the dock · day 364 · afternoon

The Gathering Clouds

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the first cool gust of wind picks up from the north.

Kevin returned with the first aid kit and re-wrapped Jenny's ankle, finding no spreading red streaks. Jenny secured the medevac forms in her pocket. The barometer held steady at 978 hPa as the tide continued rising.

🔧 Kevin23:24

Wind's wrong. North-east in the forecast. You shouldn't be walking on it.

wipe hands on rag, stuff it in back pocket, turn toward the garden path

💭 peek at the thought

She's walking slow. Ankle's worse than she'll admit. Wind's shifting north — that's not the forecast. Barometer's steady but the air tastes different. Need to get the tarp tight on the garden before it shreds, then the Yanmar swap. She shouldn't be out here on that leg.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny23:25

I'm barely walking, Kevin. I'm mostly leaning.

Shift weight off the left ankle and lean against a piling.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always so certain about the wind. I can feel it in my joints, not just the forecast.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin23:26

Sit. I'll bring the first aid kit down. Check the wrap.

walk back up the dock toward the cottage, keys jangling at belt loop

💭 peek at the thought

She's white around the mouth. The lean isn't casual. Infection's tracking up. She burned through the last doxycycline this morning. No honey, no saline. She knows what that means. I know what that means. Neither of us says it.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny23:27

I'm fine for a minute.

Slowly lower myself onto a sound plank, gingerly extending the left leg.

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't even ask how it feels. Just 'check the wrap.'

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin23:28

Stay there. Back in ten.

jog up the path to the cottage, screen door slamming behind me

💭 peek at the thought

She's not fine. The ankle's hot through the bandage, red lines marching toward the knee. She's stubborn as the old Yanmar — runs rough till it seizes. I've got maybe six hours of light left. Garden tarp first, then the pump swap. She needs to stay off it. Needs the leg up. Needs IV antibiotics we don't have.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny23:28

Jenny — reach into the ditch bag clipped to the dinghy and pull out the medevac forms.

💭 peek at the thought

Ten minutes. I can't just sit here and be a patient. The air is too heavy.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin23:31

(from the cottage doorway, holding the first aid kit) Put them back. The chopper's not launching in Force 9. You know the limit.

descend the porch steps fast, kit in hand, boots heavy on the path

💭 peek at the thought

The forms crinkle in her hands — I heard it from the porch steps. She's reading the coordinates I wrote in. The evac window. The helicopter's Force 7 limit. She's doing the math on the gale warning. She thinks if she signs, I'll go with her. She's wrong. I burned the trust letter. I'm not leaving the island without Tom knowing. Without the engine right. Without the dock holding. She knows that too. That's why her hands are shaking.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny23:31

I'm not asking for a chopper right now, Kevin. I'm just looking at the ink.

Hold the papers loosely in one hand, not putting them back yet.

💭 peek at the thought

He saw them. He saw them from the porch. He's not even close and he's already shutting the door on the idea.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin23:32

The ink's waterproof. I checked. Now put them back before the wind takes them.

drop to one knee beside her, crack the first aid kit open, pull out the roll of cohesive bandage and the last sterile wipe

💭 peek at the thought

She's reading the coordinates aloud in her head. Latitude, longitude. The hospital in St. Mary's. The bit where I signed my name in block capitals — KEVIN M. HARROW — like a stranger. She's memorising the ink because she thinks I won't be here to read it later. She's right. The pump swap's four hours if the bolts don't snap. The tide window's 0600. The gale hits midnight. I'll be in the channel or I'll be in the water. Either way the forms stay in the bag.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny23:33

fine. I'm putting them.

fold the forms tight and stuff them into the deep pocket of my trousers.

💭 peek at the thought

He's right about the wind. If those forms go, they're in the sea within seconds.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.