Chapter One
The House on the Edge of the Rocks
Sam cringed; he wasn’t expecting the damn window to creak so loudly and now wished he had tried to escape through the kitchen window, like last night. The sudden noise had probably awakened his mother, who was about to leap from her bed and come rushing down the stairs at any second. His heart aflutter and holding his breath, Sam listened intently for a moment, eyes focused on the ceiling directly above, his ears straining for sounds.
In the lounge, black and grey shapes filled the room. The alcoves, the fireplace, hearth, a country dresser, and the settee; everything was monotone, no colour anywhere, even with the curtain draped behind Sam’s shoulder. In that intense moment, Sam imagined the door bursting open, his mum, big as an ogre, standing there in the doorway with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. He could almost see her now, anger and disappointment simultaneously emanating from every part of her being. Sam feared he would be caught in the embarrassing and awkward position he was frozen in. One foot sinking into the cushion and his knee pressing on top of the back of the chair’s soft upholstery.
He leaned forward across the sill, fingers gripping tightly around the handle. He pushed the window ajar. Cool air passed across Sam’s face like an ice maiden’s salty, fresh breath.
A few seconds passed, but his Mum had still not stirred. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything after all? Straining, he straddled the sill with one leg out and pulled the rest of his body through the lounge window. The darkness of the garden and the late night cold surrounded him. His skin felt prickly everywhere, as though he had just walked into the freezer isle at Tweedies Supermarket with the lights off. Sam decided he couldn’t really go out on the boat, dressed as he was. It was far too cold at this time of night.
“Hey, are you out here, Johnny?” whispered Sam, under his breath into the thick darkness.
There was a sudden rustling sound and Johnny stepped out of the bushes by the house, his thin gangly, black shape, loomed against the dark purple sky.
“I’m over here,” he whispered back, shaking a bit of bush from his leg.
“Good on ya mate, I didn’t think you’d be coming; I’m well surprised.”
Sam slowly eased the window shut. Soft damp splinters of rotted wood and once white paint transferred simply by a mere touch to his fingers. He rubbed them away between thumb and index finger, and almost immediately the flakes disintegrated into the dark by his feet. He shook his head in deep concern.
“Look at this Johnny, the whole ruddy house is falling apart.”
Sam was expecting Johnny to agree, but Johnny wasn’t interested in the state of the house, he had other issues.
“Why? What do you mean,” he demanded, angrily. “I told you I’d be coming, didn’t I?”
Sam honestly believed his friend didn’t have the balls for what they were about to do, and he could see Johnny knew that was exactly what Sam meant.
Sam put his arm across Johnny’s shoulders shaking him back and forth.
“Chill out J., I thought you might have fallen asleep, that’s all. We’ve never been out this late, not two nights on the run; you must be exhausted. I know I am.”
“Ye, well,” he said, staring seriously into Sam’s eyes, “I am a little tired,” then a wide smile spread across his face, “but if last night’s anything to go by, it’s going to be great.”
