The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📗

He threw his head back, letting out his characteristic, contagious, big belly laugh. Tom sniggered, I hooted with glee, and then suddenly all three of us were in peals of raucous laughter. Michael studied us for a moment, clearly shocked that this was how the rest of us spent our Saturday afternoons, before breaking into a grin and starting to laugh along. When Tom’s startled mother appeared in the doorway, there we were, arms and legs flung over each other in a heap on the collapsed bed, laughing uproariously at the ceiling.

I remember that for a while there was nothing but the sound of our breathing. Then I could hear them talking again: deep, hushed voices, mumbling behind the shed. There was a sudden thud and a cry of pain; another boot in the side for their victim. I winced and closed my eyes tight, clutching at the polar bear that was wedged between the four of us, squeezing its cheap, under-stuffed body. Someone shouted in a foreign language, a strict order to stop. He had already told them once and was losing his patience.

When I dared open my eyes again, Tom was staring straight at me, his eyes steely and shining. It was almost dark now, but I could see what he was trying to communicate to me: Let’s go, quietly, slowly. I nodded and looked to Max and Michael, both wide-eyed and frozen. A silent agreement was reached and we carefully extricated ourselves from the huddle. Ever so slowly, we started to feel our way across the hardened earth, heads bent, straining to see the ground beneath our feet, at pains not to tread on anything that might crackle or snap. I flinched at each tiny crunch of the earth beneath our trainers.

And then I felt the hand on my shoulder. Hot and heavy, applying just enough pressure to stop me.

I turned quickly and found myself staring up into a pair of pale, narrow eyes. They reminded me of the eyes of a snake. I opened my mouth, ready to tell the others to run, but they had already ground to halt in front of me, stopped in their tracks by a tall, lanky figure.

We were hemmed in.

“What are you boys doing?” asked the lanky figure in a slow, thick accent.

No one answered. My heart was drumming fiercely and my head was racing, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

“He asked you a question,” said Snake Eyes behind me, squeezing my shoulder a little tighter.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

“We got lost,” said Tom, “we were trying to get to the canal.”

“Oh, lost,” the lanky man nodded, “you boys don’t want to be lost out here in the dark on your own.”

“No, there are some strange people around,” said Snake Eyes, gripping my shoulder, his accent slightly subtler than his mate’s, “you wouldn’t want to run into any of them. Come. We have a nice fire going. Come join us.”

I saw the whites of my friends’ eyes darting about in the darkness as we looked to each other.

“Thanks, but we need to get going,” said Tom. He took a few steps forwards, and Max and Michael made a move to follow. The hand on my shoulder gripped me tighter and held me still.

“We insist,” the voice behind me said. I watched as the lanky man shifted in front of the others, blocking their path.

With a sudden surge of panic, I realised that we weren’t going anywhere.

“We really need to get home,” said Tom, anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Are you the only one of your friends to talk?” asked the lanky man. “Can they not speak?”

We all stood silently, not knowing how to respond.

“’Course they can speak,” said Tom on our behalf.

“But you are the leader, yes? Like me. All groups need a leader, yes?” His voice was slurrying and he laughed as if his comment really amused him. “I like leaders. I am leader of my friends, too. Come. You bring your friends to meet my friends.”

He reached out and put his arm around Tom’s shoulder.

“We need to go,” I said suddenly, fear making me weak in the knees.

“Yeah, we do,” agreed Max.

“Yeah, sorry,” Michael mumbled, ever polite.

“I don’t think so,” said Snake Eyes behind me. “You see, I think we might have a problem. I think you might have seen us being – how shall I say – a little heavy-handed with one of our friends?”

“We didn’t see anything,” said Max.

“No, nothing,” agreed Michael.

Both men laughed.

“Well, that’s good,” said the lanky man – the Leader – “because, you see, to outsiders it may have looked a little unkind. But that is only because you do not know the context. You see, this friend of ours, he has been a very bad friend. He has betrayed our trust. And when this happens a leader must take action, do you not think?” he asked, addressing Tom. “They must show that they are not to be messed with.”

Tom was silent, as still as a statue, the arm of the Leader still draped around him. A surge of fear rushed through me and I wrenched myself free from the grip on my shoulders. I had no plan, I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew we had to get out of here.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, pushing Michael and Max forwards. As I stumbled past Tom, I grabbed his arm, “Come on, Tom,” I urged, yanking at him.

But Tom pulled his arm free and stayed where he was. I turned towards him, confused. What the hell were we meant to do? Go with these people? What other choice did we have but to try and walk away?

But then I spotted the glint of the blade.

The Leader had a knife in his hand, dangling casually from the hand resting on Tom’s shoulder.

My stomach felt like it was going to drop right out of me.

The familiar hot, weighty grip settled back on