None of them know how long this journey will take. They’ve already been walking steadily towards the east for almost two months, and the island’s eastern shore seems as far away as ever, not that they’ve been able to catch so much as a glimpse of it from any of the time zones they’ve passed through. It’s highly likely that they won’t until they’re actually there.

It's a gruelling trek though, across varied terrain, through all kinds of weather, except snow and ice, thankfully. Somewhere in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle would be an odd place for a blizzard, but they passed through a volcanic region a few weeks ago, so Jonathan doesn’t think it would be wise to discount the possibility.

They’re all growing footsore and weary though, despite being physically fitter than they were when they set out. Walking is excellent exercise, but when it’s day, after day, after day, sometimes it would be nice to take a break, especially since they haven’t found any trace of civilisation in the last three zones. Oh for a bed to sleep in instead of their bedrolls on the cold, hard ground.

Supplies are running low, and they’re supplementing what they have with fruits and roots gathered along the way, but things are going to get difficult if they can’t find somewhere they can perhaps trade their abilities or a few days’ work for food.

Jonathan shrugs the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder, wondering how it can feel heavier now than it did when he had more in it. He longs to sit down, rest for a while, but not as much as he longs to reach the next zone and be somewhere other than this barren, featureless plain.

Perhaps in the next zone there will be people, preferably the friendly and helpful sort, who will welcome a weary band of travellers. Perhaps there will be hot water to wash away the grime, good food, and conversation… So they push onwards towards the next gateway between time zones, letting hope give them the strength to keep going.


The End