory’s face went pale, barely visible in the dim light, and he turned abruptly, stumbling deeper into the desert.
“Rory…”
“Don’t follow me,” Rory said, voice strained. “Please.”
But Kieran could hear it. The telltale sounds of a body in full rebellion. Rory squatting low in the sand, one hand braced against the ground.
His body was evacuating from both ends simultaneously.
Kieran’s stomach twisted with guilt and sympathy.
He was frozen, not sure what to do. Not sure if staying was helping or making it worse.
“Oh god,” Rory groaned. “This is fucked.”
“It was the fish,” Kieran said, the realization landing like a brick. “Rory, it’s the fish. I didn’t cook it right. I couldn’t see in the dark and I—”
“Kieran, stop.” Rory’s voice was firm against the strain. “We left it out. While we were in the truck. Sat in the heat too long. That’s all.”
He closed the distance between them and knelt beside Rory, one hand coming to rest on his back.
“What are you doing?” Rory asked weakly.
“I don’t know,” Kieran admitted. “But I can’t just stand there.”
“You don’t have to…” Rory broke off as his stomach cramped again.
The muscles in Rory’s back tensed under Kieran’s hand, a violent shudder running through him as his body purged itself. He moved his hand in slow circles, the way his mom used to do when he was sick as a kid.
“I’m so sorry,” Kieran said quietly.
“Not your fault.”
“It’s literally my fault.”
Another cramp hit, and Rory’s body convulsed and he made a broken sound as everything came out at once.
“Jesus,” Rory murmured. “This is humiliating.”
“No,” Kieran said firmly. “It’s your body doing what it needs to do.”
“I’m shitting myself in the desert while you watch. That’s pretty much the definition of humiliation.”
“I’m not watching. I’m here. There’s a difference.”
Rory laughed, weak but genuine. “That’s a very generous interpretation.”
“I’m a generous guy.”
Another wave. Rory braced himself, and Kieran kept his hand steady on his back.
“What can I do?” Kieran asked.
Rory was breathing hard. “Look away while my body tries to turn itself inside out.”
Kieran didn’t move his hand. “No.”
“Kieran.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
“I’m literally shitting in the sand!”
“I know.”
“And you’re just going to...what? Rub my back?”
“Yeah,” Kieran said simply. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Rory made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob or both. His body seized again, and the tremor ran through him as another violent purge took hold.
Kieran moved his hand up to Rory’s shoulders, massaging gently, trying to ease some of the tension even though he knew it wouldn’t stop what was happening.
“You don’t have to do this,” Rory said quietly when the worst of it passed.
“I know.”
“It’s gross.”
“I don’t care.”
Rory turned his head, just enough to meet Kieran’s eyes in the dim light. “Why?”
“Because it’s you.”
Rory’s expression cracked. “Okay,” he whispered.
Another cramp hit, gentler this time but still insistent. Rory’s body was running out of things to expel, but it was trying anyway.
They stayed there, Rory squatting in the sand, pale and shaking, Kieran kneeling beside him with one hand between his shoulder blades.
The sky began to lighten. The stars faded. The desert started to wake up around them, birds calling, the faint rustle of wind through the Joshua trees.
Eventually, Rory’s breathing evened out. The cramps slowed. His body finally, mercifully, stopped rebelling.
“I think I’m done,” Rory said, voice hoarse.
“You sure?”
“For now.”
Kieran helped him stand, keeping one hand on his arm until Rory was steady on his feet.
Rory looked pale and sweaty, trembling from the exertion.
“Come on,” Kieran said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I need to bury all of this,” Rory said, gesturing weakly at the mess behind him.
“I’ll do it,” Kieran said. “You need to sit down.”
“Kieran.”
“I’m doing it. Don’t argue.” Kieran grabbed the small camping shovel from their gear and took care of it quickly, efficiently, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing.
When he finished, he washed his hands with bottled water and hand sanitizer, then turned back to Rory.
Rory had made it to one of the camp chairs and was slumped there, head in his hands.
Kieran grabbed a clean shirt from the tent and a bottle of water, kneeling in front of him.
“Here,” he said, handing over the water. “Rinse your mouth.”
Rory did, spitting into the sand, then took a small sip.
“Not too much,” Kieran warned. “Your stomach’s still angry.”
“I know.”
Kieran helped him out of his soiled boxers and into the clean shirt, which hung long enough to be decent. Rory didn’t protest. He actually let Kieran take care of him.
When he was as clean as they could manage without a real shower, Kieran sat down in the other chair, close enough that their knees touched.
“How do you feel?” Kieran asked.
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
“That tracks.”
Rory leaned back, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Ruining the trip.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Kieran said. “You got food poisoning. That’s not your fault.”
“It’s definitely your fault,” Rory said, cracking one eye open with a weak smile.
“I know,” Kieran said. “And I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m kidding. Mostly.”
“I’m not. I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve made sure the fish was cooked all the way through.”
Rory reached over and took Kieran’s hand. “Stop. It happens. I’ll survive.”
“You sure about that?”
“Seventy percent sure.”
Kieran smiled. “I’ll take those odds.”
They sat there as the sun began to rise properly, painting the desert in shades of pink and gold. Mabel emerged from the tent, sniffing around cautiously, sensing something was off.
“What do you need?” Kieran asked.
“Nothing,” Rory said. “Maybe some more water. In a bit.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe you could just...stay close. For a while.”
Kieran squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Rory closed his eyes again, and Kieran watched the tension slowly ease from his face as exhaustion took over.