Trouble & Treasure by Dave Moyer (robert munsch read aloud .txt) 📕

Amanda Stanton

Oh god, it was happening again. I'd heard those two bullets, I’d seen the look of frigid surprise and fear on Sebastian’s face.

Dear god, could my life get any worse?

I took that exact moment to slip down, the ridiculous heels Sebastian had given me losing their grip along the slicked and treacherous metal. Thankfully I had a hand on the rail, but that didn’t stop me from slipping down several steps, knees grating against the rough metal. Before I could swear and check for blood, Sebastian pulled me to my feet, one hand clutched over my arm.

The wind and storm had whipped the waves into such a frenzy they were pounding against the heavy wall that ran around the path leading up to the lighthouse. They were so high and so violent that the tops of the waves managed to make it past the wall, inundating the path. All it would take was for one of those waves to make it far enough past that wall to wash us both off our feet, and we'd end up very much drowned at the bottom of the sea.

We reached the end of the stairs, and the storm and the waves were so violent that even standing on the last step we were still chased by the tips of the waves that managed to spike over the wall and rocks below. If I could have thought of anything useful to shout at Sebastian, other than a heartfelt expletive, there would be no way to make him hear me. I could grab the guy’s neck, pull his head right up to my mouth, and shout right in his ear, but the storm would still drown my voice out. It reduced our ability to communicate down to simple touch itself.

Sebastian hesitated on the last step, his head turned towards the raging waves below. He watched them, his shoulders and neck moving back rhythmically in time with each wave as if he was trying to get a feel for their pattern. Then he moved.

That would be when a bullet whizzed past me, smashing into the wall beyond. I might have screamed, I might not have; I couldn't hear myself above the waves and the gale. I jumped at Sebastian.

Another bullet whistled through the air, lodging into the wall opposite. I ducked instinctively, noting that Sebastian did the same. Despite the force of the water around us, I headed forward towards the protection of the other wall. When I reached it, I could have bloody done a song and dance; there was a sturdy rail running the full length of the wall, presumably leading right up to the door beyond. Obviously the people who'd designed this lighthouse realized that if anyone was stupid enough to be trying to walk towards it or away from it during a full-blown storm, they would appreciate a handhold.

I latched my hand onto it just in time as a huge wave broke over the wall, sending a mass of water along the path.

In the darkness and confusion Sebastian lost his footing. I grabbed him and I kept hold of that rail; I’d never been so desperate in all my life not to lose my grip, and yet I’d never faced such force either. Water came at me from every angle, covering my face, getting in my mouth, rushing over my back.

I held on. The brunt of the water rushed past us, allowing us to stand.

I shook, I shivered, but I still didn’t let go of the rail.

I was aware of the sound of another gunshot, this time closer.

Sebastian got to his feet. The water running rivulets over his nose and chin, he motioned me on with a wave.

The door to the lighthouse couldn’t be more than 10 meters from us, but it might as well have been a kilometer away considering how hard it was to reach. We would barely make a step forward when another wave rushed over the wall, and we’d to hunker against the rail.

We somehow managed it, inching our way forward despite the force of the water.

“We have to get this fucking door open,” Sebastian screamed behind me. “We are sitting ducks.”

No, we were half-drowned, panting, fatigued ducks.

Sebastian latched a hand on the door handle and tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t work. There was a dirty sodding chain running over the door handle and connecting up with both handrails, and it had a real big lock on it. No, it didn't look like the kind of lock that would fall off in a storm, nor could Sebastian yank it off; this lock, like the rest of the lighthouse, meant business.

Sebastian screamed and swore again, his voice grating and harsh. I could hear how tired he was, even how cold he was as his body shook. We needed a miracle.

That would be when another bullet shot past us, ricocheting off the door and lodging itself in the wall right by my head. I screamed and crumpled to the ground, but I still didn’t let go of the handrail.

“Amanda.” Sebastian screamed. As he did I heard another bullet ricochet off something else, and saw a puff of concrete and stone as it lodged itself into the wall right by my hip.

It was categorically the most horrible experience I had ever had. Even last night, even in the forest, I’d been able to run. Here, with my back pressed up against the lighthouse door, with my hand latched on to the railing for dear life, I was stuck. There was nowhere to move because the only door to go through was locked.

I’d never thought that I would be one of those girls to give up, but obviously I’d never been in the situation where giving up was my only option.

That would be when the door behind me opened. Sebastian was on his feet, pulling the chain that kept it closed out from the rails and holding it firmly in one hand, using the other to open the door, his shoulder pressed up against the wet, rusted hinges and pushing with all his might. I fell through behind him. Just in time as another bullet sunk into the path where I’d been crumpled.

Sebastian latched a hand to the back of my collar and pulled me through the door. Then he slammed it closed.

I wasn’t dead, I wasn’t drowned, and I hadn’t been shot. I was lying on the relatively dry floor inside the lighthouse.

The bullet that had barely missed my head moments before must have somehow slammed right into the lock instead.

It was dark but in another moment the lights turned on, and I saw Sebastian over near the door, hand on a light switch, staring over at me. If you’d asked me 24-hours ago what the expression on his face meant, I would’ve said it was a combination of arrogance and entitlement. Now I had a different perspective. The exact peak to his eyebrows didn't suggest he thought he was god's gift to women or the only man capable of getting the job done; it told me he’d been through the experience of his life and was happy to be alive. The exact dip to the corners of his lips didn’t tell me he thought I was pathetic for lying on the floor; it told me he was concerned. Yes, concerned about me.

I heard another bang as a bullet lodged into the door.

It was enough to get me to my feet. I took one step backwards, eyes blinking wildly as I stared at the door, waiting for it to burst open and for every criminal in the world to rush through. When that didn't happen I pointed at it. “You hold the door,” I shouted at Sebastian, “I’ll find something to shove in front of it.”

Sebastian didn't argue; he nodded, backing himself up against the door, planting his feet out before him and leaning into it. He was dripping with water. His white shirt hung off him, pants slack against his legs, hair dripping all over his face. If he looked like that, I shuddered to think what I looked like. Now wasn’t the time to find a mirror and fix my hair. Instead I latched onto the couch close by the door and pushed it towards Sebastian.

He moved out of the way and helped me shove the couch right against the door.

“That’s not going to be enough.” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, still holding onto that chain for some reason.

I looked around the rest of the room, searching for anything sturdy and heavy enough to block the door. Right about now I could use a tank, but then again, if I had a tank, I would jolly well use it against the criminals trying to shoot their way in.

The room was sparsely decorated, but still managed to look comfortable, especially considering how dry and warm it was compared to the inundated path beyond. Everything was old, and it looked as if the place had been furnished in the ‘70s. There was a thick blue carpet off to the side where I’d found the couch, and next to it was a heater and a simple bookcase. Across the other side was a coat rack with a fine array of heavy jackets and several pairs of thick sturdy wellington boots lined up underneath. Next to that was a set of heavy crates. What were in them, I had no idea, but I saw Sebastian's eyes light up as he glanced their way.

He threw the chain onto the couch, wiping at the back of his mouth again.

“You stay here, press against the couch. I’ll get a crate.”

I did as he said, leaning right into the couch with my knees, bracing my hands onto the back of it and pressing it against the door. I could feel the strength of my heartbeat reverberate through my body, and I watched Sebastian as he grabbed a crate and began pushing it my way with heavy grunts.

Before he managed to get it halfway towards me, the door gave a great shake. Surprised, I screamed, but I didn’t let go of the couch.

“Fuck,” Sebastian offered.

The door gave another violent shudder and I saw the handle turning. I pushed hard against the couch. But whoever was at the other side of the door was stronger. My heels were slipping and sliding against the simple stone floor of the lighthouse, but I kept scrabbling forward, kept using whatever purchase and weight I could to push myself back into that couch and to push it back against that door.

Sebastian gave a heavy and desperate grunt, the sound of the crate loud as it grated over the floor.

I babbled, making god knows what pathetic sounds as I tried to keep that couch against the door. With every second that ticked past, the door managed to open bit by bit.

When it opened an inch, a black object was shoved through. I didn't need too long to figure out it was a gun. It fired, and the bullet shot past, lodging itself into the wall above the