Moseying casually around the Drop Zone, I found myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, not particularly sure where to begin my search. I chose a spot on the soft, fine dust that blanketed the ground like a thin layer of forgotten snow that refused to melt. Sitting there, I let my gaze fall onto a picture plastered on the side of one of the larger boxes – a large, green garden shed, so vivid and out of place in this barren landscape. It seemed to mock me with its promise of normalcy in a world that was anything but.

"Hey! You actually going to do anything with that besides stare at it all day?" Jamie's voice sliced through the silence, jolting me out of my reverie.

The sound of his voice, so familiar yet unexpected, released me from my pointless trance. I turned my head towards him, the words stumbling out of me. "Umm. I'm not really sure," I replied, the honesty in my voice surprising even myself.

Jamie moved in closer, his presence sending small puffs of dust into the air as his feet dragged across the ground with a deliberate slowness. "It's a lot of stuff," he said calmly.

I turned my full attention to Jamie, my eyes narrowing as I studied his face more closely. There was something undeniably different about him. His usual brooding demeanour had been replaced by something else, something… calmer. Jamie almost brought an air of peacefulness with him, a tranquility that felt both unusual and unsettling. It was as if he carried with him a bubble of serenity, undisturbed by the entropy that defined our surroundings.

"What?" Jamie asked, his eyebrows arching in curiosity as he noticed my fixed gaze on him.

I blinked quickly, breaking the intense eye contact between us. My eyes widened as a thought began to form, unbidden, in the back of my mind. I wonder... The thought lingered, unfinished, as I grappled with this new perception of Jamie.

"How was your walk?" I asked, feigning a casual interest that belied the eager anticipation swirling within me. My voice, I hoped, carried a tone of nonchalance, but internally, I was fighting the urge to let a wide grin spread across my face. I knew where Jamie had been, and the thought of it filled me with curiosity.

Jamie shrugged, his response as noncommittal as his gesture. "Fine," he said, his voice flat, giving nothing away. Yet, there was something in his demeanour that suggested otherwise.

"Find anything interesting?" I prompted further, my curiosity barely contained. I was determined to probe gently, to peel back the layers of Jamie's recent experience without revealing too much of my own interest. His suddenly calm demeanour, the casual way he stood there with his shoulders relaxed, was at complete odds with his usual restlessness. It made me almost certain he had encountered the lagoon, that mystical place that had had a profound effect on me.

"Hmm. Not really," Jamie replied, his voice laced with a disinterest that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was as if he was trying to maintain a façade of indifference, but the subtle shifts in his expression betrayed him.

There was a moment of silence between us, thick with unspoken thoughts and questions. The lagoon, that serene and mysterious place, was teetering on the edge of my tongue, begging to be acknowledged. I bit down on my lower lip, holding the word back, fearing that mentioning it outright might shatter the delicate moment we were sharing.

"The lagoon is nice," Jamie finally said, breaking the silence with a casualness that felt rehearsed.

Aha! I told myself, a surge of triumph coursing through me. I knew it! The knowledge that Jamie had experienced the lagoon's tranquil beauty, just as I had, filled me with a sense of camaraderie. "It is," I agreed, my voice soft, accompanied by a gentle nod.

Then, we fell silent again, the air around us filled with the weight of our discoveries and the unspoken thoughts that lingered like ghosts.

"So..." I started, my voice laced with a tentative eagerness as I sought to engage Jamie further, buoyed by his uncharacteristically mellow mood. "This is pretty much everything from the first list that I gave Luke." My eyes briefly scanned the collection of materials and tools scattered around us

Jamie's eyebrows arched in genuine surprise. "Really?" he queried, his tone mixing incredulity with a hint of respect. "You've both actually done a really good job."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his astonishment, the sound echoing slightly in the open space between us. "You sound surprised," I remarked, finding a sliver of humour in our dire situation.

"Well," Jamie continued, his gaze drifting from the pile of supplies to me, a playful yet skeptical glint in his eyes. "You've managed to get us all this stuff, but do you actually know what to do with any of it? Guessing from the way you've been staring at that box for so long, I'd guess you've got no clue."

"Umm... well..." I stammered, the words tumbling out in a hesitant admission of my inadequacy. "No, not really," I confessed, feeling a wave of defeat wash over me. My expertise, if it could be called that, was confined to the sterile predictability of office life—hours spent in front of a computer screen, punctuated by the occasional, mind-numbing meeting. Hardly the skill set required for the task at hand. "But really, how hard can it be to put a few sheds together?" I added, trying to infuse a bit of bravado into my voice, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Jamie positioned himself behind me, his gaze joining mine as we both stared at the picture of the shed, as if willing it to offer up its secrets. The silence stretched between us, heavy with the unspoken acknowledgment of our mutual cluelessness.

"I think we're a bit fucked," Jamie finally said, his voice low and devoid of his earlier amusement. The words hung in the air, a stark, unvarnished truth that neither of us could deny.

I groaned loudly, the sound a visceral response to the grim reality of our situation. Deep down, I had harboured a faint hope that Jamie possessed some untapped reservoir of practical skills, a hope that now seemed as flimsy as the paper instructions we lacked. The realisation that Jamie might be as out of his depth as I was struck a chord of panic within me. Up until that moment, I had clung to the notion that together, we could blunder our way through this project. Now, faced with the daunting reality of our incompetence, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of dismay. How were we supposed to build a future here, when the simplest of tasks felt insurmountable?

"But..." Jamie's voice trailed off slowly, a hint of contemplation in his tone that immediately caught my attention. A spark of hope began to flicker within me, faint yet persistent, as I clung to the possibility that Jamie might have a solution, or at least the beginnings of one.

Jamie continued, breaking the brief silence that had fallen between us. "But I do know that before we can start working on the shed, we need to pour the concrete foundations." His words carried the weight of practical knowledge, a reminder of the essential first steps we had overlooked in our eagerness to make progress.

"Of course," I replied, nodding with feigned assurance, as if the idea had been on the tip of my tongue all along. Internally, I kicked myself for not considering the basics of construction. The fact that Jamie had to point it out was a small blow to my pride. It seemed so obvious now, a fundamental prerequisite for any stable structure, and yet it had completely eluded me until he mentioned it.

I rose to my feet, infused with a sudden surge of energy at the prospect of taking tangible action. "Let's get it started then," I declared to Jamie, my excitement momentarily overshadowing the daunting task ahead of us.

"Hang on a sec," Jamie interjected, his hand grasping my arm just as I reached out to grab the first bag of cement mix. His caution tempered my haste, pulling me back from the brink of a potentially rash decision.

"What?" I asked, a trace of irritation threading through my voice. What does he want now? Can't we just get on with it? My impatience to move forward was palpable, but Jamie's intervention suggested there was more to consider.

"Have you actually ever laid concrete before?" Jamie inquired, his question hanging in the air like a challenge to my unspoken assumptions.

I shook my head, the admission of my inexperience leaving me somewhat deflated. "No," I confessed, the word tasting like defeat on my tongue.

Jamie gently pushed me aside and took the initiative, grabbing the first bag of cement mix and turning it over to reveal the instructions on the back. I watched him intently, a mix of anticipation and frustration building within me.

"What's it say?" I asked, unable to mask my impatience. Each second that ticked by felt like a missed opportunity, a delay in our progress.

"Not much," Jamie replied after a moment, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "It only explains how to mix the concrete. But I am pretty sure we need to prep the ground first." His conclusion seemed to stem from a place of logical deduction rather than concrete knowledge, pun unintended.

"Oh," I said, my gaze drifting over the array of tools and materials scattered around us. An idea sparked in my mind, born out of desperation rather than expertise. "We can use the pickaxe to dig the foundation hole."

Jamie laughed at my suggestion, the sound light and teasing in the heavy air. "Now you just sound like you're throwing words together." His amusement, though gentle, underscored the absurdity of my attempt to grasp at solutions, highlighting my ignorance in the face of a task that required far more skill and preparation than I had anticipated.

"Yeah, I kinda am," I conceded with a broad smile, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me. Despite the daunting task ahead and Jamie's gentle ribbing, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of determination. I walked over to collect the pickaxe, the weight of it reassuring in my hands. "We may as well give it a try," I suggested, turning back to Jamie with the pickaxe in hand. I hoped the gesture would encourage him, show him my readiness to tackle the challenge, no matter how ill-equipped we seemed.

Jamie took the pickaxe from me with a nod, a silent agreement to my unspoken plea. "You'd better let me do the digging," he said, a playful smirk on his face as he glanced down at my foot. "You're already crippled," he joked, pointing at my red foot, which was a vivid reminder of my less-than-stellar physical condition.

I offered no objection to his teasing. Truth be told, I wasn't afraid of hard work, but if Jamie was willing to take the lead on this, I had no qualms in stepping back. After all, teamwork was about playing to each other's strengths and compensating for weaknesses.

Jamie walked to the edge of the Drop Zone, the pickaxe slung over his shoulder with a casual ease. "Where do you want it?" he called out, his voice carrying back to me over the short distance.

I joined Jamie at the edge, peering out over the vast, open expanse that stretched before us. The empty landscape was a blank canvas, waiting for us to impose some semblance of order and purpose upon it. "We could put the sheds anywhere really," I mused aloud, my voice tinged with the weight of decision. The vastness of Clivilius offered endless possibilities, yet that very expanse made the task of choosing a spot seem all the more daunting.

"Think, Paul. It has to be practical," Jamie interjected, his tone firm yet not unkind. His words snapped me back to the reality of our situation. It wasn't just about placing a shed; it was about planning, about foreseeing the needs of a future we were still trying to piece together.

"Well..." I began, my voice trailing off as I mulled over our options with a newfound seriousness. The decision's weight felt heavy on my shoulders, a tangible reminder of the responsibility Jamie and I carried. "If they were near the Drop Zone, we wouldn't need to carry items too far," I reasoned out loud, trying to visualise the logistics in my head. The idea seemed practical at first glance, minimising the immediate effort required to move our supplies.

However, as I delved deeper into the thought, a critical flaw in my initial plan became apparent. "Oh… Yes… But then we'd still need to carry stuff to the campsite, which is where it'd most likely be required." The realisation dawned on me like a slow, breaking wave; convenience now could lead to hardship later. "If we built the sheds near the campsite, someone would need to move things there initially, but it would be closer and easier access for everyone else." My voice grew more confident as I spoke, the plan solidifying in my mind with each word. It was about more than just Jamie and me; it was about building a foundation for a community, however uncertain that future might be.

"Everyone else?" Jamie interjected, his question cutting through my thoughts like a knife.

I bit my tongue, a momentary frustration flaring within me. Surely Jamie doesn’t think it's going to just be the two of us forever? The thought was a silent rebuke to his implied doubt, a reminder of the hope and vision that had propelled us this far. "We're building the sheds near the campsite," I declared, more boldly than I felt. It was a decision made not just for our immediate convenience but for the future we were trying to build.

"Okay then," Jamie conceded with a simplicity that belied the complexity of our endeavour. He collected the shovel and pickaxe, a silent symbol of his acceptance, and began walking towards the camp, the tools dragging a line in the dust behind him, marking our path forward.

I sighed, the reality of our decision settling in. "I'll grab the cement," I called out, my voice carrying a mix of determination and resignation. I heaved the bag of cement into the wheelbarrow, its weight a physical manifestation of our burdens. Along with a few other smaller items that would fit, I prepared to follow Jamie, my pace slow and measured.

The journey was punctuated by the wheel snagging in the dust, each stop to adjust the pile of unstable contents a reminder of the challenges we faced. Each time the wheelbarrow lurched, my grimace reflected not just the physical strain but the mental and emotional toll of our task. We were laying the groundwork for something far greater than just a few sheds; we were building the foundation of our future, brick by brick, with every snag in the dust a small obstacle in the grand scheme of our shared endeavour.

As Jamie swung the pickaxe with determined force into the ground, the sharp edge sliced through the layer of dust with ease before striking the hard surface beneath with a resounding crack. The sound echoed in the open space. He poised himself for another swing, muscles tensed and ready.

"Wait!" I couldn't help but cry out, an instinctive reaction to what I perceived as a potentially misguided effort.

Jamie paused mid-motion, the pickaxe frozen in air, and turned his gaze towards me, a mixture of confusion and expectancy in his eyes. "What?" he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of frustration.

"That crust is really firm," I observed aloud, my tone cautious. The realisation that the hardened ground beneath the thin veil of dust might actually be an asset rather than a hindrance was a new and unexpected development. "Maybe we should just leave it and only move the few inches of dust?" I suggested, the idea forming more clearly as I spoke. "I reckon the concrete will set better on that solid ground." It was a gamble, relying on my limited knowledge of construction, but it felt like a sound hypothesis.

Jamie considered my suggestion for a moment, his expression contemplative. Then, with a nod, he conceded, "That's actually not a bad idea." The approval in his voice was unexpected but welcome, a sign that we were finally starting to operate on the same wavelength.

I breathed a sigh of relief, a weight lifting off my shoulders. Finally, I thought, a small but significant victory. We were starting to get along, to truly collaborate on this daunting task. The early tension that had hovered between us like a thick fog was beginning to dissipate, replaced by a burgeoning sense of teamwork and mutual respect.

"I'll go get us some water for the concrete mix," I announced, eager to contribute further and maintain the momentum of our newfound cooperation.

"Sure," Jamie replied, a simple acknowledgment that carried with it a sense of agreement and partnership. He set aside the pickaxe and picked up the shovel, adapting to the new plan without hesitation.

Collecting the large plastic bucket, I set off toward the river, the anticipation of the task ahead mixing with a slight apprehension about my ability to carry it out. The journey, though familiar, felt different this time, imbued with the weight of responsibility resting squarely on my shoulders.

As I knelt down on the bank, the coolness of the earth seeped through the fabric of my pants, grounding me in the moment. I lowered the bucket into the clear, inviting water, watching with a childlike fascination as the water resisted entry, swirling around the rim in a playful dance before conceding, allowing the bucket to fill. The simple act of collecting water, so mundane yet so vital, reminded me of the precarious balance of our existence here.

Heading back to camp, I was acutely aware of every step on the uneven ground, my sore foot a constant reminder of my vulnerability. Then, without warning, a sharp pain shot up my leg, as if lightning had struck from the earth itself, causing my knee to buckle. "Shit," I cried out, the expletive torn from me as I landed heavily in the dust, a cloud of fine particles rising around me like a mocking spectre.

Lying there for a moment, frustration knotted my brow as I watched the precious water spill from the bucket, greedily absorbed by the parched ground beneath. It was a disappointing reminder of the challenges we faced, not just in building a physical structure but in surviving here, in this unforgiving landscape.

With a half-full bucket as my reluctant companion, I trudged back to the river, each step full of the determination that had taken root within me. The quick refill was a silent act of defiance against the setbacks that seemed all too eager to test us.

On the walk back to the shed site, I paced myself, mindful of the lessons learned from my previous fall. The realisation that this was just the first of several trips to the river cast a shadow of pragmatism over my initial enthusiasm. I couldn't afford to be careless; the success of our endeavour depended on the accumulation of small victories, each bucket of water a building block in the foundation we were striving to lay.

Arriving back at the site with the full bucket of water, I set it down with a deliberate care, mindful of not repeating my earlier mishap. I turned my attention to the concrete mix bag, studying the instructions printed on its back with a concentration borne out of necessity. It doesn't look too difficult, I thought, a flicker of optimism breaking through the daunting prospect of what we were about to undertake. With a measure of confidence, I tipped half the contents of the first bag into the wheelbarrow, the dry powder forming a small mountain in the centre.

"I'll pour, you stir," Jamie instructed, his voice pulling me back from my contemplation. He walked over to join me, a determined stride in his step that I hadn't noticed before.

"You finished clearing the dust already?" I asked, genuinely surprised. Jamie's efficiency was a welcome contrast to the slow, painstaking process I had envisioned in my mind.

"Yeah, I think it's as good as it's gonna get," he replied, a hint of resignation in his tone that suggested he had come to terms with the imperfections of our workspace.

I casually glanced over at Jamie's handiwork, my eyes quickly finding the small, visible lumps that smattered the site. Oh no, I thought to myself, a sinking feeling in my stomach as I contemplated the potential impact of those blemishes on the stability of our foundations. I opened my mouth to point out the concerns, the words teetering on the edge of my tongue, but then thought better of it. At least Jamie tried. Honestly, assessing my own skills, or lack thereof, I admitted silently that I probably couldn't do a better job. "Great," I said instead, picking up the stirring stick with a feigned enthusiasm that masked my internal reservations.

After making quick work of the first ten kilograms of concrete mix, I walked back to the Drop Zone for the second bag. The return journey offered me a moment of reflection, a chance to weigh the pros and cons of our methods. The wheelbarrow, which I had initially thought would ease our burden, became a source of frustration as it repeatedly got stuck in the uneven ground. The cement mix, heavy and unyielding, seemed to mock my efforts with each step. The cement mix is heavy, but the number of times that wheelbarrow got stuck… I mused, the wheels digging obstinate trenches in the soft earth. Carrying is definitely less of a hassle! I finally decided, a conclusion reached through the trial and error that seemed to characterise much of our endeavour.

"Stop!" Jamie's voice cut through the air sharply, halting my movements just as I was about to tear into the new bag of concrete mix. His tone was urgent, a clear indication that something was amiss. "This isn't looking right," he added, a note of concern threading through his words.

"Really?" I queried, my brows furrowing in confusion. From my perspective, everything seemed to be proceeding according to plan, or at least, as close to 'plan' as we could manage given our circumstances. "It looks fine to me."

Jamie shook his head, his expression one of unmistakable dissatisfaction. "Nah. It shouldn't be clumping like that. And see how it is seeping into the surrounding dirt," he said, his finger pointing towards the far corner of our makeshift worksite. His observation drew my attention to the inconsistencies in the mixture, something I had naively overlooked.

"Hmm," I mused, taking a closer look at the areas Jamie highlighted. The evidence was hard to ignore, and a small part of me knew he was right even before my pride allowed me to admit it. "You might be right."

Jamie gave a small shrug, a gesture that seemed to carry a mix of resignation and frustration. It was clear he was as invested in the success of this project as I was, yet equally aware of our limitations.

"We could probably fix it," I said, my voice laced with a forced optimism. Despite the growing evidence to the contrary, I clung to the hope that there was still a way to salvage our efforts.

"I dunno," Jamie replied, his skepticism mirroring my internal doubts. "Maybe we should ask Luke to bring us a short how-to guide for laying concrete for a small shed?" His suggestion was practical, a concession to the fact that we were out of our depth.

I took a moment to survey the mess that lay before us. The uneven, partially mixed concrete that now marred the landscape was a testament to our inexperience. "You're probably right," I conceded with a soft sigh, my smile strained as I attempted to mask the depth of my disappointment. This task, which I had so naively assumed would be straightforward, had quickly devolved into a glaring symbol of our inadequacy. And we couldn't even get that right! What hope did we really have? The question loomed large in my mind, a shadow cast over our ambitious endeavour.

We need someone with better handyman skills, I concluded silently, the thought a bitter pill to swallow. The realisation that our survival and success depended not just on our willingness to work hard but on acquiring the necessary skills and knowledge was a sobering one.

"Well..." Jamie stood there, hands planted firmly on his hips, his eyes scanning our surroundings with a mixture of frustration and resignation. It was clear he was at a loss, grappling with the reality of our situation and the dwindling options before us.

My stomach chose that moment to betray my own growing concerns, emitting a loud, unmistakable gurgle that echoed awkwardly between us. I rubbed it tenderly, a futile gesture aimed at quelling both the hunger and the rising anxiety within. "I'd suggest we eat. But even that is a little challenging at the moment," I managed to say, the irony of our predicament not lost on me.

Jamie's reaction was immediate and visceral. "Fuck it!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a blend of anger and desperation. With that, he turned on his heel and started walking briskly towards the Drop Zone, leaving me to digest the sudden shift in his demeanour.

And there we go, I sighed silently, a sense of resignation settling over me. Jamie's calm has come to an end. "Where are you going?" I called out, curious despite the obvious tension in his stride.

"To the Drop Zone," he shouted back without breaking his pace, the distance between us growing with each step.

"What for?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as I hurried to catch up, my sore foot protesting with every rushed step.

"To look for food," Jamie replied, his voice firm. It was a plan born out of necessity, a testament to our dire situation.

"But I just came from there and—" I began, my voice trailing off as something extraordinary caught my attention and halted my words mid-sentence.

The Portal, a marvel of swirling colours and energetic sparks, sprang to life in the distance. Its mesmerising display was a rare beacon of hope and wonder in our otherwise bleak surroundings. The larger streams of light collided with one another, sending sparks flying into the air in a breathtaking spectacle.

"Luke?" Jamie turned to me, his question hanging in the air, laden with hope and anticipation.

I knew the question was rhetorical, a shared acknowledgment of the one variable in our predicament that remained constant. Yet, I couldn't stop myself from responding. "I guess so," I answered.

We stood there, transfixed, as the small truck made its way through the Portal, its emergence into our world as surreal as ever. True to our suspicions, Luke was perched high in the driver's seat, a sight that somehow managed to blend the mundane with the extraordinary.

"Were you expecting anything else?" I found myself asking Jamie, my voice tinged with a mix of surprise and skepticism. In my mind, Luke's role had been to retrieve the truck I had emptied, not to arrive with another load. Besides, my understanding was that everything we had initially requested had already been delivered.

"Oh," Jamie responded, the gears turning in his head. "It could be the tents Luke said he had ordered." His speculation made sense, yet the method of delivery seemed excessive for something as simple as tents.

"In a truck?" My question hung between us, a reflection of the puzzlement that mirrored my own thoughts.

"Who knows," Jamie retorted dryly, a hint of resignation in his voice. "This is Luke we're talking about, remember." His reminder was unnecessary; Luke's unconventional methods were well-documented in our shared experiences.

"True," I conceded, acknowledging the unpredictability that seemed to be a hallmark of our plight.

The truck halted abruptly, a mere ten metres from the Portal, its sudden stop sending a cloud of dust swirling into the air.

"You're not even going to drive it into the Drop Zone?" Jamie's voice carried a mix of annoyance and disbelief. His expectation that the truck would be brought closer seemed reasonable under the circumstances.

As I reached out, my fingers brushing against the keys that dangled from Luke's grasp, his reaction was swift and unexpectedly sharp. "No!" he barked, pulling away before hurrying to the back of the truck.

Without hesitation, Jamie and I followed, our curiosity piqued by Luke's abrupt manner.

"But..." I began, the question dying on my lips as Luke cut me off.

"There's no time to move it. The delivery guy is in the toilet. We only have a matter of minutes to get all these boxes out!" The urgency in Luke's voice was palpable, a clear indication that the window of opportunity was narrow and closing fast.

"Shit!" Jamie's expletive was a succinct summary of our collective sentiment. The simplicity of our task had suddenly escalated into a race against time, a frantic effort to unload the truck's contents before the delivery driver's return.

"Tents?" I asked.

"Yeah," Luke confirmed. With a swift motion, he swung the truck's back doors open. The clang of metal on metal was so loud in the quiet of our surroundings that it felt like a physical blow, reverberating through the air and setting my ears ringing with a sound akin to an endless roll of thunder.

"Shit, Luke!" Jamie exclaimed, his hands flying up to cover his ears in a vain attempt to shield himself from the sudden onslaught of noise.

I found myself doing likewise, pressing my palms against my ears until the ringing subsided to a tolerable level. "Oops," came Luke's sheepish reply, a single word that did little to capture the discomfort his actions had caused.

Unperturbed, Luke reached up to grab the metal pole just inside the door, using it to hoist himself into the truck with ease. I watched him for a moment, marvelling at how the most mundane actions had taken on a new significance in our altered reality.

"How many are there again?" I asked, my voice louder than necessary in the aftermath of the noise. I reached up to take the first box from Luke, the weight of it surprising in its heft.

"Three," Luke answered, his voice steady and matter-of-fact as he passed another box down.

"At least that will give us something to do," I commented, tossing the words in Jamie's direction with a hint of irony. Our days were filled with tasks, yet the arrival of the tents presented a tangible project, something with a clear beginning and end.

Jamie reached out to take another box from Luke, his movements deliberate but lacking enthusiasm. "True," he agreed, the word heavy with resignation rather than excitement.

The three of us worked quickly, efficiently unloading all the tent boxes from the truck. We didn't bother moving them to the Drop Zone straight away, a decision born out of practicality rather than laziness. Watching Luke select each box with a haphazard carelessness, it was clear they would require some sorting before we could even think about setting them up.

"Thanks," Luke huffed, his breath coming out in short, laboured puffs as he jumped down from the back of the truck. With a quick gesture, he indicated for us to take care of the back doors while he made his way to the front of the vehicle, disappearing from sight with a purposeful stride.

"You coming back soon?" Jamie's voice carried a mix of hope and resignation as he called after Luke, the mention of hunger adding a layer of urgency to his question. But there was no reply, Luke's silence speaking volumes.

Jamie and I exchanged a glance, a silent communication that conveyed our shared expectations—or lack thereof—regarding Luke's unpredictability. Typical chaotic Luke, I mused internally, as we managed to close the truck doors far more gently than they had been opened.

"Odd," Jamie voiced his observation, the word hanging in the air between us as Luke and the truck vanished as quickly as they had arrived, leaving us alone with the boxes.

I picked up the corner of one of the larger boxes, my curiosity piqued. "What is?" I inquired, genuinely unsure of what Jamie found strange this time.

"The Portal is still open," he replied, his gaze fixed on the mesmerising display of colours that danced within the frame of the Portal.

"Luke must be coming back then," I reasoned, trying to inject a note of optimism into the situation. It was a small hope, but hope nonetheless in the face of our many uncertainties.

Jamie, drawn like a moth to a flame, stopped just an inch away from the vibrant display. Oh no, here we go again, I thought, a sense of dread settling in as I anticipated what was coming next.

True to form, Jamie extended his hand towards the swirling colours, a gesture born of an irresistible combination of curiosity and the faint hope of understanding—or perhaps influencing—the Portal's mysteries.

I shook my head in resignation. Why does Jamie insist on trying when it just makes him more and more frustrated? It was a question I had asked myself countless times, each instance ending in the same predictable frustration for Jamie.

Dragging the box along the ground, I set my sights on the Drop Zone, determined to at least accomplish the task of moving the supplies, even if everything else around us was shrouded in uncertainty.

"Fuck!" Jamie's exclamation sliced through the air, an obvious indicator of his failed attempt to interact with the Portal.

"No luck then?" I couldn't help but call out, my words laced with a sarcasm born of familiarity with the routine.

In response, Jamie's middle finger was all the answer I needed, a silent but eloquent reply that spoke volumes of his irritation.

"Figures," I scoffed under my breath, my attention turning to the second box. The physical exertion of the task at hand was beginning to take its toll, a bead of sweat forming at my forehead a testament to the relentless sun above.

"Where are you taking that?" Jamie's voice sliced through the air, a mix of curiosity and demand that instantly put me on edge.

"Why do you care?" My response came out sharper than I intended, a snarky retort flung over my shoulder without pausing to gauge its impact.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jamie's tone escalated, his footsteps quickening to catch up to me, injecting a note of confrontation into the already tense atmosphere.

I stopped in my tracks, the weight of my earlier words and the exhaustion bearing down on me making my shoulders slump. "Look, I'm sorry," I said, my voice softer now, tinged with genuine remorse. I shook my head, a mix of frustration at the situation and at myself for snapping. "I'm just tired and my whole body is aching."

Jamie's response was a short huff, a sound that seemed to carry all the weight of the world in it. I braced myself, expecting a retort or a continuation of our spat.

"It's okay," Jamie huffed again, his voice unexpectedly softer. "I get it." His simple acknowledgment acted as a balm, easing the tension that had quickly built between us.

I looked up, meeting Jamie's gaze, searching his face for any sign of lingering annoyance or sarcasm. Instead, I found an expression of understanding, perhaps even empathy.

"That dust storm last night was pretty brutal," Jamie offered, shifting the topic away from our earlier friction. In a gesture that seemed to underscore his point, he lifted his sweaty t-shirt to reveal his chest, marked by a vivid redness and a large welt sitting ominously between his pectoral muscles.

"What the fuck!" The exclamation burst from me before I could temper my reaction, my concern overriding any previous irritation. "What the hell is that?" I asked, stepping closer, my eyes widening at the sight of the injury.

Jamie's action of letting his top fall back into place was almost dismissive, but the seriousness of what he'd just revealed lingered in the air. "I think one of the hot coals struck me," he said, his voice carrying a note of nonchalance that didn't quite mask the underlying discomfort.

"Shit, Jamie! I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled out, a rush of concern flooding through me. The thought that Jamie had been hurt, and the possibility that I could have been responsible, even indirectly, sent a pang of guilt through me.

"I don't think it was you," Jamie replied, his tone reassuring despite the circumstances. "I think it just got caught in a gust of wind."

My head began to spin with a mixture of confusion and guilt. Why hadn't Jamie told me about his injury earlier? Here I was, hobbling around all morning, wallowing in self-pity over my foot, and expecting Jamie to shoulder the burden of our workload. As the realisation dawned on me, my eyes started to water, the guilt burrowing deep into my heart. The sight of Jamie's chest, marked by that vivid, angry welt, was a stark visual evidence of the pain he must be in. "But you wouldn't have been out there if not for me," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jamie picked up the corner of the box I had let fall to the ground. "If we're going to set these up down by the river with the other tent, we may as well take these boxes straight there rather than bother with the Drop Zone," he suggested with a level of calm that seemed almost inhuman under the circumstances. Then, without waiting for my response, he turned to walk away.

I stared after him, my disbelief mixed with a rising admiration. How is he staying so calm? The question echoed in my mind, especially when his burn seemed far more serious than the minor injury I had been nursing on my foot.

"Jamie!" I called out, my voice laced with concern and urgency.

He waved for me to follow him, continuing his stride with a determination that belied the pain he must have been feeling.

"Jamie!" I called out again, my voice louder, more desperate as I hobbled to catch up. "You need a doctor!"

Jamie whipped around so suddenly, it was as if he had reached his breaking point. "We don't have a fucking doctor!" he exclaimed, the harshness of his words cutting through the air between us.

I stopped mid-step, the raw emotion visible in Jamie's eyes, tears swelling up and breaking the façade of calm he had been maintaining. The sight of his vulnerability, so rare and stark, brought a lump to my throat.

Jamie sniffed deeply, trying to regain control over his emotions, a silent struggle that spoke volumes of his resilience and pain.

Moved by a wave of spontaneous emotion, I closed the distance between us, hobbling over with as much speed as my injured foot would allow. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him into a close embrace, an attempt to offer comfort in the only way I knew how. "I'm so sorry, Jamie," I whispered into his shoulder, my voice thick with emotion. But before I could continue, before I could find the words that might offer some solace, we were interrupted, leaving my apology hanging incomplete.

The abrupt sound of a dog barking snapped us out of our emotional moment, drawing our attention away with such immediacy it felt like being jerked into a different reality. In my surprise, Jamie's reaction was swift, pushing me away as he spun towards the source of the sound.

The barking continued, a sound so out of place in our current surroundings that it momentarily disoriented me. "Henri!" Jamie's voice, infused with a mix of disbelief and joy, cut through the air as he dashed toward the small, enthusiastic source of the noise.

Rubbing at my eyes, I questioned the reality before me. Are we both having the same hallucination? Or is Henri really in Clivilius? The sight before me seemed too surreal, too starkly opposed to the harshness of our current life.

Jamie reached the dog in moments, bending down to scoop the chubby Shih Tzu into his arms. The dog's tail wagged furiously, its small tongue lavishing Jamie's face with affectionate licks. Watching them, a smile broke through my own confusion and worry, a brief respite in the form of this joyful reunion.

However, the lightness of the moment evaporated as quickly as it had appeared when Luke stepped through the Portal, another dog, Duke, cradled in his arms. The atmosphere shifted palpably as Jamie's voice rose in anger and disbelief. "Luke! What the fuck are you doing! Why the fuck did you bring them here?" His scream sliced through the air.

Luke, taken aback by Jamie's reaction, gently set Duke down in the dust. Duke immediately began to explore his new environment, his nose to the ground, sniffing around with curiosity. The tension in the air was palpable, the sudden arrival of the pets casting a long shadow over the joy of their unexpected presence.

"What the fuck, Luke?" Jamie's voice was a mixture of anger and disbelief, echoing loudly in the tense air between them. His frustration boiled over into physical action as he shoved Luke hard in the chest, a move that caused Luke to stagger backwards, unprepared for the force of Jamie's emotions.

Luke's response was immediate, his face contorting into an expression of stern defiance. "Fuck off, Jamie!" he retorted with equal volume, the anger palpable in his voice as he pushed back, his hands finding Jamie's chest with significant force.

The impact elicited a sharp cry of agony from Jamie, who stumbled backwards, his hands instinctively reaching for the site of pain. The sudden escalation from verbal to physical confrontation seemed to freeze the air around us, my attention torn between the innocent exploration of Henri and his older brother through the dust and the rapidly intensifying conflict before me.

"Is that blood?" The question from Luke broke the heavy silence, his voice dropping to a mix of concern and disbelief as he took a cautious step towards Jamie.

Jamie's denial was quick, a shake of his head accompanied by a feeble, "It's nothing," an attempt to downplay the severity of the situation.

"Nothing?" Luke's skepticism was evident, his voice sharp as he moved closer, dismissing Jamie's protests with a swift motion. He forcibly moved Jamie's arm away and lifted his shirt, revealing the extent of the injury beneath.

The sight that greeted us was shocking. The welt on Jamie's chest had ruptured, oozing blood and pus in a vivid display of the injury's severity. My gasp was lost among the collective intake of breath from those around me.

Luke's reaction was one of blatant fear, his eyes widening as he took in the full extent of Jamie's injuries, his earlier anger replaced by a dawning realisation of the seriousness of the situation.

Jamie, however, maintained a steady gaze on Luke, his voice low and haunting. "You've sentenced us to death, Luke," he said, his words soft yet carrying a weight that seemed to echo around us. "Welcome to the fucking nightmare.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a sombre pronouncement that seemed to encapsulate the direness of our predicament. The presence of Duke and Henri, which should have been a source of joy, now underscored the harsh reality of our situation in Clivilius—a reality marred by danger, uncertainty, and now, the immediate threat to Jamie's health. The conflict between Luke and Jamie, sparked by fear and frustration, had laid bare the fragility of our existence in this alien place, a reminder that our survival hung by a thread, every decision, every action fraught with potential disastrous consequences.