The kid is being too helpful.

He stands a few feet off, messing with the device Tim showed him how to use to take measurements of the fissure. Occasionally, he stops to make notes, then goes back to the device.

“What is that?” I ask.

I’m still lingering by our makeshift command table. I don’t like how close we are to the gate and I don’t have any intention of getting any closer.

“Wave emitter. It sends out various waves and measures how they are reflected back.” Tim’s answer is curt but informative.

“Uh, huh…”

“Say,” Gary’s voice is gravelly, like a man who’s had a few too many cigars in his lifetime. “What’s your power, anyway?”

“Don’t have one,” I say flatly.

Both Tim and Gary stare at me in stunned silence. Then Tim smiles and walks away, shaking his head.

“Is that even possible?” Gary watches him go in confusion. “Wait, why is he laughing?”

The morning continues smoothly. Team Alpha shows up for their first check fifteen minutes after the hour, followed by Team Beta fifteen minutes later and the rest of the teams thereafter. Various supplies and potentially useful items are gathered at our command station, and the three of us—Gary, the kid, and I—set to sorting them into piles of necessities, luxuries, and junk. Inventory is compiled, and over the course of several hours all four quadrants are searched. No survivors are found.

As early afternoon comes upon us, we break for lunch. With a fresh haul of food and drink, we treat ourselves to soda, fresh fruit, and some sweets that normally wouldn’t be worth hauling home.

After lunch, we set up to investigate the dungeon in earnest. Tim makes his announcements, but I can’t hear him over the ringing that has started in my ears and is steadily growing louder.

“Hey.” It’s the kid. His voice is quiet, and he leans over me, his forehead nearly touching mine in his effort to keep his voice low. “Are you okay?”

I try to swallow, but suddenly there’s a lump in my throat that won’t go away. At least the ringing has stopped.

“Remember, kid. No matter what, stay by my side.”

His eyes are earnest. He hears me. He nods.

“…we’ll start with the drone,” Tim says.

The team fans out and begins preparing the various tools for investigation. Tim stands over a few of the members who are working on assembling and prepping the drone.

“Kid,” I say, turning to him for a brief moment while the others are distracted. “Keep your backpack on. And stay alert. Do you have all your stuff?”

He nods.

“Good.” I look up at the gate once more.

It’s a looming monstrosity that holds nothing but death. The only question is whether it’ll be delivered quickly or slow.

The drone is up and running now. It hovers in the air above the team, controlled by a younger member who looks to have some familiarity with them. Tim gives the signal, and the drone shoots off toward the gate as we all wait with anticipation to see what’s on the other side.

My palm is itchy and I reflexively reach over to grip the kid’s wrist.

“Be ready,” I say to him. “I have a bad feeling about this.”