I lay curled up on the barren ground, my body convulsing with tremors. Desperation clawed at my mind, urging me to find an alternative explanation. Slowly, I forced my eyes open, tears blurring my vision. But to my dismay, nothing had changed. Glenda's figure still receded in the distance, growing smaller as she ran farther away from me.
In the periphery of my blurred sight, a familiar mix of white and tan fur caught my attention. A constant panting sound accompanied the sight. "Duke," I whispered hoarsely.
The small Shih Tzu barked in reply, his tail wagging with excitement.
Summoning my last reserves of strength, I unfurled my legs and pressed my palms into the gritty dust, pushing myself upright. I reached out and gently patted Duke's head, the sensation confirming his reality.
Duke barked again, his eyes flickering towards Glenda's disappearing form.
Despite my trembling legs, I managed to rise to my feet and peered down at Duke, who sat faithfully at the front flap of the tent. "What in the hell is this place, Duke?" I murmured, my voice barely audible.
Duke tilted his head, as if attempting to comprehend my question.
A surge of renewed energy coursed through my veins, propelling me forward. "Uncle Jamie," I whispered to myself, mustering the strength to start running.
I caught up with Glenda as she approached the top of the third small, rolling hill. Together, we stood at the crest, and my jaw dropped in awe. Before us stretched an incredible panorama of yellow, brown, and red shades, scattered across the vast expanse. The clear, blue waters of the lagoon stood out as a striking contrast. "It's so empty," I murmured to myself, marvelling at the stark beauty of the landscape.
The urgent voices of uncle Jamie and Luke drew our attention to where they stood, engrossed in studying the dead body lodged on a sandbar at the river's mouth, where it flowed into the serene lagoon. On the opposite side of the lagoon, a few meters away, the unidentified man cowered.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I saw Uncle Jamie, alive and apparently unharmed.
Glenda swiftly broke into a brisk jog along the perimeter of the lagoon, heading towards uncle Jamie and Luke with a determined stride.
"Uncle Jamie!" I called out, my voice laced with concern.
He cast a brief glance in my direction but didn't respond further. A furrow formed on my forehead, a pang of worry gripping my heart. The chaos and drama overwhelmed me. I yearned to return home, to resume the life Brianne and I had planned before my mother's interruption. Salty tears welled up in my eyes. Will I ever see her again?
Turning my attention back to the lagoon, I uttered, "What the—" in surprise. Jamie, Luke, and Glenda were slowly carrying the body along the lagoon's perimeter, directly toward me.
Eager to assist my uncle, I joined their procession, sliding into position to relieve Glenda, who had been supporting the man's legs.
"Thank you," Glenda whispered softly, her voice filled with gratitude.
I managed a strained smile in response, though my facial muscles involuntarily contorted into more of a grimace. Quickly averting my gaze, I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"You coming, Paul?" Glenda called across the lagoon to the cowering man.
Paul looked up. "I'll meet you there soon," he replied, his voice wavering with hesitation.
With that, I focused what little remained of my attention on the grim task at hand. The weight of the lifeless body pressed down heavily on my shoulders, its stillness and the pungent scent of death filling my senses. My heart pounded with a heavy beat, and an eerie sensation of an unknown malevolence lingered just beyond my understanding.
As I gazed upon the motionless figure, a shiver of unease crawled up my spine. The sight of his wide, vacant blue eyes staring upward sent a chill through my entire being. It felt as if, somehow, he was still alive, despite the lifelessness that enveloped him.
Approaching the camp, a bitter-sweet wave of relief washed over me. We were almost back, yet a gnawing unease settled within me as I surveyed the inadequacies of the camp and contemplated the severity of the man's condition. It seemed unlikely that he could survive the journey back, let alone endure the prolonged suffering that may await him.
"Put him on the mattress," my uncle Jamie instructed as we neared the campfire.
But Glenda hesitated, her voice tense with concern. "I don't think that's a good idea. We only have one mattress, and he could be infected."
The weight of her words crushed my spirits. Infected? The mere thought sent a shiver of terror down my spine.
"Bit late for that now," my uncle snapped. "If Joel is infected, then it's likely we are too," he spat in Luke's direction.
Glenda's features tightened, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she hastened to hold the tent flap open for us as we carried the man inside.
Once within the confines of the tent, I gently released Joel's legs, and we removed the blankets from the mattress. With careful precision, uncle Jamie and Luke laid Joel down.
Luke and I stood back, observing silently. I could faintly perceive the subtle rise and fall of Joel's chest as he breathed, his lips sealed in silence. His piercing blue eyes remained fixed on the tent's roof, and I studied them intently, searching for a trace of familiarity that danced just beyond my grasp.
Glenda knelt beside the mattress, leaning over Joel's body, her gaze and fingers probing gently.
My eyes fixed on Joel's pale, clammy flesh, and a sense of his lifelessness overwhelmed me. He appeared thoroughly deceased.
Finally, Glenda spoke, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "All the major arteries seem to have healed, assuming they were ever severed. Aside from the obvious slit across his throat and the bumps and bruises from his time in the river, he doesn't appear to have any other major physical wounds. I'm not sure how he could have lost all his blood if not through major arterial damage," she explained.
Lost all his blood? I echoed silently. What does she mean? Could Joel truly be devoid of blood? Is that why he appears so lifeless? But why are his eyes open? Why does he still breathe?
"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I'm trapped in a tent with a bloody zombie! Panic seized my senses, and I took several hurried steps toward the tent's entrance.
"His throat was definitely slit. There was a lot of blood," Luke confirmed.
My mind raced. I have to get out of here!
Glenda shrugged in response. "It's not making much sense," she concluded.
No kidding, I thought, my eyes darting nervously toward the sole exit.
Uncle Jamie's voice brimmed with anger as he demanded answers. "What do you mean you know his throat was slit? And how the fuck would you know how much blood there was?" he spat at Luke.
My eyes widened in shock. Oh my God! Luke did it! Accusations surged through my mind as I fixated on Luke's back, my gaze drilling into him. He's the one responsible!
"No signs of defensive wounds?" Luke questioned.
Glenda shook her head, her voice tinged with confusion. "No, None. Were you expecting there to be?" she asked.
Luke shook his head slowly. "Not necessarily. I guess that means whatever happened to him, it happened quickly and likely took him by surprise,” said Luke.
Caught him off guard? My mind echoed, accusations swirling within me. Caught off guard because of you!
"Well? You still haven't answered my question," uncle Jamie's voice seethed with anger, demanding an explanation.
My eyes shifted downward, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone. I need to be prepared, to have something to defend ourselves with in case Luke loses control again. Or in case the zombie attacks!
Luke took a deep breath, his voice steadying. "Joel was the driver that delivered the tents back home," he began.
A collective gasp reverberated through the air. Luke pressed on, undeterred. "I was surprised to see him. I didn't recognise him at first. Not until I saw his name sewn into his shirt."
Luke knows him? I questioned silently, searching my uncle's face for a reaction. Jamie's eyes held pain, but not fear. Should I be afraid? I wondered. Or am I overreacting? I shook my head lightly. You're standing next to a bloody zombie, and the potential killer is right here. Of course you're not overreacting!
Glenda examined a small rip in Joel's polo shirt, slowly unraveling a hidden word. "Joel," she read aloud.
"Henri and Duke's coming here was all an accident," Luke continued. "Joel accidentally let Henri outside and he ran through the Portal when we tried to catch him. I forgot I was still carrying Duke when I followed after Henri."
"And Joel saw all this?" asked Glenda cautiously, her voice trembling with apprehension.
Luke nodded, his guilt-laden voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. And when I returned I found him lying in a pool of blood in the back of the truck."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a terrible truth. A soft exclamation escaped my lips, barely audible, as a cold shiver coursed through my body. It was difficult to comprehend the magnitude of the horrors that had unfolded.
Uncle Jamie's voice rose, anger seeping through every syllable. "But that was yesterday!" he accused, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Luke swallowed hard, his throat visibly constricted. "I thought... I thought you would blame me for it," he admitted, his voice choked with regret.
"I do fucking blame you for it!” cried Uncle Jamie, his face contorting with rage.
The room crackled with tension, each word hanging in the air like a jagged shard. Glenda's voice cut through the mounting storm, her tone firm and commanding. "Boys!" she interjected, her voice rising in urgency. "Enough!"
But the echoes of Uncle Jamie's anger lingered, reverberating within the tent. He exploded with bitter accusations, the force of his words shaking the very foundation of our fragile reality. "And then you brought him here and dumped his body in the fucking river! That's some seriously fucked up shit!" his voice echoed, each syllable laced with a mix of disbelief and rage.
A surge of nausea churned in the pit of my stomach, threatening to overpower me. It was unfathomable to imagine that Luke, my uncle's partner, could be implicated in such a heinous act. The walls of the tent seemed to close in around me, suffocating me in a web of deceit and horror.
The frantic desperation in Luke's voice pierced through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for understanding. "It wasn't me! I would never do something so terrible!"
Glenda's voice rose again, her urgency cutting through the mounting tension. "Stop it!" she yelled, her voice commanding and resolute. The tent fell into an eerie silence, the weight of the revelation hanging heavily in the air. We were left grappling with the enormity of the situation, the unsettling truth that Joel's life had been brutally extinguished.
“Well, what did you do with the body?" asked Uncle Jamie, his voice heavy with anger and accusation.
"We buried him,” replied Luke.
"We?" queried Glenda.
Luke hesitated for a moment before reluctantly admitting, "Beatrix, Gladys and I."
Overwhelmed by the chaos of emotions, I could no longer bear the weight of it all. The pain in my stomach intensified, threatening to double me over. "This is insane!" I cried out, the agony of the moment twisting my body in torment.
But the conversation continued around me, oblivious to my distress. The world spun, my head throbbing with a dizzying intensity. I stumbled out of the tent, my vision blurred with tears. Each step felt like an eternity, my legs giving way beneath me as I collapsed onto the ground outside, the impact jarring my already shattered spirit.
I sat there, on my knees, my hands instinctively clutching my aching stomach. The ground beneath me was hard and unforgiving, mirroring the turmoil within. The rustling of the tent flap signified another person leaving, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I remained in that moment, a broken figure on the edge of despair.
Through the haze of tears, I heard Paul's voice call out, reaching me like a distant echo. "Luke! Wait!" he shouted, his words muffled by the weight of my anguish. The voices faded into the distance, swallowed by the overwhelming tumult that consumed my senses.
Gingerly, I reached up, wiping away the tear stains from my cheeks, my trembling fingers smearing the evidence of my emotional unraveling. The taste of bile lingered in my mouth, a bitter reminder of the visceral response that had overtaken me.
Duke, ever loyal, sensed my distress and approached, nuzzling his cold nose against my hand. I pushed him away gently, unable to bear the weight of his comforting presence in that moment. In a hasty attempt to hide my vulnerability, I scooped handfuls of fine dust, covering the remnants of my sickness until it was no longer visible.
"Duke," I murmured, my voice wavering, commanding him to return to the safety of the tent. With a quick lick against my palm, he darted back inside, leaving me alone with my overwhelming thoughts.
A small, wistful smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, a fleeting moment of solace amidst the chaos. Duke's unwavering spirit, undimmed by the trials we faced, offered a glimmer of hope in the darkest of times. But where was his brother, Henri? I pondered, my gaze instinctively searching for his familiar presence. Had he sought refuge within the confines of the tent? I couldn't recall seeing him earlier, lost in the maelstrom of the revelations.
Curiosity mingled with unease, urging me to rise from my vulnerable position. My stomach, still unsettled, emitted a disconcerting growl. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, determined not to repeat the earlier episode. With cautious steps, I approached the front flap of the tent, my heart pounding in anticipation.
As I pushed the fabric aside, a hush settled over me, the world within the tent shifting into focus. Glenda and Uncle Jamie remained huddled near Joel's motionless form, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and trepidation. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy musk of the surroundings.
Duke, ever the observer, sat on the edge of the mattress, his gaze fixated on the scene before him. His ears perked up, attuned to the rhythm of their voices, as if he sensed the gravity of the situation. But one question remained unanswered—where is Henri?
As my eyes swept the dimness of the tent for the third time, they finally settled on the familiar mass of white and tan fur. There, on the far right of his small bed, curled up in a tight ball, was Henri, just as I should have expected. A small chuckle escaped my lips at his predictable behaviour, offering a fleeting moment of levity amidst the heaviness that permeated the air. Slowly, I backed away from the entrance of the tent, my gaze lingering on Henri for a moment longer before turning my attention elsewhere.
Almost immediately after stepping outside, Paul's voice broke the silence, his tone filled with curiosity. "What's going on in there?" he asked.
I turned to face him, my own eyes still adjusting to the change in light. "Glenda is doing some surgery," I replied, my voice carrying a tinge of unease.
"Surgery?" Paul repeated, his eyes widening in shock as the weight of the situation began to settle upon him.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Yeah," I replied, my voice wavering. "She's going to stitch his throat back together."
Paul's expression reflected a mix of disbelief and skepticism. "So, Glenda really thinks he might be alive?" he asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.
I shrugged, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing upon me. "Yeah, I guess so," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Shit," Paul muttered, his hand rubbing anxiously against his face. "This isn't making any sense."
"That's a bit of an understatement," I scoffed, the frustration seeping into my voice.
Paul closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if attempting to gather his thoughts. I watched him intently, searching for any trace of emotion in his face, trying to decipher the thoughts swirling within his mind. It was clear to me now that he was Luke's brother, his presence marked by a rugged and athletic build, his gaze holding an intensity that spoke of hidden depths. The lines of worry etched upon his brow betrayed the weight of his own concerns.
With a gesture of camaraderie, Paul extended his right hand toward me. "Paul," he announced, his voice steady. "I'm Luke's brother."
I hesitated for a moment, the weight of our circumstances pressing upon me. But ultimately, I reached out and gripped his hand firmly, a silent acknowledgement passing between us. "Kain," I replied, my voice filled with a mixture of weariness and determination.
Paul's eyes studied me intently, his gaze lingering as if searching for something beneath the surface. "You know Jamie?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of sadness. "He's my uncle."
"I see," Paul murmured, his gaze shifting as if reevaluating his perception of me. "So how did you end up here?" he asked, his tone gentle yet inquisitive.
I sighed, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon me. "My mother sent me to check on Uncle Jamie," I explained, my voice tinged with regret. "She hadn't been able to contact him for a few days. So I went over, and Uncle Jamie wasn't there. Luke told me he was out and would be back soon. And that's when it got weird," I continued, my voice trailing off uncertainly.
"Weird?" Paul prodded, his brow furrowed in confusion.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration evident in my voice. "Well," I began, struggling to find the right words. "I was about to leave, but then Luke suggested I hang around and wait for Uncle Jamie to get home. He insisted that he wouldn't be much longer."
Paul's eyes narrowed with curiosity. "That doesn't seem too weird," he remarked, his tone skeptical.
I shook my head, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "I guess not," I conceded. "But then I had to go to the bathroom. When I came out, Luke asked if I minded helping him with something downstairs. I can't even remember what he wanted now. It all happened so quickly. As we approached the top of the stairs, there was a bright flash of colours when Luke slid the door open, and then I felt something shove me in the back. I'm pretty certain it was Luke."
Paul's face contorted with concern as he processed my words. "So, Luke had no idea you were coming?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
I nodded, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. "I don't think so," I admitted, my voice filled with a mix of frustration and confusion.
A grimace of frustration passed over Paul's face, mirroring the turmoil within my own mind. "I'm sorry for what my brother has done," he said, his voice tinged with genuine regret. "I really am."
I shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation pressing upon me. "It's not your fault," I replied softly.
"So, if your mother sent you, does that mean you still live with her?" Paul inquired carefully, his eyes searching mine for answers.
A wave of sadness washed over me as I thought of Brianne, my fiancée, and our unborn child. "Both me and my fiancée live with my parents," I confessed, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon my shoulders.
"What's her name?" asked Paul.
“Brianne," I replied. "She's six months pregnant,” I added, my voice tinged with a mix of pride and concern.
Paul's expression softened with empathy. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, the gravity of our predicament sinking in.
I looked at Paul longingly. "Is there really no way to go back home?" I asked, my eyes pleading for Paul to tell me that Glenda had been mistaken.
Paul shook his head. "Not that we know of,” he said.
I glanced down at the ground, my emotions swirling within me.
"I know this is an unfortunate situation," Paul began, his voice gentle yet resolute. "But the truth is, Jamie and I could really use your help right now."
I looked up, meeting Paul's gaze with a mix of uncertainty and determination. "What can I do to help?" I asked, my voice steady despite the chaos that surrounded us.
The start of a small smile tugged at the corners of Paul's mouth, a glimmer of hope breaking through the darkness. "Follow me," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve.
Together, we navigated the campsite, Paul leading the way with a sense of purpose. He showed me the Drop Zone, where Luke would deliver supplies, explaining the need for constant monitoring as Luke had often dropped items without informing them.
As I absorbed the information, I couldn't help but repeat to myself, "You never know what information might help you find a way out of here." The piles of supplies at the Drop Zone caught my attention, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.
"You haven't started constructing any of the sheds yet?" I asked as Paul showed me the boxes and materials, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice.
Paul grimaced, his expression conveying a mix of frustration and uncertainty. "Well, I'm pretty sure we've screwed up the first slab of concrete we tried to lay," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration.
I chuckled, a flicker of amusement breaking through the tension. "You better show me then," I said, my voice carrying a hint of determination.
Paul and I trudged through the brown and red Clivilius dust, stopping when we reached the mess that was the base for the first shed. I stared at it with earnest. It barely resembled anything but a mess.
"Yeah. That's pretty fucked,” I said, matter-of-factly. Then I continued, "I helped my father put our garage together, so these should be pretty straight forward.”
"Straightforward?" Paul laughed, his skepticism evident. "And just how big was this garage?"
A sense of pride welled up within me as I recalled the memories of building with my father. "Oh, it was ten meters by ten meters," I replied, a wide grin spreading across my face.
Paul's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Impressive," he remarked, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
Together, we moved toward the second slab, crouching down to assess its quality. I ran my palm across the surface, feeling the roughness and unevenness. It isn't perfect, but it has potential.
"We followed instructions for that one," Paul called out from behind me, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
"It shows," I said, rising to my feet and dusting off my hands. "It's a little rough, but I think this one will actually be okay for what you need," I offered, my voice carrying a glimmer of optimism.
Relief washed over Paul's face, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "Really? That's the best news I've heard today," he said, gratitude lacing his words.
I surveyed the area, taking in the piles of supplies, the half-poured concrete slabs, and the vast expanse of barren land. "It looks like you've already got so much work to do. The less rework, the better," I remarked, determination seeping into my voice.
Paul smiled, a flicker of hope reigniting within him. "Well, let's get to it," he said, gesturing for us to begin our work.
With renewed eagerness, I headed in the direction of the Drop Zone, Paul hurrying to catch up and match my stride. As we approached the two piles of small stones marking the site's entry, Paul spoke up.
"So, what do we do first?" he asked, gesturing toward the concrete slab. "Dig up that first one?"
I stared at him, momentarily taken aback by his suggestion. It became clear to me that Paul had no idea about the process involved. "Shit, no," I replied, shaking my head. "There's no point touching that for now. We'll get the slabs done for a few more sheds first. We have to let them cure for seven days."
Paul's brow furrowed deeply, confusion etched across his face. "Cure for seven days?" he repeated slowly. "What the hell does that mean?"
A chuckle escaped my lips, the sound mingling with a mix of amusement and understanding. "It means that once we have poured the concrete, we have to leave the slabs for seven days before we can build the sheds on them," I explained, trying to simplify the concept.
"Shit," Paul muttered under his breath, his eyes widening with realisation. "I've never heard of that before."
"I'm not surprised," I replied with a slight grin, realising that Paul had a steep learning curve ahead of him. I took a deep breath, hoping that immersing ourselves in the task at hand would provide some respite from the chaos surrounding us.
Under my guidance, Paul and I worked together, finding a rhythm as we set the next slab of concrete. Surprisingly, we made quick progress, our combined efforts making the work feel almost effortless. As I witnessed Paul's ability to follow instructions and adapt, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of camaraderie.
Amidst the labour, we engaged in occasional non-work-related conversations, attempting to find solace in each other's company.
"So, you've been separated from your family too?" I ventured, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
Paul's gaze softened, a hint of sorrow flickering in his eyes. "Yeah," he replied solemnly. "I have two kids. Mack is ten, and Rose is six."
My heart ached with empathy, knowing the pain of separation all too well. "I can only imagine how much you miss them," I said softly, my voice filled with understanding.
Paul's voice trembled with emotion. "I miss them terribly," he admitted, his vulnerability shining through.
The thought of my own family crossed my mind, the longing to be reunited with them overwhelming at times. I bit down on my inner cheek, fighting back the wave of emotions threatening to consume me. "Have you considered bringing them here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
A pause hung in the air as Paul processed the question, his gaze distant. "I have," he finally replied, his tone resolute.
"And?" I probed gently, eager to hear his thoughts.
"I've already made up my mind that I want to bring them here.That's why I'm so determined to get this small settlement functioning as soon as possible," Paul declared, his determination reverberating in his voice.
A mix of emotions washed over me, hope intertwining with the fear of staying trapped in this unfamiliar world. I couldn't help but envision the possibility of bringing my own family here, of creating a new life amidst the chaos. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside, reminding myself that my priority was finding a way back home.
"I don't want them to forget me," Paul confessed, his voice heavy with longing.
My heart clenched in sympathy, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. The fear of being absent from my child's life, of them growing up without a father, weighed heavily on my mind. "How long have you been trapped here?" I asked, my voice barely audible as I struggled to contain my emotions.
"This is our third day," Paul revealed, his words laden with a mix of resignation and disbelief.
"Really? Is that all?" I exclaimed, my mind reeling at the brevity of time that had passed since I was torn away from my home and loved ones.
Paul's expression turned distant, lost in his own thoughts. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken burdens and shared uncertainties.
I held Paul's gaze for a moment longer, a flicker of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. But the weight of the situation urged me to focus on the task at hand, on the tangible work that lay before us. I forced a smile, returning my attention to the concrete.
"Paul! Kain!" Glenda's urgent call pierced the air, drawing my attention back to the tent where she and Uncle Jamie struggled to carry Joel. In a moment of misstep, Jamie stumbled, causing Joel's limp body to collapse onto the unforgiving ground. Glenda, too, lost her balance, her knees meeting the rough terrain with a jolt.
Without hesitation, I sprang to my feet and rushed over to assist Glenda, reaching out to help her regain her footing. She brushed off the dirt from her knees, her determined gaze fixed on the task at hand.
"I'll take him," Paul offered, stepping forward to lift Joel's shoulder before Glenda could respond.
I positioned myself on the other side, my hands gently grasping Joel's limp form. Questions swirled in my mind, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the immediate urgency of the situation.
"Where are we taking him?" I asked, careful to keep my voice steady.
"To the lagoon," Glenda instructed, her voice carrying a sense of urgency.
With an unspoken understanding, our small group worked in unison, taking turns supporting Joel's lifeless body as we made our way toward the nearby lagoon. Uncle Jamie, driven by a mix of fear and determination, rushed ahead to prepare for our arrival.
As we reached the edge of the lagoon, Paul and I carefully lowered Joel into the water, our arms trembling under the weight. Glenda's voice cut through the tension.
"Make sure he is on his back!" she shouted, her words a clear directive amidst the flurry of activity.
Without hesitation, I waded into the lagoon, the cool water caressing my skin. A strange sensation surged through my legs, an inexplicable mix of exhilaration and arousal. Confusion swept over me, my mind grappling with the unexpected response. What the fuck was that? I questioned myself, trying to regain control of my racing thoughts.
Paul bent down, his fingers reaching for the laces of his shoes, but Jamie's interruption halted his movement. "No, Kain and I have got him covered," Jamie insisted, his voice firm.
Another wave of pleasure coursed through my body, my groin responding with an unwelcome surge of arousal. I glanced around, my eyes darting anxiously, hoping no one had noticed my internal turmoil. Following uncle Jamie's lead, we began to wade into the lagoon, the water enveloping us as we supported Joel.
Paul paused, uncertainty etched across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, seeking confirmation.
"Certain," uncle Jamie replied, his voice resolute.
I felt the growing bulge in my jeans press uncomfortably against my boxers, a mix of embarrassment and frustration filling me. "Just ignore it," uncle Jamie whispered quickly, sensing my unease. "It'll pass."
"Can you see?" Glenda's voice called out from the shore, her concern evident.
"No," Paul's voice carried across the water. "It would be nice if they didn't keep their backs to us. I can't see much at all."
I glanced at my uncle, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. My heart pounded in my chest as a speckle of faint glow emerged before us. I squinted, attempting to discern its source. Could it be some kind of glowing algae? I wondered, the mystery deepening. A surge of anticipation quickened my breath as the glow approached, and seeped into Joel's exposed flesh.
Suddenly, Joel gasped for air, his bright blue eyes springing open with renewed life. Confusion mingled with awe as I stood witness to the inexplicable. What the hell is this place? I thought, my mind reeling with a mixture of shock and astonishment.
"What's happening?" Glenda's voice cut through the charged atmosphere, echoing the collective bewilderment.
Uncle Jamie turned toward Glenda, a wide smile stretching across his face. "He's breathing again!" he exclaimed, the joy in his voice unmistakable.
I stood rooted in awe, my senses overwhelmed by the unfathomable events unfolding before me. It felt as if the world had shifted on its axis, leaving me suspended in a surreal reality.
Joel's arms began to twitch involuntarily, a flicker of movement that belied the life coursing through his veins. Acting on my uncle's instructions, I pressed Joel's left arm against my belly, providing support and stability.
"Just breathe gently. It's okay. You're okay," uncle Jamie murmured soothingly, his voice a lifeline amidst the inexplicable.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. My breathing steadied, aligning with the rhythmic rise and fall of Joel's chest. I pressed my fingers against his wrist, feeling a faint pulse, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness.
"He has blood now?" I looked up at uncle Jamie, surprise mingling with disbelief.
"Of course he does," uncle Jamie responded matter-of-factly, a steadfast belief in the extraordinary.
The twitching subsided, and I released Joel's arm, observing the renewed spark in his eyes as they followed uncle Jamie's every move in the water.
"What's going on out there?" Glenda's voice broke through the momentary trance, her concern pulling us back to the present.
"It's okay," uncle Jamie called out reassuringly. "We've got it under control."
Glenda seemed reluctant to leave, her professional instincts tugging at her. Paul, on the other hand, grew increasingly impatient. Within moments, he was coaxing Glenda to her feet, their figures retreating toward the camp without a formal goodbye.
"I should probably leave too," I murmured, turning my gaze toward the shore.
"Kain, wait," uncle Jamie rushed, desperation lacing his voice.
I glanced back at my uncle, his eyes pleading for my presence. The weight of our shared experience bore heavily upon me, pulling at my sense of duty.
"Please stay with me. Just for a while," uncle Jamie implored, his voice filled with vulnerability.
Against my better judgment, I nodded, my reluctant acceptance lingering in the air between us.
A softness settled over my uncle's features. "Thank you," he whispered, gratitude and relief intertwining in his words.
And as I stood there, grappling with the unexplainable, my body shuddered with a sudden wave of intense pleasure, leaving me gasping for breath, my senses heightened and bewildered.
