"I guess Gladys is on her way then," I murmured to myself, a hint of amusement in my voice as I observed Duke's behaviour. The way he sprinted to the front door with an eagerness that seemed to resonate from his very being, his tail a furious blur of motion, was a spectacle in itself. The connection between dogs and their sixth sense, or what I jokingly termed 'canine witchcraft,' was a mystery that seemed to deepen with every one of Duke's premonitions. The notion was fanciful, of course, but in moments like these, it felt like the most plausible explanation.
The distinctive sound of a small truck labouring up the driveway broke the silence, a herald of Gladys's arrival. I didn't bother waiting for the formality of a knock; the anticipation of confirming the contents of Paul's list propelled me outside, a mix of eagerness and anxiety threading through my thoughts.
"You didn't reverse in," I called out, trying to infuse my voice with a casual tone as Gladys emerged from the vehicle. The observation was meant to be light-hearted, a small jab to ease into the exchange, but Gladys was having none of it.
"Shut it, you," she retorted with a fiery spirit that seemed to match the engine's rumble of her truck. Her brisk steps toward me were purposeful, her intent clear in the set of her jaw and the flash of determination in her eyes. "Where's Jamie?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the air with an urgency that left little room for diversion. "I want to see him, right now!"
I couldn't help but grin at her directness, though I knew better than to let the smile reach my eyes. "How'd you go? You got everything?" My attempt to steer the conversation was deliberate, an effort to diffuse the tension that seemed to cling to Gladys like a second skin. Her face, a canvas of annoyance and resolve, told me all I needed to know about the seriousness of her visit.
This was Gladys in her element, a force to be reckoned with, her focus singular and unyielding. Gladys, with her characteristic fervour, transformed the space around her into a whirlwind of motion and emotion the moment she crossed the threshold. The way she thumped my shoulder, not so much in aggression but as a declaration of her presence, sent a clear message. "It was bloody horrific!" Her voice, resonant and filled with a raw edge of frustration, echoed through the house as she dismissed Duke with a briskness that bordered on dismissive. It was a side of Gladys I had seen before, yet its intensity never failed to unsettle me.
I gently ushered Henri away from the commotion, his confusion mirroring my own internal turmoil. "Gladys isn't interested in any pleasantries, Henri," I explained, feeling a twinge of guilt for the innocent bystander caught up in the storm. Henri's sad eyes, brimming with a sense of betrayal, tugged at my conscience as I closed the door, sealing us off from the world outside and, momentarily, from the madness Gladys brought with her.
Her voice, a clarion call of demand and expectation, reverberated down the hallway. “Jamie! Wake up. I want an explanation, right now." The urgency in her tone, the expectation of immediate compliance, sent a shudder down my spine. My own muttered curse was a testament to the dread settling in my stomach—a dread that stemmed not from Gladys's temper but from the impending confrontation that awaited us.
Catching up to Gladys felt like walking into the eye of a storm, a place of deceptive calm before the inevitable onslaught. She stood at the doorway of the master bedroom, a sentinel confronting the void left by Jamie's absence. Her posture, rigid with tension, framed against the backdrop of the empty room, painted a picture of confusion and betrayal.
The scene laid bare before us spoke volumes. The open wardrobe, with its desolate row of empty coat hangers, whispered tales of a hurried departure and unspoken plans. The imprint of a suitcase on the bedsheets served as a silent assumption to the recent presence of its owner, now conspicuously absent. It was a tableau of abandonment, each detail a piece of the puzzle that Gladys sought to solve.
In that moment, standing beside Gladys, I was acutely aware of the weight of the truth that hung between us. The reality of Jamie's absence, with all its implications and unanswered questions, loomed large. The knowledge that I could not conjure up Jamie on demand, that there was no easy explanation to soothe the rising storm of questions, was a heavy burden. The truth, with all its potential for hurt and misunderstanding, was all that I had to offer.
"Gladys, I can explain," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper against the storm of her fury. The room felt smaller somehow, as if the walls were inching closer with each word spoken, each accusation hurled my way.
"Where the hell is Jamie?" Her words were like daggers, sharp and precise, cutting through the air between us. "And come to think of it, where is Paul?" The sudden inclusion of Paul's name was a curveball I hadn't anticipated, a reminder of the tangled web of half-truths and omissions that had led to this moment.
Caught unawares, my mind scrambled for footing. "Gladys, it's not…" The words faltered on my lips, an inadequate shield against the onslaught of her wrath.
"What the fuck have you done, Luke?" The venom in her voice was palpable, a physical force that seemed to push me back a step. Her words sent a chill down my spine, a visceral reaction to the fear and anger emanating from her in waves.
"Please, just calm down. I can explain!" My plea was desperate, my hands raised in a futile attempt to pacify the tempest before me. But my gestures did nothing to quell the storm.
"Calm down!" she echoed back, her voice a shrill counterpoint to my own, escalating the tension to a breaking point. "Don't tell me to fucking calm down." The air crackled with her indignation, a strengthening force that threatened to engulf us both.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, a tidal wave of fear and anticipation. Gladys's anger was a tangible thing, a barrier that stood between us and any hope of understanding. The realisation that I had to reveal everything to her weighed heavily on my heart. The prospect of introducing Gladys to Clivilius, a world not yet ready to be shared with her, loomed large and fraught with uncertainty.
"It's not what you think. Trust me," I implored, my voice laced with a desperation that mirrored the tumultuous emotions churning within me. The plea was more than just a bid for time; it was an appeal to the trust and history shared between us, a fragile thread in the face of overwhelming secrets.
Gladys pulled out her purse with such determination only for it to result in her bag tumbling to the floor, its contents scattering with a loud thud. "Here. You can have your brother’s credit card back. I don't want any more part of this,” she announced, her voice laced with a finality that left no room for negotiation, as she thrust it against my chest. The gesture was dismissive, a physical representation of her desire to wash her hands of the entire affair.
"But you don't even know what this is!" The words burst from me. I was standing on the precipice, watching as one of the few people who might understand the gravity of my situation turned her back on it.
Gladys's response was to push past me, her movements brusque as she made her way down the hallway towards the kitchen. The finality of her steps echoed in my head, a countdown to the moment she would walk out of our lives for good. The realisation hit me hard—if I didn't act now, if I didn't show her the truth, she would leave, potentially unravelling the secrecy that shrouded our operations with her departure.
With a heavy heart, I reached into my pocket, the small device within feeling like a lead weight in my hand. The act of pulling it out was almost ceremonial, a reluctant acknowledgment of the bridge I was about to burn. As my thumb found the small, round button that protruded from the side, a wave of self-doubt washed over me. Was I really about to do this? To expose Gladys to a world that was, for all intents and purposes, beyond her current comprehension?
The soft press of the button felt louder in the silence that followed. The lights in the hallway flickered ominously, a prelude to the unveiling of the Portal. It materialised against the vacant wall of the bedroom, a swirling vortex of colours and light that defied the laws of physics and reality as we knew it. The air around it seemed to hum with energy, the boundary between our world and Clivilius thinning until it was nothing more than a breath away.
“Gladys, come and take a look,” my voice carried a gentleness, an attempt to ease the tension that had just moments before filled the air between us. I could feel the weight of her gaze as I retreated back into the hallway.
Gladys hesitated, her body language a mix of resistance and curiosity. With a cautious beckon, I urged her to follow, leading her towards the room that had transformed into a gateway to the unimaginable. The air felt charged, heavy with anticipation and the unknown.
"What the hell do you... Holy Mary mother!" The transition in Gladys's demeanour was abrupt, her initial anger dissolving into a blend of awe and disbelief. The Portal, with its mesmerising dance of colours, cast a surreal glow over her features, highlighting the shift from skepticism to wonder.
Well, that's one way to describe it, a thought flickered through my mind, bringing with it a fleeting sense of amusement amidst the unfolding drama. The sight of Gladys, so often the epitome of control and resolve, rendered speechless by the spectacle before her, was both unsettling and validating.
Her fascination was palpable, a tangible force that drew her closer to the Portal's vibrant allure. As her hand moved towards the shimmering surface, a part of me understood the irresistible pull it exerted, the human instinct to touch, to understand through direct experience.
"Gladys! Don't!" My voice, sharp with alarm, shattered the momentary calm. Acting on instinct, I reached out, diverting her hand from its potentially perilous course. The urgency of my reaction, the fear of what might have been, coursed through me with a startling clarity.
The ensuing chaos unfolded with a disorienting rapidity. Gladys's alarmed cry, a stark echo in the confined space, served as an auditory backdrop to my own loss of equilibrium. The handbag, an innocent bystander in this drama, became an unwitting catalyst for what happened next.
As my foot entangled with its strap, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. My arms flailed, seeking a lifeline in the void, but finding none. The fall felt eternal, a slow descent into Clivilius as the Portal's colours enveloped me, pulling me into their embrace.
The impact was a harsh return to my new reality, the ochre dust of Clivilius a reminder of the consequences of our actions. The handbag, now an accidental companion on this journey, lay discarded nearby.
Sitting up with a wince, I felt the sharp sting of pain across my lower back. I'm going to need a good massage after all of this is over, I mused ruefully, the thought serving as a brief escape from the absurdity of the situation unfolding around me.
The urgency of the moment quickly pulled my attention back to reality. "Shit, Gladys!" The words tore from my throat as I realised the imminent danger. With her handbag now an unintended casualty, I feared the loss might drive Gladys to follow it through the Portal, driven by curiosity or sheer determination.
Scrambling through the dust, I retrieved the handbag. I rushed toward the Portal, the urgency of preventing Gladys from making a potentially irreversible mistake fuelling my movements.
"No! Gladys! You mustn't touch it," I managed to shout, just in time. My face materialised from the swirling colours of the Portal, a spectral warning against the backdrop of a one-way journey. The sight of me, so unexpectedly and bizarrely presented, startled Gladys into a scream, her hand withdrawing as if burned. The force of her reaction sent her tumbling back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. "What the fuck, Luke?" Her voice was a cocktail of shock, confusion, and a hint of fear.
As I fully re-emerged, Gladys's wide eyes followed my every movement, her emotions a tangled web of fascination and horror at the spectacle she had just witnessed.
"I'm sorry I scared you," I offered, the apology laced with a sincerity that mirrored the intensity of the moment. Swinging Gladys's handbag towards her as a peace offering, I hoped the gesture would serve as a bridge back to some semblance of calm.
Gladys nodded, a slow, deliberate movement that belied the turmoil undoubtedly churning within her. "Okay," she accepted, her voice a whisper of its former force. As she took the handbag from me, her grip on it was tight, a lifeline to the familiar in a sea of unimaginable revelations. The way she clutched it to her chest, with a vulnerability that seemed out of place with the strong, determined woman I knew, struck a chord within me.
I pointed at the Portal, its otherworldly glow casting eerie shadows across my face, a visual testament to the unimaginable reality we were grappling with. "That is where Jamie and Paul are," I explained, my voice steady, despite the turmoil that churned within me.
Gladys shook her head slightly as if the motion could dispel the reality unfolding before her eyes. "I don't understand," she whispered, her voice a blend of confusion and awe. "Where is… What is that?"
"It's a Portal," I said, the simplicity of the explanation belying the complexity of what it truly entailed. To call it a Portal was to name the unknown, to try and fit the unfathomable into the confines of our language.
"A what?"
"A Portal," I reiterated, the word hanging between us, charged with the weight of its implications. "But once Jamie and Paul entered, they couldn't get back out."
Gladys eyed me with a wariness that spoke volumes, her forehead creased with the effort to understand, to reconcile this revelation with the reality she knew.
"You're skeptical. Fair enough. So was I," I acknowledged, recognising the shared ground of our doubt. "Here, let me prove it's real," I offered, a pledge to bridge the gap between belief and disbelief. "Just whatever you do, don't follow me!" The warning was earnest, a plea for caution in the face of curiosity's pull.
The warning hung in the air, a plea for restraint laced with the hope that Gladys would heed my instruction. With a deep breath, I braced myself for the familiar yet always disconcerting sensation of crossing the threshold into Clivilius. As I stepped forward, the Portal enveloping me in its otherworldly embrace, I was acutely aware of Gladys's eyes on me, a silent witness to the impossible.
The transition was instantaneous, the familiar yet alien landscape of Clivilius unfolding before me as I emerged on the other side.
The Clivilian dust, fine and omnipresent, swirled into mini whirlwinds behind me as I made my desperate dash toward the tent by the river. Each step kicked up a cloud of alien dust, marking my hurried passage through this otherworldly landscape. The urgency of the situation lent speed to my legs, though my lungs protested the rapid pace.
"Where's Paul?" The question burst from me as I skidded to a stop in front of Jamie, my breathing heavy and ragged, betraying my lack of physical preparedness for even this short burst of exertion.
"He's off bathing again," Jamie responded, his eyebrows arching in a mix of curiosity and amusement at my dishevelled state. His casual demeanour, so at odds with the frenetic energy that propelled me here, momentarily threw me.
"Again?" I echoed, the word slipping out almost accusatorially. Visions of previous mishaps danced briefly in my mind. "He didn't make another mess, did he?"
Jamie's laughter, light and untroubled, served as a brief respite from the tension that knotted my stomach. "Not that I know of. He just got tired of waiting for the wood."
The mention of the wood, now a seemingly trivial concern, snapped me back to my current predicament. "Well, it's arrived now, hasn't it? We have more pressing issues to deal with right now anyway. I need your help to convince Gladys to believe me about all this," I said, my hand sweeping across the horizon, indicating the vast, barren expanse that stretched around us.
"Gladys is here!?” Jamie asked.
"No! God no!" My response was immediate, fuelled by the urgency to dispel any misconceptions. The last thing I needed was more confusion or, worse, panic. "And I don't want her to come here either. I don't want her to get trapped. But I need her to believe that this actually is where you are."
The intensity in Jamie's gaze didn't waver; if anything, it intensified. "So, she knows about the Portal then?" he prodded, the question loaded with implications I wasn't fully prepared to confront.
I found a temporary refuge in the Clivilian sand at my feet, drawing aimless patterns as I grappled with how to explain my actions. "Yeah," I admitted with a heavy sigh, the word barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of our surreal surroundings. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet Jamie's, bracing myself for the inevitable fallout. "I had to show it to her."
"What the fuck, Luke!?" His reaction was as swift as it was vehement, a verbal slap that echoed my own internal reprimand.
"She didn't leave me any other choice," I countered defensively, my words tinged with a mix of frustration and desperation. "It's complicated, okay?" The simplification felt inadequate, a paltry attempt to encapsulate the myriad of emotions and decisions that had led to this moment.
"What the hell does that mean – 'it's complicated'?!"
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Jamie's scrutiny as acutely as the Clivilian sun on my back. Jamie had a knack for cutting through excuses, for demanding accountability in a way that left little room for evasion. "Just help me, will you?" I pleaded.
"Wait here then," Jamie snapped, his tone a sharp contrast to the concern I knew lay beneath the surface. Without another word, he disappeared inside the tent, leaving me to stew in the consequences of what I'd done.
The minutes stretched on, each one seemingly longer than the last, their passage marked only by the impatient tapping of my foot against the Clivilian dust. Despite my efforts to remain composed, the waiting gnawed at me, a physical manifestation of the tension coiling tighter within.
When Jamie finally reappeared, the relief that washed over me was palpable, albeit short-lived. He brandished a small, plastic water bottle. The empty bottle sailed through the air with a vigour that seemed to carry with it Jamie's frustration, landing in my hands with a thud that echoed slightly in the quiet of the landscape.
"Here," Jamie's voice carried a mix of resignation and determination. "Tell her to read my message. That should do the trick."
The bottle felt oddly significant in my hands, a mundane object transformed into a vessel of hope—or perhaps desperation. I turned it over, searching for Jamie's message.
"You don't have to read it," Jamie's voice cut through my thoughts, a sharp reminder of his presence. Irritation was evident in his tone.
"You know I can’t help it," I retorted, my attention fixed on the words scrawled across the label.
Jamie huffed, a clear sign of his resignation to my habitual need to know, to understand. He stood back, a silent observer to my compulsive curiosity. It was an ingrained part of who I was, a trait that had led us down many an uncharted path, not all of which ended in places we wanted to be. This time, our current predicament in Clivilius stood as a testament to where curiosity unchecked could lead.
As my eyes devoured the final words of Jamie's hastily scrawled message, a surge of disbelief washed over me. My gaze lifted abruptly, seeking confirmation in Jamie's eyes. "Is this true?" The question emerged tinged with surprise, seeking assurance for the claims laid bare on the water bottle's label.
"Yep," Jamie's response was terse, his expression an intricate blend of seriousness and barely concealed anger. The starkness of his face, devoid of the camaraderie we once shared so freely, struck a chord within me. "But you need to stay out of it. I think you've got us all into enough trouble already."
His words, sharp and uncompromising, cut deep. The frown that settled on my face was reflexive, a physical manifestation of the hurt that bubbled up from his lack of faith. After everything, to still be seen as the one not to be trusted, the one who might inadvertently make a bad situation worse, was a bitter pill to swallow. Sure, our current situation was far from ideal, but in my heart, I believed it could always be worse. My optimism, it seemed, was not enough to bridge the gap of doubt that had formed between us.
"Luke, I mean it," Jamie pressed, his voice cold, a barrier rising in the space between his words and my hope for understanding. The finality in his tone was unmistakable, a clear directive that this was not my battle to fight, not my mess to fix.
"Thanks," I whispered, the word barely more than a breath as I clutched the water bottle closer. My eyes dropped, unable to meet the icy certainty in Jamie's gaze. The silence that enveloped us was a chasm, filled with unspoken grievances and the heavy weight of consequences yet to be fully realised.
Turning away, I jogged back to the Portal, each step a reluctant retreat from the confrontation, from the harsh truths laid bare. Clivilius, with its unexplored landscape and the promise of the unknown, receded behind me as I stepped through the Portal's swirling threshold, leaving behind not just a world, but a partner whose faith in me had been eroded by the very curiosity that defined me.
