He didn't know what compelled him to try. It wasn't really bravery or a sudden spark of courage or anything like that. Maybe it was a need to make things right again, to fix whatever it was that had come between the two of them, a need to prove that he could be as good as Sandra. Whatever that meant
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"Hello?" he called back dryly, not looking all that impressed. Not that it was the kid's fault he was disrupting Joe, he looked like he was kind of new.
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"Hallo?" he repeated, trying to make his voice sound a little more sure. "Was ist dieses?"
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"An island," Joe offered. And why the fuck did he get stuck greeting people? "Are you new?"
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His frown deepened, mind whirling with possibilities and explanations, none of which really made much sense. "Wo bin--" he stopped himself with a stutter and tried again. "Where am I?"
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"Urm," he hesitated, his mind searching for the right words, though he continued walking again, his steps slow and wary. "Germany," he stated, "I was Kampieren. Camp. Camping?"
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And that was it. Joe probably wasn't the best person to be greeting the new kid, but he might've been one of the most upfront.
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The panic once again rose in his chest and he turned quickly, looking out across the water, hoping to see the dock or Achim or even the Queerschlag team, see anything he might recognize.
But, there was nothing but water. Blue and sparkling, clear in a way Tobi had never seen before.
When he looked at the man again, he was shaking his head and he brought up an arm to wipe some of the water off his cheek. "No," he said, his voice a forced calm. "No. Is not possible."
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"I know it's fucking weird, but it's real. It's possible."
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"You can't leave. You can't go back. You're here now and it's for good." Until the Island decided it was done with him which might be mere months or it might be years.
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"I must," he said, though his voice was shaking again. "Please. I need to go back."
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And there wasn't any way for Joe to make it make more sense, but he tried again. "You're on an island and there is no way home. I know it's shit, but it's true."
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He hesitated in the water, though, still watching the guy warily before taking his advice and walking out again, though he kept his distance.
"What am I to do?" he asked, still trying to find his English vocabulary buried somewhere under the confusion and fear. "Where do I go?"
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"I'm Joe. I've been here a long time and I can show you were to go, okay?"
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"Crash," he repeated, knowing the word, but not really understanding it in this instance. Crash was a violent word, it happened with cars and airplanes and bikes; it didn't at all sound like where he wanted to go. "There are more people here?"
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