22: Nausea/Upset Stomach
Kielholz wasn't sure what prompted him to wake up at two in the morning, but somehow, he knew it wasn't good. He looked over the side of his bunk, and panic dissipated the last of his sleepiness when he saw Langenscheidt wasn't in the bunk below. Cursing to himself, Kielholz climbed down from his bunk, putting on his coat and boots, and running outside in the cold night air. He didn't see anyone aside from the night patrols, all of whom looked exhausted.
For a moment, Kielholz wondered if Langenscheidt was just using the latrine, but something was compelling him to go check. Tightening his coat around him, Kielholz headed over to the guards' latrines, and opened the door to find Langenscheidt sitting on the floor, holding a pail in his lap. Kielholz closed the door behind him. "Karl? Are you alright?" he asked, sitting next to Langenscheidt.
"Clearly not," Langenscheidt muttered. "I woke up about an hour ago feeling like I had just been violently spun on a merry-go-round. Eventually, I felt like I stopped spinning, but my stomach has been a different story."
"We all had the same thing for dinner, so we can rule that out," Kielholz said. "You might have that flu again."
"How is that possible?"
Kielholz shrugged. "Too bad we're not at my brother's this time."
"Not unless you decided to carry me there."
"I would absolutely do that, but I think we would be shot as soon as we left the gates without permission."
Langenscheidt nodded. "Has Tobias sent you anything that might help?"
"Like a potion? I don't think so. A general healing potion might help, but those take about twenty-four hours to take full effect."
"I'll try anything. Then again, it'll probably just come right back up."
"We'll go slow. Wait here." Kielholz gently squeezed Langenscheidt's shoulder before standing and running from the latrine. He went back to the guard barracks, and took out his foot locker. He kept the potions his brother sent under a false bottom, all of them marked as different scents of aftershave, but with hints written on them so Kielholz knew which ones they were. He pulled a pale-pink bottle out, and put the foot locker back before running back to the latrine.
He returned to find Langenscheidt looking like his strength had been sucked out with a vacuum cleaner, worse than when Kielholz had left for all of five minutes. Sitting next to his friend, Kielholz uncorked the bottle. "Here. Just take a sip. It shouldn't hurt."
Langenscheidt weakly nudged it away. "No… It'll just come back up."
"Take one sip, Karl. I'm going to keep asking until you do, and you need to decide which is worse—your upset stomach or my fussing."
Langenscheidt sighed before taking the bottle. He stared at it before lifting it to his lips and letting a little bit trickle into his mouth. The process repeated every few minutes or so, until the bottle was empty.
"How do you feel?" Kielholz asked.
"Bit cramped, but as long as it doesn't come up, I think I'll be alright."
"Do you feel like you can go back to the barracks?"
Langenscheidt shook his head.
Kielholz carefully shifted Langenscheidt until the smaller guard was rested against him. "Sleeping against the wall isn't going to be comfortable, so you can sleep on me."
"Fair enough, but isn't it uncomfortable for you to be up against the wall?"
"You're the one who is sick, not me."
After exhausting himself earlier throwing up, Langenscheidt couldn't find the strength to argue. He set the bucket aside before laying his head against Kielholz's shoulder. "I probably shouldn't say this, but I am glad to have you back to your usual self after you had your tonsils removed." He braced himself when he felt Kielholz wrapping his arms around him. "Not so hard, Erich. Not so hard. Gentle, please."
Thankfully, Kielholz's hug didn't tighten. Langenscheidt breathed a sigh of relief before closing his eyes and attempting to sleep.
