Keys to Nowhere

"My ute's coming to a world with no petrol stations. But at this point, I'll take any piece of home I can get, even if it's got an expiry date."

"Glenda's cooking breakfast," I called out as soon as I spotted Paul wandering among the supply piles.

He looked up, surprise flickering across his face. "You came all this way just to tell me that?"

I chuckled, the sound coming out more nervous than I'd intended. My hand went to the back of my neck, rubbing at the skin still damp from my river wash. "She insists that we all have a hearty meal. We need to keep our strength up for the busy day ahead of us."

And hopefully her cooking had improved since I'd left. My stomach was already committed to the idea of bacon, regardless of its condition.

"Sounds like she's got plans," Paul replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I believe so."

I moved to stand beside him, my gaze sweeping across the Drop Zone. The marker stones sat at either end, small rock piles that seemed almost pathetic against the vast emptiness surrounding them. Between them lay Luke's contributions — boxes stacked in rough order, building materials piled together, the accumulated evidence of his trips back and forth through the portal.

"So, what's your assessment?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Paul seemed caught off guard by the question, his brow furrowing as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, I'd really like us to get some more concrete poured for the sheds. Nearly everything here has been here for less than twenty-four hours and it's already covered in dust."

To prove his point, he swiped a finger along the top of a large tent box, holding up the pad of his fingertip for inspection. A thick layer of fine particles clung to his skin, pale brown against the pink.

I looked around at the supplies, at the fine coating that seemed to have settled over every surface. The dust was relentless here — it got into everything, coated everything, made everything feel gritty and worn before its time.

"I don't think it matters what we do," I sighed, the words heavier than I'd intended. "We're never going to stop that. But the sheds should help."

At least once we got proper structures up, there'd be somewhere to store things away from the constant assault of particles. Small victories. That's what survival came down to, I supposed — accumulating enough small victories to make the big defeat bearable.

"Hmm," Paul mused, lost in his own calculations.

"Any more tents?" I asked, the question slipping out before I'd fully formed the thought. My eyes had already found the answer — a large box near the edge of the pile, its shape unmistakable.

"Yeah," Paul confirmed. "Looks like there's one left. We can take the boxes back to camp when we go for breakfast."

"Yeah." A grin tugged at my mouth despite everything. "I'm sure Glenda will have it up quick."

The woman had a talent for it, I'd give her that. While the rest of us fumbled with poles and canvas, she seemed to understand tent construction on some intuitive level, her hands finding the right connections without hesitation.

Paul nodded, admiration evident in his expression. "She definitely knows what she's doing with them. Far more than I do."

"And me," I added, the self-deprecation coming easily.

Paul glanced at me, something shifting in his eyes. "Don't doubt yourself, Kain. You've got amazing skills."

The words caught me off guard, warmth spreading through my chest at the unexpected praise. I wasn't used to compliments — not about work stuff, anyway. On job sites back home, you did your job and kept your head down, and if no one yelled at you, that meant you were doing okay.

Before I could respond, something else caught my attention. A flash of colour wedged between two boxes, out of place among the browns and greys of the supplies.

"Is that a pillow?" The words came out sharper than intended, my head snapping up, excitement cutting through the morning fog.

Paul squinted, following my pointing finger. "Where?"

"Wedged between those two boxes."

I was already moving, navigating around the tent boxes, picking my way between the stacked shed supplies. My fingers found the soft fabric, gripped it, pulled—

"It is!" The triumph in my voice was embarrassing, but I didn't care. A pillow. An actual pillow, soft and yielding in my hands. After sleeping on bare ground and rolled-up clothes, it felt like discovering treasure.

"Just one?" Paul asked, disappointment already creeping into his tone.

I checked the gap, peered behind the surrounding boxes, searched for any sign of companions. Nothing.

"Looks like it."

Paul's face fell, frustration creasing his forehead. "Like sharing a single pillow will do us much good."

He had a point. One pillow between — how many of us now? Me, Paul, Glenda, Uncle Jamie, Joel. Five people, one pillow. The maths wasn't encouraging.

"What are you two creeping around for?"

Luke's voice cut across the Drop Zone, making both of us spin around. He was approaching from the direction of the portal, his stride casual, his expression carrying that particular blend of confidence and evasiveness I was learning to recognise.

"Hey, Luke!" Paul's response was sharp, accusation already loading into his tone. "When did you drop off the sleeping bags?"

Luke paused, his brow furrowing as he considered the question. "Would have been some time late yesterday afternoon or early evening. Why?"

"Didn't you think it might be a good idea to let someone know?" Paul thrust the pillow at Luke, the gesture loaded with frustration.

"I... uh..."

"If Glenda hadn't sent Kain over to collect the box of tent pegs, we wouldn't have had the sleeping bags last night," Paul pressed, his voice rising.

I took a step back, raising my hands slightly. Sibling arguments were familiar territory — I'd grown up surrounded by sisters, after all — but that didn't mean I wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Some battles were best observed from a safe distance.

"I have a lot planned to bring through the Portal for you, and I don't have time to take it further than the Drop Zone," Luke defended, his own frustration surfacing. "Besides, wasn't the Drop Zone your idea? You're the one who told me to leave stuff there."

"Yeah, but you need to at least tell someone," Paul fired back.

I retreated another step, pretending sudden fascination with a nearby box. The label was illegible under its coating of dust, but I studied it intently, hoping to project complete disinterest in the escalating argument.

"I don't have time for that crap, Paul!" Luke snapped. "You, or someone else, will just have to check frequently."

The words hung in the air, sharp-edged and final. Paul fell silent, seemingly taken aback by Luke's dismissiveness.

"Hey, Kain!"

My back stiffened. So much for staying out of it.

I turned reluctantly, bracing for whatever Luke was about to drag me into. Please don't ask me to take sides. Please don't make this worse than it already is.

"Do you have the keys to your ute on you?"

The question was so unexpected that it took me a moment to process. My ute. The Hilux I'd driven to Uncle Jamie's place yesterday morning — was it only yesterday? — sitting in the driveway of that Berriedale house, keys in my back pocket because I'd never thought to take them out.

My hand went to my jeans automatically, fingers finding the familiar shape of metal through the fabric.

"Actually, I do," I replied, pulling them free and holding them up.

"If you give them to me, I'll bring it through," Luke offered.

I stared at him, not quite believing what I was hearing. My ute. Here. In Clivilius. The thought sparked something in my chest — excitement, maybe, or just the desperate hunger for anything familiar in this alien landscape.

"Really?"

Luke nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"That's mad!" The keys dropped into his waiting palm before I'd fully decided to hand them over, the metal clinking against his skin.

But Paul's expression had soured, his practical mind already racing ahead to problems I hadn't considered.

"But what happens when it runs out of fuel?"

The question landed like a bucket of cold water, dousing my excitement. Shit. Fuel. Of course. The ute ran on diesel, and unless Luke was planning to bring a tanker through the portal, there was no way to refill it once the tank ran dry.

"I'm working on a solution for that," Luke replied, his voice dropping into something more cryptic.

"Like what?" Paul pressed.

Luke shrugged, the gesture noncommittal. "I'm not one hundred percent sure yet. But I'm getting close."

"That's very vague of you," Paul commented, his eyebrows raised in clear scepticism.

The exchange reminded me of something else. Something I'd been trying not to think about, but that kept surfacing anyway, demanding attention.

"Have you spoken to my mother?" I asked, cutting through their back-and-forth.

Luke's expression went carefully blank. "Umm... nope."

"So, she has no idea where I am?"

"Not that I know of."

The confirmation hit harder than I'd expected. Mum didn't know. She'd sent me to check on Uncle Jamie, and I'd never come back, never called, never given any sign that I was alive. By now she'd be frantic. She'd have called the police, probably. Called Brianne. Called everyone she could think of, desperate for answers that no one could give her.

"Don't you think you should tell her?" Paul jumped in, his voice sharp with indignation. "You know that his fiancée is pregnant, right?"

The words stung, even though Paul meant them as support. Brianne. Six months along, her belly swelling with our daughter, waiting for me to come home from a simple errand that had somehow swallowed me whole.

"Umm." Luke's jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his features. "Have you asked me to tell Claire and the kids where you are?"

Paul went quiet, his cheeks flushing slightly. The silence was answer enough.

"That's what I thought," Luke said, a hint of sneer in his voice. He took a breath, visibly reining himself in. "The less anyone outside Clivilius knows of its existence, the better. It's safer for all of us that way."

Safer. The word rattled around in my head, not quite fitting. Safer for who? For us, trapped here with no way back? For our families, left to wonder and worry and eventually mourn?

Paul nodded slowly, accepting the logic even if he didn't like it. I hesitated, torn between competing impulses. Part of me wanted Mum to know — wanted her concern, her fierce protective love, the knowledge that someone out there was fighting to find me. But another part recognised the danger. If Mum knew about the portal, about Clivilius, she'd want to come through. She'd demand it, probably. And bringing her here, to this place of dust and dead men and impossible lagoons...

"But I guess I could try and bring your mother through the Portal if you'd like," Luke offered, his voice carrying a note of hesitation.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I think we could do without her... for now."

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but they were the right ones. Mum here would be a disaster — she'd try to take charge, try to fix everything, and when she couldn't, she'd fall apart. Better to leave her in ignorance, at least until we had something more stable to offer.

"Well, I'd better go get your ute," Luke said, already turning toward the portal.

"Oh, hey, Luke!" Paul called after him, urgency in his voice. "Can you bring Jamie's car through too?"

"Umm, nope," Luke tossed back, not even slowing down.

"Why not?"

"I need it to drive to Collinsvale."

Paul turned to me, confusion written across his face. "Where the hell is Collinsvale?"

I shrugged. "Not far from his house."

"Oh, so, you could walk there then," Paul called after Luke, his tone slightly needling.

"It's not that close," I corrected, feeling oddly compelled to defend Luke's geography even if I had no interest in defending anything else about him.

"Gotta go now," Luke declared, the words carrying a finality that ended the discussion. He raised a hand in a casual wave and kept walking, his figure shrinking as he approached the portal.

The colours swirled to life as he neared — those impossible shades of violet and gold that I'd seen only twice before, once when I'd fallen through and once when Luke had left last night. They wrapped around him, embraced him, and then he was gone, leaving behind only the translucent screen and the lingering questions about whether he'd actually follow through on his promises.

"So," Paul said, breaking the silence that followed. "We wait?"

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the spot where Luke had vanished.

My ute. Coming here. The thought was strange and wonderful and slightly terrifying all at once.