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Authors: Richard Matheson
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the time," Doug told him, " Giardia lamblia can kill."
"Jesus, what's that?"
"Parasite," Doug answered. "Deadly little bastards. Use your iodine tablets always."
"Ooh," Bob said.
"What's wrong?" Doug asked.
"The chicken à la king has done its job," Bob answered, making a face.
"Just as well," Doug told him. "Good time to teach you bathroom regulations anyway."
"Regulations?" Bob laughed softly.
"Oh, yeah," Doug said, "very important." He got up. "I'll show you where to go. Come on."
"Okay." Bob winced a little at the pressure in his bowels. "Not too far, I hope."
"Far enough," Doug said.
Bob pulled on his boots and got to his feet with a groan. "Stiff," he said.
"You'll loosen up," Doug told him. "Get your flashlight and toilet paper."
He led Bob away from the camp, walking up the slight rise. He walked and walked. "How far are we going?" Bob asked.
"Far enough," Doug said again.
Bob couldn't believe how far they were walking away from the campsite. "Jesus, I'll need a compass to find my way back," he said, grimacing; he really had to go now.
"Okay, this should do," Doug said. Turning, he looked back at the faint glow of the campfire. "About two hundred or so yards," he estimated. He held out his trowel; Bob hadn't noticed that he'd brought it with him.
"Okay," he said, "behind that boulder would be good. Dig a cat hole six to ten inches deep. Squat over the hole and shit. Then, when you're done, fill the hole back up and tamp the soil down good."
"What about the toilet paper?" Bob asked.
"That you can't bury," Doug told him. "Either you burn it at the campsite or you pack it out."
"Pack it out?" Bob stared at him incredulously.
"So burn it," Doug said. "Just make sure the smoke isn't blowing in my direction."
Bob nodded. "What if the ground's too hard for digging?"
"Cover your crap with dirt or leaves or dead bark or whatever you can find. Just don't leave it uncovered. Some animals might eat it."
"Oh, Jesus," Bob said, moving behind the boulder. He started to undo his trousers, watching Doug's form moving back toward the camp.
"What if I have to take a leak during the night?" he called after him. "Do I have to schlepp all the way back here?"
"No," Doug said across his shoulder. "Just move a decent distance from the campsite." After a few moments, he added, "And try to pee downwind."
Fifteen minutes later, Bob gave up trying to move his bowels. Maybe tomorrow, he told himself.
When he got back to the camp, except for his slippers, Doug was completely naked.
"Whoa! What's going on?" were the first words that occurred to Bob.
Doug chuckled. "Bath time," he said. "What did you think, I was going to seduce you?"
"Uh . . . try to seduce me," Bob replied.
Doug laughed. "Right," he said.
"Bath time?" Bob asked.
"I like to do it every night," Doug told him. Bob noticed that he'd filled a cooking pot with water and was heating it on the grate.
"I thought we slept in our clothes," Bob said.
"You can." Doug's tone was dubious. "But dirt and body oil can collect on the inside of your sleeping bag that way. Eventually find its way into the fabric, eventually into the fill and break down the bag's insulation ability."
"Ah." Bob nodded, averting his eyes.
"This embarrass you?" Doug asked him.
"No. I just—" He broke off. Don't be so polite, he thought. "Well . . . yes, sort of. Outside of my son, I haven't seen a naked man since college gymnasium."
"Don't know what you been missing," Doug said. Bob glanced up at him. What the hell did that mean?
Doug laughed again. "Jesus Christ, Bob, I'm just kidding."
"Oh, okay." Bob nodded, trying to smile.
"If I'd known this was going to bother you, I'd have done it behind a tree. It's a little warmer by the fire though."
"Yes. Of course." Bob was aware of trying to sound casual and failing.
"Not that I need the fire," Doug told him. "I'm exothermic; it's easy for me to release heat. My hands and feet are always warm."
"Not Marian," Bob said, still
"Jesus, what's that?"
"Parasite," Doug answered. "Deadly little bastards. Use your iodine tablets always."
"Ooh," Bob said.
"What's wrong?" Doug asked.
"The chicken à la king has done its job," Bob answered, making a face.
"Just as well," Doug told him. "Good time to teach you bathroom regulations anyway."
"Regulations?" Bob laughed softly.
"Oh, yeah," Doug said, "very important." He got up. "I'll show you where to go. Come on."
"Okay." Bob winced a little at the pressure in his bowels. "Not too far, I hope."
"Far enough," Doug said.
Bob pulled on his boots and got to his feet with a groan. "Stiff," he said.
"You'll loosen up," Doug told him. "Get your flashlight and toilet paper."
He led Bob away from the camp, walking up the slight rise. He walked and walked. "How far are we going?" Bob asked.
"Far enough," Doug said again.
Bob couldn't believe how far they were walking away from the campsite. "Jesus, I'll need a compass to find my way back," he said, grimacing; he really had to go now.
"Okay, this should do," Doug said. Turning, he looked back at the faint glow of the campfire. "About two hundred or so yards," he estimated. He held out his trowel; Bob hadn't noticed that he'd brought it with him.
"Okay," he said, "behind that boulder would be good. Dig a cat hole six to ten inches deep. Squat over the hole and shit. Then, when you're done, fill the hole back up and tamp the soil down good."
"What about the toilet paper?" Bob asked.
"That you can't bury," Doug told him. "Either you burn it at the campsite or you pack it out."
"Pack it out?" Bob stared at him incredulously.
"So burn it," Doug said. "Just make sure the smoke isn't blowing in my direction."
Bob nodded. "What if the ground's too hard for digging?"
"Cover your crap with dirt or leaves or dead bark or whatever you can find. Just don't leave it uncovered. Some animals might eat it."
"Oh, Jesus," Bob said, moving behind the boulder. He started to undo his trousers, watching Doug's form moving back toward the camp.
"What if I have to take a leak during the night?" he called after him. "Do I have to schlepp all the way back here?"
"No," Doug said across his shoulder. "Just move a decent distance from the campsite." After a few moments, he added, "And try to pee downwind."
Fifteen minutes later, Bob gave up trying to move his bowels. Maybe tomorrow, he told himself.
When he got back to the camp, except for his slippers, Doug was completely naked.
"Whoa! What's going on?" were the first words that occurred to Bob.
Doug chuckled. "Bath time," he said. "What did you think, I was going to seduce you?"
"Uh . . . try to seduce me," Bob replied.
Doug laughed. "Right," he said.
"Bath time?" Bob asked.
"I like to do it every night," Doug told him. Bob noticed that he'd filled a cooking pot with water and was heating it on the grate.
"I thought we slept in our clothes," Bob said.
"You can." Doug's tone was dubious. "But dirt and body oil can collect on the inside of your sleeping bag that way. Eventually find its way into the fabric, eventually into the fill and break down the bag's insulation ability."
"Ah." Bob nodded, averting his eyes.
"This embarrass you?" Doug asked him.
"No. I just—" He broke off. Don't be so polite, he thought. "Well . . . yes, sort of. Outside of my son, I haven't seen a naked man since college gymnasium."
"Don't know what you been missing," Doug said. Bob glanced up at him. What the hell did that mean?
Doug laughed again. "Jesus Christ, Bob, I'm just kidding."
"Oh, okay." Bob nodded, trying to smile.
"If I'd known this was going to bother you, I'd have done it behind a tree. It's a little warmer by the fire though."
"Yes. Of course." Bob was aware of trying to sound casual and failing.
"Not that I need the fire," Doug told him. "I'm exothermic; it's easy for me to release heat. My hands and feet are always warm."
"Not Marian," Bob said, still
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