"Get out of the fucking water!" yelled Uncle Jamie.

My eyes sprung open, and my heart pounded in my chest. My legs buckled beneath me as I scrambled onto the shore of the lagoon, my knees sinking into the soft dust. I dug my fists deep into the ground as a loud, pleasurable moan escaped my lips. My entire body shuddered. A large load exploded into my underwear, and I collapsed on my back. The new shuddering that began in my legs moved up my body quickly, and I let out another soft moan. I barely noticed the ongoing pulsing of my cock as my mind fell into elated darkness.

Raising my hand to shield my eyes as they squinted against the bright sun, slowly, I sat upright. Uncle Jamie was still moving Joel about as he floated on his back.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked in a groggy voice.

"I'd say you've just had your first true orgasm,” replied Uncle Jamie with a loud chuckle.

"Holy fuck,” I muttered under my breath. I looked back up at my uncle.

"You passed out,” said Uncle Jamie. "But don't worry. It wasn't for long.”

My face turned hot with embarrassment. I looked away. The sticky mess in my underpants made me feel nauseatingly uncomfortable.

The water splashed gently as Uncle Jamie sat himself on the bank of the lagoon, his feet underneath Joel's back, balancing him delicately in the water. "Consider yourself lucky the others had left already,” he said with a smile.

"Is..." I stammered. "Is this why you didn't let them come in?" I asked.

“Mostly," replied Jamie.

"Only mostly?" I asked, curious to what other secrets my uncle held, the glowing algae that he seemed unperturbed by, springing to the forefront of my mind.

"I think it happens to all of us,” said Uncle Jamie. "But perhaps a little differently,” he mused.

"How differently?" I asked.

"Well sure, I've felt aroused in the lagoon. But nothing like you experienced.”

My eyebrow raised in thoughtful surprise. I didn't expect my uncle to be so upfront. But then I remembered that my uncle was known for speaking his mind. It wasn't often he sugarcoated anything at all. It was one of the traits I admired most about him. I, on the other hand, wasn't as good at sharing my true thoughts at all.

Uncle Jamie continued, "Parts of the river seem to have a similar effect. Although very minor.”

I grew confused, giving Uncle Jamie a quizzical look. “So," I began hesitantly, "How do you think this affects Joel?"

“Hmm," he said. "I uh..." he started but stopped.

"It's okay,” I said, jumping in quickly. "You don't have to explain, really.”

"You saw that glow in the water, didn't you?" asked Uncle Jamie.

“Yeah,” I replied. "What was that? Looked like some sort of algae or something.”

"It was sperm,” said my uncle, chuckling lightly. "My sperm.”

My mouth dropped. "What the fuck,” I said softly, my body giving an impromptu shiver as I tried to shake the image from my mind. I looked back at my uncle. "But I saw it enter Joel's body. Through his skin!" I exasperated.

“Yeah," said Uncle Jamie. "I don't really understand it. But I think the water might have healing properties. See this scab on my chest?" he asked, lifting up his shirt.

I gasped loudly, staring at the large, crusty scab near his left pec.

"Just yesterday this was a life-threatening welt. I probably would have died if not for this lagoon,” he said. "And Glenda,” he added.

“Oh," I said. I hadn't realised it was so serious. And so recent. It didn't look much more than a healing scab now.

"And what you saw today wasn't the first time,” said Uncle Jamie.

"It wasn't?" I asked in surprise.

“No," said Uncle Jamie. "I uh… I had a wank in the lagoon yesterday. As soon as I ejaculated, I noticed the glow immediately, so I assumed that's what it was.”

I felt my stomach churn, unsure if my curiosity could hold back the growing nausea much longer. But I pressed on. I had to know now. "So, that glow was still from yesterday?" I asked delicately.

"I think so,” said Uncle Jamie quickly, before his face screwed up in odd reflection.

"What?" I prodded, unsure if I really wanted to know.

"Unless it was from someone else,” said Uncle Jamie, scrunching his nose once more.

My instincts had been right. I didn't want to know. My body shivered again and I caught myself gagging on some distasteful mucous.

"But I'm pretty sure it was mine,” said Uncle Jamie confidently.

I closed my eyes. At this point, there wasn't anything Uncle Jamie could tell me that would make any of it feel alright.

"I should probably clean myself up,” I said, and I pushed myself to my feet.

"Make sure you take the river,” Uncle Jamie told me. "But stay close to the edge. It gets deep quickly and has a strong current.”

"Sure thing,” I responded with an acknowledging nod.

"Hey Kain,” Uncle Jamie called out before I had covered more than a few metres.

I swivelled on my heels, sending short bursts of dust clouds into the air.

"I'm sorry you ended up here,” he said. "But I'm also glad we've got your help.”

My mouth opened to reply, but I answered with a simple shrug of my shoulders instead. Turning once more, I headed for the river, around the bend and away from Uncle Jamie and the creepy zombie kid.

Lost in a haze of confusion and uncertainty, I wandered back into camp, my mind consumed by a torrent of inexplicable events. Dust particles danced in the air around me, reflecting the desolation of this empty world that seemed to taunt me at every turn. "Am I losing my mind?" I muttered to myself, my voice barely audible amidst the silent emptiness. I shook my head slowly, hoping to shake off the overwhelming sense of bewilderment that threatened to engulf me. "I don't understand any of this," I admitted, my words trailing off into the vast expanse.

Glenda, wrestling with the stubborn tent fabric, paused at the sound of my approach and offered a small, reassuring smile. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead as she spoke, her voice filled with determination. "Just give yourself a few days to adjust," she huffed, wiping away a droplet of perspiration. "It'll all start to make sense in a few weeks."

Paul, crouched beneath the fallen tent, peered out and joined the conversation, his tone laced with skepticism. "It will?" he asked, his doubt palpable.

Glenda's response carried a touch of conviction. "Sure," she replied, before retreating from view, her focus returning to the task at hand.

I couldn't share their optimism. An empty, dust-covered world. A haunting zombie-like child. And that lagoon, an enigmatic entity unto itself. It all defied any rational explanation, leaving me adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.

Shifting the weight of my thoughts, Paul redirected our attention. "So, how is Joel doing anyway?" he inquired, seeking a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

I paused by the cold campfire, my mind involuntarily returning to the eerie waters of the lagoon. "He's... umm... he's alive, I guess," I replied, struggling to articulate the indescribable scene that had unfolded before my eyes.

Relief washed over Paul's face, but Glenda swiftly interjected, calling out to me from across the camp. "Hey, Kain," she called, her voice cutting through the stillness. "It looks as though we've left the tent pegs for the next tent back at the Drop Zone. Can you go have a look, please?"

I offered a subtle shrug, masking the weight of my concerns. "Sure," I answered, grateful for the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts, even if only for a brief moment.

"Thanks. It's probably a small, rectangular box," said Glenda.

The late afternoon sun beat down on me, its warmth mingling with the dampness of my clothes. Long shadows stretched across the barren landscape, mirroring the elongated shadows cast upon my troubled mind. With each step towards the Drop Zone, my thoughts raced, a tempest of uncertainty and despair. Questions swirled relentlessly, leading me down a winding path that seemed to converge on one grim realisation: I am trapped in a nightmarish realm, and the way back home eludes me.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon me. The anguish twisted within, gnawing at the core of my being. Yet, amid the chaos, one solace remained—I have my uncle Jamie by my side. The only family member I have left. A flicker of hope sparked within, momentarily easing my troubled thoughts. But even that solace was tinged with concern. Is Uncle Jamie descending into the same madness that seemed to envelop me? His unwavering focus on Joel, a stranger in this unfamiliar land, defies all reason. It makes no sense at all.

A few meters ahead, a large, transparent screen emerged from the ground, towering over me. Its imposing presence demanded attention. I stared up at the Portal, its colossal dimensions stretching three meters in length and five meters in height, imposing in its silent proclamation. I took a few hesitant steps forward, my eyes fixated on the formidable construct that had torn me away from the embrace of my family. In just a few months, I would turn twenty-four, eagerly anticipating the arrival of my baby girl—a joyous milestone transformed into a tormenting reminder of the life I had been forcefully separated from. This was meant to be a time of happiness and anticipation, not a journey through the depths of despair.

"I want to go home!" I screamed, my voice filled with a potent mix of anger and frustration, the words reverberating across the desolate landscape. A cloud of dust erupted as my foot collided with the parched earth, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within me.

You are home, Kain Jeffries, the familiar, cold voice resonated within my mind, its robotic cadence slicing through the air.

My body crumbled, sinking to the ground as my knees met the soft, powdery dust. "Fuck you, Clivilius!" I bellowed, my anguish escaping in a raw, desperate cry, a futile attempt to defy the cruel reality that had ensnared me.

My face unexpectedly lit up, and I hastily wiped away the lingering tears from my cheeks. "Sleeping bags," I exclaimed, surprising myself with the sudden surge of enthusiasm that seeped into my voice. "Luke must have left them here," I murmured softly, reaching down to grasp the first sleeping bag by its sturdy carry string. My gaze lifted, the brightness of the sun casting a warm glow upon the cloudless sky as it slowly made its descent towards the distant mountains. The remaining daylight was dwindling, leaving only a precious few hours before darkness would envelop us. The discovery of these sleeping bags couldn't have come at a more opportune moment.

The string pressed gently into the flesh of my palm as I hoisted the bag over my left shoulder, followed by the second bag draped across my right. Lastly, I positioned the third strap behind my neck, allowing the bag to hang with its own weight. It bounced softly against my chest with each movement, a minor inconvenience that paled in comparison to the time it would save me from making another trip.

In my haste to adjust the positions of all three bags, I twisted too fast, causing the bag on my left shoulder to collide with a small, rectangular box that perched precariously on a larger container. The collision sent the box tumbling to the ground with a resounding clang.

"Ah, the tent pegs," I muttered, the realisation of Glenda's forgotten request flooding my thoughts, momentarily pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me.

Luke's voice broke through my reverie as he called out to me from a short distance away. "Hey Kain," he greeted, his voice laced with warmth and camaraderie.

I quickly retrieved the small box, standing upright with a slight wobble, the sleeping bags bouncing against my body in rhythm with my movements.

"Come join us for a drink," Luke invited, a bottle clutched casually in his hand. My gut instinct told me it held something of the alcoholic variety.

"Shit, yeah," I muttered under my breath, my curiosity piqued. Without a moment's hesitation, I made the final adjustments to the sleeping bags and hastened to catch up with Luke. The bags bounced uncomfortably against my body as I attempted a gentle jog, my anticipation growing with each step.

"What have you got?" I inquired, my words punctuated by lightly panted breaths.

Luke paused, holding the bottle towards me with a mischievous grin. I eagerly reached out, securing the small box of tent pegs under my armpit to free up my hand. With a swift motion, I grabbed the bottle and indulged in a long, satisfying swig. My eyes clenched shut as the potent liquid cascaded down my throat, igniting a fiery heat within. The whiskey was strong, its effect almost immediate as warmth radiated through my chest and limbs.

"Fuck, that's some strong shit," I remarked, wiping away a small dribble of saliva that had escaped from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Of course," Luke agreed with a knowing smile. "It's the only way."

The two of us engaged in light conversation as we trudged our way towards camp. I suspected Luke intentionally matched his pace to mine, a gesture of consideration that I silently appreciated. Though it would have been even more welcome if he had offered to relieve me of one of the bags. Nevertheless, the whiskey was already working its magic, soothing the edges of my frayed mind. A fleeting smile flickered across my face, momentarily illuminating my eyes, but I was well aware that this respite was only temporary.

As we walked, Luke ventured into more delicate territory. "Forgive me yet?" he asked in a coy manner.

Distraught wrinkles etched their way across my forehead as I processed his question. How the hell could Luke ask such a thing? I ripped the whiskey from Luke's hands, my face falling into serious expression. "I'm doing this for Jamie. Not for you,” I said harshly. And I took another long swig from the bottle.

Without another word, I shoved the bottle against Luke's chest and walked away. Forgiveness isn’t an option.

"Let me take one of those bags from you," Luke called out, his voice laced with genuine concern, attempting to be helpful in my moment of anger.

But my rage clouded my ability to respond, and I continued my solitary march towards the camp, the weight of the bags still bearing down on my shoulders. As I approached the campfire, I called out, "Luke's here," alerting Glenda, who was diligently working on one of the tents. Despite the absence of tent pegs, I couldn't help but notice the progress she and Paul had made on the fourth tent.

"Luke!" Glenda's voice rang out in a welcoming tone. "Haven't seen much of you since this morning."

"I know,” replied Luke.

Glenda continued quickly, "But I've noticed new supplies at the Drop Zone so I figured you hadn't forgotten us.”

"Of course not,” agreed Luke.

Dropping the package of tent pegs under the protective canopy of one of the tents, I paused briefly before pushing my way into the third tent. With a sigh of relief, I released the burden of the sleeping bags from my shoulders, tossing one into each wing of the tent. I silently concluded that this is where Paul and I would be spending the night. Undoubtedly, Uncle Jamie would remain by the side of the peculiar Joel, and Glenda would find solace among her medical supplies. The tents themselves were expansive, capable of housing ten individuals each, featuring two spacious wings, a generous central living area, and a canopy extension at the front. At least Luke made a few sensible choices, I thought to myself, although I refused to let sentimentality seep any further into my mind.

Emerging from the tent, I caught sight of Luke offering Glenda the whiskey bottle. "More?" Luke inquired, holding the bottle towards her.

"No thanks," Glenda politely declined.

"Bag," I called out, motioning for Luke to toss it over.

Luke complied, a smile spreading across his face. I deftly caught the bag and made my way inside the medical tent. Contemplating the idea of spreading the sleeping bag across the floor for Glenda's comfort, I decided against it, opting instead to place it gently in the unoccupied wing of the tent.

"Glenda!" Paul's voice broke through urgently from outside.

Poking my head through the flaps of the tent, my eyes widened in bewilderment. The freak is walking—or at least attempting to. Joel was propped up between Paul and Uncle Jamie's arms, his legs making awkward movements, a semblance of mobility.

Glenda and Luke rushed over as the trio neared the camp. Choosing to remain at a safe distance, I observed the scene unfold from the front of the tent.

"He's bleeding!" Glenda exclaimed, her voice filled with alarm. "Luke, get me some tissue from the medical tent," she directed.

Unable to ignore the call to help, I left the comfort of my position and began rummaging through the bags of supplies, searching for anything that might serve the purpose.

"I got it!" I called out triumphantly as I emerged from the tent, noticing that Luke had remained stationary. Hastening over, I handed the tissues to Glenda.

"Ta," Glenda replied simply, accepting the tissues and pressing them against Joel's dripping nose. "Let's get him sitting," she instructed.

Paul and Uncle Jamie guided Joel to sit on a large log by the campfire, with me trailing several steps behind, maintaining a cautious distance.

"Not too close," Glenda insisted, stepping between the men and the warmth of the campfire. "Is it just his nose?" she inquired.

"I think so," Uncle Jamie responded.

"I didn't even notice it was bleeding," Paul admitted, his concern etched across his face.

Glenda knelt before the weakened Joel, still supported on either side by Paul and Uncle Jamie. "I don't understand how he can be bleeding. I was certain there was no blood in him earlier," Glenda pondered aloud, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Uncle Jamie shook his head, his expression mirroring Glenda's bewilderment. "I didn't give him any blood. But he seems to have plenty of it now," he stated, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and concern.

A wave of discomfort washed over me as the memory of my earlier conversation with Uncle Jamie resurfaced. Oh, you gave him plenty, my mind whispered sarcastically.

Glenda continued her examination, poking gently at various points on Joel's arms and legs. "There is definitely blood in his veins now," she confirmed, her voice carrying a sense of disbelief.

I stood there, unable to comprehend the situation unfolding before my eyes. The thought of it all sent a chill down my spine.

"It's a medical anomaly!" Glenda declared, her voice tinged with a mix of professional curiosity and fascination. Rising to her feet, she reached for the whiskey bottle in Luke's hand. "You better lie him down again once the bleeding stops," she directed, taking a swig from the bottle.

Luke let out a loud chuckle, finding humour in the midst of the perplexing circumstances. But I couldn't find anything remotely amusing in the situation.

Observing the sky, Paul remarked, "Nightfall can't be too far away. I'll prepare some food."

Quickly seizing the opportunity to divert my thoughts, I chimed in, "I'll help you." I needed a distraction, something to keep me occupied and away from Uncle Jamie and his strange obsession with the zombie-like Joel.

Paul acknowledged my offer with a nod, and together we ventured towards the cooking area, determined to find solace in the mundane tasks of survival. Deep down, I knew that the unsettling reality of our predicament would continue to haunt me, but for now, focusing on practical matters provided a temporary respite from the mysteries that surrounded us.

As the darkness deepened, the campfire became a flickering beacon of warmth and light, its crackling embers casting dancing shadows on our weary faces. The sound of our laughter lingered in the air, swallowed by the encompassing night. The whiskey, its golden liquid passed from hand to hand, had brought a temporary reprieve from the weight of our troubles.

Amidst our mirth, Glenda's attempts to stifle her grin only intensified her infectious giggles. She pressed her fingers to her lips, a futile effort to suppress the laughter that erupted from her. "Shh," she hushed, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "The zombie is sleeping."

Her contagious joy spread through the camp, as I chuckled softly, the liquor swirling in my veins, dulling the ache in my heart. "I didn't know how else to describe him," I defended, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

Paul leaned forward, his voice carrying a hint of concern in the midst of our revelry. "Are we sure it's safe in there? We don't really know what's going on."

Luke let out an exasperated sigh, his weariness evident. "Don't be so stupid, Paul," he admonished.

Paul feigned hurt feelings, his face twisting into a comical expression of wounded pride. "Ah," he gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

Luke, using Glenda's shoulder as a steadying prop, rose to his feet, his movements unsteady. "Of course it's safe," he muttered, his words more a reassurance to himself than a response to Paul. He crept toward the silent tent, his silhouette a dark figure against the night.

My concern for Luke grew, and I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a hushed whisper. "Is he alright?" I asked, searching Paul's eyes for answers.

Paul's response was dismissive, a casual wave of his hand accompanying his words. "Oh, he's fine."

Silence descended upon us, and the crackling fire became the focal point of our attention. I stared into the fiery glow, its radiant warmth lulling me into a sense of temporary tranquility. The flames danced, casting their mesmerising light upon my weary face.

Glenda's voice broke the calm, her words resonating with finality as she tossed her paper plate into the fire. "Well, dinner was tasty," she declared, her eyes fixed on the disappearing plate as it was consumed by the hungry flames.

My gaze remained fixed on the fire's relentless devouring, a metaphor for the transient nature of our existence. The plate vanished, transforming into smoke and ash, lost to the ephemeral dance of the flames.

"Thank you both," Glenda expressed her gratitude, her voice carrying a weight that belied the simple words. "I wonder whether now might—" she began, her words trailing off.

Paul's sharp interruption silenced her, a warning gesture in the dim light of the campfire. "Shh," he hushed, his eyes darting towards the tent.

We listened intently, our senses heightened, as voices rose from the tent. The pitch and tension in their tones carried a haunting cadence, unsettling the previously serene atmosphere.

Paul rose from his seat on the log, his movements deliberate, filling the air with a palpable sense of unease. The darkness seemed to close in around us as he pushed himself up. With a sudden burst of energy, a dark figure stormed out of the tent, breaking the peaceful stillness. A chill ran down my spine, the hairs on my arms standing on end, as a foreboding shadow cast its cloak upon me.

"Luke!" Paul's voice filled with concern, calling out into the night. But Luke paid no heed, his feet propelling him forward in a frantic dash, leaving behind a trail of disturbed dust.

A surge of apprehension washed over me, dispelling the fleeting calmness that had settled within. The disbelief etched on Paul's face mirrored my own bewildered thoughts, a flurry of questions swirling in my mind about what could have transpired inside the tent.

Paul, his body tensed with a readiness to intervene, made a move to follow Luke's hasty retreat. However, Glenda, her eyes widening with caution, swiftly intervened, restraining him with a firm wave of her hand. The unspoken understanding passed between them, urging Paul to stay put.

In the distance, the ethereal glow of bright Portal colours danced across the uneven landscape, momentarily illuminating the darkness before vanishing just as quickly. Its fleeting presence further added to the mystique and uncertainty of our surroundings.

"Yep. Looks like it's definitely you and me tonight, Paul," I murmured, my voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination, as if bracing ourselves for the challenges that lay ahead.

Paul nodded in agreement, his weary eyes scanning the surroundings. "I might get used to this dust yet," he mused, his voice laced with a touch of dry humour, a feeble attempt to lighten the weight of the situation.

A sudden realisation struck Glenda, her eyes widening in concern. "Oh no," she interjected, a flicker of worry evident in her voice. "There's a sleeping bag for you in the other tent."

Paul's surprise was palpable as he looked at Glenda. "Really?" he exclaimed, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "That should make a nice change." He shifted his gaze toward me. "But the tent's all yours," he stated nonchalantly. "I'll sleep out here again tonight. I don't want to let the fire completely burn out."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, puzzled by Paul's aversion to the dark. "Don't like the dark?" I inquired, my tone casual yet curious.

Paul's response carried a hint of unease as his eyes met Glenda's briefly. "Hmph," he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching with a conflicted expression. "Something like that."

A pang of unease coursed through me, tightening the knot in my stomach. My hunger made itself known with an audible growl, echoing through the quiet night. The persistent twist within me urged me to seek a more satisfactory explanation. I bit my lower lip gently, contemplating whether to press further. "Is there something out there?" I asked cautiously, my voice laced with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Other people, maybe?"

Paul's response was guarded, his voice dropping to a low and cautious tone. "Not that we know of," he replied, the weight of uncertainty colouring his words.

The knot in my stomach tightened, its grip constricting further. Placing a hand across my belly, I sought to quell the rising unease, though the effort proved futile. There was an underlying tension in Paul's words that unsettled me, heightening my sense of vulnerability. "But," I blurted out, the words tumbling forth, "if Luke is telling the truth about not bringing—" I hesitated, my thoughts briefly entangled, "about not bringing Joel here, then who did? And how did they get him here without any of us seeing something? There isn't exactly any cover here. And he looked like he had spent a fair amount of time in the water."

Glenda shifted uncomfortably on her log, her movements betraying her unease. Her eyes darted around, scanning the enveloping darkness that surrounded our camp. The flickering light of the campfire played on her face, revealing the worry etched in her features.

Paul's gaze shifted to Glenda, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Do you know something that you're not telling us?" he questioned, his tone laced with caution.

Glenda hesitated, her eyes meeting Paul's for a fleeting moment before dropping to the ground. Her voice barely rose above a whisper as she finally responded, "I'm just as confused as the two of you are."

A wave of dread washed over me, intensifying the unease that had settled within me. The words slipped out before I could restrain them, blunt and unfiltered. "I don't think we're safe here," I declared, the gravity of the situation outweighing any concern for diplomacy.

Paul's response was a soft sigh, a tinge of resignation colouring his voice. "Right now, we don't really have any other option. I'm sure Luke would have warned us if it wasn't safe," he tried to reassure, yet the uncertainty in his tone betrayed his own doubts.

I scoffed loudly, my skepticism lingering from the revelations of Uncle Jamie's secrets. "Luke doesn't know everything," I retorted, my voice laden with doubt.

Paul's raised eyebrow signalled his suspicion, his penetrating gaze fixed on me. Aware of the weight of guilt that threatened to consume me, I bit down on my lip, a nervous habit. Secrets weighed heavily on my conscience, and I feared that revealing one might unravel the fragile trust between us. Or perhaps it won't be the only secret I'll expose.

Fortunately, Paul either failed to notice or chose to let it slide. "We'll just have to watch out for each other," he asserted firmly, his tone resolute. "We're all we've got right now," he added, glancing pointedly at Glenda.

Glenda shifted uncomfortably once again, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon her. "I think it's time for bed," she announced, slapping her thighs lightly. Without waiting for a response, she rose from her seat and retreated into her tent, her footsteps fading into the night.

Surprised by the abruptness of her departure, I watched her vanish into the darkness, a sense of unease settling deeper within me.

"I'll go grab a sleeping bag then," Paul said, breaking the silence as he rose to his feet once more. His eyes met mine, seeking confirmation. "Does it matter which one?" he asked.

I shook my head, still grappling with the sudden turn of events and Glenda's swift exit. "Nah," I replied, my voice barely audible.

As the campfire dwindled, an eerie silence descended upon the air. I closed my eyes, attempting to push away the tendrils of unease that coiled within me. The fading crackle of the fire served as the sole remaining sound, a rhythmic reminder of our solitude in the vast and uncertain expanse. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to steady my nerves, clinging to the flicker of hope that whispered of a new day, a tomorrow when the nightmare might finally come to an end.

My momentary trance was shattered by a sudden movement on the log beside me. Caught off guard, my body teetered backward, and I found myself unceremoniously sliding onto the dusty ground.

"Glenda!" I exclaimed sharply, frustration lacing my words. "What the hell!"

Glenda's lips formed a silent apology, her hand extending towards me in an attempt to pull me back onto the log.

"Glenda!" Paul hissed in a hushed whisper, his sharp tone reprimanding her.

Startled, Glenda visibly jumped, her eyes darting towards Paul. I held onto her outstretched hand, helping her regain her balance.

Paul's chuckle broke the tension, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Sorry," he whispered mischievously, dropping his sleeping bag onto the dusty ground beside his log.

"No, you're not," Glenda retorted, a smile gracing her face, softening the moment.

Curiosity piqued, I interjected, nodding towards the medical tent from which Glenda had emerged. "You don't like the tent?" I inquired, gesturing towards its entrance.

Glenda's voice took on a more serious tone as she replied, "Actually, there's something I think we should do as a group first."

My eyebrows arched with intrigue. "What is it?" I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.

"Gratitude," Glenda stated, her eyes glimmering in the gentle glow of the campfire.

"Gratitude?" I scoffed, not quite comprehending her intentions.

"Hear me out," Glenda insisted, cutting off any further remarks before they could be made.

Reluctantly, I fell into silence, the weight of Glenda's words settling upon me.

"It's something my father taught me. I've done it every day since..." Glenda's voice trailed off abruptly, her voice catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, a visible struggle evident in her expression. "It's become a nightly tradition for me," she finished softly.

Glenda gracefully knelt down in the dust, near the gentle embers of the campfire, and extended an invitation. "Come join me," she encouraged, her voice filled with warmth.

Glancing at Paul, unsure of his response, I was surprised when he merely shrugged and joined Glenda, settling onto the ground beside her.

Still uncertain, I hesitated, contemplating my next move.

"It's okay," Glenda assured, turning her gaze towards me. "We're not praying or anything."

Relenting, I knelt in the soft dust on Glenda's other side, feeling the gritty texture beneath my knees.

With our positions settled, Glenda spoke once more. "I'll go first," she declared, her voice calm and composed. "I'm grateful for life," she stated, her words hanging in the air before fading into silence.

I sat uncomfortably, gazing into the darkness, as a heavy silence draped over our small group. Uncertainty filled the space, and I couldn't shake off the awkwardness that settled within me. Should I say something? I wondered, feeling the weight of expectations pressing upon me.

The campfire continued its mesmerising dance, casting flickering shadows across our faces. The minutes stretched on, and just as the silence threatened to consume us, Paul finally broke it. "I'm grateful for the river," he stated, his voice carrying a touch of solemnity. The words hung in the air, their weight stifling the silence that followed.

Glenda's elbow prodded me in the side, urging me to speak. But I remained silent, my mind racing and my heart pounding. It's not that I don't want to participate, I just don't know what to say, I reassured myself, feeling a mix of frustration and self-doubt.

Glenda's elbow nudged me once again, more insistent this time. I shifted uncomfortably on the ground, the pressure mounting. My knees ached from the prolonged kneeling, and my thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess. Come on, think of something, anything, I urged myself, desperate to break the silence.

The oppressive quiet stretched on, and when Glenda's elbow jabbed me a third time, I finally gave in. "I'm grateful for Uncle Jamie," I blurted out, the words escaping me before I could fully process them.

Paul's hand flew to his mouth, but it was too late to stifle the light chuckle that escaped. Annoyance surged through me, and I quickly got to my feet, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Kain, I'm sorry," Paul called out, genuine remorse in his voice, but I ignored him and stormed past the fading glow of the campfire, retreating into the enveloping darkness.

The cool night air brushed against my exposed skin, but I hardly registered its freshness as I ventured further away from the dwindling light. Squinting into the darkness, I muttered an expletive under my breath, my foot catching on an unexpected shift in the ground. I slid down a steep embankment of loose dust, my heart pounding in panic. "What the fuck!" I exclaimed, disoriented and desperately searching for any source of light to guide me back.

"Oh, shit," I repeated, my hands blindly clawing at the ground, my body straining to climb back up the treacherous slope. Fear consumed me as I gasped for air, each breath ragged and frantic. Finally, through the veil of darkness, I caught a faint glimmer of the campfire's glow in the distance. How have I strayed so far?

With renewed determination, I pushed through exhaustion, my muscles protesting as I retraced my steps. Soon, I reached the faint light of the campfire, its wavering flames providing a sense of relief and familiarity.

Paul sat alone on his log, his figure outlined by the dying embers. Have they finished without me? I wondered, a mix of regret and resentment churning within me. Silently, I settled back into the dusty ground, near the remnants of the fire's warmth.

I gazed upward, fixating on the dark expanse above, devoid of moon or stars. My body shivered involuntarily, whether from the chill of the night or the weight of my emotions, I couldn't discern.

As the fire flickered and gradually waned, Paul placed his sleeping bag near my prone form. Without a word, he retreated, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared at the dark green material, its fabric beckoning me. Knowing it would be wise to use it, I reached for the sleeping bag, pulling it from its protective case. Stripping down to my underwear, I crawled inside, cocooning myself within its comforting embrace. The edges were tucked tightly under my chin as I lay on my back, staring into the void above.

Loneliness and isolation washed over me, amplified by the presence of Paul just a few feet away. I fought against the onslaught of negative thoughts, focusing instead on the gratitude Glenda had encouraged. Lying there, gazing at the starless sky, I couldn't help but feel a sliver of gratitude for the small remnants of light that still pierced the darkest of times.

"I'm sorry, Kain," Paul's voice finally broke the silence, laden with sincerity and remorse.

I let out a soft sigh, the tension within me gradually dissipating. "I'm grateful for the light," I responded, my voice carrying a mix of acceptance and forgiveness. With that, I closed my eyes, allowing the gentle sound of the fire's dying embers to lull me into a fitful sleep.