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

bookcase.

The door gave an almighty shudder, pushing so hard into the couch that I lost my footing and tumbled over. Before it could open, before the gun could twist around in the person's grip and fire my way, Sebastian gave a great grunt and put on a final burst of speed, slamming the crate into the couch and pushing it back into the door. The gun clattered out of the guy's grip, falling onto the couch as the couch forced the door closed.

There was a perfect moment of silence where I lay there on my back staring across at the door, waiting.

Sebastian still leaned into the crate, arms tense, shoulders braced, feet planted far out as he pushed his whole weight into it.

Though the door did shake a couple of times, it didn't open again.

I don't know how long it took me to pull myself up, but I managed it. Sebastian however stayed where he was, body looking like it was under a tremendous amount of pressure as he kept pushing the crate towards the door. I walked over to him, hair dripping down my back, the sound of my high heels clicking against the bare stone floor. I stood right beside him and looked down at him for several moments before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I think it's fine,” I said through a swallow.

He didn't seem ready to give up.

Though I was no expert on these things, I could tell that the combined weight of the couch and the heavy crate was enough to keep the door closed. Plus, the door itself was heavy and strong and made from thick metal. I had to take my hat off to whoever had designed this lighthouse, for they had done a sterling job.

It took ages for Sebastian to relax. I didn’t move my hand from his back until he did. It was flat against one of his tensed shoulder blades, and despite the fact my own body was chilled through, I still managed to pick up on the trace of warmth running through his skin.

He gave a swallow and straightened up. He turned, lips jutted open, eyes hooded and tired, and sat sharply on the crate.

After a while the banging on the door stopped, but it hardly meant the room was silent; the sound of the gale and storm outside still strong. The thickness of the walls and door did manage to protect us from the brunt of the noise, enough that I could hear my own breath punctuated by Sebastian's far deeper and throaty coughs.

“Well,” he offered, “This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my night.”

I blinked at that, my lips straightening and wobbling. “What did you have planned?”

He took a moment, gave a twitching half smile, and shrugged. “Not this.”

“You do realize the night isn't over, don't you?”

He shook his head in reply. “Oh yes, don't you worry about that.”

I gave a shiver, my back and arms seriously cold.

Sebastian looked up at me, body still hunched as he sat on the crate, hands either side of him as he supported himself. “We should look for some dry clothes.” He nodded upwards, indicating the rest of the lighthouse above.

I let my head tip and stared at the ceiling. This was a wide lighthouse, and it was obvious from the decorating down here that the original intention was that someone was to live here. Hopefully that did mean there were some dry clothes left. At that moment my stomach gave a rumble too, and I realized how much I hoped there was some food up there as well.

Whether I could relax enough to get changed and enjoy a meal while there were criminals swimming around outside, I didn’t know.

Pressing my lips together in thought while I wrapped my arms around myself and gave another shiver, I turned my head back to Sebastian. Although I already knew the answer, I asked it anyway: “are we safe?”

He took a long while to answer. He sat there still hunched over that box, head angled down, but eyes angled up towards me. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, Amanda,” he added quietly.

He genuinely sounded sorry. For a lawyer and a treasure hunter I wasn't sure if I had ever heard the truth from Sebastian, but now I was sure he wasn’t lying.

Shivering I nodded back at him. “What do we do?”

He shrugged. He looked uncharacteristically defeated. It was the angle to his back and how bowed and low his shoulders were, not to mention the glazed, sallow look to his face. “We’re in a lighthouse during a storm with a fuck load of criminals behind us,” he shook his head, “Or maybe it's the army, I don't know. Hell, it could be Romeo's men; I have zero clue who is after us. Point is, we can't get out of here....”

We were stuck. For all the apparent safety these thick walls offered, we were still stuck. It wasn't as if we could climb to the top of the lighthouse and both take epic standing jumps and manage to reach Sebastian's car in the car park above. We didn't have any way out. Though we might have momentarily beaten off whoever was outside, I was starting to realize that these people were resourceful and had a level of desperation I’d never met before. I had joked of wishing I had a tank, but I realized that these were the type of people dumb enough, equipped enough, and desperate enough to go and get one. We could be safe in here for the next 10 minutes or maybe the next 10 hours; but we damn well wouldn’t be safe forever. We were sitting ducks, and though we might be drier than we were outside, we weren't all that much safer.

Sebastian stared at his feet, and it seemed apparent he had no intention of stopping. I got the distinct impression that he wouldn't look at me for some reason..

I wanted to ask what we were meant to do next, but considering how defeated he looked I didn't think I would get a reply. Plus, I already knew the answer: nothing. Unless there was another miracle, we were stiff out of luck.

I took a heavy breath, for the first time filling my lungs. It steeled me.

“We should investigate the rest of the lighthouse,” I said, ignoring a great drip of water as it ran down my nose and off my chin, trickling down my throat in the coldest way possible.

Sebastian didn’t look up, instead he kept sitting there, banging one of his shoes against the side of the crate, staring at some nondescript section of the floor.

I didn’t turn from Sebastian, still hoping he would lift his chin and look at me. When he didn’t, I took several steps backwards.

I turned around and headed to the stairs in the center of the room. I took to them silently.

I was starting to realize Sebastian was more complicated than I’d originally given him credit for.

Shaking my head, I continued upstairs, hand on the railing, possibly holding it too tightly. I still couldn't shake the body-memory of having to hold on for dear life outside against the storm. There was a great deal of residual adrenaline and fear rushing through my body. At the sound of a squeak on the stairs above, I gave a sudden jump, a squeak of my own issuing from my lips. When I realized it was just the rickety old stairs, and not a light-footed mercenary stealing down them, I rolled my eyes and continued on.

I crested the stairs onto the next floor. It was narrower than the floor below, the lighthouse though thick, still tapered up to a point above. This floor was still sweet, and far better furnished than the one below. Possibly in the event it was far less likely this one would get flooded by water inching its way under the door.

The room was circular, with vibrant red carpet, several comfortable chairs, and a television on a desk to the side. As I walked around, the ludicrously colorful carpet gave way to a checkered black and white Linoleum and a small kitchen. It had an old-style cooker, with a kettle on the stove, bench space either side, and cupboards running along the wall. As I walked past one of the chairs, I grabbed one of the warm woolen throws over the back, and pulled it around my shoulders. I nestled into the fabric as I walked further into the kitchen, grabbing the first cupboard I saw and opening it.

There was a can of baked beans. I grabbed it and put it down on the bench, smiling. I kept walking around the kitchen and back around into the lounge. Though my stomach was rumbling, I still wanted to explore the rest of the lighthouse. I wanted to get into some clean clothes, and though it was highly unlikely I would find anything in my size, I needed to ditch these heels.

The heels made me think about Sebastian again. He told me they'd come from a one night stand. How charming. What kind of man admitted to that? Sebastian obviously.

Before I could get too angry at him, I realized he was still the same man who was sitting on a crate downstairs, shoulders hunched together, head directed towards the ground, eyes hooded with fatigue and surrender.

Complex bloody fool, I thought to myself.

Keeping the woolen blanket clutched tightly around my shoulders I decided to take the stairs up to the next floor. The stairs creaked and squeaked as I walked up, but I ignored it. I reached the next floor, and I turned the light on. This one had a small bedroom, a single bed pushed up against the wall, another bookcase, and a closet off to one side. It also had a window. Biting my lip hard, I inched my way towards it. I could see from a distance that the view outside was of nothing more than dark seething clouds and driving rain, but that didn’t stop me from creeping towards the window as if I would see a monster with its face pressed up against the glass.

My top teeth were sunk so hard into my bottom lip that unless I lessened my bite I would draw blood.

I made it up to the window. Rather than face it in full, I pressed my back to the side and inched my face around until I could see through it. It gave me a view of half of the ocean beyond and half of the cliff behind. Shaking, I let my eyes dart over the cliff, searching for anything that would let me know there was someone still out there.

I didn't see anything, and I shrunk back into the room.

“You should stay away from the windows,” Sebastian said from behind me.

I gave a loud yelp, jumping back in surprise.

“Sorry,” he replied. With a sigh, he walked over to the closet, opening it and rifling through it. He threw a pair of pants down by his feet, followed by a checkered shirt. Then, searching through more, he grabbed a pair of track pants and another checkered shirt, turned to me, and threw them my way.

Though I was ready for it, I didn't manage to grab them, and clutched fruitlessly at the air as they fell by my feet.

Despite the fact Sebastian’s expression was still cold and had a real measure of defeat to it, my pathetic attempt managed to bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

“What?” I managed, leaning down to pick them up, “You threw them too low,” I added.

“I did not,” he replied easily, leaning down and grabbing the clothes by his own feet.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at what he’d given me: a pair of thick, warm blue track pants and a red and blue checkered shirt. Fashion, pure and simple.

“Sorry, but there's nothing else in here,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I made a show of looking at the track