Page 19 of One Wild Night
Let’s just hope we all make it.
Chapter 9
As we walk through the snow every step feels like the most effort. I don’t suppose it helps that we’ve all been working outside in the cold for the best part of the day. My arms and legs feel so heavy and my fingers and toes still feel so numb. My fingertips have actually gone bright red, almost like some kind of allergic reaction, although my mum did always used to joke that I was allergic to helping out around the house.
There is still a lot of snow on the ground but at least it has stopped coming down now. Now all we have to do is wait, for the snow to melt, or for someone from the label to come and pick up us in some sort of weather-appropriate vehicle.
It’s dark but the snow on the ground goes a long way to reflecting the various light sources around, making it a bit lighter than it normally would be on a winter evening, but at the same time it’s so strange and alien, like we’re on another planet. Also, the fact that everything is so still, and so silent, only adds to the weird vibe. I don’t suppose Dylan floating the idea of us having a slumber party with cannibals helped to lift the mood either.
The only sounds you can hear are the crunching of the snow beneath our feet and our conversation which, now that we’re a decent distance from the farm, has returned to a normal volume.
‘Are we going the right way?’ I ask.
‘I’m pretty sure this is where we abandoned the bus,’ Mikey replies. ‘Just along this road, and around the corner, and we should be able to see it.’
‘I don’t know,’ Taz says. ‘You would think, if it were this way, we would see our footprints from before.’
‘Except it has snowed since then, you thicko,’ Dylan reminds him.
‘You’re calling me a thicko?’ Taz replies with a scoff. ‘The man who cried cannibal?’
‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when we never see Jamie again,’ Dylan replies, but then his words occur to him, and he laughs. ‘Okay, the cold air is sobering me up a little, perhaps they weren’t cannibals, but Jamie is missing.’
‘Don’t worry, mate, we’ll find him,’ Mikey reassures his brother, squeezing his shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ I hope so,’ Dylan replies.
I look over at him and smile. It’s not often you see bursts of vulnerability from him but, when I do, I really like it.
Dylan realises I’m smiling and cooing at him so he pulls a face at me.
‘And, if we don’t find him, bassists are too easy to replace,’ he jokes.
And just like that normal Dylan is back.
‘So, what’s our plan for tonight?’ I ask.
‘Sleep on the bus, I guess,’ Mikey says. ‘I guess we’ve got a bunch of stuff on the bus that we can use to keep warm.’
‘We could load up on merch, if there is any knocking around,’ Taz jokes. ‘Five Burnouts t-shirts each.’
‘And we can burn the posters we have of Taz, because no one ever wants those signing anyway,’ Dylan jokes.
‘Or we could burn a few pairs of your skinny jeans,’ Taz replies. ‘Who packs seven pairs of skinny jeans for a few nights on the road?’
‘You never know,’ Dylan says. ‘I’ve been burned before.’
Dylan has a distant look in his eye, like he’s recalling a horrible memory.
I don’t think I know that one, and I don’t want to.
‘Whatever we do, I think we’re all just glad to get out of that house,’ Mikey says.
‘Sorry for even suggesting it,’ Dylan says, kicking the snow playfully, like he’s trying to mask a little frustration. ‘It seemed like a good idea, at the time.’
‘And it would have been a good idea,’ I reply. ‘If we had ended up anywhere but there.’
Dylan laughs.
