On the Sand [A Jarheads Novel]

by Sean Michael

  "Let him get better first, ‘kay?"

  "I can do that."

  "Good.” He went around to the other side, taking Rig's other hand. “He looks like shit."

  "He does. Did they say when we can take him home?"

  "At least ten days."

  "Fuck."

  Rig moaned, shifted, eyes fluttering open and rolling in their sockets. “Rock. Y'all ... I need to go home. Y'all leave my boys alone."

  "Shh. We're right here, Rig.” He patted Rig's hand. “Right here."

  Rock leaned in. “Kid's right. You need to sleep. We're not gong anywhere."

  "Oh. Oh, I woke up...” Rig blinked and blinked. “I keep dreaming. I keep dreaming I lost y'all..."

  "That's probably the morphine.” He squeezed Rig's hand again, found a smile. “We're not going anywhere, okay? Me and Rock have you."

  "Tell me. Tell me that it's not cancer.” Those eyes met his, straight on. “Tell me. I heard you."

  "They didn't tell you yet?” That was just cruel. “It's not cancer. You don't have cancer, Rig. You just a special diet and ulcer medicine—you're going to be just fine. No cancer."

  "No cancer.” Rig's eyes closed, tears dotting the pale lashes. “Thank God. I. Oh, thank God. I didn't want to have to tell y'all that..."

  He leaned in and rubbed their cheeks together, not wanting to hurt anything. “You should have told us, Rig. You didn't need to go through this by yourself."

  "Mmm ... Didn't want to scare y'all. Oh, Pretty, you smell like home."

  "Yeah? It's that soap...” He'd get some later, make sure the nurses used that to wash Rig. Hell, maybe they'd let him and Rock do the sponge bath thing. Rig would like that he'd bet.

  "Mmmhmm.” Rig dozed off again, almost immediately beginning to dream, to mutter.

  "Doesn't seem like very restful sleep.” Rock glared down at Rig and Dick rubbed the big guy's arm.

  "Why don't you try talking to him some, so he knows we're here."

  Rock nodded, began telling Rig about the gym, the drive down, just everyday stuff. Dick sat back and watched, realizing how close they'd come to losing this. It made him shudder. And how could he have not noticed how bad Rig was doing? He shook his head. He'd been so fucking busy. Too busy. There wasn't any reason he couldn't cut his course load by half, or even do just one class a term.

  If they let him stay, given he was about to blow off his exams.

  It didn't matter, though, none of it did.

  This right here, this was all that was important.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Rock planted himself next to Rig and refused to be budged. He watched every nurse that came in like a hawk, making sure they washed their hands and wore their masks. He wasn't taking any chances.

  He'd sent Dick out for food, coffee, and to find out when the fucking doctor was going to show up and give them the official story—kid was right, though, the nurses probably had better intel. Rig always had. Always. Goddamn it.

  Rig was in and out of it, waking himself up out of nightmares every now and then.

  He and Dick tried to keep talking, as it seemed to make their cowboy sleep better, but the man couldn't have had more than a half hour in a row.

  Rock checked his watch. They'd been there about five hours—it wasn't even noon yet. Shit, he hated this. He didn't want to have to do another fucking bedside vigil.

  At least it wasn't fucking cancer. Shit, he hadn't even known that was on the table. He glared at Rig—once his cowboy was better the man had a lot to answer for.

  Dick came back in, washing his hands and putting on a new mask. “The doctor's making his rounds—shouldn't be long before he's back. How's Rig?"

  "'Bout the same."

  Rig sighed, shifted a little. “'m thirsty."

  Shit. They'd cut out the man's stomach. Could they give him a drink? He went for the nurse's button, didn't even hesitate for a second, just pushed it, long and hard. “Getting the nurse, Rig."

  "'kay.” Rig blinked, eyes bloodshot and confused-looking.

  "Can I help you?"

  He turned to find a new nurse at the door. “Yeah—he's thirsty. What's he allowed to drink?"

  "Let's start with some ice chips and I'll get you some apple juice for him. Little bitty sips—he doesn't have much room in there right now and we'll slowly have to stretch it.” The nurse washed her hands, stepped in, checking monitors. “I'm Steph, by the way, I'm the day shift nurse. Fever's down. That's good. If he can keep it up, they'll move him to a regular bed and start introducing a liquid diet."

  "I'm Rock and this is Dick. And we have insurance—he gets a private room.” He tried not to growl too loudly—she was trying to help, she was being nice.

  "How soon do you think they'll move him? And is the doctor ever going to show up to look at him?” He turned his glare on Dick who was grinning at him.

  "They'll move him as soon as he's stable enough. He's been fighting everything up ‘til today. Looks like he's finally relaxing, healing up."

  Rig groaned. “Please, y'all. I'm dry as a bone here."

  "Dick—” He didn't need to say it, though, the kid already up and headed out the door on a search for ice chips. Rock took Rig's hand, not caring if he was in the nurse's way. “The kid's getting you ice chips. And then the nurse said you could have some apple juice."

  "Cool. ‘s the surgeon coming? Want to come home.” Rig stretched, wincing. “Fuck, I'm sore."

  "Don't pull the stitches, now. I'm rooting for you to take a walk around this time tomorrow, Mr. Roberts.” Steph scribbled some notes, nodded. “Do you like apple juice?"

  "Yeah. Yeah. I'd kill for some coffee. You know how long it's been since I could keep coffee down?"

  She snorted. “Oh, that's not on the approved list, now. Not at all."

  Shit, their cowboy fucking lived on coffee. “Like ever?” Rock asked.

  "Well, I wouldn't suggest it, it'll aggravate the stomach lining, but we're talking a couple of weeks here of liquid diet, all high in protein. The nutritionist will come in once he's better."

  Rock made a face. Somehow even vegetables sounded better than high protein liquid.

  "We're more concerned about seeing the doctor than a nutritionist right now.” He liked the way she spoke though, like Rig getting better was a matter of fact.

  The door opened again, Dick coming back with a Styrofoam cup. “Success!"

  "She'll probably be another few minutes, but she's on the way.” Steph smiled, nodded to Dick, patting Rig's leg through the blue blanket that all hospitals seemed to have. “Only a spoon or two every ten minutes, okay? His stomach is swollen and where it was reattached is still very much in the healing phase."

  Rock took the cup from Dick. “Go wash up again.” Dick's eyebrows rose and he growled. “Do it—his fever broke and I'm not risking it coming back."

  Rig had dozed off again, but as soon as the spoon hit the ice, those eyes opened. “Ice?"

  "Yeah, here.” He held the spoon to Rig's mouth, two little ice chips on it.

  Rig sucked them off, eager for them. “More."

  "You should pace yourself.” Rock checked his watch as he offered over another spoonful. Ten minutes. Fuck, he bet they'd feel like forever.

  Dick finished washing up and came over. “I saw the doctor in the next room over. It shouldn't be long."

  "Cool.” Rig nodded, panting a little. “Tell him to send me home."

  He wanted nothing more than to do just that, but he was pretty sure Rig needed to be in the hospital. The man looked pretty fucking bad. “Let's wait until you can do more than eat a few ice chips before you get winded."

  "Bossy, bossy.” Rig's hand slid from under the covers, wrapped around his thigh. “Hey."

  Oh, someone was feeling better, even if it was just a little. And Rig was gonna learn what bossy was. He smiled. “Hey."

  "I. What day is it? I just ... Nothing seems real but y'all."

  "It's Friday. You've got some weird-assed di
sease and they cut out half your stomach. But it's not cancer.” They'd already told Rig all that, but he figured it was worth repeating."

  "Not cancer.” He got that smile again. “Oh, you could just say that over and over. I've been ... Shit."

  "Scared it was for a long fucking time.” He growled and glowered.

  Dick cleared his throat, hand sliding on Rock's. “It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that it isn't cancer and Rig's getting better."

  He met Dick's eyes and nodded. He could wait for Rig to get better before killing him. It just made him growl every time he thought about it. All that time Rig had kept it from him.

  "You didn't know did you?” he asked Dick.

  Dick shook his head. “No. No, he didn't tell me either. I knew something was wrong, but I let him fob me off."

  "I've been working with the docs, guys. I didn't want to scare y'all.” Rig squeezed his leg, lips open. “More ice?"

  Rock glanced at his watch and shook his head. “She said ten minutes. And Dick's right—we'll talk about it later."

  "Gentlemen?” A tiny, brown skinned lady with dark, happy eyes and a lab coat wandered in. “Can I ask you to leave so I can examine my patient, please?"

  Rock shook his head. “I'm not going anywhere.” He'd stand in the corner if that's what she wanted, but he wasn't leaving the room. “And you need to wash your hands."

  Dick's eyes widened, but he just stood next to Rig's bed, arms crossed over his chest.

  He got a long, slow steady look. Then those dark eyes just lit up, the doctor laughing and clapping. “Well, well. This is a good sign, is it not? Stubborn and ready for our patient to be well, are you?"

  "She sounds like a psychotic gnome, Blue."

  He bit the side of his cheek, guessing laughing at her was not going to win him, or Rig, any favors. He could do stoic, though. It was his fucking stock in trade. “We'll do whatever it takes to make him better, ma'am."

  Dick nodded, coming around the bed to stand beside him; the kid was doing a decent job of keeping a straight face after Rig's comment.

  She nodded, heading for the sink. “Dr. Balakrishnan. I did Mr. Roberts’ surgery. It went very well, considering the severity of the condition."

  "Can you explain about that again, please?” Dick asked. “Ri—Alex here is a doctor, too, well, a P.A., and I couldn't remember enough of what the nurse told me."

  Rock was happy to let Dick do the talking, because he heard severity of the condition and just saw red again.

  "Of course.” She lifted the edge of Rig's blanket, started checking incisions. “Menetrier's disease is extremely rare and we're not sure why certain men contract it. The stomach lining begins to create folds, hampering digestion, causing pain and vomiting, ulcers. We removed about twenty percent of the stomach, including the most drastic folds."

  She met Rig's eyes. “I assume you've been seriously limited on the amount of food you could eat?"

  Rig nodded.

  "And your records indicated severe pain and vomiting with blood?"

  Another nod.

  "The good news is, even with the removal of tissue, you'll have more room in the pouch once the swelling eases and the pain will soon disappear altogether."

  Rock's hands and teeth clenched and he didn't realize he was looming, glowering, until Dick's hand landed on the small of his back, rubbing in slow circles. It let him take one breath and then another, it let him focus on the good news. “So he's going to make a full recovery?"

  "There will be some alterations, especially to diet. The biggest concern is his weight. Mr. Roberts is seriously underweight and the unfortunate fact is that, with this surgery, we often see drastic weight loss. If he continues to lose weight, his heart will not be able to support him."

  He glared at Rig. How often had he said his cowboy was too skinny?

  "How can we help make sure he doesn't lose anymore weight?” Dick asked.

  "Constant small meals, at first. His condition limits protein absorption, so he'll need to focus on a high-protein diet. Be very careful with alcohol, caffeine, hard-to-digest foods. You'll have to be very careful with early morning vomiting.” She smiled at Rig. “This may ache a bit, but I need to check the drain, deep breath, please."

  She did something and Rig's eyes rolled, a pained grunt filling the air.

  Only Dick's arm around his shoulders and hand on his arm kept him from going for her. He growled, though. “Don't do that again."

  "I'm sorry; it's necessary. If the drain blocks, toxins and infection will build up.” The doctor didn't look intimidated at all. “You're looking much better, Mr. Roberts. Keep it up and we'll move you out of ICU in the morning."

  "That's great!” Dick beamed. “Oh, hey, is there something you can give him besides the morphine? I think it's giving him nightmares."

  "How's your pain? Is it easing?"

  Rig shrugged, “Some."

  "I can try codeine. We can't give him NSAIDs because it might cause the incision where we attached the stomach back to the esophagus to bleed.” She scribbled more notes. “If the pain increases, though, we'll have to go back to the morphine."

  "Thanks. He should heal faster if he can sleep, right?"

  "We'll be sure to tell you if he's hurting more, though.” He wasn't letting Rig hurt a second more than needed. Not now that he knew what the hell was going on.

  "Excellent. I'll stop by in the morning. If things are still improving, we'll move you to a more comfortable room."

  "I'm thirsty.” Rig groaned, grabbed her arm. “Can I have water?"

  "Let's stay with ice for a few hours. If that stays down, we'll graduate to sips of juice."

  "Ice is better than nothing, yeah?” Dick moved back to the other side of the bed, squeezing Rig's arm. “And Rock ‘n I'll keep you distracted."

  The doctor scribbled a few more things and disappeared, a nurse coming in after a few minutes, changing out one medicine bag for another. “This is codeine and the injection into the IV is Phenergen. It'll help keep any nausea down."

  "I hope you don't mind I asked about the morphine.” Dick pushed Rig's hair back. “You've been muttering and moaning and startling yourself awake all morning."

  "No. No, Dick. I ... I keep dreaming. Dreaming that I lost y'all. Was ... Was Deuce here?"

  "We're right here, yeah? And yeah, I think Deuce was here right after you had surgery.” Dick looked over to him and he nodded.

  "Yeah, it's thanks to Robert that we're here."

  "He's a good boy.” Rig's look was unfocused, blinking slower and slower. “He's got a guy here. Oh, I feel that."

  "He does? He didn't mention that.” Of course, Deuce had had other things on his mind. Rock reached over and squeezed Rig's hand. “We'll have to meet him, give Deuce a hard time over him.” Like Rig's dad would have.

  The man would have been real proud to have one of his own join the marines.

  "Uh-huh.” Rig stared at him, head just bobbing. “Thank you for coming. I needed y'all something awful."

  "We'd have been here sooner if we'd known.” He and Dick reached for Rig's head together, pushing his hair back, trying to get him to just relax against the pillows. “We're not going anywhere, so just relax, okay?"

  "The gym?"

  "Did I just tell you to relax or to start worrying about things that aren't yours to worry about?” He'd have to make more permanent arrangements, but they had people who could run the place for them for a few weeks.

  "Uh...” Rig's eyes closed, then slowly reopened. “Hey, Blue."

  Shit, he hated seeing Rig all out of it like this. He just smiled, though. “Hey. Why don't you go to sleep? We'll be here when you wake up."

  "'kay.” He got this goofy, easy smile. “You're still two of the finest men I've ever seen."

  He puffed up for Rig, flexing a little, even if his heart wasn't as in it as usual. “And we always will be."

  "Mmhmm. My men.” Rig nodded and fell asleep, just like that, smile
still on his face.

  He looked over at Dick, who just nodded and went back to watching Rig. Yeah.

  The fist in his belly relaxed just a little bit.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Rig groaned and stared at the new bed.

  Private room.

  TV.

  Water.

  He could do this.

  He could.

  If this fucking wheelchair was higher.

  Rock and Dick had gone out with Deuce and the skinny little boy Deuce was dating. Not ten minutes after the boys left, the nurses said it was time to move.

  God damn it.

  "Come on, Mr. Roberts. Up on the bed and we'll get you settled.” A big square hand landed on his arm.

  "I'll do it myself.” Maybe.

  "Come on, Deb and me, we'll help.” Frank was the biggest, roundest, grinning-est bastard he'd ever seen. Rig was going to have Rock kill him.

  "No. Y'all go on. I said I'll do it myself!"

  "You want to pull out your stitches and get an express elevator back to the ICU? Then you just go ahead and do it yourself, Mr. Roberts.” Nurse Debbie crossed her arms and stared at him. “Go ahead. Frank and I won't be taking the rap for it from that big fella who's been guarding your bed though."

  Shit. Shit, it was gonna hurt like a stone cold bitch to move now and he was fucking scared to move. Fucking exhausted. “Like I'm scared of him."

  She leaned in suddenly, talking quietly enough that Frank couldn't hear. “Look. You're going to tear something open climbing up on that bed. Just let me and Frank do it—we won't tell a soul."

  "It's gonna hurt, honey. I'm not looking forward to this..."

  He let them take his arms, though.

  "It'll hurt worse if you do it yourself."

  He'd bet Rock could have managed to move him without too much trouble or pain.

  "Can't we wait for Rock and Dick?"

  "You want to sit in that wheelchair ‘til they get back?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We'll leave you by the bed where you can hit the nurses’ button if you change your mind. Doctors really are the worst patients."

  "Stop it. Come on, let's do this. I know y'all need the chair. I worked at a hospital for years.” He braced himself, gritted his teeth against the pain.