Welcome to the Nightmare

"Joy has a shorter half-life than radioactive isotopes when you're already standing in catastrophe."

The abrupt sound of a dog barking snapped us out of our emotional moment, drawing our attention away with such immediacy it felt like being jerked into a different reality. The sound was so out of place, so impossible in this context, that for a moment I was certain I was hallucinating. Dogs didn't exist in Clivilius. Dogs were on Earth, in homes with carpets and food bowls and people who hadn't been exiled to alien dimensions.

In my surprise, Jamie's reaction was swift, pushing me away as he spun towards the source of the sound. His whole body had gone rigid, alert in a way that spoke of recognition rather than confusion.

The barking continued, a sound so familiar yet so alien in our current surroundings that it momentarily disoriented me. Small, yappy barks — the kind that came from small, yappy dogs. The kind that came from—

"Henri!"

Jamie's voice, infused with a mix of disbelief and joy, cut through the air as he dashed toward the small, enthusiastic source of the noise.

Rubbing at my eyes, I questioned the reality before me.

Are we both having the same hallucination? Or is Henri really in Clivilius?

The sight before me seemed too surreal, too starkly opposed to the harshness of our current life. A small dog — a Shih Tzu, white and tan and ridiculous — was bounding across the red dust towards Jamie with the kind of unrestrained joy that only dogs can muster.

Jamie reached the dog in moments, bending down to scoop the chubby Shih Tzu into his arms. The dog's tail wagged furiously, its small tongue lavishing Jamie's face with affectionate licks. Watching them, a smile broke through my own confusion and worry, a brief respite in the form of this joyful reunion. Jamie's face had transformed — the pain, the tears, the desperation all washed away by this small creature's unconditional love.

However, the lightness of the moment evaporated as quickly as it had appeared when Luke stepped through the Portal, another dog, Duke, cradled in his arms. My brother emerged from the swirling colours like he was stepping off a bus, casual as anything, holding a Shih Tzu like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The atmosphere shifted palpably as Jamie's voice rose in anger and disbelief.

"Luke! What the fuck are you doing! Why the fuck did you bring them here?"

His scream sliced through the air, the joy of moments before curdling instantly into rage.

Luke, taken aback by Jamie's reaction, gently set Duke down in the dust. Duke immediately began to explore his new environment, his nose to the ground, sniffing around with curiosity that seemed oblivious to the tension crackling between the humans above him. The tension in the air was palpable, the sudden arrival of the pets casting a long shadow over the joy of their unexpected presence.

I understood Jamie's fury even as it shocked me. The dogs represented everything we'd lost — home, comfort, normality. But they also represented a terrible burden. Two more mouths to feed in a place where we couldn't even feed ourselves. Two more lives dependent on resources we didn't have. Two small creatures who would need water, shelter, care — in a world that offered none of those things.

"What the fuck, Luke?"

Jamie's voice was a mixture of anger and disbelief, echoing loudly in the tense air between them. His frustration boiled over into physical action as he shoved Luke hard in the chest, a move that caused Luke to stagger backwards, unprepared for the force of Jamie's emotions.

I should have intervened. I should have stepped between them, played the role of peacemaker, reminded them that we were all trapped in this together. But something held me back — perhaps exhaustion, perhaps the recognition that Jamie's anger was justified, perhaps some dark part of me that wanted to see Luke face consequences for his choices.

Luke's response was immediate, his face contorting into an expression of stern defiance.

"Fuck off, Jamie!" He retorted with equal volume, the anger palpable in his voice as he pushed back, his hands finding Jamie's chest with significant force.

The impact landed directly on Jamie's wound.

The cry of agony that tore from Jamie's throat was unlike anything I'd heard from him — raw, animal, stripped of any pretence of composure. He stumbled backwards, his hands instinctively reaching for the site of pain. The sudden escalation from verbal to physical confrontation seemed to freeze the air around us, my attention torn between the innocent exploration of Henri and Duke through the dust and the rapidly intensifying conflict before me.

"Is that blood?"

The question from Luke broke the heavy silence, his voice dropping to a mix of concern and disbelief as he took a cautious step towards Jamie. The anger had vanished from his face, replaced by something approaching horror as he registered what he'd done.

Jamie's denial was quick, a shake of his head accompanied by a feeble:

"It's nothing."

An attempt to downplay the severity of the situation that convinced no one.

"Nothing?"

Luke's scepticism was evident, his voice sharp as he moved closer, dismissing Jamie's protests with a swift motion. He forcibly moved Jamie's arm away and lifted his shirt, revealing the extent of the injury beneath.

The sight that greeted us was shocking. The welt on Jamie's chest had ruptured from Luke's push, oozing blood and pus in a vivid display of the injury's severity. The wound gaped open like a mouth trying to speak, its contents escaping in a slow, viscous flow that darkened Jamie's shirt and dripped toward the dust below. My gasp was lost among the collective intake of breath.

This wasn't a burn anymore. This was infection. This was tissue damage that needed surgery, antibiotics, sterile environments. This was the kind of wound that killed people in the days before modern medicine — and we were living in a place that made those days look technologically advanced.

Luke's reaction was one of blatant fear, his eyes widening as he took in the full extent of Jamie's injury, his earlier anger replaced by a dawning realisation of the seriousness of the situation. My brother, who had orchestrated our exile with such confidence, who had spoken of Clivilius like it was destiny rather than doom, looked suddenly small and terrified.

Jamie, however, maintained a steady gaze on Luke, his voice low and haunting.

"You've sentenced us to death, Luke," he said, his words soft yet carrying a weight that seemed to echo around us, pressing against my chest like a physical force.

"Welcome to the fucking nightmare."

The words hung heavy in the air, a sombre pronouncement that seemed to encapsulate the direness of our predicament. The presence of Duke and Henri, which should have been a source of joy, now underscored the harsh reality of our situation in Clivilius — a reality marred by danger, uncertainty, and now, the immediate threat to Jamie's health.

The conflict between Luke and Jamie, sparked by fear and frustration, had laid bare the fragility of our existence in this alien place. A reminder that our survival hung by a thread, every decision, every action fraught with potential disastrous consequences. And somewhere in the midst of it all, two small dogs sniffed at red dust that should never have touched their paws, oblivious to the nightmare unfolding around them.