Augustus wasn't sure why he felt such a strange sense of urgency, but he did. So he stepped through the camp gates at an unfaborably late hour of the night, with little care as to whether or not someone would be upset and accuse him of breaking and entering. Oddly, his gut feeling wasn't proving to be right yet. The camp seemed safe and pleasant enough, although there were numerous notices to not feed any of the animals or go out at night without an adult.
The teachers there had been nice enough, as well, so he didn't have too many fears about Razputin getting into any trouble. He'd been contacted by a woman who'd sounded relieved to have finally found him. She assured him that Razputin was alright and they'd take good care of him until he arrived.
Naturally, Augustus had set out the moment he knew where his son was, though he felt a bit uneasy knowing what kind of company he was in. The woman sounded responsible enough, but it didn't do much to keep him at ease. The whole trip over had him feeling a strange and sourceless sense of dread. Five minutes after he'd set foot onto the camp grounds, the sense of peace he'd initially been met with quickly eroded to reveal that something was indeed terribly wrong.
The lights were out in the main lodge, and many of the lanterns were strangely dim. The sky was unnaturally dark. All wildlife had fallen silent, save for a few squirrels that eyed him cautiously from their perches in the trees.
The snapping of a twig underfoot caught Augustus's attention, and he whipped around to find the source. There was someone making their way up the path from the beach, toward the main lodge. It was too short to be any of the teachers, too slow to be someone in trouble. It could only be one of the campers…but why were they awake so late at night?
A closer look revealed all-too-familiar features. Scrawny limbs, a short stature, a head possibly too big for his body, and hands maybe one size too big for his arms. Augustus knew that silouhette anywhere: It was Razputin. He was stumbling forward and seemed a bit slow, but other than acting so dazed, he looked perfectly fine. The boy was wearing his usual town outfit: a pair of black boots, a leather blazer and matching pair of pants, a green sweater, and that old aviator cap that he brought home from town one day. Augustus winced when he noticed that his son smelled strongly of dust, ash and algae. He was going to need a long bath when he got home.
Augustus stepped forward, doing his best to mask his regret. "Razputin," he began firmly.
But the boy ignored him. He continued forward, barely paying the man any mind. Augustus wasn't sure whether to be concerned or disappointed with him. Normally a tone like that was enough to stiffen Razputin in anticipation, or at the very least get his attention.
"Razputin," Augustus repeated, this time a bit louder. "I'm here to take you home."
He expected a vehement refusal. Something along the lines of "No! I'm staying here!" or "You can't make me go back!" But his statement was met with, again, nothing. Razputin just continued to shuffle forward as though he weren't even there. Only then did Augustus notice that the air felt…empty, somehow. As though he were the only one on he path. But that couldn't be right. His son was clearly right in front of him.
One more try. Burying his sudden anxiety, Augustus took Razputin's arm. "I'm not going to repeat myself. We're going home."
But rather than the usual retort, or complaint, or any normal response, Razputin looked up, tilting his head at an eerily awkward angle, and stared soullessly at him.
"Tee-vee?" came an empty, monotone voice.
Augustus flinched, dropping his grip. The pieces rapidly fell together, and he didn't like what they were spelling out. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong….