Beyond the Sea (19 page)

As they finally reached camp, Brian lowered him as gently as he could to the blanket by their campfire.

“
We need water,” Brian muttered. His throat was like sandpaper. He quickly filled a bottle and helped Troy drink before finishing off the rest. He’d turned off the flashlight when they reached the sand, the stars bright enough even though the moon had waned. He switched on the light now to examine Troy’s foot.

Jesus.

The red swelling had spread halfway up his shin. Brian crouched and eased off the flip-flops, the one on the swollen foot barely budging. He finally unwedged it as gently as he could. “It still burns?”

Troy nodded jerkily, his lips pressed together and eyes closed. There was something… Brian reached a finger to Troy’s face, swiping it across his chin. He flashed the light up, his heart thumping.

No, no, no!

Blood dripped out of Troy’s mouth. Was he bleeding internally? Was poison slowly killing him? Brian wasn’t entirely successful at keeping his voice calm this time. “Let me see your mouth. Open!” He shone the light inside, half expecting to see a rising tide of red in Troy’s throat. But it looked normal, so what…

Aiming the light at Troy’s lips, he saw the torn flesh. “Stop that!” He squeezed Troy’s arm. “Stop biting your lip. Let it out.”

Breathing hard, Troy gritted his teeth. “But…”

“
Scream! Here, you want me to scream with you?” Brian tipped back his head and let loose a howl of all the tension and fear strangling him. His throat hurt, but it still felt good to unleash it. He realized after a moment that Troy was shouting along with him, and Brian sat beside him, an arm strong around his shoulders as they screamed into the unblinking night.

“
Am I going to die?”

Troy’s scraped-up, barely whispered question hovered in the dank air of the teepee. At Troy’s feet, Brian looked up sharply. “No.” He put every ounce of assurance and confidence he had left into his next words. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Troy only murmured.

The mosquito net brushed Brian’s back, stretched to capacity where he crouched, trying to avoid even the slightest touch to Troy’s swollen foot. He hoped he wasn’t making the wrong choice to elevate it, but when his grandfather’s congestive heart failure had caused painful edema in his lower body, elevation had been one of the treatments.

Brian had filled the backpack with coconuts and folded his flannel blanket on top for extra cushioning. His kingdom for a few damn pillows.

“
Okay, I’m going to lift your leg. I know it’s going to hurt, so scream as loud as you want.”

Troy nodded tightly, but only cried out weakly as Brian lifted under his knee, trying to avoid the swollen flesh below. As he got the foot settled, Troy panted, every muscle straining.

Brian asked, “How does that feel? I mean, I know it feels hideously painful. But do you want me to adjust the position of the pack?”

Troy shook his head.

“
Drink some more. Here.” Brian crawled around and tipped a bottle to Troy’s chapped, bloody lips. “Is the Advil helping?”

“
A little.”

Meaning not at all, Brian suspected. Troy settled back down, closing his eyes and shivering, and Brian wondered if he should cover him. He shook uncontrollably, but his skin burned. For now, no blankets. Brian had rinsed Troy’s lower leg with saltwater, which had made him spasm. But hopefully the salt would act as an antibacterial.

Poking through the first aid kit again, Brian sighed. Would it help to bandage it? Or just be incredibly painful? Band-Aids, gauze, and tweezers weren’t any help. He thought he could see two puncture wounds on Troy’s big toe, but it was so swollen it was hard to tell. He’d dabbed the toe with iodine anyway.

After Brian got him to drink more, Troy drowsed restlessly, whimpering. Brian had given Troy an antihistamine along with ibuprofen, and there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do. When Brian had sprained his ankle years ago, the doctor had told him to follow the RICE guideline: rest, ice, compression, elevation.

But this was a bite or sting. This was poison. Was elevation just helping it spread through Troy’s system faster? Brian had never wanted the internet more than in that moment. They were powerless without information and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

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 some 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 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.”