The sound of soft footsteps approaching snapped me back to the present, a subtle reminder of Jamie's presence, though I didn't feel the need to turn and acknowledge it directly.

Jamie settled himself beside me, his body folding into the dust with a resignation that seemed to mirror the resignation in his voice. "There's nothing else to do," he stated, a flat declaration that hung between us, laden with an unspoken acceptance of our situation.

I continued to stare across the river, the gentle flow a stark contrast to the turmoil within. Jamie's words echoed a sentiment I was all too familiar with, yet I wasn't ready to concede. The absence of Luke weighed heavily on us both, a silent spectre of uncertainty that loomed over our makeshift encampment. Jamie's resolve to leave once Luke returned was clear, but my own thoughts on the matter were muddled, caught between a desire to escape and the burgeoning sense of responsibility for what we could create here.

"Well," I ventured, grasping for a semblance of optimism. "We could do with a place near the Portal where Luke can deliver things. We can then work out what to do with them." The suggestion was a shot in the dark, an attempt to inject purpose into our waiting.

Jamie's response was a reflection of his skepticism. "Well, that seems a bit random," he observed.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of my suggestion. "It does a bit, doesn't it?"

Jamie's smile, rare and fleeting, was a beacon of shared humanity in the vastness of Clivilius.

Both of us then returned to our silent contemplation of the river, its steady flow a metaphor for the passage of time and the uncertainty of our future. The quiet between us was no longer oppressive but filled with a tacit understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the challenges ahead and the fragile hope that, somehow, we would find a way to navigate them together.

"I guess it would give us something to do," Jamie conceded, his voice carrying a hint of reluctant acceptance that signalled a shift in his stance. The opening was all I needed, a sliver of common ground from which we could build.

I seized the moment, eager to expand on the idea. "And not just finding a good spot. Getting Luke to leave whatever he brings through the Portal in a single spot will give us something to do, to move it." The plan was forming, a tangible task that could lend structure to our days, a purpose amidst the uncertainty.

"And," Jamie interjected, enthusiasm beginning to colour his tone as he warmed to the concept. "Luke is very intelligent, but he can also be a bit of a scatterbrain."

"Totally," I agreed wholeheartedly. "I don't think it's wise for us to trust Luke to establish a settlement properly." The words were out before I could consider their weight, a candid admission of our need to take control of our situation, to assert some level of order.

To my surprise, Jamie's response was not a verbal one but an action. He rose to his feet, a decisive movement that spoke volumes, and extended his hand to help me up.

I accepted his hand and stood, momentarily caught off guard by the physical support. For a brief moment, I watched Jamie's back as he walked away, a silent figure moving with purpose.

"Well, you coming then?" Jamie called back over his shoulder, his voice carrying a blend of challenge and invitation. "It was your idea after all." The tease was evident, a playful nudge that broke through the residual tension and solidified our newfound resolve.

A wide grin spread across my face, an involuntary reaction to the progress we'd made. In that moment, the path forward seemed a little less daunting, the prospect of working together not just a necessity but a source of hope. Progress, indeed.

By the time I had hobbled over to the Portal, Jamie was deeply engrossed in his task, dragging a small rock through the dust with a focus that was both admirable and slightly intimidating. The line he was creating in the ground was a tangible sign of our commitment to this new beginning, a boundary marking the start of something that was still too nebulous to fully comprehend.

Taking my cue from Jamie's determined efforts, I set about gathering larger rocks from the surrounding area. Each stone felt significant as I placed them down, small piles in each corner and at regular intervals along each edge of our designated site. The physical act of defining our space lent a sense of reality to our plans, a solid foundation on which to build our hope.

"There," I announced, a sense of accomplishment threading through my voice as I wiped the sweat from my brow. The task had been more arduous than I anticipated, the sun beating down on us with an intensity that seemed to underscore the seriousness of our endeavour. My actions, though small in the grand scheme of things, felt like a declaration, a statement of intent in the face of overwhelming odds.

"Looks alright," Jamie observed, his gaze sweeping over our newly marked territory with a nod of approval. The simplicity of his acknowledgment felt like a small victory, a sign that perhaps we were on the right track. "You got a name for it?"

"Hmm," I hesitated, the weight of the question prompting me to pause and consider. A name wasn't just a label; it was a declaration of our intentions, a marker of our efforts to carve out a semblance of civilisation in Clivilius. "Yes," I finally declared, a burst of inspiration cutting through the uncertainty. "The Clivilius Delivery Drop Zone," I announced, a surge of pride lifting my words. The name felt like a fitting tribute to our efforts, a nod to the practical purpose of the site and its significance in our bid to establish a foothold.

Jamie's laughter, sudden and unexpected, cut through my moment of triumph.

"What?" I couldn't help but ask, a mix of hurt and curiosity colouring my voice. I had expected skepticism or perhaps even indifference, but not laughter.

"Nothing. It's as good a name as any," Jamie assured me, still chuckling. "But I'll just call it Drop Zone. It's easier." His words, light and devoid of malice, suggested a compromise, a way to bridge the gap between my grandiose vision and practicality.

"Drop Zone," I repeated, rolling the name around in my mind. It was succinct, efficient, and somehow right for the rugged simplicity of our lives in Clivilius. "I like it!"

"Do you hear that?" Jamie's question halted me in mid-motion, his grip on my arm preventing the pebble in my hand from joining its predecessors in their dusty flights across the land.

I paused, tuning my ears to the distant sound that had caught Jamie's attention. "I think so," I answered, the faint noise slowly becoming discernible. "Is that... it sounds like a reversing vehicle?" The suggestion seemed absurd, yet the unmistakable beep of a vehicle moving backwards was hard to dismiss.

"It does, doesn't it?" Jamie's response carried a mix of excitement and disbelief. "And it sounds like it's coming from the direction of the Portal. It must be Luke!" His optimism was infectious, yet a part of me balked at the idea.

Luke? The thought echoed loudly in my mind. Luke, of all people, reversing a vehicle through the Portal? The notion was almost laughable. Luke's aversion to driving was well-known, making the scenario Jamie proposed seem all the more implausible. Why on Earth would he be reversing a truck? And the logistics of driving it through the study wall, the entry point of our arrival in Clivilius, presented a puzzle that my mind struggled to piece together.

Despite my reservations, Jamie was already moving, his jog towards the Portal a clear indication of his intent to investigate. I followed as best I could, my injured foot a painful reminder of the previous night's drama.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. The burn, though not serious in appearance, was agonisingly tender, and the absence of proper footwear only compounded my discomfort. Each step kicked up dust that seemed to seek out the raw skin, a harsh and unwelcome addition to the burn's sting.

The journey to the Portal, typically a short trek, felt interminable given my injury. Jamie's figure grew smaller in the distance, his pace unfettered by physical ailments, while I lagged behind, each step a test of endurance. The possibility of Luke's return, under such bizarre circumstances no less, added a layer of urgency to my movements, propelling me forward despite the pain.

As I hobbled after Jamie, the sound of the reversing vehicle grew louder, a tangible promise of answers just ahead. The curiosity, mingled with a dash of skepticism, fuelled my determination. What we would find at the Portal remained to be seen, but the prospect of any change to our current predicament was enough to quicken my pace, pain or not.

Limping over the crest of the small hill, the sight that greeted me was almost comical—a small truck awkwardly making its way backwards through the Portal, with Jamie animatedly waving his hands, attempting to direct it. The sight of him trying to guide the vehicle, as if his gestures could somehow compensate for Luke's notorious lack of driving skills, was enough to draw a chuckle from me. If that really was Luke behind the wheel, Jamie's efforts were predictably futile.

"For fuck's sake, Luke!" Jamie's exasperated cry cut through the air, confirming my suspicions about the driver's identity.

"I told you," I muttered to myself, the scene unfolding before me proving my point. The near miss as the truck almost collided with Jamie was classic Luke—reckless, impulsive, but somehow always managing to pull through by the skin of his teeth.

By the time I reached them, Luke was already out of the truck, jumping down with a mixture of gusto and relief. Jamie's frustration was palpable as he confronted Luke. "What the fuck are you doing, Luke? You know you can't drive! You almost hit me!" His complaint was valid, yet there was an underlying concern that belied his harsh words.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the exchange. Jamie's decision to get so close to the truck, knowing full well Luke's driving capabilities—or lack thereof—struck me as more reckless than brave. Jamie's more stupid than I thought, I thought, unable to suppress a shake of my head.

"You shouldn't have got so close to me, then," Luke retorted, his defensive stance typical of the banter that seemed to define their relationship.

Watching them, I was reminded of an old married couple, bickering over something trivial yet filled with underlying affection. The urge to laugh bubbled up within me, a momentary distraction from the weight of our situation. Yet, as quickly as the amusement came, it was replaced by a pang of sadness. Memories of my last night with Claire, filled with arguments and unresolved tensions, surged to the forefront of my mind, casting a shadow over the momentary levity.

The reminder of what—and who—I had left behind, the unresolved issues that hung between Claire and me, made my heart heavy. My worries, far bigger and more complex than a poorly executed reverse job, loomed large, and the laughter died in my throat.

"What happened to you?" Luke inquired, prompted by the sight of my bare, injured foot and my uneven walk.

"I burned it," I responded with a straightforwardness that belied the complexity of the situation.

"Burned it? How?" Luke's confusion was evident.

Not entirely sure how to distill the night's events into a narrative that Luke would grasp without further bewildering him, I glanced at Jamie, hoping he could articulate the sequence of events more succinctly than I felt capable of.

"Hmm," Jamie began, his tone dripping with sarcasm—a precursor to the blunt summary I knew he was capable of delivering. He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, then laid out the events with unerring accuracy, "No light, hot coals, and a fucking dust storm." The simplicity of his summary, though laced with his characteristic bluntness, captured the essence of the ordeal with surprising precision.

Luke's subsequent look of inquiry towards me demanded confirmation. "Yeah. That's a pretty accurate summary," I admitted, finding myself unexpectedly admiring Jamie's ability to encapsulate the chaos of the night in a single sentence.

"Oh," was all Luke managed to say, his response falling flat in the wake of Jamie's vivid recounting, his face a mask of disappointment or perhaps disbelief.

Jamie's frustration was palpable as he threw his hands up in the air. "Is that all you have to say? Oh?"

Luke's shrug was noncommittal, his response—or lack thereof—highlighting his apparent struggle to find the right words. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, genuinely at a loss.

"I don't know," Jamie retorted, his expectations of Luke clearly unmet. "But surely you could do a little better than just, oh?"

I frowned, an observer to the familiar dance of their disagreement. Here they go again, I thought to myself, a part of me relieved that their exchange, though heated, was not directed at me. It was a small consolation, but in that moment, it was enough to inject a faint glimmer of humour into the tension that hung between us.

"So, what's in the truck, Luke?" I ventured, eager to steer the conversation away from the brink of another round of bickering. The tension that had been building seemed to dissipate at the question, a welcome reprieve from the discord.

The cessation of their argument allowed a moment of calm, one that I welcomed with a silent sigh of relief. The anticipation hung in the air as we all turned our attention to the truck.

With a dramatic flourish that was characteristic of Luke, the back door of the truck was flung open, crashing against the side with a resounding clang. "It's all the stuff from your list," he announced, his grin wide, showcasing a mix of pride and excitement at the delivery.

My reaction was immediate, my earlier frustrations and concerns momentarily forgotten in the face of this tangible progress. "Oh, that's great," I exclaimed, the reminder of the list and its contents injecting a fresh wave of enthusiasm into my veins. The unfortunate events of the previous night had pushed the list, and the hope it represented, to the back of my mind.

"I need the two of you to unpack the truck. I'll come and collect it in an hour or so, once the other tents have arrived," Luke instructed, laying out the plan with a straightforwardness that left little room for argument.

I gestured towards the area we had marked out earlier, the rectangle of ground now designated for this very purpose. "There's a spot over there where you can leave all the things you bring through the Portal," I explained, my voice steady, outlining our makeshift logistics strategy. "Jamie and I can take care of it from there."

"Oh, cool," Luke responded, his casual acceptance marking a smooth transition from potential conflict to collaborative effort.

"It's the Clivilius Delivery Drop Zone," I announced, unable to keep the pride from my voice, my smile broadening as I shared the name we had settled on for our newly established area.

"I love it!" Luke's enthusiasm was infectious, his approval coming in the form of a hearty thumbs up.

"I just call it the Drop Zone," Jamie interjected, his tone carrying a hint of dismissiveness towards the formality of the name I had chosen. His preference for brevity was a stark contrast to Luke's and my own excitement over the official designation.

"Jamie helped," I quickly added, eager to give credit where it was due and perhaps bridge the gap between Jamie's brusqueness and the moment of collective achievement. I nodded towards Jamie, hoping to acknowledge his contribution in a way that would smooth over any perceived slight.

However, Jamie's reaction was not what I had anticipated. His glare was sharp, a clear indication that my attempt at inclusivity had somehow missed the mark, making me feel suddenly uneasy under his gaze. "You say that like you both expected that I wouldn't," he retorted, the words carrying an undercurrent of hurt, his pout a visible sign of his displeasure, as he huffed his way closer to the back of the truck,

"You better drive the truck over there for me," Luke instructed, tossing the keys in my direction.

With each step towards the truck, a sharp pain reminded me of the burn on my foot.

"I can do it, if you like?" Jamie's offer came at a moment of weakness, his hand outstretched, ready to take on the task himself.

I paused, considering his proposal, but a mix of pride and determination pushed me to decline. "Nah, It's all good. I'll manage. Thanks though." My words were genuine, appreciating his willingness to step in, yet not ready to admit just how much the injury was affecting me.

"Sure," Jamie replied, his voice neutral, stepping back to allow me to proceed.

Gingerly, I positioned myself behind the wheel of the truck, the familiar feel of the driver's seat offering a fleeting sense of control. "I want to try and leave again," Jamie's voice filtered through the open door, a statement directed at Luke.

With a sense of resolve, I slammed the door shut, cutting off their conversation and enveloping myself in the relative silence of the cabin. The brief respite from our harsh reality was welcome, even if I knew it was temporary. I had a feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

As I navigated the truck towards the Drop Zone's designated entrance, a semblance of normalcy played in my mind. There was technically enough space for me to drive through anywhere, but adhering to the boundaries we had set somehow made the situation feel more manageable, less chaotic. The entrance, marked by piles of rocks significantly higher than the rest, served as a makeshift gate to our burgeoning Drop Zone.

Bringing the truck to a stop just inside the Drop Zone, a moment of exhilaration washed over me. Stepping down from the vehicle, the anticipation of discovering what Luke had brought us mingled with the pain from my foot. Despite the discomfort, the prospect of unpacking supplies, of tangible progress, fuelled a sense of purpose and hope.

Tuning out the noisy chatter of Luke and Jamie, who had distanced themselves about twenty meters from me, I focused on the task at hand. The back of the truck greeted me with a resounding clang as I swung it open, the sound momentarily cutting through their conversation. Inside, shadows obscured the cargo, my eyes taking a moment to pierce the dimness that enveloped the truck's contents.

"Cement, cement mixer, sheds, tools," I narrated softly to myself, itemising the essentials Luke had managed to procure. A sense of appreciation for his efforts briefly lightened my spirits—Luke had indeed done well, securing not just the basics but the backbone of what could be our first storage. However, this initial relief quickly gave way to the realisation of the task ahead. A small furrow creased my brow as the logistics of our situation settled in. I'll need to enlist Jamie's help to unpack the truck, I acknowledged silently, the magnitude of the job becoming increasingly apparent.

I glanced back towards Luke and Jamie, noting the animated nature of their conversation. The volume of their chatter had escalated, a clear sign that their discussion, whatever its content, was growing more intense. Despite the distance, the energy between them was palpable, a stark contrast to the quiet determination that filled me as I stood at the threshold of the truck.

"Still can't leave, then?" I ventured towards Jamie, who seemed to embody defeat as he sat sulkily in the dust, it was the only logical conclusion I could make. The silence that followed my question hung heavily in the air, an unspoken yet clear acknowledgment of my assumption.

"Oh, also," Luke's voice broke through the tense silence, bringing an unexpected request into the mix. "I need your wallets."

The request caught me off guard, a mix of confusion and curiosity swirling within me. What on earth does Luke want our wallets for? The thought barely had time to form before Jamie voiced the skepticism I felt.

"What for?" Jamie's question was laced with a hint of accusation.

"Those tents are expensive," came Luke's simple yet loaded explanation. The implications of his statement began to dawn on me, a mixture of disbelief and concern brewing.

"How much did you spend?" Jamie's question was pointed, demanding transparency.

Luke's hesitation only served to heighten the tension between us. "How much?" Jamie pressed, unwilling to let the matter drop.

"The credit card is almost maxed out," Luke finally admitted, his words dropping like a bombshell.

Jamie's reaction was immediate, his frustration manifesting in a physical gesture as he kicked at the dust. "Shit, Luke."

"It's not like you can use any of it here anyway," Luke countered, a defensive edge to his voice that did little to soothe the growing unease.

I grimaced at Luke's attempt at justification. Poor form, little brother, I thought to myself, the situation rapidly deteriorating.

Jamie's anger flared, his words cutting sharply through the tension. "Oh, fuck you. Just rub it in, why don't you!? I get it, we're stuck forever in this fucking hole of a dustbowl and it's all thanks to... guess who!?" His frustration was palpable, a raw expression of the helplessness he felt.

Seeking to somehow diffuse the escalating argument, I reached into my pocket, retrieving my wallet. Its presence, forgotten until now, seemed almost trivial in the grand scheme of our current reality. "Here," I said, extending the wallet towards Luke, a gesture meant to bridge the gap between necessity and resentment.

"You can't be fucking serious!" Jamie's outrage at my compliance was explosive, a clear sign of his vehement disagreement with the situation.

I shrugged, a feeble attempt to convey my resignation to the circumstances. What else can I do?

Luke stepped over to take my wallet, his request extending beyond the physical handover. "I'll need you to write down all your bank account details too," he said, adding a layer of gravity to the situation that I hadn't anticipated.

"What sort of details?" My question was laced with caution, the implications of his request slowly dawning on me.

Luke met my gaze squarely, his intent clear and unnervingly direct. "Everything," he asserted. "Online logins, pin codes. Over the next few days, I'm going to convert as many of your assets into cash as possible." The seriousness in his voice was unmistakable, a declaration of a plan that felt both desperate and final.

A wave of fear washed over me, the enormity of Luke's proposal striking me with the force of a physical blow. My eyes widened as the implications took root, a sense of vulnerability engulfing me. The thought of relinquishing such control, of exposing every financial detail of my life, was overwhelming. I felt a sudden nausea at the prospect, a visceral reaction to the perceived invasion of my and my family's privacy and security.

In a moment of panic, I acted instinctively, snatching the wallet back from Luke's grasp. The sudden movement caught him off guard, his surprise mirrored in the way he threw his hands up.

"What's up?" His confusion was evident, a stark contrast to the decisive tone he had employed just moments earlier.

"I can't let you do that, Luke," I found myself saying, the words tumbling out in a rush of emotion and resolve. "I need to think of my children." The thought of Claire and the kids, of their wellbeing and financial security, crystallised my opposition. "Claire still has access to those accounts. She'll need the money to take care of the kids, especially now that I have no way of providing them any further support." The admission was a painful reminder of my current helplessness and the responsibilities that lay beyond the confines of Clivilius.

The rapidity of my response left me dizzy, a tumult of thoughts and fears swirling within me. I blinked rapidly, an attempt to refocus, to steady the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm me.

Luke's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "Of course," he conceded, his voice softer, tinged with regret. "I understand." The acknowledgement was a small comfort, a recognition of the complexities and connections that remained tethered to a world we could no longer claim as our own.

"Here. Take mine," Jamie's voice cut through the tension, his offer catching me off guard. "It's just the two of us anyway. You may as well have it," he said, a gesture so unexpected it momentarily silenced the unease that had settled over us. His wallet arced through the air, landing with a soft thud at Luke's feet, a tangible symbol of his willingness to contribute, to sacrifice for the collective need.

Luke bent to retrieve the wallet, his movements gentle. "Thanks," he said, his smile soft and laden with gratitude. It was a rare glimpse into the depth of their relationship, a moment of vulnerability and mutual understanding.

I found myself caught in the observation of this exchange, a witness to a side of Jamie I had perhaps too hastily overlooked. Despite his brusqueness, his earlier willingness to comfort and protect me in a moment of vulnerability flashed through my mind, reminding me of his capacity for compassion. It had been Jamie's arms that had provided solace in the darkness, his presence a beacon in the tumult of fear and confusion. A surge of guilt washed over me for not fully acknowledging the complexity of his character, for underestimating the breadth of his empathy.

Maybe… My train of thought was suddenly derailed by Jamie's exclamation.

"Shit, Luke. This is insane," he blurted out, the gravity of what we were about to undertake hitting him anew. His words echoed my own fears, a vocalisation of the dread that lay heavy on my heart.

"I know," Luke's response was resigned, a verbal shrug in the face of our unprecedented circumstances. "But this is just how it is now."

His words, simple yet profound, hung in the air, a sombre acknowledgment of our new reality. My head bowed, weighed down by the acceptance of our predicament. "I'll go and get some paper," I murmured, the need to contribute, to participate in our collective survival, pushing me to action despite the heaviness that threatened to immobilise me.

And so, I retreated back to the tent, each step a mixture of determination and despair. The act of fetching paper, mundane in any other context, felt like a small but significant assertion of agency in a world where so much had been stripped away.

Jamie had done a commendable job repairing it, yet the string winds last night had turned the left wing of our tent into a disarrayed mess, with sheets of paper scattered like leaves in a storm. The urgency that had propelled me moments ago seemed to dissipate as I surveyed the scene before me. There was a certain solace in the task at hand, a reprieve from the relentless pace of our new reality. Thus, with no particular desire to hasten back to the Portal and face whatever awaited me there, I allowed myself a moment of deliberate slowness. Dropping to my knees, I methodically began to gather the strewn paper, each sheet a tangible connection to a world that felt increasingly distant.

The act of collecting the paper was meditative. The tent, for all its imperfections, offered a semblance of shelter, not just from the elements, but from the weight of our circumstances. As I crawled, retrieving each piece, I found myself grappling with the duality of our situation—caught between the need to press forward and the desire to hold onto the fragments of the life I had known.

With a single sheet of paper and pen in hand, I emerged from the tent, stepping back into the uncertain daylight of Clivilius. The security of the tent, transient as it was, had provided a brief respite, a moment to gather my thoughts and brace for what lay ahead. The open air of Clivilius greeted me with a palpable sense of expectation, a reminder of the vast unknowns that stretched beyond the horizon.

Shuffling over the final small rise, the unexpected sight that greeted me drew an involuntary smile. Luke and Jamie, momentarily lost in a passionate kiss, presented a beautiful contrast to the tension that had permeated their interactions up until now. "So, you've made up then, I see?" I couldn't resist the urge to tease, even as I intruded upon their intimate moment.

Startled, they broke apart, the space between them widening as Jamie reflexively held Luke's shoulders at arm's length. The moment of surprise quickly gave way to an awkward pause, a silent acknowledgment of my presence.

I tried not to look down, but Jamie's arousal was all too obvious through his thin pale beach shorts, stretching its way down his left leg. I forced myself to look at Jamie's chest instead, as I waited patiently.

Jamie scribbled down his bank details, the act itself a reluctant surrender to our grim circumstances. Once done, he handed the paper over to Luke with a simple, "That's it."

Luke's response was tender, a firm squeeze of Jamie's shoulder that seemed to convey a multitude of unspoken promises. "I'll spend it carefully," he assured Jamie. Then, turning towards the Portal, he stepped through its swirling, electric colours, disappearing from sight as the Portal’s colours vanished, leaving behind a palpable sense of finality.

My gaze shifted to Jamie, whose expression had morphed into one of profound sadness. The juxtaposition of his forlorn demeanour against the backdrop of their recent embrace was jarring. I found myself wanting to reach out, to ask what had transpired between them to cast such a shadow over the moment, but Jamie preempted any attempt at conversation.

"I want to be alone," he said, his voice devoid of its usual fire, his gaze fixed firmly away from mine. With those words, he turned and walked off, leaving me to contemplate the scene alone.

I watched Jamie's retreating figure, his silhouette growing smaller against the vast, dusty landscape of Clivilius. The distance between us seemed to grow with each step he took, not just physically but emotionally, a gap widened by unasked questions and unshared pains. The sight of him walking away, so clearly burdened by a weight I could neither lift nor share, filled me with a sense of helplessness.

"Hmm," I murmured, the sound more a reflection of my internal state than a response to any external query. With a noncommittal shrug, I moved towards the truck, its presence in the Drop Zone a reminder of the work to be done.

Discovering the truck's automatic tray was an unexpected boon. "Well, that's a bit handy," I remarked, a small smile breaking through as I considered the ease it would lend to my unloading efforts.

Carefully, mindful of the sharp pain that shot through my foot with every step, I began to unload the truck. Each item I pulled from the back—cement, tools, the cement mixer—was handled with an unusual level of care and attention. Organisation was not typically my forte, but in this moment, as I laid out our supplies, there was a sense of ceremony to my actions. It felt... special, imbued with a significance that went beyond the mere act of unloading goods.

I thought back to my conversation with Jamie, to the hope and determination that had underpinned my words. We really do have a chance to create a new, thriving settlement. The thought was a beacon, a guiding light as I surveyed the goods spread before me. We could really do it. A sense of conviction settled in my bones, a belief in the potential of what we were building here.

Yet, as the engine of the truck roared to life under my hands, a shadow of doubt crept in. But what happens when the money runs out? The question loomed large, its weight threatening to undermine the fragile optimism I'd nurtured. I pushed the thought aside, unwilling to succumb to the fear of uncertainty. Luke's creative, I reassured myself with a firm nod. He'll figure it out.

With a sense of resolve, I manoeuvred the truck between the two stacks of entrance rocks, parking it next to the Portal, ready for Luke's collection.