Paul and I sat side-by-side on the mattress. The awkwardness of my earlier encounter with Jamie still clung to me, a persistent bad taste in my mouth, like the aftertaste of expired medicine. My anger, a simmering pot on the verge of boiling, was slowly cooling, despite Jamie's dismissive shove when I reached out to help him. His rough, uncaring gesture replayed in my mind, igniting brief sparks of resentment that I struggled to extinguish.
In the aftermath, Jamie had trudged off to the river, his figure diminishing with distance, to cleanse his wound—a gash that seemed as deep as the rift growing between us. Since then, he had become a ghost, his absence as palpable as his abrasive presence.
Duke, the ever loyal but overly curious dog, was on his fourth investigative round around the tent. His nose was to the ground, tail wagging, oblivious to the tension that saturated the air. I watched him for a moment, a smile breaking through my turmoil. I found myself yearning for simpler times when our biggest concern was what game to play next, not survival or fractured relationships.
Henri, the chubbier and more serene of our canine companions, had effortlessly claimed his spot on the mattress. With a contented sigh, he curled up in the bottom corner, his breathing steady and comforting. Reaching out, I stroked his soft fur, the simple act a balm to my frayed nerves. Yet, as his warmth seeped into my skin, an unexpected wave of guilt surged through me, a torrent strong enough to make my heart, already thudding in my chest, race even faster. The realisation hit me hard—I was going to miss them, these silent, nonjudgmental friends, more than I dared to admit.
Paul's movement drew my attention. He turned to face me, his expression etched with lines of concern and seriousness. The weight of the moment settled between us, heavy and unspoken. This was the moment of truth. In the back of my mind, a nagging voice whispered, if Paul turns against me, if he chooses to side with Jamie or walk away, my plans, my hopes, everything I've been clinging to, will start to crumble like a cliff edge after a storm.
I felt the weight of potential loss looming over me, threatening to crush the fragile structure of our alliance. Silently, I crossed my fingers behind my back, a childish gesture of hope in the face of looming adversity. I braced myself, every muscle tensed, for Paul's words, for his decision, which felt as significant as any turning point in our shared journey. The future of our fractured little community hung in the balance, suspended on the precipice of Paul's next words, his next actions.
"He needs a doctor, Luke," Paul's voice cut through the tense air, colder and more stern than I had heard it in a long time. It was a tone that I couldn't ignore even if I wanted to.
"I know. I'll take care of it," I replied, trying to muster a confidence I didn't fully feel.
"How?" Paul's question was sharp, a pointed challenge to my vague assurance. "Are you sure bringing another person here is the best idea?" His skepticism was palpable, adding another layer of doubt to the already heavy atmosphere.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was Paul actually siding with Jamie? The thought ignited a spark of anger in me, fanned by the memories of Jamie's oozing wound that now seemed like a ticking bomb in our midst. "So, you agree with Jamie, do you? You think being here is a death sentence?" My voice rose, a mix of desperation and challenge, daring Paul to confirm my worst fears.
"Luke, that's not what I said," Paul interjected, his eyes finally meeting mine. There was a clarity in his gaze, an attempt to bridge the growing chasm of misunderstanding between us.
"But?" I pressed him, feeling the precarious balance of our situation teetering on the edge of his next words.
Paul's eyes closed for a moment, a gesture of gathering his thoughts, or perhaps bracing for the impact of his next words. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with a weariness that spoke volumes of our shared struggles. "Luke," he began, a gentle start to a hard truth.
"Yeah?" I prompted, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread.
"We need someone with decent handyman skills. Jamie and I suck. We can't even lay a concrete slab for the shed." The admission was almost comical in its mundanity, yet it underscored our dire circumstances.
My eyebrows lifted, a reflex to the unexpected turn in our conversation. It was a curveball I hadn't anticipated. Despite the surprise, a wave of relief washed over me. Paul was still with me, at least for now, and in the precarious balance of our current struggles, that was a significant reassurance.
"I shouldn't be surprised," I managed to say, my voice laced with a mix of irony and a faint, forced chuckle.
Paul's gaze met mine, his expression unyielding, the lines of stress etched deeply. "But don't tell Jamie I told you that," he added, his voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "We're struggling enough as it is. The last thing I need is for him to think that I agree with you in bringing more people here." His words were a testament to the fragile alliances and the undercurrent of tension that threaded through our small group.
"Of course. I understand," I replied, my voice steady, masking the churn of thoughts and concerns swirling in my mind.
"Thanks," Paul added, a nod to the trust he was placing in me, despite the circumstances.
Just then, a jolt of realisation struck me. My back stiffened, the muscles tensing instinctively. "Shit," I blurted out, the word escaping before I could catch it. In a sudden movement, I was on my feet, the urgency of the moment propelling me upward.
"What?" Paul's question was quick, a reflection of his own heightened alertness.
"Oh, it's nothing," I answered, trying to sound nonchalant, to douse the spark of concern I'd just ignited in his eyes. It was an instinctive response, to protect him from the additional weight of worry. The less they know about the situation back home, the quicker they might adjust to their new environment, I reasoned silently to myself. Yet, as I stood there, the image of Joel, alone and potentially in danger, gnawed at me, a vivid reminder of the myriad threads of responsibility I was desperately trying to weave together into some form of stability.
"I'd better get going," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I reached down to give Duke a gentle scratch behind his ears. His tail wagged in response, a simple gesture of affection that felt profoundly comforting in that moment.
"Now be good, both of you," I directed, casting a glance toward Henri. His soft snoring was a testament to the peace he found in sleep.
Behind me, Paul's chuckle resonated, a sound that seemed almost foreign in our current environment. It was a brief, fleeting moment of levity that made me smile, a reminder of the bond that still held us together despite the emerging cracks in our foundation.
"Take care of them for me, won't you?" I asked, turning to face Paul, my eyes searching for a glimmer of the brother I knew amidst the shadows of uncertainty that had settled over us.
Paul's nod, silent but laden with unspoken promises, was a small anchor in the swirling sea of my concerns.
My brow furrowed, "I never meant for them to enter like this."
"I know," said Paul, giving my shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.
As I left Henri to his dreams, Paul and Duke fell into step beside me, their presence a silent support as we made our way back to the Portal. The path was familiar, yet each step felt laden with the weight of my impending conversation with Joel.
My mind raced as I walked, turning over possible scenarios, crafting and discarding explanations for Joel. The uncertainty of what awaited me gnawed at my resolve. If Joel was still there, what would I say? How would I explain the chaos that had unfurled since his departure? And if he wasn't... a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach at the thought. The unknowns were a dark canvas, each possibility more daunting than the last.
The Portal loomed over the dune, a gateway back to a reality I was no longer sure I understood. The thought of facing it, of stepping through to confront whatever lay on the other side, was a heavy burden. I was acutely aware that the choices I made now, the actions I took in the coming hours, could alter the course of our lives in ways I couldn't yet comprehend.
As we approached the shimmering threshold, the weight of the situation settled over me like a shroud. Whatever awaited me, whatever challenges and choices lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain: it wouldn't be much fun. But necessity drove me forward, propelling me toward a future that was as uncertain as it was inevitable.
Rising over the crest of a dune, the familiar yet unsettling sight of the Portal greeted me, its colours swirling defiantly against the sun-bleached expanse of the Clivilian desert. My heart plummeted, a sinking sensation of dread as I realised the potential consequences of my oversight.
"Shit!" The expletive slipped out, a raw expression of my mounting panic. I had still left the Portal active, a reckless mistake, with Joel presumably still on the other side. I clung to a sliver of hope that he hadn't ventured through out of curiosity or concern. However, given the string of recent misfortunes, I wasn't inclined to count on luck as my ally.
With a hasty, somewhat awkward wave, I bid a rapid goodbye to Paul. My legs carried me across the sand, each step propelling me toward the Portal with a sense of urgency that left little room for grace. The need to rectify my error, to ensure Joel's safety, overshadowed all else.
"Luke, wait!" Paul's voice sliced through the tense air, halting me mid-stride. I turned, my face contorting into a grimace that I hoped would convey the urgency of the moment without words.
"Can you print us instructions for laying a concrete slab for a shed?" His request, so mundane in the face of everything else, momentarily disarmed me.
"Sure thing," I managed to chuckle, the absurdity of the situation momentarily easing the tightness in my chest. My response was more reflexive than thoughtful.
Without waiting for further conversation, I offered a quick, more deliberate wave and stepped into the Portal's embrace. The colours enveloped me, a dizzying spectrum that seemed to pulse with the beat of my racing heart. As the desert landscape dissolved into the swirling vortex, my thoughts lingered on what awaited me on the other side.
