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It was almost dark out by the time Eli ventured back to the tent. The bottle of jim beam was only half full, but it was more than most people in the camp had, and Eli planned on draining it in an hour or less. Coming out of the jungle had been the easy part. Pretending it wasn’t a huge deal was what was getting to all of them. He didn’t care to limit his drinking after they’d returned to camp. He’d seen his friends guts almost ripped out, almost been devoured at least four times, saw limbs ripped and shaken from bodies like they were made of paper, men erupt into flame, and sometimes when he closed his eyes for too long and let his other senses start to take over, he swore he could feel the steady thunderous footsteps of one of those gigantic beasts getting closer and closer.
They were all rattled. Logan hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d returned, not even to Gerald. Xavier was ninety-percent cigarette at this point. Leon didn’t try and tell them a single stupid animal fact, and Charlie hadn’t opened his bible even once. Sometimes he looked at it like it had betrayed him somehow, like it didn’t prepare him enough for what they’d found. Eli would have loved to say I-Told-You-So in any other situation, but the words felt sour in his mouth so he just swallowed them and pretended not to notice.
He slipped into the tent, bottle already in hand. He’d been ready to flick the cap off and begin his typical ritual of drinking himself near blind before he almost tripped over Ryan’s outstretched legs.
“Mother fucker!” Eli croaked before he could stop himself. The first mouthful of whiskey splashed onto the floor. “Shit, boss sorry. I didn’t mean-”
Ryan put a finger to his lips then waved him off. He was sitting on the floor, which already struck Eli as strange. There wasn’t a day in his life that Eli had known Ryan that he didn’t choose the seat closest to the door and with all men in his line of sight. Jericho always joked that Ryan was a man who would rather have his back to the wall because that meant he could take comfort in knowing exactly what was going to happen. But here he sat on the floor between the cots, with his arm around Gerald’s shoulders.
Eli’s first thought was that sitting like that could not be good for Gerald’s wounds. They were healing well enough. Xavier had done his best in the bunker with such limited supplies. He wasn’t a surgeon, but he could put things back where they generally belonged. The camp doctors did a much better job at fixing the damage. Gerald was currently curled into a ball, head resting on his knees. Eli wondered if his insides felt normal, or if they felt like someone else’s and he’d have to get used to it. For probably the first time in his life he decided not to voice what was on his mind.
“Got a cigarette?” Gerald asked in a shaky voice, not lifting his head.
Eli glanced at Ryan, who shook his head. They all knew Gerald smoked like a chimney, but it was the second thing he’d asked for upon waking up. The first was, of course, where Logan was. It seemed like he smoked twice as much before the jungle. Come to think of it, Eli was certain that he’d never seen Gerald without a trail of smoke coming off him at all times. And they said he had a problem.
Eli figured perhaps now wasn’t the best time to get faced. At least not in front of the captain. He sat down on the cot opposite of them. There was a distinct hint of sickness in the air. It seemed like there always was though. Ryan was holding a ration bar that was half unwrapped.
“Ready to try again?” Ryan asked.
“I told you, I’m not hungry.” came the muffled reply.
Eli would have loved to leave, but he was already there, and something told him he should stay put. There was a light sheen of sweat on Gerald’s arms. Eli was fairly certain it coated his face too. Parts of his t-shirt were stained dark with it. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“Oh, you know how we always joke that this idiot is gonna smoke himself sick?” Ryan asked.
“Ah.”
“I didn’t smoke myself sick.” Gerald muttered, though he didn’t follow up with any kind of joke about what the problem was.
“He also hasn’t eaten since they let him out of recovery.” Ryan added.
Eli gaped. That had been over a week ago.
“He’s been using the cigarettes to keep his appetite down.”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me man.” Eli said. “You wanna die? Did we lug your deadweight through the jungle for nothing? That’s a hell of a way to say thank you.”
“Oh, like you’re one to fucking talk you damn lush.” Gerald snarled. “I bet Charlie would love to see you on that fucking bottle again.”
“Eli, you’re not helping.” Ryan said, breaking off a corner of the ration bar. He returned his attention to Gerald. “If you’re feeling up for being a bitch, you’re obviously up for eating.”
“I told you.” Gerald moaned, turning his head away. “I’m not fucking hungry, leave it.”
“And I told you that you have two ways out. Eat half the bar, or try to go through me. I’m pretty sure you couldn’t fight a pencil right now, so eat.”
“Eat the damn bar, idiot.” Eli said. “You’re being a baby.”
Gerald put his head back down on his knees. Ryan’s jaw clenched irritably, but he didn’t push it. He put the bar back down, letting the corner he’d broken off fall to the ground. Eli awkwardly offered him the bottle, which Ryan accepted.
“I can wait all night, Keyes.” Ryan said, grimacing as the whiskey burned on the way down. “This isn’t the worst thing I’ve had to sit through.”
Gerald didn’t answer. Eli lowered himself onto the floor with some difficulty. His knee hadn’t been the same since they’d come back. It creaked and popped sometimes if he wasn’t careful. It wasn’t something he wanted to complain about. They all had their cuts and bruises. A bum knee wasn’t the worst thing when he thought about the glowing eyes and dark feathers.
Once settled, he took the bottle back from Ryan and took a swig. He would have liked to drain the whole thing but he didn’t like the way Ryan watched him, almost like he was making sure Eli didn’t try it. Instead, Eli extended his leg and nudged Gerald a little.
“Hey, princess.” he nudged again when he didn’t get a reply. “Hey.”
“Fuck off.”
“What’s with the bitching?” Eli continued, ignoring him. “I once saw you fist fight a man over a twinkie. You lost by the way. Remember how you lost? Why aren’t you eating?”
Gerald lifted his head, tilting it back to glare at the ceiling. His breath had quickened, and his throat twitched. Eli was getting to him already. It was almost thrilling how quickly he was breaking Gerald down, but Eli knew it was probably light-headedness making him that easy. A weakness was a weakness however, and Eli knew how to exploit those.
“You all fucked up?” He asked. “Finally. It took you long enough. I was starting to think there was something wrong with you. Do you know how weird it was having you be all Zippity Doo-Da about everything all the damn time?”
Gerald bit the inside of his cheek, trying to weather out the harassment.
“Me and Charlie got fucked up from day one. But I guess slow and steady wins the race.”
“Fuck off.”
“That creature rip out your funny bone too or something?” Eli asked. “C’mon, where are the jokes? Where are the comebacks?”
“Eli.” Ryan said. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”
Gerald rubbed a hand over his face again, folding one arm around his middle tightly, as though that would protect it from the memory of claws and teeth. His mouth moved soundlessly, but Eli could read lips well enough to make out at least seven different curses that would have made even Jericho blush. Eli could see his eyes were starting to water. He wished he could have felt bad about it, but he’d carried Gerald for miles, and though he’d never admit it, he’d entertained the concept of a god and asked it to keep him alive. Not even Charlie had gotten him to do that. He’s flipped on his own beliefs for a man who was now trying to waste away, and that was pissing him off.
“We all got fucked up, Gerald. You ain’t special. Eat the stupid bar.”
“I can’t.”
It was less than a whisper. More of a croak. Gerald had somehow curled in even more on himself, his hands reaching up to clasp around his own throat like he was trying to throttle the words into submission before they poured out of him. His eyes were so wide that for a second Eli caught himself thinking about how full the moon had been their first camp in the jungle. Ryan made a noise of displeasure and started to gently pry Gerald’s fingers apart.
“I can’t.” Gerald said again. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yeah you can.” Eli said, a little more gently. “It’s not that hard. Look.” He snatched the corner Ryan had dropped earlier and popped it into his mouth. There was a lot of dust on it, but he ignored it for Gerald’s sake.
“You don’t get it.”
“Tell me.” Ryan whispered, having finally pried Gerald’s hands away from his own throat. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can still feel it in me.” Gerald said. He had started to shake. “I can still feel it. Ever since I woke up my insides feel like there’s a claw or something that twists me all up. What if I’m too fucked up?”
“Nobody’s too fucked up.” Eli said. “Not even Logan.”
“What if I eat something and my body just-what if it just-” Gerald couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“That won’t happen.” Ryan said firmly. “Gerald, those were trained medical professionals. I knew the woman who stitched you up. I’ve seen her reattach limbs. She’s the best in her field.”
“The first time I tried eating I got so scared I threw up.” Gerald said. His hands clutched the sides of his face. “It’s all I can think about. Something in me is gonna break. That thing tore me up so badly a piece of it stayed in me. Something got ripped up and nobody caught it. I have to stay empty all the time or I’ll fall apart-”
Gerald abruptly buried his face in his hands. Eli noticed how his jaw flexed in a silent scream. Ryan pulled him closer, bringing his free arm around him to tighten the embrace. For several seconds the tent was silent save for the sound of muffled sobs. Eli never noticed, but their tent actually smelled like dirt and leather when it wasn’t filled with cigarette smoke.
“You gotta eat.” Ryan said. “Your insides are fine, but they won’t be if you don’t eat. Start small. Just eat a corner and we’ll see how you feel.”
Eli picked up the ration bar and broke off a corner. Ryan took it and offered it to Gerald, who stared at it for a long time before taking it between finger and thumb, a glum expression on his face. Eli had never seen someone so desperate to not eat in his life.
“We’ll be here the whole time man.” Eli said. “You know me I’ll start shrieking the second anything gets weird.”
Gerald snorted, though it was half hearted, like he was too tired to find actual words to reply. He ate the corner.
Eli felt relief surge through him, noting that Ryan definitely looked like he was experiencing the same feeling. Gerald tensed, like he was going to wretch, but covered his mouth quickly and forced himself to swallow. He curled in on himself tightly, and Eli once again found himself wondering if that would be okay for his stitches.
“Good.” Ryan said, rubbing his back. “Okay, good. Thank you.”
Gerald had fallen completely silent, hands still clasped over his mouth, though not as tightly. Eli offered him the bottle again, but Ryan took it instead, putting it on the table behind them. Eli felt the relief start to ebb into uneasiness. He could handle it if Logan went crazy. Hell, he was pretty sure Logan had been crazy the whole time. He sometimes thought about Charlie losing it too. Even Xavier, though he always imagined Xavier would just disappear into the night and never return. Gerald was never someone he expected to lose it.
Nobody was immune to war. And there was no way in hell anybody was immune to the prehistoric horror they’d come face to face with. They all coped as best they could. He just realized he had always expected Gerald to cope better. Selfishness reared its head in Eli’s brain, angry that Gerald wasn’t coping like he had before, always coming out with a smile, always joking, always there if they needed him.
Before however, he’d never had his guts ripped out.
Gerald tensed several times as the minutes ticked into hours, swallowing the urge to gag each time. Ryan tightened the arm around his shoulders.
“You’re fine.” He said quietly. “You’re fine.”
Eli wished Ryan hadn’t taken the whiskey away.