by N. R. Walker
* * *
I woke up with a fright. It was dark, and something was wrong. I was alone. Lawson. Where the hell was Lawson? Then I noticed how heavy the rain had gotten outside, thumping down on the canopy tarp above the roof of the tent, and I had no clue what the time was. I fumbled in the darkness for a lamp and switched it on. Lawson was most definitely gone. So were his boots, the second lamp, and one of the tubs.
Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.
“Lawson?!” I called out.
I checked my watch. 11:47 p.m.
“Lawson?!” I yelled, pulling on my boots and a poncho raincoat. I pulled the hood over my head and went out into the torrential rain. “Lawson?”
“Yes, I’m over here,” a voice called out.
I turned to the sound and could see him then. Well, I could see the light of the lamp through the dense trees. Pure relief washed over me like the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” I yelled out and walked toward him.
He grinned, wearing a rain poncho, but was still soaked to the bone. “Taking samples. Toads love the rain.”
Jesus Christ. I called out, “Please tell me you’re wearing gloves.”
He held up his free hand. “Of course I am.”
I pulled on the hood of my poncho so it shielded more of my face. “It’s pissing down.” I slid in the undergrowth on my way towards him; a mix of mud and dead leaves made for slippery footing. Eventually I got to where he was and I didn’t have to yell. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were sound asleep. I could hear the toads, so I thought I’d get up and take a look. I haven’t been out of eyesight of the tent.”
I knew he wasn’t foolish. He was a competent hiker. “Well, I’m out here now. What are we doing?”
His smile became a grin. “I want to go further up this trough, follow the edge of the creek.” He pointed north. “I didn’t want to get too far from camp, but now you’re up…”
“Want me to head south?” I asked. “We’d cover twice the ground.”
“Sure.” He opened the tub and gave me two specimen jars. “Don’t go too far. The ground’s slippery, so be careful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you lecturing me on terrain safety?” He laughed, and I shook my head at him. “How can you be so happy? It’s midnight, it’s pouring rain, and we’re standing in a rainforest surrounded by cane toads.”
His answer was simple. “Because it’s midnight, it’s pouring rain, and we’re standing in a rainforest surrounded by cane toads.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I deserve a midnight, rainforest, rainy kiss.” I pointed to my mouth.
He happily obliged, planting his lips on mine. “Don’t touch the cane toads.”
“Yes, boss,” I said, instead of rolling my eyes. Only an idiot would not know that cane toads were poisonous.
And with a final smirk from Lawson, we went our separate ways. The sooner we got this done, the sooner we’d be back in the dry tent working on that bioaccumulation theory…
I never knew science could be so much fun, and I certainly never knew it could feel so damn good.
I almost felt the need to track down my year eight science teacher and apologise. With a snort at my hilarious thought, I jumped down into the shallow gully to collect some more samples. The fresh water from the rain in the pools would dilute the toxins, we would assume, but samples must be taken to compare. This was the boring part of science. I much preferred the practical, private lessons on the transference of biostuff, and knowing Lawson was out there with my biostuff still inside him made my chest bloom with warmth that expanded to my groin.
God, I was never going to have enough of him now.
I sat the lamp down in the mud and collected a sample of the water. On closer inspection, or maybe it was because the water level had increased, I could see a string of toad eggs along the edge. Scooping up as many as I could, careful not to touch them, I screwed the lids on, pocketed them, and set about going back to find Lawson.
The small slope was slippery as hell. My boots sunk into the mud and I cursed the weather and all of Far North Queensland as I clambered up to the top. My pants were now pretty much wet right through, and I was cursing that too as I made my way back to where I’d left Lawson.
It wasn’t long until I saw his lamp, and I headed straight for it. It was still raining―a torrential downpour, in fact. The forest protected us a bit, but it was still heavy. If we had this much rain in this amount of time back home, we’d be two feet underwater. I slipped in the mud but thankfully didn’t fall, but then I cursed about that as well, mumbling to myself, “Who the fuck can live in this?”
“Oh, hey,” Lawson said. He was crouching down, looking at something on the ground, but he smiled when he saw me.
“What are you looking at?” I called out, not five metres from him, but the rain was heavier, louder.
He laughed. “Two cane toads copulating.”
Of course, that’s what he’s watching. “Is cane toad porn a thing?”
“I certainly hope not. It’s disgusting.”
“Don’t get too close,” I warned. Jesus, he was right near the deep edge of the gully that was fast becoming a creek. “Can you take a step this way?”
Lawson stood up, and as he did, the ground underneath him gave way. The entire bank of the gully, Lawson, his lamp, and the cane toads were gone.
* * *
“Lawson!”
I lunged after him, but it happened all too fast. One minute he was there, and the next he wasn’t.
“Lawson!”
I got to the edge, careful of my own footing, and heard a groan. I hung my lamp over the edge and saw him. “I’m all right,” he said weakly, spitting out dirt and muck, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
He was on his back, about two metres down, covered in dirt and mud from where the bank had given way. His lamp was out or under the dirt or under water; I wasn’t sure. It was dark down there.
“Can you move?” I asked, trying not to panic. “Stay there, I’ll find a way to come down.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, starting to get up. “Ugh!” He picked up a clump of dirt from his chest and threw it. No, it wasn’t a clump of dirt at all. It was a cane toad. Fuck.
“Lawson, are you okay?”
He got to his feet awkwardly, slipping in the mud and sloshing in the water. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
I sat my lamp beside me and lay down on my stomach, reaching my arm down toward him. “Take my hand.”
When he put his hand in mine, I’d never felt so relieved. With every ounce of strength I had in me, I lifted him to the top. He was covered in mud and gunk, but I didn’t care. I threw my arms around him. “God, you scared me.”
“Scared you?” he asked meekly.
I put my hands on his muddy face. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Just a little shaken. The ground just gave way.”
Instinctively, I pulled him further away from the bank. “The rain must have weakened it. Come on, let’s get you back to the tent.”
He certainly didn’t argue. I grabbed the lamp, took his hand, and led him back to camp. At the front of the tent, I pulled his rain poncho off over his head so most of the mud and gunk wouldn’t come inside with us. His trousers and boots were caked, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I pulled him inside and sat him on the bed.
But before I could take his boots off, I noticed him lick his lips, then again, and he made a face like he tasted something bad. “Lawson? What is it?”
“Tastes like metal. Like mud and sludge but metallic.”
Oh no.
I noticed the mud smeared down his face and neck was streaked with white. A milky-like spray over his mouth…
Oh no, no, no.
I grabbed a bottle of water and screwed the lid off. “Wash your mouth out. Don’t swallow. Spit it outside.”
He tipped the bottle to his mouth, swished, and leaned over through the door to spit it out.
When he sat back upright, he swayed and closed one eye. “Oh, my Lord,” he said feebly. He put his hand to his head. “Oh, my head.” Then he put his hand to his chest, over his heart, and his breathing became laboured.
“Lawson, we need to get you to hospital. Now.”
He didn’t answer. He just slumped to the side and almost fell off the mattress. I caught him and tried to hold him up. “Lawson!” I shook him gently. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. “Lawson?”
Nothing.
I let go of him so he slouched to his side on the bed, and I grabbed the backpack with the phones and keys in it. I fumbled for my phone and dialled 000. “Ambulance, please.” The dispatch lady was quick to respond, and I gave her all the information I could: cane toad poisoning by ingestion, unresponsive. But the thing was, we were in the middle of the rainforest, a good half-hour trek from the track Gary had dropped us off at. There was no way an ambulance was going to rush to the tourist car park, then wait for God knows how long until I could walk us out of here.
Thankfully the dispatcher had her wits about her. “I’ll put a crew on standby, call us again when you’re almost there.
“Will do.”
I shoved the phone in my pocket, slung my backpack on, then dragged Lawson to a sitting position. He was floppy and kept falling to the side. I had no idea how I was going to carry him out of the jungle and hold a lamp in the pouring rain in the middle of the night and find my way to the track, let alone the car park. But I certainly couldn’t give up. I heaved him over my shoulder and crawled out of the tent. I grabbed the lamp and stood up in the rain. He moaned over my shoulder. “Lawson, baby. I got you. We just need to go for a little walk.”
I took a second to get my bearings and headed off in what I was sure, what I hoped, was the right direction.
The ground was slippery, I could hardly see, and I couldn’t wipe the rain from my eyes. Lawson wasn’t heavy, by any means, but he was dead weight over my shoulder, and I had to step over tree roots and up and down natural step formations on the path. It wasn’t even really a path. Walking into the forest had been easy. It had been daylight, it had been dry, and I hadn’t even considered the footing.
Walking out of the forest was a different story altogether.
After what felt like a lifetime, I stopped, sure I’d taken a wrong turn. Nothing looked familiar in this light, or lack thereof. I considered changing direction, but Lawson moaned. “Hang on,” I said, not knowing if he could hear me. I worried about the blood rushing to his head and to his heart. I worried about what that would do to the toxins already in his body.
I had to move quicker.
Instinct told me to keep going. I really had no clue if I was going in the right direction, but something told me I was. And after an eternity, the forest cleared to a track, the very track that Gary had dropped us off at. Oh, thank God.
The ground was flatter, the tyre tracks making it easier to walk. There was a proper path to follow, at least. I picked up my pace, trying to shuffle Lawson a little to make him more comfortable. He groaned. “Almost there, baby. You’re okay. Gonna get you some help.”
I fished my phone out of my pocket. Not slowing down my pace, I dialled 000 again. After explaining who and where I was, I was assured an ambulance was on its way. The dispatcher asked me to stay on the line until the ambos arrived, and I had to admit, I was grateful for the company.
My legs burned, my back hurt, but my heart… my heart was in limbo. That unsure place between hope and breaking, being scared to death and never feeling more alive.
“He’s gonna be okay, isn’t he?” I asked into the phone.
The dispatch lady, whose name was Cheryl, gave me her professional, noncommittal answer. “You’ve done everything right. ETA for the ambulance is five minutes, they’ll assess him and get him straight to hospital.”
“No one’s died from cane toad poisoning, have they?” I asked.
“Not in Australia, I believe. Dogs and cats, yes. Other native wildlife, yes. Humans, I’m not sure. The hospital has been notified.”
“It sure is dark out here,” I said, not even realising the rain had stopped until that very second. My breath was short and I choked back tears. “He has to be okay. I don’t know what I’d do if he’s not.”
“Mr Brighton.”
“Jack.”
“Jack,” Cheryl said calmly, “just keep on moving. Can you hear sirens? See any lights?”
I listened for a moment. “The forest is really loud.” God, it was deafening. Crickets, cicadas, frogs, toads, birds… I thought most birds were mostly diurnal. Maybe it was the blood pumping in my head that made everything seem so damn loud. I pulled the phone away from my ear so I could concentrate, and…
In the distance, I could hear them.
“I can hear the sirens,” I said into the phone, and pulling strength from a place I didn’t know existed, I started to run. Lawson moaned again. But then I caught a glimpse of red-and-blue lights and headlights. “I can see lights!”
I heard Cheryl telling someone―not me, maybe the ambos―that I had a visual of lights, they should be seeing me any moment now.
I broke into the clearing that was the car park, just as the ambulance arrived. “I’m here,” I said, to Cheryl, to God, to anyone.
The ambulance made its way over to me and stopped. I’d never been more grateful to see anyone. Then they were lowering Lawson onto the gurney and I was telling them what happened while they were strapping him on and checking his eyes, and I was bundled into the back of the ambulance with him, and then everything was quiet.
And I could finally breathe.
My body ached, my chest burned.
“You okay?” the paramedic asked me, looking up from Lawson.
I waved him off, stuck the heels of my hands into my eyes, and willed myself not to cry. Taking a few deep breaths, I gathered myself to finally get a good look at Lawson.
And I immediately wished I hadn’t.
There was a line of foamy drool running down the side of his mouth, escaping under the oxygen mask. His shirt was ripped open, he had ECG pads stuck to his chest, but his face was pale. Too pale.
He looked… dead.
“Is he…?”
The paramedic wouldn’t answer me. Instead he spoke into some kind of radio mouthpiece, giving readings and stats I couldn’t follow. The driver replied, “ETA, one minute.”
I slowly reached out and slid Lawson’s hand into mine. “Is he going to be okay?”
The paramedic finally afforded me a sorry look. “His heart rate isn’t good, but there’s a cardio specialist―”
Lawson abruptly coughed and vomited, and the paramedic launched into action to ensure Lawson wouldn’t choke. The ambulance came to a stop, the back doors flew open, and there was a flurry of noise and movement, nurses and doctors, bright lights and too much noise.
Then they raced Lawson inside and I was still standing there, alone, confused, scared. Numb. The world seemed to spin without me, and it was like I couldn’t move.
A kind face appeared in front of me. A heavy-set man in scrubs with blond-and-pink hair, an eyebrow ring, and an empathetic smile put his hand on my arm. “Are you with him?”
I nodded.
“You were the one who brought him in?”
I nodded again.
He tried to gently pull me toward the emergency doors. “Come on, let’s get those scratches looked at.”
Scratches? I looked down at myself. I had scratches up my arm which I didn’t recall getting, and there was blood soaked through my muddy trousers at the knee. I didn’t recall that hurting either.
“My name’s Lyle,” the nurse-guy said. “You wanna come inside? We’ll get you looked at, then we’ll see what we can find out about your friend.”
“His name is Lawson,” I said. “He’s my boyfriend. Well, he’s more than that. He’s the guy that changed my life. He’s everything to me, and I can’t go in there because what if he’s not okay
? What if I go in there and he’s not doing so great? Because if I stay out here, then no one can tell me he… no one can say that he’s not…” I swallowed hard and shook my head. “I don’t think I can go in there.”
Lyle rubbed my arm. “Oh, sweetie. He’s in the very best hands.” I looked at him then, into his eyes, and whatever he saw in mine made him frown. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Jack.”
“Well then, Jack. I need you to come with me.” This time he pulled on my arm and I went with him.
Being led through the emergency department was like an alternative reality in slow motion, the fluorescent lights, the nurses and doctors all moving without sound. There was a disconnect somewhere in my brain.
I found myself sitting on a hospital bed in a sterile cubicle. I watched as Lyle swabbed the scratches, cleaned and dressed them. I still couldn’t feel anything. Then Lyle was asking me questions about how I felt. Did I feel nauseous, have blurred vision, shortness of breath? Was I allergic to anything?
I shook my head. “Nothing. I need to see Lawson.”
Lyle nodded but just continued with his assessment, writing down notes. He didn’t understand. “I need to see Lawson.”
He began to shake his head.
“Is it because I’m not family? Is it because we’re gay? Would it make any difference if we were married because―”
Lyle put his hand on my knee. “Hon, you can’t see him right now because the doctors are working on him. They need space and calm to do their jobs. If you go in there, you’ll disrupt the space and calm, and they won’t be able to do their jobs. Being gay don’t change anything, not for me. You listen to me, sweetie. I promise you I will keep you posted. You will know all there is to know. I will find out all I can, okay?”
He looked at me with such sincerity, I could only believe him. I nodded.
“Good,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. Then his eyes focused above my right eye. “Now, let me take a look at this cut up here.”
Until then, I hadn’t been aware of any cut above my eye and instinctively tried to touch it, but he held my hand. “Nuh-uh, no touching. Not until we’ve cleaned those hands.”
Then I noticed that my hands were covered in dirt and mud, and there were scrapes across the knuckles.
