The scene unfolding before me seemed surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Henri stood at the river's bank, his body rigid, barking furiously at Paul, who was engaged in a desperate struggle beside him.

Paul, with his back hunched, was leaning over the feet of a body that lay face down in the water, its gentle bobbing in sync with the river's current adding a macabre rhythm to the scene. My heart thudded in my chest, a heavy, ominous drumbeat that seemed to echo the river's flow.

"Jamie," I whispered, the name escaping my lips like a prayer, a plea to the universe that this was some cruel mistake. My body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring, as the intense terror that Jamie, the man who was my anchor in a tumultuous world, might be ripped away from me, coursed through my veins.

"Help me!" Paul's scream shattered the relative calm, his voice laced with urgency and fear. "Hurry. He needs help!"

"Paul, what's going on?" My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, strained and cracked with emotion as I called out, my legs feeling like they were made of jelly. They struggled to carry me the short remaining distance to the scene, the earth beneath me seemingly shifting and unstable.

As the fear of losing Jamie, the man whose laughter could light up the darkest corners of my heart, enveloped me, I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. My legs gave out, and I sank to my knees opposite Paul, the damp earth seeping through my clothing, grounding me in the grim reality of the moment.

Paul, with a determination that was both terrifying and admirable, reached out across the water, his hands shaking as he attempted to push the body's waist in an effort to roll it. The water, clear and unyielding, rose to Paul's waist as he slid further into the river, the current tugging at him, trying to claim him as its own.

"Help me roll him," Paul instructed, his voice a mix of command and desperation. His eyes, wide and filled with an unspoken plea, met mine across the expanse of water, bridging the gap between desperation and determination.

In that moment, the world narrowed down to the river, the body, and the overwhelming need to save Jamie. Every fear, every doubt, and every moment shared with Jamie flashed through my mind, fuelling a surge of adrenaline that propelled me forward. The cold water enveloped me as I joined Paul, our combined efforts focused on one singular goal – to bring Jamie back from the brink, to deny the river its claim.

"Go," I directed, my voice steadier than I felt, trying to infuse some semblance of control into the chaos that enveloped us. "I've got him."

"Three. Two. One. Roll," Glenda commanded with a calm authority that belied the gravity of the situation. She squatted on the bank, her eyes fixed on the task at hand, her posture that of someone who refuses to let the situation master her.

As we rolled the body, a collective effort that felt both urgent and terrifyingly delicate, Glenda's hands worked swiftly to free the man's feet from the entanglement of rocks that had sought to claim him as part of the river's domain.

"Who the fuck is that?" Kain's outcry sliced through the heavy air, his voice a cocktail of confusion and terror that resonated with my own pounding heart. The cool shiver that cascaded down my spine was not just from the river's chill but from the reality of our grim discovery.

I shared Kain's horror, feeling it amplify as the body turned, revealing the young man's face, familiar and hauntingly poignant in his stillness. The gentle current cradled him, indifferent to the violence marked by the slit throat, a brutal contrast to the river's serene flow.

Biting down on my lip, a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of panic, my heart thundered with a ferocity that seemed to drown out the world. What the fuck is Joel doing here? The question screamed in my mind, its urgency underscored by the absence of any sign of Cody… or Jamie. Their absence was a void, filling the air with a tension as palpable as the mist rising from the river.

"No idea," Paul's response was soft, almost a whisper. His words seemed to float, momentarily suspended above the river's murmuring.

"Is he breathing?" Glenda's question pierced the temporary lull, her voice a mix of hope and dread.

I don't think so," I replied, my voice a reflection of the resignation settling in my chest. The finality of the situation was becoming clearer, the hope of rescue fading as swiftly as the river flowed.

As I brought my attention back to the group, the reality of our discovery anchored itself in my mind, a heavy weight that threatened to drag us all into an abyss of questions and fears. The river, with its relentless current, seemed a grim metaphor for the unfolding events, pulling us into a narrative we were all reluctant to follow.

"Quick, bring him to shore," Glenda's voice cut through the heavy air, her directive laced with urgency yet tinged with a despair she was trying to mask.

"No," Paul's reply was terse, his voice a contrast to Glenda's, saturated with a kind of resignation that chilled me to the bone. His eyes, wide and reflecting a turmoil of emotions, were fixed on the young man's lifeless form.

"What?" Glenda's shriek, laden with disbelief and rising panic, pierced the sombre atmosphere, her incredulity echoing off the riverbank.

"I don't think it will help," Paul murmured, his voice soft yet carrying a weight that seemed to press down on all of us. "His throat has been slit." The finality in his tone, the acceptance of the grim reality before us, sent a shiver through my spine.

"Fuck!" Kain's exclamation was raw, a visceral response that resonated with the shock and horror that clung to the air like a dense fog.

Glenda's gasp was audible, a sharp intake of breath that seemed to draw the gravity of our situation into her very lungs. "We should bring the body in anyway," she insisted, her voice a mixture of command and plea, a call to action even in the face of despair.

"What good will that do?" My own question felt hollow, echoing the turmoil within me. As far as I was concerned, we needed to let the body go. The thought of Jamie's reaction loomed large in my mind, a storm on the horizon, threatening and inevitable. "If he's been murdered and someone comes looking for him, perhaps we shouldn't be the ones caught with the body," I argued, the words tumbling out in a rush, my voice a blend of logic and fear. I wasn’t convinced it was wise to have called it murder, but I doubted anybody was going to come looking for him.

"I'm with Luke," Kain's alignment with my perspective was a small comfort, a shared understanding in the midst of chaos. Yet, even as he spoke, the reality of our situation settled deeper into my consciousness, a heavy, unyielding truth that we were now part of a narrative far darker than any of us had anticipated. The river, indifferent to our dilemmas, continued its ceaseless flow, a reminder of the relentless march of time and the inescapable nature of our circumstances.

"Yes," Paul's voice held a solemn conviction as he looked up at Glenda, his eyes earnest. "Regardless, he deserves a proper burial."

"Proper burial!" The words tumbled out of me with a scoff, laced with disbelief and frustration. "You don't even know the guy." The idea seemed absurd, almost naïve given the circumstances we found ourselves in.

"If we bring him in, I can do a rough autopsy," Glenda interjected, her tone clinical, yet underscored with a resolve that was hard to ignore.

"Is that really necessary?" I countered, my voice rising slightly with a mixture of exasperation and skepticism. "I think it's pretty obvious what happened to him." The evidence was right there, in the cruel gash across the young man's throat, a silent testament to his violent end.

Paul spluttered, his reaction visceral, as if the gravity of our conversation had suddenly hit him full force. His hands shot up, covering his mouth, a barrier against the horror that threatened to overwhelm him.

"A rough autopsy might be able to tell us more of a story of how he met his fate," Glenda continued, her voice steady, trying to inject a sense of purpose into the grim scene.

Just shut up, Glenda, the thought screamed in my head, a silent plea for respite from the escalating situation. The last thing I need is you digging into it. "I'm just saying..." I began, attempting to voice my turmoil, to inject some reason into the madness that seemed to be taking hold.

In that moment of heated exchange, Paul's grip on the body loosened, his composure crumbling under the weight of the situation. His head turned abruptly, a reflexive response as his stomach rebelled, spew ejecting from his mouth in a violent expulsion.

"Ouch!" The exclamation escaped me as Paul's foot, flailing in his loss of balance, connected with my kneecap. The sharp pain was a jolt, sending me tumbling backward, the river's cold embrace swallowing me whole.

Submerged under the water, the world above became a muffled, distant reality. The shock of the cold water enveloping me. But reality quickly reclaimed me as I surfaced, gasping for air, the cool water streaming down my face, mingling with the adrenaline and fear coursing through me. The river, indifferent to our human dramas, flowed on, as if urging us to accept the inevitable tide of events we were caught in.

"Where's the body?" Paul's voice, tinged with surprise, cut through the cacophony of my own racing thoughts.

I stared down at my empty hands, a sense of surrealism enveloping me. The hands that had clutched at life and death were now bare, unintentionally releasing the body into the river's indifferent embrace. Despite the gravity of the situation, a fleeting wave of relief washed over me, a temporary reprieve from the weight of Joel’s discovery.

"Shit," the word echoed off the riverbanks, a chorus of frustration and dismay from Glenda and Kain.

"Where's Jamie?" The question burst from me, a sudden surge of panic slicing through the fog of my shock. The hope that Jamie was oblivious to our current predicament, safely ensconced in the tent's sanctuary, clashed with the oddity of Duke's absence amidst the turmoil.

Paul's gaze, narrowed and probing, seemed to search for something in my expression, an understanding or perhaps a shared sense of foreboding.

"He went for a walk to the lagoon," Glenda's voice provided an answer, but no solace.

"Lagoon?" My voice barely concealed the rising tide of anxiety, each syllable heavy with dread.

"Downstream," Paul's reply was succinct, yet it carried the weight of implication, a connection between Jamie's whereabouts and the now-missing body.

"Shit," the curse slipped from me again, this time laden with a new urgency. My eyes locked with Paul's, wide with the dawning realisation of our new predicament. "We need to retrieve that body. Now!"

"But... but you just said," Paul's words faltered.

“Forget what I said. You were right. We are better off keeping the body,” I said, scrambling back to the riverbank.

And then I was running, sprinting with a desperation I hadn't known I possessed, following the river's winding path as it carried the body downstream. The urgency of the chase pulsed in my veins, a frantic race against time and the relentless flow of the river, driven by a need to rectify our mistake and the unspoken fear of what might happen if we didn't.

A minute or two passed in a blur of motion and turbulent thoughts before I realised I wasn't alone in my frantic pursuit.

"Luke! Stop!" The urgency in Paul's voice pierced my concentrated bubble of determination. I didn't stop, my legs pumping with a relentless rhythm, but I did slow, the heavy breaths tearing through my lungs, allowing Paul, with his determined stride, to quickly catch up.

"Why is the body suddenly so important to you?" Paul's question, laden with confusion and concern, hit me as we ran side-by-side, his gaze fixed on me, searching for an elusive truth.

"He's Jamie's son," the words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered, before I could corral them back into the secrecy they deserved. The revelation hung between us, a sudden and heavy truth that seemed to thicken the air.

Paul slowed, his steps faltering, the shock of my admission evident in his abrupt deceleration. "Since when did Jamie have a son?" His voice was a mixture of disbelief and a dawning realisation, his profile tense against the backdrop of the rushing river.

"Long story," I managed to say, my voice a strained whisper against the cacophony of our surroundings. "And Jamie doesn't know he's dead." The words felt like stones in my mouth, heavy with the weight of the reality we faced.

Paul grabbed my arm, his grip firm and unyielding, yanking us both to a sudden, jarring stop. His glare was intense, a storm of betrayal, understanding, and anger brewing in his eyes, which seemed to bore into me, seeking answers in the depths of my soul.

I braced myself, the anticipation of Paul's reaction coiling in my stomach like a tight knot. His eyes, usually so familiar, now seemed like those of a stranger, reflecting a depth of emotions that mirrored the chaos of the river beside us.

"But you already knew," Paul accused, his voice a sharp edge, cutting through the last pretences of ignorance I had clung to. His words were an indictment, a stark unveiling of the secret I had harboured.

I swallowed hard, the action a painful scrape against the dryness of my throat. "Yes," I slowly replied, the admission a heavy exhale, releasing the truth I had held so closely.

"Shit," Paul muttered, his voice a mixture of anger and disbelief, as he gradually released his grip on my arm. I pulled away, a surge of urgency propelling me forward even as the weight of the revelation hung heavily between us.

"I had nothing to do with it. I swear." My voice was earnest, pleading with him to understand the sincerity in my words

"I highly doubt that," Paul retorted, his tone sharp, the words slicing through the air with an edge of callous disbelief that stung more than I cared to admit.

I huffed, a mixture of frustration and desperation colouring my response. "We don't have time for this, Paul," I insisted, urging him to return to a jog alongside me. Yet, he resisted, anchored by his shock and the weight of his suspicions.

"I'll tell you about it later," I promised, my voice strained with the tension of the moment. "There's a lot you don't know." The words felt inadequate, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm of understanding that had opened up between us.

Seeing the depth of betrayal in Paul's eyes only deepen at my admission, a pang of regret shot through me. The trust we shared was fracturing, the foundations of our bond shaken by the tumultuous revelations.

"Obviously," Paul's scornful reply was a verbal lash, stinging in its simplicity and the world of hurt it implied.

"I don't know how he got here, but if Jamie finds him, this place will become even more hellish than it already is," I explained, the words tumbling out in a rush of exasperation and fear.

Paul's eyes widened, a glimmer of understanding breaking through the initial shock, perhaps recognising the impact of the situation beyond our personal conflict. Seizing the moment, I tugged on his arm, a silent plea to set aside our differences and focus on the pressing crisis at hand.

Resuming our jog, the tension between us remained, a silent third companion as we raced against time, the river's relentless flow a constant reminder of the urgency of our mission.

"There it is!" Paul's exclamation broke through the rhythmic pounding of our footsteps, his finger pointing urgently at the body that was being carried away by the river's unyielding current, now hastening as we neared the expansive lagoon.

"We're never going to catch up to it before it reaches the lagoon," I huffed out, the breathlessness from our exertion mirrored in my growing sense of desperation. I wiped away a bead of sweat that traced a line down my forehead, the physical manifestation of our frantic race against time.

"What do we do?" Paul's question, laden with a mix of urgency and uncertainty, hung between us, echoing the pounding of our hearts.

"I'll run ahead. If Jamie is there, I can distract him," I declared, the plan forming with each spoken word, fuelled by the necessity of the moment.

"Distract him?" Paul echoed.

"Yes," I affirmed, my resolve hardening. "You need to make sure the body doesn't stop. It has to keep going downstream." The strategy was clear in my mind.

"Are you sure, Luke?" His voice was tentative, probing, reflecting the seriousness of our actions and the potential consequences that loomed ominously on the horizon. "You know nothing stays hidden forever."

You're not wrong there, I admitted silently to myself. Memories of Cody and the botched plans that were supposed to have prevented this very scenario gnawed at my conscience. But what other option do I have right now? The question echoed in my mind, a reminder of the corner I was backed into.

"Yes, I’m sure," I stated with a firmness I hoped would dispel Paul's doubts as well as my own. The decision was made, the course set, and with a deep, steadying breath, I prepared to face whatever awaited us at the lagoon, the weight of my secrets and lies heavy on my shoulders as we plunged forward.

Duke's bark, a familiar sound that usually brought a sense of comfort, now carried an ominous note on the gentle breeze as Paul and I jogged to the crest of the final hill, my heart heavy with apprehension.

"Look, there's Duke and Jamie," Paul's voice, tinged with a mix of relief and concern, drew my gaze across the lagoon. There, on the far side, were Duke and Jamie, oblivious to the unfolding drama.

"Shit, and there's the body," I muttered, my eyes catching sight of the corpse that the relentless current had deposited at the mouth of the lagoon. It lay ominously still, ensnared by a shallow dune just beneath the water's shimmering surface.

"Go!" My voice was firm, laden with urgency as I nudged Paul towards the grim task awaiting him. There was no time to lose, every second precious as I sought to shield Jamie from the harrowing truth.

Not wasting a moment, I shifted my focus. "Duke! Jamie!" My call, loud and clear, sliced through the tranquil air, my hands waving above my head as I traversed the hilltop bordering the lagoon. The act was a desperate ploy for their attention, a bid to orchestrate their movements to our advantage.

Duke, ever loyal and responsive, acknowledged my call with an enthusiastic bark, his form breaking into a steady run toward me.

Choosing my position with careful deliberation, I planted myself strategically. The location was key, chosen to ensure that if I could draw Jamie towards me, following Duke's lead, his back would be to Paul and the distressing scene by the water. The plan was tenuous, relying on timing and the unpredictable nature of human reaction, but it was all I had.

Now, stationed in my chosen spot, I waited, the tension coiling tighter within me as the scenario began to unfold. The stakes were high, the potential for disaster looming large as I prepared to intercept Jamie, to steer his attention away from the heartache that lay in wait. The weight of my secrets, my choices, pressed down, a silent burden in the stillness that preceded the storm.

"Duke," I called out with feigned cheerfulness, my voice a beacon for the small dog navigating the dusty terrain. Watching him make his way up the hill, a tiny figure against the vast landscape, brought a momentary sense of relief. Jamie, though not particularly enthused, was following, and that was what mattered in the grand scheme of our orchestrated diversion.

"Good to see you are feeling better," I greeted Jamie as he approached, my voice laced with a warmth I hoped would mask the undercurrent of tension. Bending down, I offered Duke a pat on the head, a gesture of welcome and normality.

Jamie paused at the hill's summit, a silhouette against the sky, his hands finding respite on his waist as he sought to catch his breath, mirroring Duke's heavy panting. The parallel between man and dog, both wearied by their simple journey, was not lost on me.

"Yeah," Jamie managed to articulate between laboured breaths, a hint of recuperation in his tone. “Duke and I had a nap in the sun. I seem to be feeling much better for it”.

"A nap in the sun?" I echoed, infusing my response with a light-heartedness I was far from feeling. "Duke looks like he's soaked."

Jamie's attention shifted to Duke, a smile breaking across his features as he regarded the dog. "You're a funny boy," he addressed Duke, a moment of genuine affection breaking through the tension that clung to me like a second skin.

I glanced at Jamie's chest. The welt looked to have formed a nice crust already. "You really should keep your shirt on, though," I advised, a hint of concern lacing my voice. "It's warm out."

Jamie's response was casual, marked by a deep breath that seemed to carry the weight of the day's heat. "I've only had it off since it got wet by the lagoon," he explained, his tone suggesting a casual dismissal of my concern. "It's odd though."

"What is?" My curiosity piqued, I prodded, sensing an undercurrent of something unspoken in his words.

"I don't feel like my skin is burning at all." Jamie's observation floated between us, an anomaly that seemed to hang in the air with a sense of unexplained mystery.

"Hmm," I mused, trying to mask my growing anxiety with a veneer of interest. "But I guess that would be a good thing."

"Perhaps the sun is different here," Jamie pondered aloud, his speculation adding another layer of surrealism to the day's events.

"Perhaps," I repeated, my agreement automatic, my mind racing with the unfolding drama that threatened to breach Jamie’s fragile bubble of ignorance.

Suddenly, a scream shattered the illusion of tranquility. "Luke!" The terror in the voice, unmistakable and chilling, cut through the serene atmosphere, anchoring me back to the grim reality we were dancing around.

My heart skipped a beat, dread coiling tightly within as I followed the trajectory of the scream. There, in the distance, down the hill at the mouth of the lagoon, was a scene that defied logic. Paul and the body, intertwined in a struggle that seemed impossible, surreal.

My mouth fell open, a silent gasp of disbelief escaping as my eyes tried to make sense of the scene. The longer I stared, the more the edges of my vision blurred, a wave of light-headedness threatening to overtake me. Am I seeing things? The question echoed in my mind, a desperate attempt to rationalise the irrational.

I shook my head, hoping to dispel the vision, to reset the scene into something comprehensible. But the reality remained steadfast, stark, and terrifyingly real. How is it possible that a corpse with a slit throat could take hold of Paul? The question spiralled in my mind, a vortex of confusion and fear as the situation slipped further from my grasp, plunging us into a nightmare that I had never anticipated.

In a tidal wave of panic, my hand shot out, an instinctive but futile attempt to prevent Jamie from turning and confronting the horrifying scene. But time, cruel and unyielding, wasn't on my side. "Luke," Jamie's voice sliced through the air, cold and accusatory. "What the hell have you done?"

The words struck like a physical blow, "Oh, fuck," slipped from my lips, a feeble attempt to articulate the maelstrom of confusion and fear churning inside me. "I have no idea," I added, my voice a thin thread of sound in the heavy air, my pulse hammering in my ears as the situation spiralled beyond my control.

In a desperate bid to halt Jamie's advance toward the unfolding nightmare, I lunged for his arm, a gesture as futile as trying to stop the tide with open hands. My fingertips grazed Jamie's skin, a fleeting touch before he was beyond my reach, his determination propelling him forward as my heart sank.

"Shit," the curse was a whisper torn from my throat as I stumbled down the slope, the ground beneath me a treacherous ally. My arms flailed, seeking balance in the shifting world, as dust kicked up around me, clouding my vision and caking my skin.

"Jamie! Wait!" My voice, laden with desperation, cracked as I called after him, but it was as if I was speaking to the wind. He moved with a singular focus, driven by a need for answers I couldn't provide.

As I neared the water's edge, my pace slowed, the gravity of the situation rooting me to the spot. "Shit, Luke! Who the fuck is that!?" Jamie's outcry, filled with shock and disbelief, echoed across the lagoon.

Across the lagoon, Paul's struggle was a silent scream of terror. He scrambled to the water's edge, his movements desperate and uncoordinated as he dragged himself across the soft, betraying dust. The terror etched on his face, raw and unmasked, mirrored my own internal horror, a shared understanding of the abyss we were staring into.

The world seemed to contract to this single point of terror, the lagoon a stage for a tragedy we were powerless to stop. The air was thick with the taste of dust and fear, and as I stood there, frozen, the chilling realisation that our lives had irrevocably changed began to settle in, heavy and suffocating, like the humid air before a storm.

"Holy fuck!" Jamie's scream shattered the tense air, raw and fraught with disbelief. "What the fuck is Joel doing here!?"

I was speechless, my mouth opening and closing without producing sound, my thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Lost in the unfolding nightmare, I was incapable of fabricating even the simplest deceit. The truth was, I was as clueless as Jamie about how Joel had ended up here, at our camp.

Jamie, propelled by a mix of shock and concern, rushed to Joel's side, kneeling beside the motionless form. "He's still breathing!" he announced, his voice laced with a mix of relief and urgency.

My heart skipped a beat, disbelief and confusion colliding within me. How could Joel be alive? The sight I'd witnessed, the blood, the seemingly lifeless body—it all contradicted Jamie's claim. Yet there was no mistaking the belief in Jamie's voice.

As Jamie positioned himself behind Joel's head, his hands poised to cradle the young man's shoulders, a sense of impending danger surged through me. The vivid memory of the body's arm ensnaring Paul flashed in my mind, a warning of the potential threat lying before us.

Driven by a primal instinct to protect, I acted. Adrenaline fuelled my movements as I lunged for Jamie, my hands clamping onto his shoulders with a desperate force. With a firm tug, I pulled him backward, our bodies tumbling into the dust, a cloud billowing around us as we landed.

As Jamie rose to his knees, the tension between us palpable, his hand cut through the air, aimed at my face. Instinct took over, and with a swift roll of my head to the left, I dodged the blow, the rush of air from his missed strike grazing my skin.

"What the fuck did you do that for!?" Jamie's voice was thick with anger and confusion, his words punctuated by the spray of saliva that accompanied his vehement outcry.

Centring myself, I faced him again, my voice rising to match his intensity. "Take a look at his throat!" The urgency in my tone was a clear call to observe the grim reality we were facing.

Jamie's attention pivoted back to Joel, his movements quick with a mix of confusion and concern. As he crouched over the body, I drew in a deep, steadying breath, bracing for his reaction to the undeniable evidence of violence on Joel's neck.

"What the fuck!" Jamie's exclamation was a mix of shock and horror as he reached under the body's shoulders, attempting to drag him from the lagoon's embrace. His actions were driven by a raw, desperate need to help, yet blind to the potential danger it posed.

"Jamie, stop!" My voice was firm, insistent, cutting through in an attempt to halt his reckless endeavour.

Just then, Kain's voice, a familiar anchor in the storm, called out, "Jamie!" His arrival with Glenda brought a flicker of hope, a reinforcement in our moment of crisis.

Turning, I saw them—Kain's expression a mix of concern and urgency, Glenda's determined stride as she jogged around the lagoon's edge toward us. Relief washed over me, albeit briefly, in the knowledge that we were no longer alone in confronting the unimaginable nightmare before us.

"What the fuck have you done, Luke!?" Jamie's voice tore through the air, a raw, agonising scream that resonated with a mix of confusion and despair. His footing faltered, and he tumbled to the ground, the weight of the situation pulling him down along with Joel's body. Tears breached Jamie's typically stoic demeanour, revealing a vulnerability seldom seen.

"Help me take him back to camp," he pleaded, his voice quivering against his usual resilience. The plea struck a chord deep within me, twisting a knot of guilt and empathy in my chest. Witnessing Jamie's anguish, his face contorted in grief, was unbearable. The revelation of his son, followed by this immediate, tragic aftermath, was a cruel twist of fate that seemed too harsh to be real.

"Wait," Glenda's voice cut through the heavy air, her tone authoritative yet infused with concern. "Let me check him first."

I found myself nodding, almost mechanically, in agreement. Glenda's intervention offered a sliver of hope, a chance that perhaps Jamie's immediate conclusion was not the final verdict. I watched, my breath held in suspense, as Glenda knelt beside Joel. Her movements were methodical, deliberate, betraying her experience with such unpleasant tasks. Time stretched, each second elongated by the helpless watch.

My heart pounded against my ribs, a relentless drum echoing my rising anxiety. Glenda's examination was thorough, her focus unwavering, yet the silence that enveloped her actions was suffocating. I stood there, caught between the desperate hope for a miracle and the crushing weight of reality, as Glenda's hands moved with practiced precision, searching for signs of life, for any indication that the unfortunate scene before us might not be as final as it appeared. The wait was excruciating, the outcome uncertain, and within that uncertainty lay our collective fear, hope, and the unbearable tension of not knowing.

"He's breathing," Glenda's voice cut through the tense air, her announcement striking me like a bolt of lightning.

I coughed, the news catching me so off-guard that I mis-swallowed, my eyes widening in disbelief. Was it possible? Did I hear her correctly?

"But barely," Glenda added. “I think he may actually be alive. But I don't understand how that is possible. His colour suggests he has lost so much blood that his circulatory system has collapsed.” Her clinical analysis, considering the loss of blood and the implications for his circulatory system, painted a picture so dire it seemed miraculous that any spark of life could persist.

Her head lifted, eyes locking with Jamie's, her voice a bastion of calm amid the storm. "You're right," she affirmed, siding with Jamie's desperate plea. "I agree we should bring him back to camp."

"What!? Seriously!?" My voice betrayed my astonishment, a mixture of confusion and skepticism. Glenda's judgment was something I relied on, her calm in the face of chaos a guiding light. But this? This seemed to border on the impossible.

Jamie, fuelled by a raw, paternal instinct, didn't hesitate. His hands slid beneath Joel, ready to bear the weight of his son, to carry him back to camp, back to safety, or at least the semblance of it.

I stood there, momentarily frozen, caught in a vortex of emotion and reason. Jamie's desperation was palpable, his actions driven by a deep, primal connection to the young man before us. And Glenda, her decision to support moving Joel, lent a weight to the action that I couldn't ignore.

With a deep breath, I stepped forward, positioning myself opposite Glenda. My arms, somewhat hesitant, slid beneath Joel's limp, wet form. The reality of our task settled heavily upon me, the weight of Joel's body a vivid reminder of the fragile line between life and death we were navigating.

"Ready. Lift," Glenda's voice was steady, a command that snapped us into action.

As we lifted Joel's body, I was struck by the cooperative effort that bound us in that moment. Despite the confusion and the fear, there was a unity in our actions, a shared purpose that transcended our individual concerns. Joel's slight frame was a small mercy in the ordeal, his body lighter than I had anticipated, yet the weight of the situation bore down on me with an intensity that was palpable.

Kain's timely arrival was a relief. He seamlessly took Glenda's place, his presence a silent pillar of support as we navigated the uneven terrain around the lagoon. Glenda's whispered "Thank you" resonated with a depth of gratitude that echoed my own feelings.

I braced myself for Jamie's reaction to Kain's involvement, anticipating a rebuke that never came. The absence of his scolding allowed me to breathe a little easier, though the reprieve felt temporary. The undercurrent of tension remained, a silent spectre that I knew would resurface.

Glenda's call to Paul across the lagoon pulled my gaze to where my brother remained stationary, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the water. His silence and stillness sparked a flare of concern. Was he hurt? His lack of involvement was uncharacteristic, stirring a mix of worry and frustration within me.

"I'll meet you there soon," Paul's response was distant, his voice lacking its usual strength. He barely glanced our way, his demeanour adding another layer of unease to the already strained atmosphere.

With Paul's assurance, albeit weak, I refocused on the task at hand, turning my attention back to Joel. The journey back to camp with him was laden with a silent tension, each step a reminder of the precarious thread on which his life hung. My mind raced with questions and fears, yet the immediate need to get him to shelter overshadowed all other thoughts.