4338.204 · July 23, 2018 AD
Outback Confessional
The highway stretches like a ribbon of ink through absolute darkness. Paul drives towards Adelaide, arms stinging from rose thorns, phone silenced against Claire's thirteen missed calls. Out here between Broken Hill and nowhere, there's just the road, the thoughts he can't outrun, and the unspoken vow pulling him towards Tasmania. Then a kangaroo explodes from the scrub. Some disasters you survive. Others you drive straight into.
One hour since the window. One hour since Claire's silent fury. Three hours still to Adelaide.
The outback highway offers brutal honesty—no streetlights to soften edges, no distractions from truth. Just Paul, the darkness, and the question he can't answer: what is Luke up to?
Major issues with Jamie, Luke said. Serious enough to buy plane tickets he can't afford. Vulnerable enough to say he needs help. And Paul knows that unspoken vow from childhood still holds: when Luke calls, he answers. No matter what.
The headlights catch reflective markers. The tyres hum their steady drone. Paul's mind drifts through memories—the wasp disaster, Luke showing up with the spare key and that laugh that cut through panic. The promise made years ago: Luke wouldn't face things alone.
Then movement explodes in peripheral vision. A kangaroo, massive and panicked, directly in his path. The ABS kicks in. Time compresses. The animal veers away at the last moment.
Paul's heart hammers. His phone glows. Thirteen missed calls from Claire. He switches it to do not disturb.
Whatever awaits in Tasmania, whatever precipice Luke stands on, Paul's already committed.
Some bonds are bedrock. Everything else is negotiable.
