4338.212.2 | Whispers of Raids

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Paul’s arrival, marked by his usual cheerful greeting, drew our attention away from the lively discussion about potential sites for the Plant Nursery, Orchard, and Wildlife Sanctuary. We had been deeply engrossed in assessing the area along the Bixbus River, which, under layers of dust, held the promise of fertile soil.

As Paul approached, I couldn’t help but maintain the enthusiasm that had lit up my face during our conversation. I was genuinely excited about the possibilities of cultivating a piece of Clivilius into something vibrant and life-sustaining. “Paul, what brings you here?” I asked, curious about the reason behind his unexpected visit.

Paul's hesitation was noticeable, hinting at the gravity of what he was about to share. When he finally spoke, his words were laced with a seriousness that contrasted sharply with his initial cheerfulness. “I need to talk to you about something important,” he said, his eyes flicking between Chris and me as if weighing the impact of his next words.

“Go on, Paul,” I urged him, leaning in with heightened interest. Paul had set the tone for a conversation of significance.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Tonight, we’re planning to raid the Big W. We need supplies, and it’s our best shot.”

Chris’s reaction was immediate, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “A raid you say?” he asked, the intrigue evident in his voice.

Meanwhile, Grant and Sarah exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring a mix of curiosity and concern. They were still new to the dynamics and challenges of Clivilius, and the mention of a 'raid' clearly piqued their interest, albeit with an undercurrent of apprehension.

Paul's enthusiasm for the store raid was evident, but I couldn't shake off the exhaustion that had been creeping up on me throughout the day. The thought of delving into another high-energy task was less than appealing. My mind and body were yearning for a quieter evening, one where I could indulge in my own plans for the plant nursery, a project that had become a personal passion.

“I’m feeling a bit of heat exhaustion, so I might retire early tonight,” I admitted to Paul. I wanted to be honest about my state, but I also didn't want to dampen his spirit. “But Chris will be there to support you,” I quickly added, hoping to balance my withdrawal with the assurance of support.

Grant’s willingness to participate caught my attention. “We’ll be there too,” he said, looking to his sister for confirmation. Sarah nodded, showing her agreement. Their readiness to be involved was commendable, especially considering they were still acclimating to life in Bixbus.

Paul's response, “Fantastic,” was filled with a mix of relief and gratitude.

“What’s the plan?” Chris inquired, his interest evident.

Paul's response was somewhat vague, “I’m not exactly sure of the fine details yet. But basically, we’ll meet at the Portal to receive the goods that Luke and Beatrix bring us.”

Grant commented on the simplicity of the plan, but I knew that things in Clivilius were seldom as straightforward as they seemed.

“We’ll talk about it later this evening at the campfire. We’ve got a fair bit of preparation to do for it,” Paul said.

“Preparation… such as?” I asked, wondering what any of us could possibly do to help, given that we couldn’t come and go through the Portal like the Guardians.

“Well, it’s likely to be a midnight raid, of sorts, so we’ll need to build some additional fires near the Portal so that we have some light,” Paul explained.

“I see,” I responded, nodding in understanding. The raid, while a bit out of the ordinary, was becoming a necessary part of life here. “Makes sense, I guess.” It was strange how quickly one could adapt to the new norms of a different world.

“Yeah,” Paul said, his hands gesturing to emphasise his points. “Like I said, I’ve got a lot to consider at the moment, so full details at the campfire later.” His tone was one of a leader bearing the weight of responsibility, something that I had come to respect in him.

“Roger that,” Grant chimed in, his boyish grin contrasting with the seriousness of the situation. He playfully saluted, which seemed to be his way of lightening the mood.

Sarah, however, didn’t seem to appreciate Grant’s levity. She cast him a disapproving look, perhaps thinking that the situation warranted a more somber attitude. I understood both perspectives. Grant's lightheartedness brought a sense of ease, but Sarah's seriousness reminded us of the gravity of our situation.


As Paul prepared to leave, I realised this was the perfect moment to discuss something I had been mulling over. I pulled him aside for a more private conversation. Holding up one of the jars I had brought with me, I revealed its contents: baby huntsman spiders. “I captured these little guys in jars yesterday,” I began, showing him the jar. “They were in a bag of firewood that was delivered. I've managed to catch over a hundred of them.”

Paul looked at the jar, his interest piqued, but he kept a cautious distance from the tiny inhabitants. I could sense his reluctance to get too close, which was understandable given their nature.

In a hushed tone, I confided my deeper concerns to Paul. “I’m worried about their survival in this environment. Plus, I want to start breeding a few species of insects in captivity.” My voice carried an urgency that reflected my growing interest in preserving and fostering life in Clivilius, no matter how small.

Paul nodded, his expression one of understanding and support. “I’ll mention it to Luke and Beatrix. They might be able to help with getting you some aquariums.”

“Terrariums would be better,” I corrected him gently, offering a warm smile to ease any embarrassment. It was important to get the details right, especially when it came to habitats for living creatures.

Paul’s face lit up with a realisation. “Actually,” he said, the idea clearly just hitting him. “The store we are raiding tonight has a pet section. I’ll make a mental note to speak with Beatrix and Luke and make sure that they look that section. Should be something useful in all that.”

“Fingers crossed,” I replied, hoping that the raid would indeed yield something beneficial for my growing collection of creatures. As a gentle reminder of the importance of this request, I held the jar of baby spiders a little closer to Paul’s face, revealing the delicate lives that depended on us.

Paul visibly shuddered at the close encounter, prompting a broader smile from me. His reaction was a mix of amusement and affirmation of the natural instinct to be wary of spiders, even tiny ones. After our brief but meaningful conversation, Paul departed, leaving me to ponder the many small lives that I had taken under my care, and with the right supplies, the potential new lives that we might be able to foster here in Bixbus.


As the late afternoon sun bathed the camp in its warm, golden light, the air thrummed with the energy of eager preparation. Adrian and Nial, engrossed in building fires near the Portal and Drop Zone, seemed almost to dance around each other, their movements harmonious and efficient. Meanwhile, Grant and Sarah moved with purpose, gathering camping lights and lanterns, their actions reflecting the growing sense of community and shared responsibility.

Chris and I, in our makeshift kitchen near the Medical Tent, had slipped into a seamless partnership, united in our task of preparing a hearty stew. The recent delivery from our Guardians had included a portable cookstove and several full gas cylinders, a luxury that made our culinary efforts significantly less challenging than the open fire cooking we had been enduring. I couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for this small semblance of modern convenience amidst our rustic living conditions.

The comforting aroma of our stew began to permeate the air, intertwining with the scent of the campfires. A robust blend of earthy vegetables and rich spices promised a meal that was both hearty and satisfying. I hovered over the pot, stirring with a gentle, rhythmic motion, watching as each ingredient contributed to the burgeoning flavours.

Chris, working beside me, was the perfect culinary companion, meticulously chopping the final vegetables to be added to our communal pot. His presence, so steady and reassuring, was a constant reminder of the shared life we were building here.

“You know, I think it’s best if we both stay out of the raid tonight,” I voiced, my tone carrying a blend of concern and unwavering conviction.

Chris paused in his chopping and met my gaze, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I agree,” he said, setting down the knife. “Paul will have enough help at the Portal,” he added, affirming our mutual decision to refrain from the night's operation.

Nodding in agreement, I watched as Chris added the freshly chopped carrots to the bubbling stew. The comfort of our shared understanding was a subtle reminder of the deep bond we shared, one that had only strengthened in this unfamiliar world.

“How's the Plant Nursery planning coming along?” Chris inquired, his voice laced with genuine interest.

I couldn’t help but smile at his question. “It's still in the early stages, but I’m optimistic,” I replied, my mind visualising the potential of the plots near the river. “It’s going to be a challenge, but I believe we can bring it to life.”

“That’s good to hear,” Chris replied, his words brief but filled with encouragement.

“And how about the Orchard?” I asked, wiping my hands on a nearby cloth.

“Similar situation,” Chris answered, continuing his work. “Sarah and I are planning to test the soil soon. It seems promising, though there’s still a lot to figure out.” He paused, looking up at me with a slight frown “Are you okay?”

I took a moment, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over me. “It’s just this unrelenting sun here in Clivilius,” I explained, stirring the stew more slowly now. “It can be quite draining.” But deep within, I knew it wasn’t just the physical toll of our new environment. A profound sense of longing for our past life on Earth nagged at me, an undercurrent of homesickness that I struggled to push aside.

Chris's hand rested gently on my shoulder, his touch a steadying presence. His voice was soft, filled with the unwavering warmth that had always been a cornerstone of our relationship. "We're doing great, Karen," he reassured me, his eyes locking with mine in a way that conveyed more than words ever could. "We're building something new here, one day at a time." His words, though simple, resonated deeply, offering a fleeting reprieve from the relentless tide of change and uncertainty.

Yet, his comforting words inadvertently echoed the stark truth of our situation. We were far from the familiar comforts of home, planted in a world that remained largely mysterious and uncharted. The undercurrent of homesickness was ever-present, a silent shadow trailing our every step in this alien landscape.

Determined to shake off the growing sense of melancholy, I refocused my attention on the simmering stew. "This should be ready soon," I announced, steering our conversation back to the here and now. The rich aroma of the stew wafted through the air, promising a much-needed respite for our small community. "Let's gather everyone for dinner. They'll need a hearty meal, especially with all the preparation for tonight's raid."

Chris gave a nod of agreement, his expression mirroring my resolve.

The call to dinner was met with an immediate response, our small band of settlers gravitating towards the makeshift dining area. As we gathered around, the air was ripe with camaraderie and a genuine sense of unity. The flickering flames of the nearby fires cast a warm, inviting glow, enhancing the communal atmosphere.

Chris and I served the stew, ladling generous portions into bowls. The rich aroma seemed to lift spirits, drawing smiles and appreciative nods. As we all settled in, the conversation flowed naturally, light and spirited.


The campfire's glow bathed everyone in a warm, orange hue as Paul’s voice cut through the chatter, signalling the gravity of the moment. “Alright, everyone, let’s go over the plan one more time,” he announced, and an immediate hush fell over the group. Faces turned towards him, reflecting a mix of anticipation and resolve.

“We’ll wait until the shop has closed for the night. Beatrix will go in covertly and check on security, and return and give us the all-clear signal,” Paul continued, his tone steady and commanding. “The rest of you will be ready to receive the supplies as Luke and Beatrix bring them through the Portal.”

Kain, standing with his arms crossed, chimed in with a reminder that resonated with the seriousness of the night's task. “And don’t forget to keep those bonfires burning. We need the area well-lit to minimise any risks that we might face here.”

Paul acknowledged Kain's input with a nod. “As we receive the supplies, we’ll transport them to the Drop Zone, and it can all be sorted through tomorrow morning,” he said, then quickly added, “Unless you see something that you think is critically important or useful, then keep it near the Portal, and we’ll bring it back to camp with us when the plundering is done.”

The group collectively nodded, murmurs of agreement echoing in the cool night air. The sense of solidarity was palpable, as everyone understood their role in the night's events. There was a shared determination to see this through, to ensure our survival and growth in this new world.

As dinner wound down, the desert night wrapped us in its vast, starlit embrace. The air was filled with the scents of the dying fire and the cooling desert sands. Chris and I stood up, feeling the weight of the night ahead, even though we wouldn’t be directly participating. Our eyes met, sharing a silent message of hope and concern for our friends embarking on the raid.

Bidding our fellow settlers a successful and safe night, we made our way to the caravan, our steps echoing softly on the dusty ground. The night was quiet, but the anticipation of what was to come lingered heavily in the air. As we closed the caravan door behind us, the sense of isolation was immediate, but so was the comfort of our shared space. In our little haven, we settled in, waiting for the night to unfold, hoping against hope for the safety of everyone involved.

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