Winter Went | #2 Winter Series

Chapter 23

|| Amelia ||

The next day, I rouse early to help the Scottish man with the cows again. There's something therapeutic about walking down a quiet lane in the morning sunshine, listening to the rustling of leaves from the trees above.

We get right to work. I steal into the chicken coop, sending a flutter of wings but nothing much else, and pick all twelve eggs, warm and waiting in the hay.

It's good to get out of the barn, I think because that means I don't have to face Sarah again.

She's a madwoman, she is. I don't know what Zach sees in her. All I see is a calculating beast, one who will kill us all.

There's a cry of surprise from further down. I slip out of the coop, making sure the gate is firmly locked behind me.

"Ooh, look at what I found!" comes a voice from further up the path. I hurry to the voice, trying not to drop the egg-box.

"What is it?" Zach asks. He's coming from the other end, bucket laden with fresh milk. Angie appears by his side, retying one of her plaits.

The Scottish man is looking down at the mud-dried path. There, on the ground, is a small object, about the size of a large phone but bulkier and caked in dirt.

Angie bends down to pick it up, wiping away the dried dust, revealing small buttons underneath.

"It looks like a pin pad," she says, turning to us.

"A what?" repeats her brother, taking the object from her hands. I lean in closer and realise that she's right. There are twelve buttons, a row of three going horizontally and four going downwards. The numbers one to nought are printed on the buttons consequently. Some are rubbed off, but there's enough to guess what it is.

"Try typing something in," prompts the Scottish man. Zach hands the box back to his sister.

Angie presses four random buttons and 'enter'. Two short beeps arise from the machine.

"Access denied," I read from the screen. "Whatever's inside, you need a passcode to get in."

Angie examines it in her hands. "It's not very modern, is it?" she observes with distaste.

"Don't forget that it's survived a fall to the ground and has probably been stepped on a few times," Zach replies.

"It looks pretty robust," I agree, then hold out my hand to take it. The sides are cracked, but most of it seems in good enough shape if you exclude the dirtiness.

We look up to the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel. A beam of a smile lights my face.

"Dad!" I squeak.

He glances at us happily, even nodding to the Scottish man. "I thought I'd show you our Camp. It's about a mile from here - a good walk, but I want you to see it." His face softens. "I want you to see where I live."

I slip the pin-pad-slash-machine into my pocket; it leaves a good-sized bulge but there's nothing I can do.

"I'm up for it," I tell him.

The others agree apart from the farmer since he's still got work to do on the farm.

There's a skip in my step as I walk beside my father.

"How are things going?" he asks me. "It's been a while."

I like the fact that he doesn't mention anything of before. Most of it has gone from my mind like I've forced it to, but some of it still remains, resurfacing into my nightmares.