Julian was the last of his group to step into the shimmering gate.
He hesitated at the threshold, staring at the chaotic scene beyond — a sprawling facility filled with busy workers, mechanical lifts, flashing lights.
Taking a deep breath, he plunged through.
The surface of the portal clung to him like water.
For a dizzying second, his senses tilted sideways — vertigo clawing at his gut — and then everything snapped back into focus.
He was no longer on the beach.
No ocean. No trees.
Just metal floors, rushing workers, and thick smoke in the air.
"Alright, move it," Emma barked, waving them forward.
"We need to get you all checked out. Last thing we need is another damn plague wiping half of us out."
Her voice carried a sharp edge — but underneath, Julian caught a note of weary nostalgia.
She led them briskly through a maze of corridors, toward a squat gray building that looked more like a military bunker than a clinic.
Guards stationed outside pointed rifles toward them, motioning them in.
Julian stiffened, instinctively raising his hands slightly.
The others mirrored him.
"As I said," Emma continued, slipping on a flu mask, "maybe I downplayed it before — but we did have a skin plague issue a while back. Killed a lot of good people. So yeah... forgive us for being a little pushy."
Inside, a row of narrow beds waited.
The air smelled sharply of disinfectant and something faintly metallic.
An older man shuffled into the room — late fifties, maybe early sixties — with wild, greasy white hair and thick glasses that made his eyes look tiny.
The overall effect was... less than reassuring.
"That's enough, Emma," the old man said, voice raspy but firm.
"Your father wants you back. I hear he's pleased with your findings."
Emma gave a sharp salute and a wry grin before slipping out, leaving them alone with the strange doctor.
The old man rubbed his hands together briskly.
"Now then. You four — sit. We'll start with the big one," he said, pointing at Charlie.
"First up: showers. Thorough ones. After that, blood samples, a few other tests... nothing too painful. Move fast — I only have an hour to clear you before lockdown."
He stayed a cautious distance away, arms crossed tightly, until they finished showering.
Then he moved in with a quick efficiency, drawing blood and running it through various machines that beeped and blinked.
After a tense wait, he shuffled back in with a printout in hand.
"No pathogens detected," he announced, relief clear on his face.
"But protocols are protocols. You're quarantined here for the next three days."
He grinned broadly, in a way that didn't exactly inspire confidence.
"Get used to the beds. It'll be a long three days... but at least you'll have food, water, and something better than sand for a mattress."
He chuckled to himself as he waddled back toward the door, leaving them alone in the cold, clinical room.
Julian lay back on the narrow bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Three days, he thought grimly.
And he had the feeling... this was only the beginning.
"Didn't he say when we're getting food?" Charlie moaned, clutching his stomach dramatically.
"That cold shower made me so hungry..."
"Don't touch anything, boy," Michael snapped, sharper than he had all day.
"Use your damn head. We might be under observation. Every move you make could put us at risk. Now sit down and shut up."
The tone of command silenced the room.
For a while, no one spoke. The only sounds were distant machinery clanking and the occasional bone-shaking roar of some unseen creature.
Julian lay still, listening. It was hard to tell if the loud roars were close... or just the one creating them were big they carried through the entire area they were in.
"Tre giorni interi... potrei impazzire," Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tangled hair.
The others glanced over at him. Geo just sighed, waving a hand lazily.
"Friends, I'm going to sleep. It's been a long day."
He pulled a thin blanket over his face and turned away.
"Sounds like a plan," Michael grunted, arranging a couple of worn cushions behind his back before settling down.
Watching them, Julian couldn't help but yawn — the exhaustion of the morning catching up to him now that the adrenaline was finally gone.
He shifted on his bed, trying to relax —but Charlie's constant pacing made it impossible.
The big redhead kept moving back and forth like a trapped animal, eyes wide, muttering to himself.
Finally, Charlie dropped into a crouch beside Julian, voice low and urgent.
"Bro... I know what I saw before we came through that gate. That was a damn dinosaur."
Julian rubbed his face, groaning into his hands.
"Yeah. It was," he said, voice rough. "Whatever it was... leave it for tomorrow."
He lifted his head just enough to glare at Charlie — a glare that could have frozen molten lava.
"Your pacing's making me want to puke."
Charlie flinched, then slumped onto his own bed, pulling his blanket up over his head like a scolded child.
Finally, the room went quiet again.
And for the first time all day, Julian allowed himself to close his eyes... and drift.
Without anything left to keep him awake, Julian felt his eyes close and his body finally relax.
Sleep claimed him almost instantly.
It wasn't until he felt someone tapping him roughly that he stirred.
"Hey, boy. Get up. They brought food," Michael said, shaking him again until Julian blinked awake.
The first thing Julian did was check his watch.
Four hours, he thought, stretching his stiff limbs. They sure took their time.
The smell hit him next — grilled meat and roasted vegetables, simple but mouthwatering after everything they'd been through.
"Pretty basic," Geo said with a grin, already halfway through his plate.
"But damn good seasoning."
Michael shoved a plate into Julian's hands.
"Hurry up. Best eat it while it's hot."
Julian's stomach growled loudly in response.
They dug in without ceremony, the meal disappearing quickly.
"Good thing we ran into these people," Michael said between bites, his mood noticeably lighter than earlier.
"I doubt we'd have lasted much longer on that godforsaken island."
"Yeah, well," Charlie grumbled, poking at his vegetables, "some of us didn't get much sleep. Those damn roars kept me up."
"Plug your ears next time," Michael said, not bothering to look up.
He finished the last bite and wiped his hands on his pants.
"Now — they left us some books. Take your pick. And don't touch anything else," he added sharply, giving Charlie a pointed look as he caught him eyeing a nearby shelf.
"Fine, fine," Charlie muttered.
"Just give me the shortest one."
He rifled through a small stack of books on a table, making a face as he pulled one out.
"Ugh. A diary? Seriously?"
He started flipping through the pages half-heartedly.
Julian, meanwhile, scanned the titles more carefully.
One book caught his eye.
"Time Travel Exists."
He mumbled the title under his breath, feeling a small jolt of curiosity.
The author's name caught his eye next: Blake.
Frowning, he thought back — Emma Blake.
The girl who'd led them here.
Could there be a connection?
He picked up the book, noting immediately that none of the pages were printed.
Each one was hand-written, the ink faded but still legible.
Not just a book, Julian realized.
A dairy?
Something about it — the timing, the name, the feeling in his gut — told him this might be more important than the others realized.
He sat back against the wall, flipping carefully to the first page.