“Lyle! You there?” Jack’s voice echoed off the stone walls of the ruined tower to no reply.

The jeep hummed, and the white headlights pierced through the darkness. Lyle’s belongings were scattered about the camp as if they had been combed through by something.

“He probably ran off with that Elijah guy,” Clara said as she leaned against the back of the seat of her car. “You’ve heard that he’s run away too, right?”

“Of course, I’ve heard,” Jack said as he glanced around. He sighed. “Lyle, you didn’t, right?”

It was either he had actually run away, or something happened to him. He glanced around and stepped toward the camp. The camping stove sat on the stone, and jars of water sat untouched on the stone, and his PiD was nowhere to be seen. Surely, if he had run away he would leave his PiD, and take these things, right? No. He didn’t run away. Something didn’t sit right with Jack, and so he pulled out his PiD.

“Liam, Lyle isn’t here. Can you find out where he is with his PiD?”

He typed out as quickly as possible as he looked around.

“Well, we came out all the way here for nothing,” Clara said with a heavy sigh. “At least the ride up was fun.” She chuckled.

Jack’s cheeks turned red at the comment. Clara climbed out of the car and stretched herself out.

“Should we set up camp here tonight?” She said as she grabbed a bag on the floorboard of the jeep from where she was sitting.

“Stay put, we’ll come to you,” Liam responded to his PID. Jack glanced at it and put it away.

“Sure.” He answered.

He and Clara set up the tent within the shade of the tower, and the two of them embraced through the night. She curled up next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Her body was soft, so soft. He held it close to her as she breathed a hot puff of air into his shoulder their bodies writhed together until tiredness took them, and slept until morning came: basking in one another’s afterglow.

The night was quiet, and long, and then came morning: arriving with the steady hum of an oncoming jeep. Liam, Bernard, and Aurora pulled up just in time to see Clara and Jack step out of the small tent together.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Oh ho ho, someone had a fun night last night.” Aurora teased as she poked at the exposed skin of Clara’s midsection that had caught against the folds of her stomach as she pulled her shirt over her head.

“Aurora…” Clara’s face blossomed into a deep crimson as her eyes darted away from the chuckling face of the smaller girl.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Aurora said. “So is Lyle really not here?”

She glanced around the small camp. Other than looking as if it had been rummaged through, it was dead quiet and still.

“He lasted nearly two weeks.” Liam said as he hopped out of the Jeep next, “That’s faster than you, Aurora.”

“Shut up, Liam.”

“Well, we don’t know if he’s gone, right?” Jack spoke up as he adjusted his coat. “I don’t think his PiD is here.”

“No, Kyle’s —“

“Lyle’s.”

“Lyle’s PiD is a couple miles thataway.” He pointed south toward the small path that looked as if it had been carved out, “We’ll decide what to do when we come across him.”

“Should we head out right now?” Jack asked.

“No.” Liam answered, “We’ll have breakfast first and then head out.”

Bernard stepped out of the jeep and stretched out his back with a loud groan, and a louder pop before he turned and took a few MREs from one of the chests in the jeep and passed them around. Jack grimaced as he read the contents. Jambalaya. Not really his choice for breakfast. He sighed and tore open the packaging with his teeth and dug into the mushy meal.

After the facility shrimp and vegetables were done and gone, he brushed his teeth, and rinsed his mouth out with some of the water he had found in one of the jugs around the campsite: that’s when he came across it: a jug of some kind of liquid. He uncorked it and put his nose to it. There was a smell kind of like tea coming out of it, and he tilted it to his lips.

As the bitter-tasting liquid rushed down his throat, he felt a renewed vigor: the soreness of sleeping on the ground, and the soreness in his tailbone from the bumpy drive up, were both gone. The little bit of tiredness had also vanished as well. Potion? Did Lyle make this? He glanced at the stone ground around Lyle’s empty bedroll. Several other jugs full of the same liquid, and a small jar full of a type of green paste. He unscrewed the jar’s lid and took a whiff before quickly yanking his head away: it felt as if the hairs in his nostrils had been singed off, so he screwed it back on and took it, and one of the jugs of the mysterious fatigue curing potions with him.

“What’s that you have.”

“Potion.” He said, “Of some kind.”

“Oh. Does Lyle have the skill to make these?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly, “But there was also this.”

Jack handed the jar over to Liam, but Aurora reached over snatched it, and opened it. She, too, yanked her head away before screwing it on.

“What is it?” Liam asked.

“Poison.” She answered, “Raw Cassandra’s Thorn, I reckon.”

“Really? What does it do?”

“Pretty much the same thing as this.” She tapped the jug with her hand, “But more.”

“What do you mean?”

“It stimulates your heart to such a degree that it explodes.” She said, “But if you process it in a certain way, it helps stimulate blood flow and helps with small aches and pains, and also weariness. Kind of like caffeine, but more potent.”

“Why would he make poison?”

“Hunting, combat. A variety of reasons I could name off the top of my head.” She answered. “But this is quite a bit…”

She glanced around the camp as well. Certainly, it had been rummaged through, but by what? Animals? Maybe. There were prints: three-pronged, almost like a bird’s, and scratches along the trees.

“Well, let’s go,” Liam said.

The starting of the jeep’s engine jolted her out of her thoughts and startled her back to reality.

Clara and Jack got into their jeep, as Aurora, Liam, and Bernard got into the other. This one led Jack and Clara out and down the small path that had been cut through the underbrush in the direction of the highway.

“Think Lyle was cutting this out?” Aurora asked as she watched the road, and ducked out of the way of the overreaching twigs and branches.

“I don’t know. Probably.” Liam answered, “Pretty badly done.”

“Well, what was he working with?”

“Probably nothing good. He never ordered any tools.”

“Do you think he went into that town?”

Liam chuckled.

“Well, if he did, what are the chances that he found both of the rings?”

“Well, if he did he should play the lottery when he gets home.” Bernard chuckled as well.

The jeep jumped and rattled as it cut through the underbrush, in the direction of Lyle’s PiD.