The Other Side Of Midnight

“He’s some kind of venture capitalist, right.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Did you ask him for any notable companies he’s involved with that you and I might have heard about?”

“I didn’t think to ask him mundane things like that. I’m an artist. Besides, when I am with him I become almost hypnotized by him.”

“Autumn?” she calls, in a horrified voice. “That’s what gullible prey do.”

“I know, but I just can’t help it. There’s something about him. It’s like we’re meant to be together. I can’t explain it.”

When we get back to the caravan, we put everything away, open our feast and lay it all on the table. Then we open the champagne, I have no flutes or wine glasses, so we pour it into mugs, and toast to both of us.

“May we always be sisters in crime,” Sam says cheekily.

“May we always be sisters in crime,” I echo, even though the last time we committed a crime was many years ago, when we went into a shop during the school vacation and stole two pencil cases. Our parents made us return them, which was embarrassing, but having our phones taken away and not being allowed to speak to each other for the rest of the vacation permanently cured us of ever wanting to steal or commit any kind of crime again.

As the evening passes into night, I tell her everything. About what happened at the observatory, about last night, how sick he was, his sister arriving, and him knocking the wine out of my hand, even my trip to Zelena’s caravan and what she told me.

Sam puts her glass down on the table. “I want to see his house.”

“What?”

“I want us to drive up the mountain and I want to see his house.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“But we’ve been drinking.”

“You’ve been drinking. I’ve only had two glasses so far, so I’m well under the limit.” She stands. “Come on, I’ll drive. When we get back we can finish this feast, drink the other bottle and curl up with a movie until we fall asleep.”

“We should wait until the morning. It’s a really narrow, dangerous road up the mountain,” I object doubtfully.

“Nonsense. I’ve eyesight like a cat, and I’m a fantastic driver. Get your coat on.”

As I stand reluctantly, Sam has already snatched the keys of the station wagon off the kitchen counter and is shrugging into her coat. She turns to me with a big grin. “What’re you waiting for? Chop. Chop.”

Chapter 34

Autumn

We have the music on loud as we drive up the winding mountain road. Sam is bobbing her head and singing along.

“You just want to see the house, then we’re going back, right?” I ask.

She looks at me and giggles. “Of course not. We’re going to ring the bell, and I’m going to meet the guy you’re literally melting over.”

I’m staring at her, so I don’t see the disaster unfolding in front of us. Only her shocked expression and sudden screech of horror causes my head to whirl around to face the front.

“Hit the brakes, Sam. Hit the brakes!” I scream, my hands slamming instinctively on the dashboard, as I take in the incredible sight of a huge boulder rolling down the mountain!

The rock hits the road a few meters away in front of us and disintegrates into fragments like pieces of a smashed toy, and those pieces are now hurling straight at us.

“Autumn!” Sam screams, and shields her arms over her head protectively, but I can’t look away. My heart is pounding in my ears. It is all happening so rapidly, but time has slowed right down, and my mind processes it all, every little detail. Sam screaming, the sounds, the vibrations from the car being hit, the white spider web patterns on the windscreen as it shatters, the sensation of being showered by little squares of glass. The fragments are thick rectangles that don’t hurt on my skin.

Then, I notice how the impact causes the car to skid and spin to the left, which turns the trajectory of the car towards the ravine.

Sam has her foot slammed on the brakes, but the car now has a life of its own. It slides off the edge of the road. The scream sticks in my throat. There is nothing to do, but I accept the fact that we’re fucked. The car with us in it is going to fall headlong down the mountain, and we are going to crash and probably burn to death.

Suddenly the car stops.

Just comes to a sudden stop. Both Sam and I turn to look at each other, our faces white, our mouths open with terror, shock, and disbelief. By some grace of God, the car is just hanging off the road. Just hanging in mid-air.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam whispers.

I swallow. “Don’t move,” I gasp.

“I have no intention of doing any such thing but,” she replies in a hushed voice, “but we have to do something and fast.”