Hearing Luke's voice was like a beacon in the dense fog of our frustration. "I've come bearing gifts," he announced, his tone injecting a rare note of levity into the heavy air that had settled around Jamie and me. Despite the gravity of our situation, Luke's attempt at humour was a welcome reprieve.
"There had better be a knife in that bag of yours," Jamie retorted, his voice laced with a frustration so palpable, it seemed to momentarily charge the air around us.
Luke, unfazed by Jamie's tone, reached into his bag with a magician's flair and pulled out a knife. "As a matter of fact, there is," he declared, his voice buoyant with triumph, as if he'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. The gleam in his eye was unmistakable, a spark of mischief that I knew too well.
"Thank God for that," I breathed out, the relief washing over me in an almost physical wave. I recounted our earlier folly, a mix of humour and self-derision in my tone. "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." The mental image of myself gnawing at the stubborn plastic wrapping must have painted a ridiculous picture, but the absurdity of the situation seemed fitting given the day we were having.
"You may find these useful too," Luke chimed in, his attention now on the small toolkit cradled in his left hand.
"Did you check that all the tools were actually in there?" Jamie couldn't resist adding a dose of skepticism, his condescension thinly veiled. It was his way, challenging every bit of good news as if bracing for the next disappointment.
"Of course, I did," Luke retorted, the snap in his voice revealing a flicker of annoyance. It was rare to see him anything but jovial, but even Luke had his limits. "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." His admission, candid and slightly sheepish, drew a laugh from me.
"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" I quipped, the laughter bubbling up from a place of genuine amusement.
"Well, it's not like you're any better," Jamie quickly jumped in, leaping to Luke's defence with a barb aimed my way. "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."
My face tightened, an involuntary reaction to Jamie's jab. My mouth, already parting to unleash a retort, snapped shut as vivid, embarrassing memories of a collapsed cubbyhouse—my handiwork—flashed before my eyes. The structure, meant to stand proud in my backyard, had instead become a monument to my overconfidence in my carpentry skills. A bitter chuckle escaped me, unbidden. I knew Jamie was right. This time, at least. It stung to admit, even silently, that my ambitious projects often turned out less than stellar.
"Anyway," Luke interjected, his voice cutting through the awkward silence that had settled between Jamie and me. He seemed unfazed by our sniping, his demeanour casual, almost nonchalant, as he shrugged off my failed attempt at a comeback. "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," he said, his tone blunt, yet underscored by a seriousness that I couldn't ignore.
"We?" Jamie's skepticism was palpable as he gestured pointedly between the two of us, his eyebrow arching in challenge. "And what about you? Aren't you going to help us?" His tone was accusatory, as if Luke's leadership had suddenly placed him above the grunt work, a division that didn't sit well with Jamie's sense of fairness—or perhaps his reluctance to shoulder more of the burden.
"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 space," Luke replied, his voice steady, revealing a thoughtfulness that contrasted sharply with the tension that had been building among us. His suggestion, meant to ease our discomfort, also hinted at a practical understanding of our situation. Being stuck in Clivilius, wherever that might be, pressed upon us the reality of our predicament. Space, privacy, and the semblance of normalcy would be scarce commodities here.
"Good point," I found myself saying, the words slipping out before I could weigh them. "He's not wrong." In truth, the prospect of sharing a tent with Jamie, given his current mood and my own fraying nerves, was less than appealing. His attitude, though perhaps justified by the day's frustrations, did little to calm the storm of anxieties whirling within me. The thought of a personal space, no matter how temporary or illusory, offered a sliver of comfort in the face of our uncertain future.
"Wait!" Jamie's voice, tinged with a mixture of hope and desperation, cut through the air just as Luke began to turn away, his intention to leave clear. Jamie's eyes met mine, seeking an ally in his sudden decision. "We may as well see if we can leave with you again," he said, his gaze imploring me for support.
"Sure! Good idea," I echoed, though my voice was hollow, lacking conviction. Deep down, a part of me knew the likelihood of our escape being that simple was slim. Yet, clinging to a sliver of hope, I followed, trailing behind Luke back to the Portal, the mysterious gateway that had brought us to this uncertain place.
As we approached the Portal, a tangible sense of tension enveloped us. I held my breath, my eyes fixed on Jamie as he stepped forward, his movements hesitant yet determined. He extended both hands towards the Portal, an air of expectation hanging heavily around us. But nothing happened. No flicker of light, no hum of energy—just the oppressive silence of our isolation. Watching Jamie's face lose its colour, the reality of our situation sank in deeper. What the hell just happened? The question echoed in my mind, a silent scream. I was too afraid to voice my fears, too afraid to acknowledge the possibility that we might truly be trapped.
Jamie turned to face me, a swift, almost frantic movement. He turned his back on the Portal, on the world we both yearned to return to. The look in his eyes—a raw, unfiltered expression of defeat—sent a chill down my spine. "You try," he said, his voice devoid of hope, as he gestured towards the Portal with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Taking an anxious step forward, I couldn't help but glance at Jamie. The sight of him, pale and shaken, looking as though he had indeed seen a ghost, filled me with dread. Something profound and unsettling had occurred in that failed attempt to connect with the Portal, and I wasn't sure I was ready to face the same. Yet, the weight of his expectation and the slim chance that my attempt might yield a different result propelled me forward.
"Go," Jamie urged, his voice a mixture of command and plea.
As I approached the Portal, a myriad of thoughts swirled through my mind, not least of which was my growing frustration with Jamie. Why is Jamie always so rude? The question echoed in the back of my head, a nagging reminder of the unnecessary tension between us. Here we were, stranded in an alien environment, facing unknown dangers and challenges, and yet, it seemed Jamie's harshness added an extra layer of adversity to our already daunting situation. I couldn't help but think that we had enough to contend with without turning on each other.
My eyes darted about, taking in the stark, unforgiving landscape of Clivilius. The harshness of our surroundings was palpable, a constant reminder of our vulnerability in this strange world. It was clear that any additional conflict amongst ourselves was not just unnecessary; it was detrimental.
Caught in these reflections, I was utterly unprepared for what came next. Without any warning, Jamie's impatience boiled over into a physical act. He shoved me firmly in the back, a jarring push that sent me stumbling forward. Instinct took over as I fell towards the Portal. My hands shot out in front of me, reaching for something, anything, to break my fall. But what I encountered was far from the solid support I had hoped for.
The Portal, with its swirling mass of colours, seemed alive, pulsating with an intense energy that repelled my hands as they neared its surface. In that moment, a blinding light erupted from the Portal, accompanied by a sound akin to thunder cracking directly overhead. The force of it was unimaginable, sending me hurtling backwards through the air.
I landed with a heavy thud in the soft dust. My clothes, singed by the encounter, emitted a soft, boiling sound. Lying there, dazed and confused, I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Miraculously, I was unharmed, a fact that seemed almost impossible given the violence of the repulsion.
Then, as if to add a surreal quality to the already unbelievable situation, the same Clivilius voice that had greeted me upon my arrival once again filled my head. Its words, thunderous and inescapable, bore into me: You will never leave Clivilius, Paul Smith. The finality of that declaration, the utter hopelessness it conveyed, was overwhelming. Hot tears welled up in my eyes, a visceral response to the realisation of our predicament.
As I lay there in the dust, the aftermath of my encounter with the Portal still echoing through my body, Luke was at my side in an instant, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency.
Before I could muster a response, his attention whirled towards Jamie, his anger palpable. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he yelled, his voice a sharp rebuke in the quiet that surrounded us, furious at Jamie's reckless provocation.
Jamie, however, seemed unfazed by Luke's fury, his own turmoil bubbling to the surface. "So, you heard it too?" he asked, sidestepping the question, his eyes locking onto mine. His voice, a mix of defiance and a deeper, unspoken fear, hinted at the shared experience that had just unfolded.
I nodded, my response silent yet heavy with the weight of our grim reality.
"Heard what?" Luke's demand came softer this time, tinged with a growing fear that mirrored the unease clawing at my own heart.
The tears that I had been fighting back broke free, a silent testament to the despair that had taken hold. The words were lodged in my throat, a painful lump that refused to dissipate. The fear of voicing the truth made it all the more real, all the more terrifying.
“Fucking shit!" Jamie's frustration erupted in a physical outburst, his foot sending clouds of Clivilian dust into the air. The dust, like a tangible representation of our shattered hopes, swirled around him, prompting a coughing fit that seemed a fitting punishment for his earlier action. It was a moment of raw emotion, a release of the pent-up fear and frustration that we all felt but expressed in different ways.
"What did you hear?" Luke asked again.
The tears streaming down my face, I finally found my voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. "That we can never leave," I managed to say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "This is it. Forever. I'm going to die here." The admission felt like surrender, the final crumbling of any hope I had clung to.
Luke's reaction was subdued, a simple "Oh," that hung heavily in the air. His lack of surprise, the calm acceptance that seemed to underpin his response, caught me off guard. I eyed him suspiciously, the dampness of my tears doing little to obscure the sudden suspicion that flickered within me. Why didn't he seem surprised? What did Luke know that I didn't? His reaction, or lack thereof, added a new layer of mystery to our already confounding predicament. The implications of his nonchalance were chilling, leaving me to wonder about the true nature of Clivilius, and what it meant for our chances of ever finding a way back home.
The air crackled with tension, heavier and more charged than the swirling energies of the Portal itself. Jamie's anger, a tangible force, propelled him across the space that separated him from Luke. His strides were quick and determined, fuelled by a sense of betrayal that seemed to eclipse the fear and uncertainty that had governed us until now.
"You fucking arsehole!" Jamie's voice was a roar of fury, each word punctuated by his rapid approach. The distance between him and Luke disappeared in mere moments, culminating in a hard shove that sent Luke staggering back. "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?"
Luke's reaction was swift, a defensive move to swipe away Jamie's hands as they came at him again. It was a dance as old as time, aggression met with resistance, yet it solved nothing, only serving to deepen the rifts that had begun to form among us.
"Hey!" My own voice surprised me, breaking through the tension as I scrambled to my feet, driven by a desperate need to intervene. Grasping hold of Jamie's arm, I tried to anchor him, to prevent another blow that might irreparably fracture whatever fragile unity we still possessed. "Fighting isn't going to help any of us.”
But Jamie was a storm, his anger uncontainable. He turned on me, his eyes blazing with a ferocity that matched his earlier charge. With a shrug and retort that sent a clear message of his disdain, "You're no better than your pathetic excuse for a brother," he cast me aside, his shove sending me stumbling backwards. The ground met me sooner than expected, the dust a soft but unwelcome landing that did nothing to cushion the shock of his betrayal.
As I sat there, the dust settling around me, a profound sense of disbelief washed over me. Is this how he treats Luke? The question echoed in my mind, a haunting thought that made me question the very foundation of our relationships. Fear mingled with the dust in my throat, a bitter taste that spoke of disillusionment and the dawning realisation of our precarious situation.
"Cut it out, Jamie!" Luke's scream sliced through the air, a desperate plea that seemed to hang, suspended, as if even the atmosphere of Clivilius itself awaited Jamie's response. The moment was a crossroads, the outcome of which would inevitably shape the days to come. Would Jamie heed Luke's call, or had we already spiralled too far into chaos, driven apart by secrets and lies? The uncertainty of it all was almost as daunting as the voice that claimed we could never leave. Amidst the alien dust, beneath a sky not our own, I realised that our greatest challenge might not come from Clivilius itself, but from within.
Jamie's abrupt halt was a physical manifestation of the turmoil churning within him. Luke's desperate cry, laden with fear and urgency, pierced through the red haze of Jamie's anger, reaching into the core of his being where the primal instinct to protect and preserve family still held sway. For a moment, Jamie stood frozen, a statue of rage gradually eroding under the torrent of Luke's emotional plea. His heavy, laboured breaths were the only sound in the tense air, each exhale a testament to the battle raging within him between fury and the remnants of familial bonds.
As Jamie turned away from my unwavering gaze, a palpable shift occurred. The immediate threat of violence dissipated, leaving behind an awkward silence that enveloped us like a thick fog, tangible and suffocating. This silence, stretching endlessly, felt like a chasm widening between us, an insurmountable gap that words could no longer bridge.
Luke, perhaps sensing the futility of further conversation, retraced his steps back through the Portal without another word. His departure, rather than offering solace, seemed to solidify our hopelessness. I watched, mesmerised yet hollow, as the Portal's beautiful, hypnotic colours faded into the surrounding air, a visual echo of our fading hopes. My head sank into my knees, a physical capitulation to the despair that had been gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. We were lost—utterly and irrevocably. Lost in a world from which there seemed no escape. Lost to my children, whose faces now seemed like distant memories, their laughter a melody I feared I would never hear again.
In that moment of profound despair, a desperate, almost instinctual act of defiance against the crushing weight of our reality, I did something I hadn't anticipated. With tears anew streaming down my face, I reached out with my heart, sending a silent message into the unknown expanses of the Clivilius universe. It was a message of hope, a plea cast into the vast, uncaring cosmos: that Mack and Rose, my beloved children, would one day find me again, somehow. It was a gesture perhaps futile, born not of reason but of the raw, unyielding love of a parent for their children. A love that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
This act, though small and unseen, felt like a tiny beacon of light in the overwhelming darkness. It was a declaration, however silent, that even in the depths of despair, the human spirit could still reach for hope, still dream of reunion and redemption. And in the vast, mysterious universe of Clivilius, who could say what was truly impossible?
