4338.211 · July 30, 2018 AD
Left in the Dust
Crutches wait outside Kain's caravan — a gift from Luke with a note that reads like a threat dressed as concern. The camp has moved on without him. When he finally drags himself to the Drop Zone, he arrives just in time to watch chaos unfold and realise he can't do a thing about it. The crutches let him move. They don't let him help. And when the dust settles and the others are gone, what's left is just Kain, the silence, and something stirring at the edge of his thoughts.
Morning arrives without Kain's participation. The camp has been awake for hours — he can tell by the angle of the light, the established rhythms filtering through caravan walls. Henri is gone, collected by someone who decided sleep mattered more than consultation.
Outside, crutches lean against the wall. Aluminium and padding and a note in handwriting he doesn't recognise. Luke's gift. Luke's reminder that wounded assets still require maintenance.
Nial is heading for the Drop Zone when Kain intercepts him. The argument is brief and futile — Kain's leg isn't healed, the journey will exhaust him, he should be resting. But caravan walls have become a prison, and uselessness has its own weight. He insists. Nial relents.
The walk takes three times longer than it should. Sand swallows the crutches with every swing. Shoulders burn. Arms scream. They stop to rest more times than dignity allows.
They arrive to chaos. A ute. A stoned stranger. A name Nial recognises from a city that suddenly feels impossibly close. The newcomer won't listen, won't stop, won't accept what's happened. Then the engine roars, Nial piles in to prevent disaster, and the vehicle accelerates toward camp with its reluctant cargo.
Kain watches them go.
The portal shimmers. The sun hammers down. And in the silence left behind, something familiar begins to whisper.
