Archive of Our Own

The boat floated down the Mekong River under a cloudless blue sky. The dense jungle on both sides was alive with the calls of birds and animals and the buzzing of insects. There were a thousand ways to die here, none of them good. Surviving was, at best, a temporary whim of fate.

Jack Gretsky was sprawled against the side of the boat, gathering his strength, and contemplating their circumstances. “Think we’ll get out of this one alive, Marty?” he asked with a nonchalance born of someone used to pondering that topic.

Martin Castillo was on his back on the deck, staring up at the sky with unfocused eyes that saw another scene entirely. The one they’d left a short time ago, full of screams and blood and death. He was clad only in thin white cotton pants, his torn and bloodied shirt discarded. “All we have to do is wait for the pickup.”

“Ah, piece of cake,” Jack answered with a bark of a laugh. “As long as they don’t double-cross us.”

“If we can make it to Tibet, we can take refuge at the monastery,” Marty suggested.

“That’s a plan,” Jack agreed more to appease than anything else, given the great distance between them and that destination. “If we can make it that far.”

“Piece of cake.”

They lapsed into silence, both physically and spiritually exhausted from the ordeal they’d just escaped.

“Monsoon season starts soon,” Jack volunteered after a while, rubbing absently at a bug bite. For the most part, you learned to ignore them. They’d only get infected if scratched, and learning to disregard the itch was a valuable skill to avoid being distracted at an inopportune time.

“No monsoons at the Temple,” Martin murmured.

Jack laughed. “You really want to go to the temple, don’t you?”

“I want a vacation, a few weeks of rest.”

“Sounds good,” Jack agreed. “Still, it wouldn’t have been a bad way to go if we hadn’t made it out of that ambush back there. Better than getting old or sick. I wouldn’t want to go out that way. Good thing we’ll be dead long before that!”

“Cheerful.”

“Hey, I try.”

“Try getting some sleep. We’ll need to be alert later.”

They dozed under the hot sun, lulled into a light sleep by the lapping of the water and the sounds of nature that had become familiar since they’d been in Southeast Asia. Constantly subliminally aware of their surroundings, though. Tonight, after dark, they would take turns resting properly, and only then, with his trusted comrade keeping watch, would each of them be able to fall into a deep, rejuvenating slumber.

A cool breeze blowing across his skin brought Jack’s eyes open. He looked up at the sky, seeing that now it was gray, filled with angry clouds.

“I might have miscalculated about the monsoon,” Jack admitted a moment before the heavens opened up and brought violent sheets of rain down on their heads.

Laughing, Jack crawled over to Martin, meaning to get them both under shelter. A strong gust of wind tumbled him on top of his partner instead.

Martin grunted at the weight on top of him, raising his hands to grip Jack’s shoulders.

The sudden darkness was illuminated by several flashes of lightning, treating Jack to the view of his amused partner’s face. Electricity danced along their skin, especially at the point where their bodies met. Then, taking advantage of the situation, he pressed closer, rubbing himself against the frame under him. Finally, he brought their mouths together hungrily.

“We’re liable to get electrocuted,” Martin said breathlessly when the need for air separated them, although he was pulling Jack’s shirt off.

“Ah, now that's a way to go!”

“Hmm,” he answered distractedly as he arched up under the sensual onslaught.

“Just think, Marty, we can be as loud as we want. No need to be quiet; the storm will drown out your screams,” Jack added with a leer.”

“Your screams,” Martin countered, groaning when a talented hand opened his pants and slipped inside.

“Our screams.”

He took Martin’s yell as a yes.

As the storm raged and sane people took cover, the two men let it wash away the day’s dirt, blood, and memories until only the two of them were left. They celebrated survival today.

Tomorrow was another day.

The end