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Awakening
We’re still not home…
That was Hank’s first thought as he awoke. It was the same every day, now. How long had it been? How many chances were gone? How many times had he forced the others to turn away from a portal? How many…
His eyes still closed, Hank stopped himself.
This was pointless. What was done was done. But there was a new chance today, if what Dungeonmaster had said was true. And all they had to do was get past some old crone, and everything would be fine. But he knew how it was going to end. It was going to be the same as all the other times before. There was no way out of this terrible place. They were stuck in an eternal Hell searching for a way that didn’t exist. He didn’t believe it existed; well, almost…
But he had to try, though. He was the Leader. He had a duty to try and get them home safely. But none of them, even Bobby, had any doubts any more. They were never gonna get home.
No one had said it. But they all knew. They all felt it.
Why did he do this, then? Every day he would wake up and they would go through it all again. The fighting, the climbing, the searching… all for nothing every time. Why did he put the others, and himself, through it?
He couldn’t just give up! He couldn’t accept that he was never going to see his family again. And he couldn’t condemn the others to the same fate. Not Sheila and Bobby, who’s parents would never recover from their loss; not Diana, who missed her twin brother terribly (though she would never admit it); or Presto, who missed his dad even though he never said anything; or Eric, even Eric missed his family too, in spite of the snide comments.
As for himself, though his Mom had never seemed to bother much what happened to him before, he knew she did care.
Thinking of them, not knowing what had happened; never knowing what had happened to their children brought tears to his eyes.
But growing in his mind was the knowledge that finding portals was even harder these days. There didn’t seem to be that many left. And in spite of the terrible ache every time they saw home snatched from their grasp, there was always the tiniest speck of hope that he was wrong to give up.
That was the heart of the problem. It wasn’t loss that hurt so much, it was hope: A deluded hope that it wasn’t all in vain. And after all they’d been through, he couldn’t shake the hope that they could go home. There was always a chance.
Always.
Always hope…
He repeated the words to himself. Always hope.
So, like every other morning before, Hank forced his eyes open and struggled to get up, and made himself smile.
‘C’mon guys! Lets get going! We’ve got a portal to find!’