"Think, Luke, think," I found myself whispering under my breath, a mantra to stave off the rising panic. My movements were erratic, almost comical, as I spun in circles in the middle of the study. The room, with its cluttered desk and shelves filled with books on subjects ranging from quantum physics to classic literature, seemed to mock my indecision. Everywhere I looked, reminders of a simpler life, now impossibly out of reach, tugged at my conscience.
"Right, the shelter," I finally declared, a semblance of determination cutting through the fog of uncertainty. My voice echoed slightly in the empty room, a reminder of my solitude. I set off on my mission, moving with a purpose that felt both urgent and absurd given the circumstances.
The kitchen, usually a haven of comfort and familial warmth, felt cold and unfamiliar. I rummaged through the drawers with a sense of urgency, my hands closing around a pair of scissors with a grip tighter than necessary. Next, I secured a large knife from the block on the bench, its weight oddly reassuring. Placing these items into a shopping bag I unearthed from the back of a top drawer, I couldn't help but marvel at the mundane nature of these objects now tasked with survival.
My next stop was the laundry cupboard, a cramped space that held more than just detergents and fabric softeners. At its bottom, buried under a pile of seldom-used cleaning supplies, was the small, yet comprehensive toolkit my father had given me. It was a gift I had accepted with a smile and promptly forgotten about, its existence only now regaining significance. As I hoisted it onto the washing machine, I noted the absence of the hammer and a few other pieces, their purposes unknown to me. The mystery of their disappearance was a puzzle I had no time to solve, though I found the loss irritatingly perplexing.
With the toolkit opened and its contents assessed, I focused on what remained. The screwdriver, complete with most of its fittings, seemed like a small victory. It was a reminder that, even in the most dire situations, you work with what you have. The notion that you could hammer with a rock but couldn't coax a crosshead screw with brute force alone brought a grim smile to my face.
Gathering my makeshift arsenal, I couldn't shake the feeling of being a child playing at adulthood, collecting tools and items with the seriousness of a game. Yet, as I turned back towards the study, the weight of my responsibility bore down on me. The Portal, with its mesmerising dance of colours, stood as a gateway to Clivilius, a challenge to be met head-on.
"I've come bearing gifts," I announced with lightness, stepping into the clearing where Jamie and Paul had, in my short absence, efficiently repositioned the tent boxes on a patch of ground that was more level and closer to the river's gentle banks.
Jamie turned towards me, his expression tight, the remnants of our earlier altercation hanging between us like a thick fog. "There had better be a knife in that bag of yours," he said, his voice laced with an edge that suggested the bridge between us was still in need of repair.
"As a matter of fact, there is," I replied, injecting as much cheer into my voice as I could muster, hoping to dispel the chilly atmosphere. My attempt at buoyancy felt like a balloon, fragile and easily burst by the sharpness of Jamie’s negativity.
"Thank God for that," Paul chimed in, a note of genuine relief in his voice that served as a reminder of the practical challenges that lay ahead. "We moved all these boxes ready to put the tent up and then realised we couldn't get that blue plastic crap off. I was about to start trying to bite my way through."
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image, picturing Paul, with his usual calm demeanour, reduced to gnawing on plastic in frustration. "You may find these useful too," I offered, elevating the toolkit I held with a flourish, trying to mimic the gravitas of a knight presenting a holy relic, rather than the reality of me clutching a slightly dusty, half-empty toolkit.
Jamie eyed the toolkit with skepticism, his gaze sharp. "Did you check that all the tools were actually in there?" he asked, his tone dripping with a condescension that seemed to erode the tentative peace I was trying to establish.
"Of course, I did," I retorted, more sharply than intended, the sting of his doubt igniting a flicker of defensiveness within me.
"And?" he pressed, not letting up.
"And most of it is in there. Only a few random bits are missing. But I don't know what any of them were anyway so I doubt they would have been very useful," I admitted, trying to brush off the incomplete nature of the toolkit with an attempt at humour that felt flat even to my own ears.
Paul’s laughter broke the tension, a welcome sound in the strained atmosphere. "Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" he teased.
"Well, it's not like you're any better," Jamie shot back, a hint of the old camaraderie we shared flickering to life in his eyes as he turned his attention to Paul. His next words surprised me, a defence in my favour that I hadn't expected. "I've seen the unfortunate state of your latest home construction project. Scrolling through your Facebook is like watching all the 'before' bits from DIY SOS back-to-back."
"Anyway," I began, eager to shift the dynamics of our interaction away from the playful jabs and towards the more pressing matters at hand. The weight of responsibility felt heavy on my shoulders as I considered the unknown variables of our new environment. "The two of you had better get to work putting this tent together. We have no idea what the temperature or conditions are like here at night. We'd better be as prepared for the unexpected as possible."
"We?" Jamie questioned, his tone laced with a hint of challenge as he gestured between himself and Paul, his eyebrow arched in silent query. "And what about you? Aren't you going to help us?" he pressed, his eyes locking onto mine, searching for an indication of my intentions.
"I'm going to see if I can get us a couple more tents. I know this one is huge, but I'm sure you'd both appreciate having your own," I explained, trying to communicate the practicality of my decision through the earnestness in my voice. The thought of them each having their own space seemed like a small comfort I could offer.
"Good point," Paul chimed in, casting a glance towards Jamie. His voice carried a note of reason that seemed to bridge the gap between Jamie's skepticism and my own urgency. "He's not wrong."
Jamie's response was a reluctant shrug, not quite an endorsement of my plan but far from the outright disagreement I had half-expected. It felt like a tentative step towards reconciliation, or at least an acknowledgment of the practicalities of survival in this unfamiliar place.
Eager to make the most of the day, I turned to leave, my mind already racing ahead to the logistics of acquiring additional tents and the myriad other tasks that awaited me. There's so much that needs to be done. I don't have time to hang around engaging in idle chit chat, I thought, the weight of decisions pressing down on me with each step I took.
"Wait!" Jamie's voice pierced the air, halting me in my tracks before I had barely taken a step. "We may as well see if we can leave with you again," he suggested, looking over at Paul for support.
"Sure! Good idea," Paul agreed, though his voice was tinged with a resignation that spoke volumes.
I shrugged, a gesture meant to mask the complexity of emotions swirling within me. I knew deep down that their return to Earth was an impossibility, a cruel fact of our new reality. Yet, acknowledging their need to discover this truth for themselves felt like a necessary concession, a way to honour the bond we shared, even as it frayed under the strain of our circumstances. Their journey to acceptance was a path they had to walk on their own, and all I could do was provide them with the opportunity to take those first, faltering steps.
The three of us trudged back to the Portal, the air heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. I could feel the tension radiating off Jamie as we neared the swirling vortex of colours that marked the threshold between worlds. My heart pounded in my chest, a silent drumbeat echoing the gravity of the moment.
Jamie moved ahead, a determined figure against the backdrop of the unknown. Arms outstretched, he approached the Portal with a mix of reverence and desperation. I watched, holding my breath, as he attempted to breach the barrier between realms. His hands, mere inches from the kaleidoscope of light, seemed to struggle against an invisible force. With each effort, his movements grew more laboured, as if the air itself conspired to hold him back.
The atmosphere around the Portal began to change, the air crackling with unseen energy, a prelude to the unseen dangers that lay in pushing too far. Despite the ominous signs, Jamie pressed forward, driven by a yearning that seemed to transcend reason. His clothes, drenched in sweat from the effort, began to emit steam as they neared the radiating energy, a testament to his determination.
Abruptly, Jamie stopped. His body went rigid, and the colour drained from his face, leaving him ghostly pale in the unearthly glow. It was clear, even without words, that Clivilius had spoken to him again, delivering a message that only Jamie could hear. The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken words and shattered hopes.
With a swift turn, Jamie faced Paul, his expression one of utter defeat. "You try," he muttered, a hollow resignation in his voice. It was a gesture of surrender, an acknowledgment of the barrier that stood immovable before his desires.
Paul, looking every bit the reluctant conscript, glanced at Jamie before stepping forward. His movements were cautious, as if each step brought him closer not just to the Portal, but to the realisation of their shared predicament.
"Go," Jamie said, a simple command that carried the weight of their collective despair.
As Paul cautiously made his way towards the enigmatic Portal, his movements were measured, echoing the tentative steps of someone walking towards an uncertain destiny. The air around us was charged with a palpable tension
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie's body tense, a precursor to the impulsive act that would soon unfold. My instincts kicked in, and I stretched out my hand in a futile attempt to intervene. However, time seemed to betray me, moving too swiftly for my reaction to matter. Jamie, with a sudden burst of force, pushed Paul from behind with a startling ferocity. The shock of the act sent Paul stumbling forward, his balance lost to the surprise and momentum of Jamie's shove.
I watched, heart in throat, as Paul's arms flailed in a desperate attempt to regain his equilibrium. His body pitched towards the vibrant, swirling vortex of the Portal, the air around him crackling with an electric anticipation. Everything slowed, as if the moment sought to etch itself into my memory with cruel clarity. Paul's fingers grazed the threshold of the Portal, and for an instant, the world held its breath.
Then, with a force that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us, a blinding explosion of light erupted from the Portal. A sonic boom followed, a sound so profound it felt as though the sky itself might split apart. Paul was catapulted backwards, his body a ragdoll thrown by an unseen force, landing heavily in the alien dust that blanketed the ground of this strange world.
Rushing to Paul's side, I found him lying there, dazed, his clothing singed, smoke rising from the fabric in silent testimony to the ordeal. His eyes, wide with shock, began to brim with tears.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, voice laced with concern, my hands hovering over him, afraid to touch lest I exacerbate any unseen injuries.
My attention snapped to Jamie, anger flaring within me. "What the fuck did you do that for?" I demanded, incredulous at his reckless endangerment of my brother.
Jamie's focus remained on Paul, as if I hadn't spoken, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "So, you heard it too?" he questioned Paul, a desperate search for validation in his tone.
Paul's nod, silent and sombre, only deepened the mystery.
"Heard what?" My frustration momentarily gave way to intrigue, the desire to understand the unseen force that had influenced Jamie's actions.
Before the question could be fully explored, Jamie's anger erupted in a physical outburst. "Fucking shit!" He exclaimed, his foot striking the dust in a futile display of defiance. The resulting cloud enveloped him, a poetic justice that left him coughing and battling the very air he sought to dominate.
The weight of Paul's despair hung heavily in the air, his single tear a silent testament to the crushing realisation of his predicament. It shimmered briefly in the sunlight, tracing a path down his cheek. The sight of it tugged at something deep within me, a reminder of the irreversible path I had set them upon. The question that haunted my thoughts finally escaped my lips, fragile and fraught with uncertainty.
"What did you hear?" The repetition of my question seemed to echo around us, a desperate plea for some sliver of understanding.
Paul's voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper, laden with a resignation so profound it felt like a physical blow. "That we can never leave," he murmured, the words slicing through the tense air with the precision of a knife. "This is it. Forever. I'm going to die here."
"Oh," was the only response I could muster, as my heart landed like a stone in the pit of my stomach. The final confirmation of what I had already known hit me much harder than I expected. My stomach twisted in a tight knot of guilt as my eyes drifted towards the rust-coloured ground.
Before I could muster any semblance of a response, Jamie's fury erupted like a volcano. His rage, tangible and fierce, propelled him towards me with alarming speed. His hands found my chest with a force that sent shockwaves through my body, his shove pushing me back both physically and metaphorically. The ferocity in his voice full with betrayal and disbelief.
"You fucking arsehole!" yelled Jamie, covering the distance between us with just two furious strides and giving me a hard shove in the chest. "What in the name of holy fuck were you thinking? How the hell did you think this was going to go? Did you think we wouldn't find out? Is that it? Did you think you could literally kidnap us and no one would fucking notice?"
As Jamie's hand transformed into a clenched weapon, aiming for the vulnerability of my temple, I acted purely on instinct. My hand shot up, deflecting his fury-driven punch with an urgency I didn't know I possessed. The sight of him, so utterly consumed by anger, was foreign and terrifying. Jamie, the partner I knew, was always measured, always in control; this version of him, with eyes wide and tears carving tracks through the dust on his face, was a stranger propelled by despair and fear.
The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of impending violence and the heavy breaths of men pushed to their limits. Paul's intervention came as a sudden break in the storm. "Hey!" His voice, laced with desperation, cut through the tumult as he grasped Jamie's arm, halting the momentum of another blow meant to find me. His plea for peace, however, only served as a catalyst for Jamie's anger to pivot towards him.
Jamie's dismissal of Paul's attempt to mediate was swift, his actions underscored by a venom that seemed to poison the air between them. "You're no better than your pathetic excuse for a brother," he spat. The shove he delivered to Paul was merciless, sending him staggering back with a force that underscored the depth of Jamie's rage. Watching Paul's knees buckle, the helplessness of his fall, filled me with a fear and protectiveness I hadn't felt since we were children.
"Cut it out, Jamie!" My own voice sounded foreign to me, a scream torn from somewhere deep and primal. It was a plea, a command, an expression of all the frustration that had built up. Jamie paused, the raw edge of my scream slicing through his rage, grounding him back to a reality where violence solved nothing, where the person in front of him wasn't just an outlet for his anger but a human.
The moment that followed was fragile, charged with the remnants of anger and the heavy realisation of what had nearly transpired. Jamie's heavy breathing was the only sound that filled the void, a testament to the intensity of his fury now ebbing away. The standoff between him and Paul, marked by Paul's steady gaze, was a silent battle of wills, ending not with more violence but with an uneasy truce.
Without speaking, I found the strength to stand, my movements automatic as I turned my back on the scene. The Portal, that cursed gateway that had brought us to this moment, now served as my path away from the immediate drama. Each step felt like a surrender, a retreat from a battle I had no hope of winning. I left Jamie and Paul behind in a silence that was as much a product of their shock as it was a testament to the rift that had formed between us.
Their silence was a burden I carried with me through the Portal, a heavy cloak of guilt and responsibility for the strife that had unfolded. They would have to navigate the treacherous waters of their relationship without me, to find a way to coexist in this new world they were trapped in. The weight of my decisions, of my failure to protect them from this fate and from each other, was a spectre that followed me, a constant reminder of the cost of our journey to Clivilius.
Stepping back into the familiar confines of the study, the contrast between the emotional turbulence I had just left behind and the peaceful domesticity awaiting me was stark. Duke, with his ever-wagging tail and a chew toy hanging limply from his mouth, was the epitome of unaffected joy. His enthusiastic greeting, complete with a sloppy kiss that left a wet trail across my cheek, was a balm to the raw edges of my spirit. The complexity of inter-dimensional conflicts and brotherly strife seemed to dissolve in the face of his simple, unbridled happiness. The fact that he barely registered the anomaly of my entrance through a wall of shimmering light only added a touch of surreal humour to the moment, grounding me back to a semblance of normalcy.
Compelled by a newfound determination to mitigate the tension between Jamie and Paul, I wasted no time in addressing one of the more pressing logistical issues we faced. The prospect of them sharing a tent seemed increasingly untenable, a recipe for further discord that I was keen to avoid. Seated at my computer, I quickly navigated to an online retailer, the glow of the screen casting a soft light in the dim room. The decision to order three additional large canvas tents felt both reckless and necessary, a strange juxtaposition of financial imprudence and pragmatic problem-solving. The hefty sum it cost, while a concern, seemed a distant worry compared to the immediate needs of their survival in Clivilius. Besides, the thought of Earthly authorities tracking me down in another dimension bordered on the comical, offering a momentary reprieve.
A sense of accomplishment washed over me as I finalised the purchase, the immediate confirmation email serving as a tangible symbol of my efforts. The knowledge that Jamie and Paul would soon have their own spaces, along with additional tents for supplies, instilled in me a cautious optimism about the future of our settlement.
Buoyed by this small victory, I set about gathering other essentials with a renewed focus. The practicalities of daily life in Clivilius demanded attention to detail, and I found myself counting out bottles of spring water and collecting writing supplies with the meticulousness of a quartermaster. The weight of the water bottles, a physical reminder of the challenges ahead, did little to dampen my resolve as I prepared to return to Clivilius.
Opening the Portal once more, I stepped through the threshold with a mixture of trepidation and determination. The act of balancing the supplies, while navigating the entrance to an alien world, was a fitting metaphor for the delicate balance I was attempting to maintain between my responsibilities and the unpredictable dynamics of our group. Returning to Clivilius with the day's second delivery, I felt a semblance of purpose amidst the uncertainty, a small step towards forging a sustainable existence in this new world.
I headed north toward the river, where I could see that Paul and Jamie had made significant and, given the short timescale, impressive progress on pitching the large tent.
Drawing closer, the familiar weight of my mobile in my hand felt oddly anachronistic here, a relic of a world that was suddenly far removed from our current reality. The action of dialling Paul, an experiment driven by a mix of curiosity and a need for confirmation, yielded exactly the outcome I had anticipated: the disconnected signal resonated not with frustration, but with a sense of finality.
"What are you doing?" Paul's inquiry cut through my thoughts.
"Did your phone ring?" My question, more a rhetorical one, was met with his momentary confusion before he dutifully checked his device.
"No," he responded, the slow realisation of the situation dawning on him. "Should it have?"
“Well, I just tried calling it," I explained, watching the gears turn in his head. "I needed to check to be sure, but it seems like our mobile phones are useless here. You may as well hand it over to me, they'll help me sort stuff out on the other side."
Paul's subsequent flurry of attempts to connect with anyone, anywhere, ended as expected—in utter failure. The defeated way he tossed his phone at my feet, a gesture of surrender, was poignant. I scooped up the device, checking it almost out of habit for any damage.
"You'd better write your passcode down for me," I said, locking eyes with him. His bewilderment was palpable, a mix of resignation and the stirrings of trust in my intentions.
His mock search for a pen, an exaggerated patting of pockets, was met with my readiness. "Don't worry. I'm way ahead of you," I assured him, presenting the bag of essentials I had brought from the other side. The pens and paper, mundane objects from our previous life, now held new significance as lifelines to our past and tools for our future.
The weight of Paul's question, "So, you knew?" hung in the air between us, thick with accusation and the sting of betrayal. The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, a raw edge of vulnerability that I hadn't anticipated. I found myself backpedaling, hands raised in a gesture of peace, as I scrambled to smooth over the tension. "I didn't know," I insisted, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I only suspected they wouldn't. It made sense. There's nothing to connect to here and apparently signals can't come through the Portal."
His frown deepened, the lines on his forehead etching a map of his frustrations and doubts. "You know what you're asking, don't you?" The challenge in Paul's eyes was a clear reflection of the inner turmoil he was grappling with. "You want us to give up. To allow ourselves to be completely cut off from the life we know."
"Did your phone ring?" I countered, wielding Paul's silent phone like a shield against his arguments. It was a stark reminder of his reality, a reality where connections to his past life was as absent as the signal he hoped for.
"No, but—" His objection was cut short, his resistance crumbling under the weight of undeniable logic.
"So, what difference does it make, then?"
Watching him take the bag and pen, I could see the moment he surrendered to the inevitability of the situation. The heavy sigh that escaped him as he wrote down his passcode was laden with resignation, a silent acknowledgment of the new life he was being forced to accept.
"Your turn, Jamie," Paul's attempt to involve Jamie met with a cold, unyielding silence that seemed to stretch and bend the space between them.
"Jamie!" My shout cut through the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap Jamie's anger had created. His response was immediate and sharp, a verbal slap that echoed off the surrounding landscape. "You're not having my fucking phone, Luke." The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation, a clear line drawn in the sand that he was not willing to cross.
As Jamie returned to his task, the tension between us palpable, Paul's whispered question, "Why him?" felt like a reflection of my own doubts.
I shrugged, feeling the heaviness of Paul's gaze on me, his expectations a tangled web I had no desire to untangle. It wasn't my fault that they weren't getting along, nor that our phones had become little more than sleek, useless rectangles in this world. True, I had been the one to bring us here, but the rules of Clivilius were not mine to set.
Yet, the phones were not totally useless, a thought that flickered in my mind like a stubborn flame. I suspected they might come in very handy back on Earth. After all, Jamie and Paul couldn't just vanish into thin air, could they?
Holding up the phone, I tried to muster a semblance of authority, or at least, a plan. "I'll keep this safe," I told Paul. My gaze drifted over to Jamie, purposely lingering. "In the meantime, you should both consider what your immediate needs are," I said, my voice steady despite the churn of frustration within. "Write them down and I'll get busy keeping you both alive, ok?"
"Sure," Paul's response came, a simple word that carried with it a thread of hope, or perhaps just resignation.
"Good. So, Paul wants to stay alive. Jamie?" I probed, already bracing for the onslaught.
"Fuck off."
I rolled my eyes, a gesture that felt all too common in Jamie's presence. His ability to maintain such a level of corrosive negativity was, in its own twisted way, remarkable. It was an endurance test of the spirit, one that he seemed to pass with flying colours every single time. Had the situation been any less dire, I might have found it impressive. As it stood, it was nothing short of a thorn in my side.
"I have a few things to take care of back on Earth. I'll come back soon for your list," I told them, turning to leave but Jamie's voice stopped me.
"What things have you got to take care of?” he sneered, his words dripping with disdain.
"Oh, you know. Just things that will keep you alive. I can not bother if you'd prefer...?” The sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it, a defensive reflex to Jamie's constant barbs. If he wanted to act like a petulant child, then so be it.
"Just fuck off already, Luke," Jamie snapped back, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension that hung between us like a physical barrier.
"Fine,” I replied, the disappointment heavy in my voice. I had hoped, foolishly perhaps, for a moment of unity, or at least a ceasefire. But Jamie's relentless negativity seemed to know no bounds. Why couldn't he see the situation for what it was and try, just try, to be a bit more like Paul?
With a resigned shrug directed at my brother, I turned, my footsteps carrying me back toward the Portal. The landscape of Clivilius stretched out before me, a world of untold mysteries, and yet, the challenge of surviving here paled in comparison to the task of navigating the tumultuous waters of my companions' personalities.
"And put some bloody clothes on while you're there," Jamie's voice carried over the crest of a dune, a final jab that seemed to echo in the silence that followed.
Jamie's attitude had cast a shadow over my mood, thick and unwieldy like the clouds that precede a storm. Yet, in the depths of my being, a soft spot for him persisted, an enigma wrapped in the complex tapestry of human relationships. I couldn't help but care deeply for both Jamie and Paul, a sentiment that seemed to defy logic and reason, rooted in a place far beyond the grasp of my understanding. As I was lost in this philosophical musing on the nature of love and attachment, a primal reminder of our basic needs cut through the silence - the fierce growling of my empty stomach. They need food, the thought struck me with the force of a revelation. In the drama of our predicament, I had completely overlooked such a fundamental necessity.
I returned to my makeshift command centre, where Paul's mobile lay alongside the wallets I had earlier deposited on the desk. The act of jumping online to tackle our sustenance issue felt almost normal, a brief return to a semblance of everyday life amidst the surrealness of our situation. I navigated through the virtual aisles with a sense of purpose, placing two rather sizeable grocery orders from different supermarkets to ensure a variety of provisions. The confirmation screens popped up, presenting me with the total cost - a number so staggeringly high it bordered on comical. A decision hung in the air, quickly settling as I opted to charge the expense to Jamie's card. With the uncertainty clouding our immediate future, financial prudence seemed like a luxury we could ill afford. There's no point leaving money on it now, I reasoned, a pragmatic approach to our dire circumstances.
"It's a good thing I can order online and they home deliver," I found myself saying out loud, addressing Duke, who lay sprawled at my feet, embodying the very essence of contentment. His inane look, a constant since his puppy days, offered a sliver of comfort. Duke looked up, his head tilt a silent testament to the unconditional loyalty and effort to understand that seemed so rare in human interactions. Leaning down, I scratched behind his ear, a simple gesture that sparked a moment of genuine connection. "At least you're easily pleased," I murmured, the corners of my mouth lifting in a contented smile.
As I leaned back, the weight of responsibility settled back onto my shoulders, the brief respite fading into the background. The mental checklist of tasks seemed to grow by the second, a testament to the complexities of ensuring survival. The thought of Jamie's earlier outburst brought a wry grin to my face as I stood up. "I guess I had better have a shower and, by special request of Clivilius' first asshole, put some clothes on," I quipped to Duke, offering him one more scratch on the head.
The journey from the desk to the shower felt like transitioning between worlds, from the immediacy of survival to the mundane acts of personal care. Yet, even as I prepared to follow Jamie's begrudging advice, my mind raced with the next steps, the next problems to solve, and the delicate balance of keeping us all alive and sane. The water would wash away the dust and grime, but the weight of our predicament clung to me, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.
As the tendrils of daylight stretched across the sky, painting the horizon in hues of gold, my curiosity nudged me towards the encampment where Paul and Jamie were presumably wrestling with their tent construction project. The thought of their potential discord, possibly teetering on the brink of outright conflict, added a layer of urgency to my steps. The notion that I might be ferrying essentials back and forth between worlds had solidified into a plan; each trip through the Portal would be a small but significant contribution to their burgeoning settlement. Efficiency, it seemed, had become my new mantra.
Armed with a roll of black garbage bags, a mundane artefact of our old world, I set off towards Clivilius. The bags, seemingly trivial, were about to become an integral part of our efforts to keep our new surroundings pristine.
"What now?" The familiar strain of irritation in Jamie's voice greeted me long before I could discern the details of their makeshift camp. His tone, a constant echo of discontent, was quickly weaving itself into the fabric of Clivilius existence.
"I've got clothes on," I retorted with a light-heartedness I wasn't entirely feeling, spinning in the sand to showcase my compliance with his earlier demand. My jeans danced with the grains of sand, creating miniature whirlwinds at my feet, a playful defiance in the gentle breeze.
"You're such a dork," Paul's laughter cut through the tension, a welcome respite from the undercurrent of frustration that seemed to be our constant companion. His amusement at my antics was a reminder of the bonds that still held us together, fragile though they may feel at times.
I couldn't help but smile, acknowledging my role in this strange new world with a soft shrug. "I know," I admitted, holding up the roll of garbage bags like a trophy. "I figured rather than dirty a brand spanking new world, you can put all your rubbish in these garbage bags and I can take them back through the Portal."
"But how is that possible? I thought we couldn't leave?" Jamie's question, laced with skepticism, was valid. The rules of this world, and our place within it, were still being defined.
"You can't," I clarified, a note of solemnity creeping into my voice as I confronted the reality of our known limitations. "But it seems that items can. I took Paul's phone, remember?"
"You might want to keep anything combustible," I suggested, the memory of the previous night's darkness enveloping my thoughts like a shroud. "It gets pretty dark here at night."
Jamie and Paul both shrugged their unenthusiastic agreement and soon after, I found myself helping them to fill the first garbage bag with the copious amounts of blue wrapping that had swaddled the various packages of tent.
As we worked, I couldn’t help but notice that my brother had sensibly decided to combat the heat of physical labour by going shirtless. This raised a question in my mind that, try as I might, I could not shake. I knew it could stir up even more tension between us, but my curiosity got the better of me.
"So..." The word hung in the air, heavy with implication. I was treading on thin ice, aware of the potential fallout yet driven by a need to understand, to challenge the inconsistencies in our dynamics.
"So, what?" Jamie asked, without looking up from what he was doing.
"So..." I pressed on, unwilling to let the moment pass, my gaze locked on Jamie. "Why is it that you made such a big deal about me, your boyfriend, having no shirt on, yet you seem to be perfectly comfortable with my brother flashing himself around?"
With the choked cough of a suddenly deeply uncomfortable man, Paul fumbled with the corner of the bag, sending its contents spilling onto the fine, orange dust. Quickly, he dropped to his knees and began to rectify his mistake, grateful for the opportunity to hide his bright red face from view.
"I think you better bring us a couple of towels, a few rolls of toilet paper and a shovel," Jamie said, his tone blunt yet unexpectedly pragmatic.
For a moment, I stood there, dumbfounded, my mind struggling to align this new, constructive version of Jamie with the one I'd grown accustomed to. It was as if the harsh environment of Clivilius had begun to erode the barriers we'd built up, revealing undercurrents of practicality I hadn't anticipated. Could it be that our shared struggle was beginning to foster a sense of unity, however grudging?
"Oh, and I really need my suitcase of clothes, too," Paul chimed in, his voice slightly muffled as he clambered back to his feet, dusting the orange sand from his knees. There was an earnestness to his request, a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with the rugged, alien terrain that surrounded us.
I caught a glimpse of Paul's face, flushed from more than just the physical exertion of our endeavours. There was a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes, a hint of shared secrets or perhaps a private embarrassment. Jamie, for his part, seemed almost... cooperative, a word I'd never thought to associate with him in our current context.
Nodding silently, I acknowledged their requests, a flurry of questions swirling in my mind. The sudden shift in dynamics, the palpable sense of something left unsaid, it all hinted at deeper layers to our interactions, complexities that were slowly being unearthed alongside our physical toils. Yet, I chose not to press for answers. The day had taught me that patience, like the scarce resources we so desperately needed, was a virtue best cultivated in silence.
As the three of us made final preparations for me to attempt to return to Earth with their rubbish, ensuring that every last piece of trash was dutifully removed from their pristine little camp, Paul remembered that he had actually made a list, just as I had asked. He handed it to me.
"I'll be sure to get everything you need," I assured him, my voice laced with determination. Folding the list with a reverence that might have seemed exaggerated under different circumstances, I slipped it into my back pocket, feeling the weight of their trust pressing against me.
Paul and Jamie followed me up to the Portal, waiting to see if our theory of what could and could not, be returned to Earth was, in fact, correct.
The moment I stepped through the Portal, the sensation was surreal; a cold shiver ran down my spine as I moved through the shimmering lights, the familiar yet always unnerving transition from one world to another.
Once back on Earth, the act of disposing of the rubbish, a mundane task transformed into a symbol of our small victory, filled me with an unexpected sense of pride. Dropping the garbage bags into the wheelie bin, the clatter of the lid echoing in the quiet, felt like the closing of another chapter.
The three of us are still alive. The simplicity of that thought, in the context of our extraordinary circumstances, was both a relief and a rallying cry. Clivilius, with all its mystery, had not claimed us, and more importantly, the fragile peace between Jamie and Paul had held.
"This civilisation building stuff is easy!" The chuckle that escaped my lips as I made my way back inside was more than just amusement; it was an expression of the joy and resilience that had begun to define my journey.
