back behind the sandstone wall as the door swung clear off its hinges and landed with a thud, sending up dust and sand. I held my breath for a second, half-expecting gunshots to ring out.
But after a minute or so of silence, I noddedto Winter and Ryan and we headed inside. The floor was covered in small black and white tiles, and a black spiral staircase curling around a thick white pylon led up to the lamp. The railing was bent and corroded from the sea air. It seemed like no-one had set foot inside for a decade.
I started the climb first.
I had nothing but my fists to protect me when I emerged, a hundred steps later, into the lantern room.
But it, too, was vacant. The windows were salt-smeared and cloudy, and the lamp itself was cracked and covered in cobwebs.
From the top of the lighthouse, overlooking Coffin Bay, we could follow the coastline for kilometres. The stormy sky still looked angry, but rays of sunshine were forging through. We looked down onto a flock of seagulls as they flew beneath, wheeling around the lantern.
âLook over here,â said Winter, from the other side of the lamp. âWhatâs this?â
Ryan and I walked around the perimeter to meet her. She was holding a small, worn, brown leather-covered book.
âItâs a bible,â she said, flicking through the pages. A frayed ribbon dangled from the middle. âAnd look,â Winter bent down and picked up a chipped red-and-white striped mug from the floor.She tipped it upside down and a small amount of liquid spilled out. âTea?â
âSo?â I replied.
âSo, whose tea is this?â
âCould have been anyoneâs.â
She thrust the book at me. âAnd this?â
I shrugged. It was just a bible, sitting at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Anyone could have been up here, trying to find some peace. It could have been sitting there, unopened, for years.
Winter squatted down and examined the floor of the lantern room. âSomeoneâs been sitting here,â she said, ârecently. Look at the scuff marks in the dust.â
I shrugged again. Dust was covering everything.
Winter glared at me, then shoved the leathery book into her bag, pushed past Ryan and rushed down the stairs.
Strangely, the wind had died down and an eerie stillness took over. I ran my hands through my hair.
Winter tentatively approached the edge of the cliff and peered over. She stood there, perilously close, staring out over the sea for ages, as if willing the wind to pick up again and carry hernews of Cal. Not knowing where he was, not knowing how he was coping, was messing with our heads. But knowing that his nervous system was slowly shutting down and that he was on a timeline controlled by the unforgiving Vulkan Sligo was enough to send us all over the edge.
The wind suddenly swept up again, lifting Winterâs hair. She stumbled forward, losing her footing. I lunged after her, grabbing her hand to pull her back. We listened to the echoing sound of stones tumbling and crashing onto the ground, far below.
âThat was close,â she admitted nervously.
âYeah, too close,â I said. I stepped back and guided Winter away from the edge. âWhoa!â I yelled. The ground beneath my own feet was falling away!
I was stumbling, losing my balance ⦠and before I knew it, I was airborne! Falling off the cliff!
âBoges!â Winter screamed.
This was it. I closed my eyes, waiting for my tumbling body to collide with the jagged rocks below. Everything blurred. And then something hit my back. Iâd stopped falling.
âBoges!â Ryan yelled.
I opened my eyes and looked up. Ryan andWinter were looking down on me from about fifteen metres up. Carefully, I peered around me. Some sort of scrubby tree had broken my fall. A scrubby tree with â¦
âWinter! Ryan!â I shouted.
âOh no, Boges, are you OK?â Winter cried, desperately. âPlease, tell me you
But after a minute or so of silence, I noddedto Winter and Ryan and we headed inside. The floor was covered in small black and white tiles, and a black spiral staircase curling around a thick white pylon led up to the lamp. The railing was bent and corroded from the sea air. It seemed like no-one had set foot inside for a decade.
I started the climb first.
I had nothing but my fists to protect me when I emerged, a hundred steps later, into the lantern room.
But it, too, was vacant. The windows were salt-smeared and cloudy, and the lamp itself was cracked and covered in cobwebs.
From the top of the lighthouse, overlooking Coffin Bay, we could follow the coastline for kilometres. The stormy sky still looked angry, but rays of sunshine were forging through. We looked down onto a flock of seagulls as they flew beneath, wheeling around the lantern.
âLook over here,â said Winter, from the other side of the lamp. âWhatâs this?â
Ryan and I walked around the perimeter to meet her. She was holding a small, worn, brown leather-covered book.
âItâs a bible,â she said, flicking through the pages. A frayed ribbon dangled from the middle. âAnd look,â Winter bent down and picked up a chipped red-and-white striped mug from the floor.She tipped it upside down and a small amount of liquid spilled out. âTea?â
âSo?â I replied.
âSo, whose tea is this?â
âCould have been anyoneâs.â
She thrust the book at me. âAnd this?â
I shrugged. It was just a bible, sitting at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Anyone could have been up here, trying to find some peace. It could have been sitting there, unopened, for years.
Winter squatted down and examined the floor of the lantern room. âSomeoneâs been sitting here,â she said, ârecently. Look at the scuff marks in the dust.â
I shrugged again. Dust was covering everything.
Winter glared at me, then shoved the leathery book into her bag, pushed past Ryan and rushed down the stairs.
Strangely, the wind had died down and an eerie stillness took over. I ran my hands through my hair.
Winter tentatively approached the edge of the cliff and peered over. She stood there, perilously close, staring out over the sea for ages, as if willing the wind to pick up again and carry hernews of Cal. Not knowing where he was, not knowing how he was coping, was messing with our heads. But knowing that his nervous system was slowly shutting down and that he was on a timeline controlled by the unforgiving Vulkan Sligo was enough to send us all over the edge.
The wind suddenly swept up again, lifting Winterâs hair. She stumbled forward, losing her footing. I lunged after her, grabbing her hand to pull her back. We listened to the echoing sound of stones tumbling and crashing onto the ground, far below.
âThat was close,â she admitted nervously.
âYeah, too close,â I said. I stepped back and guided Winter away from the edge. âWhoa!â I yelled. The ground beneath my own feet was falling away!
I was stumbling, losing my balance ⦠and before I knew it, I was airborne! Falling off the cliff!
âBoges!â Winter screamed.
This was it. I closed my eyes, waiting for my tumbling body to collide with the jagged rocks below. Everything blurred. And then something hit my back. Iâd stopped falling.
âBoges!â Ryan yelled.
I opened my eyes and looked up. Ryan andWinter were looking down on me from about fifteen metres up. Carefully, I peered around me. Some sort of scrubby tree had broken my fall. A scrubby tree with â¦
âWinter! Ryan!â I shouted.
âOh no, Boges, are you OK?â Winter cried, desperately. âPlease, tell me you
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