“Are we lost? I feel lost.”

Blake turned in a circle, looking out at the forest, the beach, and the sea, seeing no difference between where they were now and when they’d started walking two days before.

“We started lost,” Hank said. “But we’re still covering new ground, so there’s that.”

Blake sighed, his stomach rumbling and his feet approaching numb. He sure wished he’d worn hiking boots instead of dress shoes to Julie’s party. Ah, Julie. He wished she’d arrived at the end of days. Pretty, bright but not too bright, eager to please, could suck the chrome off an exhaust pipe…

He sighed. “No one told me it would be an apocalypse theme party,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” Mona raised a questioning brow.

“Nothing. We need to camp, eat, rest, etcetera. I’ll make the fire.”

Turned out his telekinesis power actually worked great for fire making. He could spin a piece of wood so fast it usually started smoking in less than a minute, as long as he had some mana. Anyway, it was good practice, and kind of easy, which left the others to do most of what remained hard work. But they didn’t know that.

“Glad you keep taking that on, Blake, that shit always wears out my hands.” Hank gave an appreciative nod, and Blake matched it man to man.

“Course. Just doing my part.”

He waited until Mona was off collecting firewood, and Hank was at the shore trying to catch a fish before he squatted down and used his magic. He got it started in no time, then fed it some driftwood pieces to keep it burning until Mona arrived.

“Good job,” she smiled at him, and he shrugged like it was no big deal.

Hank returned quickly with two big fish and a proud smile. “Now who wants to learn how to fillet?” he said.

“No thank you,” Blake poked his fire with a stick and dramatized a shiver. Hank laughed.

“I’m guessing you’re a city boy?”

“I assume my refinement gave me away?”

He chuckled, and slapped the fish down on a log as he took out his knife. “Another reason to stay on the coast,” he said. “All the fish we can eat.”

“Yes,” Blake agreed. “Unless Bogloks come out of the water and murder us all in the night. Or drag us into the water.”

Hank and Mona stared with horrified expressions, and Blake rolled his eyes.

“Stop worrying! It’s just as likely in the woods. Probably more likely. Better to take the devil you know.”

Mona and Hank exchanged a look, and shook their heads.

“You really can be insufferable,” Mona said. “Those things already killed Hank once.”

“You’re the one who slept with him,” Hank muttered as he cut, and Mona practically choked on her water flask. “What?” the older man looked up. “Was I born yesterday? Got four grown kids, I have. Always think you’re so damn sneaky.”

They all went quiet for a bit, though Blake had to suppress his laugh.

“You worry about them?” Mona said. “Your kids, I mean.”

Hank shrugged, tossing away the fish’s spine. “I raised ‘em strong.” He grinned. “My oldest is a bit like you. I expect she chose to be a player, same with the boys. But my youngest was always a bit softer, I hope she went civilian, and that things turned out OK.” He went back to attacking his fish. “There’s naught that I can do for ‘em right now. No use in worrying.”

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“My parents will be civilians like you,” Mona said. “Not sure about my sister. I try not to think about it to be honest.”

“Same,” Blake agreed. “About my parents, I mean. But my brother Mason,” he smiled as he thought of him. “He was a tinfoil hat wearing survivalist type. Always predicting nuclear war, or aliens, or a zombie apocalypse. The son of a bitch was preparing for something like this.” The others smiled, too. “When he sees me, he’s going to give one hell of an I told you so.”

They all chuckled, but turned sober quick.

“If anyone survives this madness,” Blake said more quietly. “It’ll be him. I wish he were here with us now.”

They cooked and ate the fish in relative silence, drinking from the water flask Hank had started with in his civilian kit. When it got colder they put in some more firewood, and Blake sat next to Mona, exchanging looks with her every now and then in silence.

“Moon is out,” Hank sniffed. “I could go for a nice, long walk. Might do me good.”

“No, no it’s dangerous,” Blake said quickly, Mona adding, “And we don’t need any more firewood, and it’s not like that at all.”

“Well it’s like that a little,” Blake said. “And I know he’s only a fisherman but there’s no need to insult the man’s intelligence.”

“Only a fisherman?” Hank scoffed as Mona blushed, and Blake gave him a wink.

“Wait,” the old angler blinked and pointed above the fire. “What the hell is that?”

Blake stopped and focused on the air above the flame, at first noticing nothing but then seeing some kind of strange absence where there should have been heat waves and firelight. Then in a moment some kind of rectangular square appeared, flickering with grey and white until it shimmered into the image of a young, shirtless man covered in blood and grime, and a beautiful blonde behind him in something like a Princess Leia costume.

“Blake?” came a familiar voice from the screen. “Is that you?”

“Holy shit.” Blake stood and knew it was his brother, trying not to panic as he saw all the blood and what looked like several rows of scars, which seemed impossible. “Are you from the future?” he whispered.

“There’s no time for your nonsense,” Mason barked. “Where are you? Describe landmarks, weather, trees. Do it quickly. I have no idea how long we have.”

“Uh. I’m in a forest. Well, a beach, really, next to water, but close to a forest. It’s very big, and…”

Hank leapt rather rudely in front of Blake.

“It’s a salt water sea or ocean, but I’m guessing ocean. The trees are maple, poplar, lime and from what I’ve seen they’re all uh…shit, what’s the word…”

“Deciduous,” Blake said, and Hank nodded.

“That’s it. Temperate climate, if I had to guess, like wet and dry instead of four obvious seasons. How can one guy be so smart and so dumb.”

Blake scowled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Good.” Mason’s face seemed to lose some of its concern as he stepped closer to the screen. “Are you safe? Are you moving?”

“Safe enough,” Blake smiled.

“We’re moving North, maybe ten miles a day, nothing but coast for two days.”

“Good.” Mason turned his eyes to Hank. “What’s your name?”

“Hank.”

“Any landmarks you can see, Hank? Something I can use?”

“Shit, it’s…I’m not sure. It’s dark, and I can’t see much.” Hank squinted and looked out at the water. “But I know there’s two little islands with white cliffs, both in view where we’re standing. I think there’s a bunch of islands.”

Mason nodded, then smiled as he looked at Blake.

“Good to see you, idiot.”

“You too, moron.” His smile faded. “You look hurt. Maybe you should tell me where you are so we can find you.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’ll take more than some robot God. Looks like you’ve got some protection at least.”

“Who, Hank?” Blake scowled. “I’m his protection!”

Mason flinched, then adjusted what appeared to be a damn compound bow strapped to his chest. Then the screen started to flicker, and Blake cringed as the image of his brother dimmed.

“Shit!” He nearly reached out and struck it. “How did you communicate like this? Can you do it again? Tell us how, be quick!”

Mason reached out towards the screen and his face lost all expression as he looked at Hank, and maybe the silent Mona in the background.

“Look after him. Because one way or another, I’ll find you. Hold on, brother, I’m coming.”

The image flickered and vanished, and only the shimmering heat of the fire remained. A mix of relief, surprise, hope, and anxiety rolled through Blake’s chest and forced him to sit on his log.

“So that was your tinfoil hat wearing brother?” Mona said, and Blake slowly nodded. “Yeah. Not gonna lie. He’s hot as hell.”

Blake glanced up, supposing he should have felt jealous. But he wasn’t the type. He’d had an endless string of girlfriends since he was twelve, too many friends and acquaintances than he had the time for. Mason, though, had never had much luck with girls. He’d been the quintessential outsider, never giving anyone the chance to know him, let alone like him, even if they expressed interest. Only Blake knew how strong he was, how loyal, how cunning, how brave. “Yes,” he agreed, grinning, “yes he bloody is.”

Blake took a piece of fish and felt his good humor return. Mason was alive.

His brother had always belonged to a different world, a harsher world, where terrible things happened and harsh men prepared to deal with them. A world just like this one. They were going to find each other. He knew it in his chest, and in his spine. Then everything would be OK.