@"FREEDOM'S EDGE" (Part two) By Andrew Campbell 1993


 Nicola opened her eyes.
 She had been speaking to God. Or so she thought. Of course, it was a 
dream, it had to be a dream because God didn't exist really. If he did,
she wouldn't be living with her horrible, unloving mum. She wouldn't be
sleeping with the kitchen knife tucked under her pillow.
 And she thought desperately:
# That man wouldn't have done what he did to me. He wouldn't have. God
#wouldn't let that happen. Not if he really existed.
 She slid under the quilt and pressed the light button on her watch. 
It glowed and flickered softly in the gloom, informing her it was half 
past eleven. Her mum was home, she knew that. She also knew that her
mum was sleeping with yet another man, one she hadn't met before.
# A man.
 Nicola shuddered.
 She listened to the noises of the house for a while. The little creaks
and groans. The snapping noises and the hissing of the toilet drainage 
system.
# Last time you'll hear those things, Nick. Are you glad? Are you
#really glad? Do you really want to do this? Is it right?
 For one horrific moment, she had second thoughts... It was warm and 
cosey in her bed. Her mum wasn't around. No one was around for that
matter.
# Solitude.
 Out there, out of the window, was the world. The big, wide, cruel
(crueller-than-Vincent) world.
 She waited, waited and waited some more.
 She thought, thought and thought yet again.
 Soon, it was ten to midnight.
 Nicola closed her eyes.

                                 * * *

 Michael eased the window open.
 Excitement was hurting his chest. He dropped his school bag out onto
the dry, crispy soil in the garden and paused, holding his breath.
# Listen.
 Something brisked his shoulder.
 He was too scared to cry out. Instead he whisked around and peered 
frightfully into the blackness of the livingroom.
 At first, he thought he could see a huge figure sat down in one of the
old worn out chairs at the far end of the room. He was partially 
convinced when he saw a pair of orange, glowing eyes... But then he
realised the eyes were merey those of distant street lamps, filtering
through the blinds of the window. 
 Michaels fear simmered down. His mind assembled the dark shadows on
the chair...
# Cushions.
 They were just bulky cushions. They had been there for years. But
Michael had never seen them in the dark.
 The curtains beside the open window blew in the chilly night wind.
They brushed against Michael's cheek, flopped lifelessly against his
shoulders, before gliding back into place.
 Michael climbed cautiously out of the window, being extra careful not
to bang his shoes against the pane or tap his coat zip against the
glass.
 He dropped from the windowledge like a lucky fly from a spider's 
web, and landed ontop of his packed up school bag, causing a brief
hussle of sound.
 He then paused, held his breath in the usual fashion and waited, 
peering up at the window with its terrifying, waving curtains.
 It looked like a dark portal to hell.
 In many ways it was. 
 Michael felt as though he had achieved something fantastic. He looked
around the front garden and peered along the dark, deserted streets as
though he had just stepped out of a spaceship onto a spectacular, new
alien world.
 Although the feeling of freedom was strong and dominant, with it came 
a wave of loneliness and isolation. Michael glanced at his watch.
 It was after midnight.
 Nicola wasn't here.
 Michael shivered and stared up into the sky. The heavens were above 
him, millions and millions of tiny lights, some bright and some dim.
 He had always believed that his parents had gone up there. Into 
space, perhaps... and that they could see him now.
 "I love you mum." he whispered so softly, he barely heard himself. He
only had vague memories of what his mother and father looked like but
he was quite sure they still loved him. "And you too, dad." he 
finished.
 He wiped his nose and stood up. The garden, the drive, the street... 
all empty. He strode up to the window and took hold of it with both
hands.
 Grandfather shot out of the blackness like a demon, face twisted and
contorted in pure rage. He rushed to the window even before Michael
could scream and snatched the boy's hands.
 "Nooooo!" Michael wailed, feeling his body tense with that same 
paralysing fear. He was going to ice over again, he knew it. He was
going to turn into a statue and his grandfather was going to drag him
back into the house and lock him up in the broom cupboard for EVER-
 Michael convulsed.
 Spit dribbled from his mouth.
 "Let me go." he croaked.
 "GET BACK IN HERE YOU STINKING LITTLE BASTARD!" his grandfather 
roared, ignorant of the sleeping neighbours. "I'LL CUT OFF YOUR DICK 
FOR THIS YOU DIRTY SHIT!"
 The window strained and rattled as Michael's body pressed into it. His
grandfather hooked his mighty talons around Michael's coat and began 
to tug him relentlessly through the window.
 "IIIIN!" He wheezed. "GET THE FUCK IIIIN!"
 Michael felt someone take hold of his feet. At first his confused
mind assumed it must be the curtains brushing him again, but then he
realised that his lower half was not even in the house and that the
grip was indeed real... and very, very strong.
 Suddenly he came free from his grandfathers claws and fell backwards
into the garden soil. He landed with squelch, and peered up dizzily at
Nicola's face. Against the backdrop of the twinkling stars, she looked 
like an angel from heaven.
 She had come for him at last.
 Michael's grandfather heaved his enormous foot onto the windowsil, 
then proceeded to climb out of the window. Nicola reacted instantly
and slammed the open frame in his face.
 The glass rippled and shook. The old man yelled out with pain, for
one of his hands had become jammed between wood and stone. He pushed 
the window open wide again and attempted to block Nicola's attacks
with his right shoulder.
 Again, the girl slammed the window closed, this time a little harder.
 There was an echoing shatter and an explosion of glass, and Michael's
grandfather fell back into the dark house, huge spikes raining down
after him.
 Both Nicola and Michael listened for a few seconds at the old man's
screams, then scrambled away from the window and shot down the drive.
 "Nick! Wait!" Michael exclaimed. He'd forgotten something.
 His bag of belongings - lying in the soil beneath the window. He 
skidded to a halt, peered back, panting heavily.
 "Come on." Nicola pleaded.
 "My bag..." Michael wailed. "It's still up there."
 Nicola spotted the bulk of Michael's school bag just below the window
and was about to go back for it when she saw the old man's leg extend
out of the open window.
 She shook her head. "Too late."
 "But my things... all my things!" Michael whined.
 "We have to go! Come on!" Nicola snatched his arm and began to drag
him along the orange-lit street.
 Manning road shuttled past their vision as they ran it's length. They
were both pretty speedy runners and had indulged in plenty of exercise
thanks to their P.E lessons at Stone Bridge High.
 Orange lights blurred in their eyes, the noise of their shoes 
crunching across gravel drove them onwards ; a glance at from one to
the other was all that was needed to assure them that they were not
alone and that hope was not lost.
 Nicola's ruck-sac jiggled noisily over her back, whilst Michael ran 
onwards with no possessions to his name, save for his raggy clothing. 
 His pencils, his paper that he had stolen from school. His pictures 
- the portrait of Nicola he had worked on late at night to the best of
his abillity - all of it was now in the hands of his grandfather. His 
little treasured belongings would be revealed for the world to laugh
at.
 The two kids turned north and sprinted along Oldhave Cresent towards 
Brensefield, where the housing was much more dense and middle-class. 
 Parked along the sides of the roads were cars, and Nicola found the 
courage to clamber over a few of them. Michael would slow down as she 
leaped onto the bonet, clanged across the roof, jumped down onto the 
boot and then skipped back onto the road, laughing all the way.
 By the time they escaped Brensefield, they were both wheezy with
exhaustion and decided to rest by the side of the road for a few
moments.
 "My bag..." Michael gasped, "I... left it... Nicola..."
 Nicola saw his depression and his sad eyes, then shuffled over to hug
him.
 "You can share my things." she said. "We'll buy lots when we reach a 
decent town. I'll give you some money so-"
 "I don't want to take your money." Michael retorted. "I had some of my
own."
 Nicola raised her eye brows and said, "Oh? How much?"
 "Four pounds." Michael snapped loudly. "So there."
 "Four quid?" Nicola chuckled. "Four measly quid?"
 "Its a lot!" Michael insisted, his face desperate.
 Nicola frowned and looked at her hands.
 "Yeah, I know." she looked up, a grin on her face, "But I swiped two
hundred and ten!"
 Micheal stared at her, speechless.
 "Two hundred!" she repeated, "All for us to spend. I twocked it from
my mum's bank book. She was supposed to put it into her account today
but... she..."
 Michael was sobbing.
 "Hey," Nicola reached forwards but he shuffled away from her. She 
licked her lips thoughtfully and said, "Mike? What's wrong?"
 "You!" he shouted. "You're always better than me! Always! I-I can't
ever do anything as good as you, no matter what..." his voice trailed
away and he began to sniffle.
 Nicola came close to him and battled with his waves of protest until 
at last she had access to his face. He avoided her eyes constantly and
breathed in long, shaken gasps.
 "If you don't want to go..." she told him. "It's okay."
 "You know I do! You know I want to go!" he cried.
 "Christ, come here will you-"
 "No!"
 "Mike-"
 "No!"
 "MIKE!" she grabbed him and eased her cheek against his. He was warm 
and damp with sweat and tears. But he was a boy. And he was a fantastic
one at that. Nicola had never before felt so strongly for anyone exept 
her own mother. And now, with her mother's love flushed away down the 
sewers, she needed someone to care for.
# Someone to care about.
 She continually kissed Michael for a long time. It was something that 
she had expected to happen on this journey, though perhaps not at such 
an early stage. Still, if she opened up now, everything would be so 
much easier later on. She wouldn't have to wait for the right moment or
bottle up her emotions until the last minute.
 She didn't realise it, but she was thinking like an adult. She was
experiencing grown-up emotions at a very young age and she was
benefitting from it.
 Men, she would never trust. Not after Vincent. That disgusting demon 
had destroyed her want to grow up. She knew what men like him wanted. 
She knew what was going to happen to her body as she progressed into 
her teens - and she was frightened.
 Nicola Mills was afraid of growing up. And she would do anything to
stop herself becoming an adult.
# Anything at all.
 
                                * * * 

 At half past five, saturday morning, Gordon Briggs was busy sorting 
out his days deliveries. To his wife and friend's knowledge, he was an 
electrical goods dealer who enjoyed his work and made a high profit.
 But to his "working colleagues" he was much more than that : he was a
drug-dealer.
 The sun wasn't quite up yet, though the sky was gradually fading to 
a redish hue. Gordon's Land Rover was parked on the side of the road, 
being constantly loaded up with mini hi-fi's and stereos. There wasn't 
much value in the goods, but there was enough snow bunged inside them 
to raise one hell of a price.
 Gordon lived with his unsuspecting wife in a large detatched house 
just on the outskirts of Todmorden. He was rich, bloody rich in fact 
and he was planning to desert this toilet of a country as soon as he 
had enough cash to assure him a fair life. His wife didn't know, bless 
her little heart, but he wasn't planning on taking her either.
 New life, new wife.
# A younger wife.
 It all made perfect sense.
 Gordon was a massive man with a build that he knew distracted many a 
woman. He was tall, dark and handsome and he had deep cavernous cheeks 
that added an extra dimention to his already impressive facial
composition. His chin was unshaven and coarse with darkening whiskers 
and he vigorously chewed gum as he worked.
 He had just finished packing up his "electrical" treasures when he 
caught sight of a girl and a boy scuttling along the road towards 
him, holding hands. The boy looked exhausted, his face was flushed and 
his eyes were burdened with black sacks. The girl on the other hand 
wasn't a bad sight, considering her age, but she looked tired and
desperate.
 Gordon unclipped the driver's door.
 "Mister Briggs!" someone called. The kid? Surely not.
 He paused, peering at the running children. They skidded to an abrupt 
halt right in front of him and he slowed down his chewing ; an 
indication that he was mildly suprised.
 "Huh?" he quizzed. "Whadda you want squirt?"
 "Mr Briggs." Nicola wheezed, swallowing to clear her throat. "I'm the
daughter of Mr Mills. Brian Mills? Do you-"
 Briggs sighed slowly, "Oh yeah? You don't look like em."
 "No, I know. I wondered if you might..."
 He frowned, "Might what? Give you a stereo? You're too young, girl-"
 "No," Nicola said. ""We need a ride... please."
 "And because you're the daughter of Mr Mills, I'm gonna say yes?" he 
chuckled. "Am sorry girlie-"
 Nicola revealed a handful of cash.
 "Thirty pounds. Its all I have."
 Gordon stared at the money, increased his chewing speed and broadened 
his grin.
 "Where d'you nick that from girlie?"
 "I didn't nick it and I'm not a fuckin' "girlie" now how about it?"
 Gordon squinted. He wasn't used to being argued with by a kid. 
Especially no little girl, cute or not.
 "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm busy." he prepared to enter his vehicle.
 Nicola stopped him with a shout : "Hey! Listen you fuckin' turkey! Do
you want snow to fall all over the fuckin' police station?"
 Gordon's lips quivered. 
 "Don't know whatcha talkin'about." he muttered.
 Nicola held her chin high and spelt "D-R-U-G-S" loudly. She pointed 
to the electrics in the back of the Land Rover.
 Gordon was infuriated.
 This little cow was one hell of a smart bitch. Goddamn it, who was 
she to order him around? Was he going to put up with this? Was he?
 The answer was YES, because he could hardly threaten a pair of 
eleven-year-olds. He could take them to where they wanted, sure, then
he could kill them both (the boy anyway - the girl he could...) but
where would that land him?
 He hadn't much longer to wait for the money to pile up. Then he could
fly away from this dump forever, and start a life of luxury. Let
Mills' daughter fuck it all up? After all this time?
# Not fucking likely.
 "Where you headin?" he asked Nicola softly.
 "The Lake District."
 "I ain't headin there." Gordon said. He looked around, cursed, then
rolled his eyes back to the two kids.
 "Both of you goin'?" he asked impatiently.
 Nicola pulled Michael closer to her side. He awoke from a daydream.
 "He's with me all the way." she announced with a weak smile.
 Gordon hesitated, before pointing to the back.
 "Its a squash in there, but if you can fit-"
 "We'll fit." Nicola smiled. "Won't we Mike?"
 "Yeah." Michael said sleepily. "Course we will."
 Gordon shook his head and allowed them access to his wheels.
 "Bitch." he muttered under his breath as he accelerated forwards and 
jounced off the curb. "Fuckin' bitch..."

                                 * * *

 They drove west towards Blackburn to drop off a "delivery" before 
heading north along the M6 in the direction of Kendal.
 The Land Rover was suprisingly smooth and comfortable and both Nicola
and Michael found themselves drifting to sleep.
 Nicola was used to late nights. Often she would remain awake, laid in
her bed, hands under the pillows, clutching at the knife until her mum
returned home at night, just to be ready for any men like Vincent who
might decide to attack her.
 Michael on the other hand was drowsy and weak and he fell asleep in 
Nicola's arms as they cruised northwards along the motorway.
 Whilst the sleeping boy's head was rested against her chest, Nicola
watched the sun rise from its hide away beneath the crust of the 
earth.
 She observed the towns, the cities, the open meadows and the rivers
roll past. She loved to see new places, hear new voices and smell new
smells... everything about travel appealed to her, perhaps because it
related to her most wanted desire : freedom.
 She wondered what her mum would be doing now. Whether she would have 
noticed that her daughter had vanished.
 Perhaps she wouldn't notice at all until tommorow.
 Or maybe she wouldn't care.
 None of these thoughts suprised Nicola. None of them. And that made
her feel sad, lonely and unwanted. She hugged Michael harder, ran her
hands through his spidery hair and smelt at his boyish aroma.
# Is it love you feel for this boy? Or sorrow? Do you really want to 
#be with him for ever? Or do you feel sorry for him. What is love? 
#Tell me, Nicola, I want to know. Is it kisses? Is it hugs and 
#kisses? Is it that sex-act-thing that the grown-ups talk about? Is 
#it? Maybe it is all of these things. Maybe it is none.
 When the mountains of the Lake District began to appear in the 
distance through the front windscreen, Gordon Briggs spoke for the 
first time since Blackburn.
 "I'm not goin' into the Lakes. I'm droppin' you off."
 "Can't you take us to Coniston?" Nicola asked, her voice weak and 
tired. She had adapted to the comfort of the car seat and the warmth of
Michael against her. Now, she didn't want to get out ; she wanted to 
stay in the car for ever and ever, crazy as it seemed.
 "Jesus girl, I'm already fourty fuckin' miles out-"
 "Please..." was all she could manage. Her temper had extinguished.
 "Ah, buggery." Gordon sighed, "I guess. Whatcha going up there for?"
 Nicola smiled, realising that Mr Briggs was at last speaking to her on
equal terms. She could have been a grown woman, the way he spoke to her
just then (but she was glad she wasn't).
 "Visiting a relative." she lied, simply because Freedom's Edge wasn't 
a proper location in the eyes of an adult. She could almost imagine 
Briggs' reaction if she had told him the truth: 
# Freedom's WHAT? Are you friggin' CRAZY girl? Kinda place is THAT?
 "Who's the kid?" Gordon glanced in his rear mirror, giving Nicola a 
glimpse of his dark, enigmatic eyes.
 "Michael." Nicola said dreamily.
 Gordon chuckled. "A bit young for that ain't you?"
 "He's special."
 "Yeah, yeah." Gordon grinned. He had fine white teeth, as evenly laid 
out as an arrangement of brand new tomb stones.
 As though dragged from his sleep by his name being spoken of, Michael
stirred around, eyes still closed, then yawned. Eventually he figured
out how to open his eyes. Nicola was the first thing he saw, and they
both exchanged smiles.
 "Hi." she said.
 Michael sat up, stretched and looked around.
 "Where are we?" he asked softly.
 Gordon called from the front.
 "Just comin in to Coniston, kid. And you and your girlfriend are
gettin out of my Rover as soon as we arrive."
 Michael blushed.
 He hadn't thought of Nicola as a girlfriend before.

                                 * * *

 It was ten to eleven, Saturday morning when Nicola and Michael stepped
out onto the narrow streets of Coniston. It was a bright, warm day, 
there was a wind, but it was refreshing and didn't ruin the summer 
atmosphere. 
 "I ought to charge you swindling kids a bucket-load." Gordon called 
from the drivers seat. He was staring out of the passenger window, 
quite content now that he had gotten rid of his unwanted passengers.
 Nicola leaned into the car.
 "Thanks, Mr Briggs."
 "Quite alright." he said sarcastically. "Maybe when you're a bit 
older you can pay me for another ride. Of a different nature." 
 He laughed heartily.
 Nicola slammed the door closed, frowning with anger. The Land Rover 
thundered away from the side of the road and vanished within seconds.
 Michael tugged at Nicola's jumper sleeve, "I'm hungry, Nickie."
 She faced him and took hold of his shoulders.
 "Goddamn that fuckin' Briggs bastard." she hissed. "He's filthy."
 "Huh?" Michael pulled a face.
 "Oh, nothing." Nicola sighed, "I'm sorry, I swear too much. Food you 
say?"
 He rubbed his stomach, "Mmmm."
 "Then lets fuckin' dine."

                                * * *

 They ate at an out-door cafe : chips, burgers, peas and sausages for
the main course, finished off with strawberry ice cream, peanut
chocolate bars and exotic milkshakes with little umbrella's in them.
 Afterwards, they spent a leisurely hour shopping in Coniston. 
 Nicola shared out the cash with Michael (who was speechless when she 
handed him a full eighty pounds - the most he had ever touched in his 
life was four quid) and they both split up for a while to go on their 
mindless spending sprees.
 It was five o'clock when they saw each other at opposite ends of the
street. Nicola had bought herself a new dress, a moss-green one (for 
camourflage) and Michael thought she looked incredibly pretty in it. He
had spent most of his money on food, packets of sweets were bulging out
of his clothes in all places.
 Being alone in a town like Coniston had (even though it was small) had
been a very scary experience for Michael. But he'd resisted acting 
like a little baby in front of Nicola.
 He had been brave.
 And it felt good to see Nicola again after being brave. He felt more
worthy of being in her company. Best of all, he could accept her 
kisses without feeling as though he didn't deserve them.
 "Did you have a good shop?" Nicola asked him as they strolled through
crowds of tourists, pensioners and walkers.
 "Best day of my life." Michael told her, grinning.
 "Mine too." Nicola said. She was about to reach out and take hold of 
Michael's hand, when she resisted and decided to wait for him to take 
hold of hers.
# She wanted to see how he really felt about her.
 He went on walking all the way down the next street, without touching 
her in the least bit.
 "Mike?" she asked him eventually. "You can hold my hand."
 "Huh?" he blinked at her. His expression was one of bafflement, but he
still looked cute.
 "I said, I don't mind you holding my hand, or... or kissing me when 
you want to... things like that."
 The boy looked down at himself and said, "But you might not want-"
 "But I do."
 Nicola suddenly realised that Michael's shyness had attracted her to
him. It was the feeling of having an equal power, an equal status as 
him (-perhaps power OVER-) that had driven away the thought of him ever
harming her. Had Michael been confident in his actions and his words, 
she may never have seen in him what she saw now.
# Which is what, Nickie? Just what is it? He's just a boy. He smells, 
#he's scruffy, he's cute, yeah, but hell, he's not a dream-boy. You 
#feel sorry for him don't you Nickie? Admit it, you feel so, so sorry
#for him.
 An internal voice plagued her.
 But was silenced when Michael reached out and gently took her hand.

                                * * *

 Michael didn't question Nicola's abillity to navigate them to 
Freedom's Edge. He knew now that she was the smartest girl in the 
world, and he also knew better than to her ask silly questions. It was
obvious where they were going, and Michael was excited.
 They walked together, chewing sweets and sharing cans of refreshing
soft drink, along the northward road to the east of Old Man Coniston.
They stopped several times to take in the spectacular scenery and to
admire the astounding views.
 Once, they stopped to check their position against the sun. Michael 
had no idea how to do this, but Nicola knew everything. When she had 
informed him that they were on course, heading for Freedom's Edge, 
Michael had simply burst his admiration bank and said :
 "Nicola, you're so clever. I bet you're famous when you grow up."
 The scenery became more barren and desolate as they progressed deeper 
into the Lake District. Clusters of trees gathered like swarms of giant
green locusts to the sides of the hills and mountains.
 Opaque clouds hung low and atmospherically above the zeniths of the
peaks. Silver curtains of distant rainfall were visible in the
blackest clouds and the two travelling youngsters heard vague rumbles
of thunder, far away in another land.
 Michael didn't dare admit to Nicola that he had no idea whatsoever of 
his location in the country. He had never in his life ventured out of 
the district of Stone Bridge, and he had never expected to. Never had 
he seen the coast, nor the monuments of his countries capital city. He 
had laid eyes on nothing more beautiful than the countryside he was 
exploring now, and it was not until he whispered something to himself,
that Nicola realised the truth of his miniscule experiences.
 "This must be Africa." he said softly, scanning the distant horizons 
with undisguised awe. He had read in a book once that Africa was the 
most beautiful place in the entire world. He assumed that he had found
it.
 Nicola rested a hand on his shoulder and said, "Its not Africa,
Mike."
 Michael swung around, looking shocked. "It isn't?"
 Nicola shook her head. "We're still in England."
 Michael was confused. He knew very little about the world in which he 
lived, and this saddened him.
 Locked up in his cramped, dark bedroom with nothing more than a few
old books and scraps of paper - for years and years whilst his peers
ventured out - had taken a heavy toll on his knowledge. Infants school
had learned him much, but he had been the shyest boy in his year ; an
outcast who never dared ask questions. He felt a tear sprout from his
right eye. He wiped it away and looked at Nicola for an explanation 
and she recognised immediatley his thirst for proper understanding.
 "We'll camp tonight." she told him softly, "I'll try and explain where
we are when we get settled, is that alright?"
 "Sure..." he glanced around, "Are you sure this isn't Af-" his eyes 
met hers and her pitiful expression ceased his words.
 He shrugged and whispered, "I'm pretty dum huh?"
 Nicola shook her head, "You're not dum. Don't ever say you are. Now 
come on, we have to hurry. Come on."
 She had to look away from him to prevent him seeing the tears.

                                 * * *

 Jasper Greenwood glided his speed boat into the western coast of Lake
Windermere. He skidded half way up the muddy embankment out of the deep
murky waters and clicked his fingers cheerfully at the exact moment the
motor stalled.
 He was proud of his boat, mainly because it had a steering wheel.
None of his buddies boats had a steering wheel. They all had to guide
their crates with the rear mounted engine.
# Ha.
 Well, it served the pompous barstools right for being so insulting and
downright indecent.
# So what if he didn't have a job?
 Jasper was  chubby middle aged man with a serious hair cut. His life
consisted of nothing more than sleeping, drinking and boat-racing. He
could have been described as an itchy pimple, irritatingly protruding
from the arse-end of life. He was unemployed, unmotivated and
unsociable.
 He and his boat however, were inseparable : it was all he had left.
Nobody touched his boat.
# Absolutley nobody.
 He wound up the lashings of silver chain that he used to attatch his 
little beauty to the Perfect Tree Stump and then dragged it across the 
muddy embankment. His comb fell out of his trouser pocket and plopped 
into the shallow water around his boots. With no job and no money, a
comb was a valuable possession to have. He couldn't just let it drift
away with the plankton.
 "Son of a bitch." he hissed softly and bent over to grope around for
his prized treasure.
 Nicola performed a first rate collision involving her right foot and 
Jasper Greenwood's podgy backside. He fell head-first into the lake.
 Michael hesitantly boarded the speed boat and glanced back at Nicola. 
She was giggling manically at Jasper.
 "Nick, are you sure?" Michael said worriedly. "I don't think-"
 At last the girl cut her laughter and ran to the boat. She leaped 
aboard gracefully and landed beside Michael. Both of them tilted their 
heads at the steering wheel whilst Jasper moaned, spat and choked in 
the background.
 "Can you drive the ship, Nicola?" Michael asked, for the first time he
seemed willing to go ahead and take a risk.
 Nicola nodded, "No problems."
 She yanked the motor cord. The engine growled, screamed and then
spluttered into action. The boat began to skid away across the
embankment, firing up gooey wet clumps of sand and mud.
 For a few moments, Nicola battled with the steering wheel in a crazy
attempt to get boat to the Lake. Jasper rose up like the Swamp Thing 
behind them.
 "HEY!" he yelled over the loud, coughing motor. "HEEEEY!"
 Michael skipped overboard into the mud and gripped the hull of the 
boat with both hands. Nicola briefly looked around, saw what he was 
doing and cheered him.
 Michael may not have looked strong, but he certainly managed to 
glide the boat into the water with ease. He leaped back aboard just 
as Jasper snatched for him, then they were cruising, James-Bond-style
across the Windemere, laughing at Jasper who was caked from head to
foot with mud, doing a crude Irish jig on the embankment of the canal.
 The speed boat cut through the water like a heated blade through a 
block of warm glass. The wind soared past the kids' faces and their 
hair gushed out like flames behind them. The engine roared, the waves 
slashed apart, trees, hills, mountains whooshed past them : it was
like a fantastic dream - one they could share.
 Nicola steered the boat like a professional, taking the few corners
of the narrowing lake with exceptional care. Birds fluttered out of
their nests as they came by. Occasional fishermen and tourists 
shouted and pointed with amazement as the two eleven year olds tore
past them, screaming and laughing with joy.
 It was such an exciting experience that neither Nicola nor Michael
wanted to end. Yet they had to end it, because ahead of them, the 
northern edge of the lake began to tightly enclose - narrower and more
tretcherous with every passing yard.
 When they first saw the final barrier of land, they panicked and 
began to shout instructions to each other - even though Nicola was the 
only one in control. She waved the boat from left to right as it
speedilly enclosed on the embankment, then kept it central, desperate 
to slow down.
 "The motor!" she shouted and staggered across to it. Michael followed 
her, glancing left and right - seeing Nicola and the motor - then the 
quickly coming trees and land.
 "Oh no! We'll crash!" he gasped.
 Nicola darted to the wheel after a failed attempt to cut the engine. 
She told Michael to hang on tight.
 The boat soared up the embankment and Nicola and Michael screamed 
simultaneously. With a fountain of leaves, mud and water spraying up 
behind it, the speed boat vanished into the trees like a white dolphin 
leaping into a forest.

                                 * * *

 There were three loud knocks at the door.
 Gordon Briggs grabbed the remote, clicked off the evening sport show
and listened again. After a short silence, three more thumps.
 "Who the fuck?" Gordon muttered and staggered out of his chair. He had
been drinking and now the world was drifting around in front of his 
eyes. He found his way through the livingroom, held on to the door 
handles for support as he waded into the hall, and then leaned against 
the front door.
 "Who is it?" he called, voice unsteady.
 "Mr Briggs?" it was a man, "This is the police."
 The beer in Gordon's belly began to slide back up through his stomach 
and ascend his food pipe. As he began to blur the world back into 
focus, he pieced together the situation and realised that he had been 
conned by two eleven-year-old kids.
 Hot and zingy Websters flooded his mouth and he let the entire volume
of four cans pour onto the carpet.
 "Mr Briggs?" the Bill knocked urgently. "We need to talk to you."
 Gordon coughed, spat out the last of his beer and croaked, "Huh?"
 "We'd like to ask you a few questions. Could you open up?"
 "I don't know nothin'." he said. "Honest."
 "Mr Briggs, we'd just like to know if you've seen a young girl. Ms 
Mills' daughter. Ms Mills told us you were a friend of her late 
husband's. Now can we please come in?"
 Gordon unhooked the latch and let them in.
 "Mind the beer," he smiled weakly as two officers stepped over his 
steaming vomit.

                                 * * *

 The flickering orange flames of the camp fire deeply romanticised 
their faces. They were two survivors in a sleeping world - two stars in
a void of utter blackness. Occasionally, the fire crackled and spat at
them, but nothing more.
 They were deep in the heart of a dense wood, north of Lake Windermere.
The stars were out and Michael looked up to search for his mother and 
father in the heavens.
 Nicola was watching him dreamilly from the opposite side of the fire.
She was huddled up in a thick grey blanket that had turned green in
the dancing orange glow. She was surrounded by litter.
 Michael was chewing noisily as he knelt up and stared into the night
sky. In each of his hands, he held a different flavoured chocolate 
bar, both of which he would take a bite of, in turn, every few 
moments.
 "What are you looking for?" Nicola asked him softly.
 The fire snapped and crackled.
 "My mum and dad." Michael said and pointed up.
 Nicola frowned. "What makes you think they'll be up there?"
 "Its the heavens isn't it?" he looked at her, desperately wanting her
to say yes, tell him that he had got it right for once.
 "Yeah." she said after a while and nodded. "It's the heavens."
 An owl hooted somewhere deep inside the forest.
 Nicola sat up, "Mike?"
 "Mmmm?" he was twisting around frantically, staring at every single 
individual speck in the sky, squinting to catch a glimpse of his long
dead parents.
 "You know, there's things we need to do. Me and you."
 "Like what?" he didn't sound too enthusiastic.
 Nicola bit her lips thoughtfully. "Are you tired yet?"
 Michael had slept plenty in the Land Rover. He wasn't at all tired. 
All he wanted to do was search the skies and talk about things. Talk 
about anything and everything. The world and it's places, the universe 
and it's meaning. But he didn't know where to start.
 "Isn't it just amazing?" he said, choosing to ignore her question.
 Nicola looked down at her blanket. "Sure, it's nice."
 "Why don't you look for your dad?" he asked. 
 "I don't want to." Nicola whispered.
 She laid down, facing Michael so that she could watch him until the
sun came up. Those voices chanted things into her mind again,
sometimes they shouted and screamed, but Nicola locked them out with a
voice of her own.
 When at last Michael gave up searching, he turned his attention to the
land and began to peer inquisitively through the dark trees around the
camp sight.
 "Will any monsters come out of the woods?" he asked Nicola.
 She shook her head. "Not if you stay close to me."
 The fire snapped and hissed.
 "Can you fight them? I'm scared of them."
 "Monsters only come when a persons on their own. If theres two people,
they can't come. Two people who... well, they just don't get scared."
 A twig snapped distantly.
 Michael shuffled around the fire and knelt at the foot of Nicola's 
crude little bed. He glared into the darkness with reflections of the  
flames dancing in his eyes.
 "I used to see monsters in my grandfather's house." he said gently. 
"They do exist you know, they really do. Theres a monster for every
room. A man with orange eyes comes into the living room, a little rat
thing with yellow eyes lives in the kitchen and theres a toilet
monster too, that hisses my name..."
 Nicola sat up. "Mike, lots of monsters like those exist."
 "You've seen em?" he leaned forwards. Nicola shuffled closer to him 
and cleared her throat.
 "None of them have ever touched you though. Have they?" she 
whispered. "Well? Have they?"
 "I guess not." Michael shrugged, thinking of the curtain that he had 
thought was his grandfather's wrinkly hand. He remembered the eyes - 
nothing but street lamps. The dark lumps... only cushions.
 "There are monsters though." Nicola whispered, tears forming in her 
eyes. "But they look like people. They disguise themselves."
 Michael suddenly saw his grandfather running out of the blackness of 
the hallway. He saw the form of the old man's face appear like a demon 
from the depths of hell at the open window.
# His grandfather was the real monster.
 "Is your mum a monster?" he asked softly.
 Nicola shrugged. "Not really. She just doesn't care."
 Michael saw the tears glistening. He saw how the girl shivered and he 
noticed her skin-faded bruising for the first time in almost thirty 
hours.
 "Nicola?" he asked gently. "Tell me..."
 She raised her head and sniffed. Her cheeks were damp with tears, her 
eyes were heavy and dreamy and her hair was clinging to her moist skin.
 "Vincent!" she cried, "He's the one who hurt me."
 The fire banged loudly, echoing through the woods. Neither of the
kids took any notice.
 "He smashed up the house and-and then-" she gasped for air. "He came
to me and-and he-he-took-off-my-clothes-and-he-hurt-me."
 Michael looked away, realising her shame.
 "He hurt me." Nicola repeated softly, her voice filled with hatred.
 Without speaking, Michael quickly shuffled across the blanket and took
hold of Nicola in his arms. She squeezed him until he began to breath 
uneasily, and even then she didn't let go.
 The fire died down. Blackness flooded in.
 "Theres something I want to do." Nicola whispered in Michael's ear.
 "Tell me." he answered.
 She pulled away. "If you don't want to-"
 "What is it?" he insisted.
 "Things will change when we go to Freedom's Edge."
 "Like what?" Michael asked.
 "Well, life might be different. There are things we should experience,
just in case we're not allowed to do them in that place."
 "You haven't told me-"
 "Shhhh." her index finger pressed against his lips. After a few
moments she glided it into his mouth. He closed his lips, indulged
himself in her taste.
 What followed was an adult act in a childrens world.

                                 * * *

 A morning mist drifted ghost-like across the small, litter-ridden den 
in which Nicola and Michael lay sleeping. Ashes from the long dead camp
fire whirled and twisted like spiritual cork-screws. Birds sang, near 
and far in the hazy trees. The sky arced over the lush green woods, a 
lightly blue washed dome of never ending mystery and wonder.
 When Nicola awoke and first saw the morning mist seeping all around 
her, she thought that Freedom had truly come at last. Michael was still
asleep. He was laying across her stomach, one arm tucked around her
waist, the other rested inside her jumper.
 Gently, she eased him away and knelt up. He stirred, moaned softly 
and then cuddled up to the blanket. Nicola kissed the side of his lips,
then stretched away her fatigue and examined her surroundings.
 She stood up, then walked away into the trees.

                                 * * *

 Michael opened his eyes.
 He had been dreaming about his parents, those brief flickers of early
rememberance that had plagued him since the day they had died. Just as 
he had awoken, he felt sure he had heard a scream.
 He sat forwards and saw the ghost-like mist drifting around him. For a
frightening second he imagined that the scream had come from the waves 
of fog themselves, lost souls drifting across the surface of the Earth 
in search of their loved ones.
 He turned to Nicola.
# She was gone.
 His mind filled with millions of alternate realities... Had she taken
him all this way and then left him? Was she playing a game here? Was
he going to be alone for the rest of the trip? My god, he didn't know
where he was! Or where to go!
 "Nicola!" he whispered loudly. "Nicola!"
# Maybe she's left me after last night. Maybe I did something wrong, 
#touched her where I shouldn't have, scared her off. But she started 
#it, she said we were allowed!
 He stood up. His legs quivered like branches made from jelly.
 "Nicola!" he called, shivering terribly. "Please... come out."
 The woods were clogged with a floating white sea of souls. Everything
was so frightening and distorted. Nothing made any sense any more.
 Nicola wasn't anywhere in sight.
 "Oh Nicola come back!" he took several steps forwards, swishing 
through the greyish-black ashes of the dead fire. "Please! Come back! 
I'm scared! NICOLA! NICOLA PLEASE!"
 He began to cry - then stopped dead. In the brief moment of utter
silence, he heard a rustling noise some where through the mist to his
left. He began to tremble.
 "Nuh-Nicola, I-I'm scared!" he stuttered, "Please don't..."
 "Michael..." she was calling him. "Mike..."
 "Where are you!" he wailed, "Tell me!"
 "Come on Mike, hurry. Before they come for us."
 He whipped around. Nothing but infinite mist and trees.
 "Hurry Mike! Over here!"
 It was Nicola's voice. He was sure of it. 
 He ran blindly towards her, tripping over branches and entangling
himself in prickly vines. The air was crisp, chilly and fresh.
 At last he saw Nicola's distorted image through the mist. She was 
standing not far up ahead where the trees and the whiteness began to 
clear away from the world. After seeing her, he rushed forwards,
panting and wheezing.
 Freedom's Edge came so suddenly that Michael skidded to an abrupt halt
and stared with an open mouth at the view before him. Never in all his 
life had he seen anything so enchanting and beautiful.
 He and Nicola stood apart on the edge of a sixty-foot canyon. Far, far
below them, and everywhere until the horizon, mist and mountains
covered the earth. 
 Forests, lakes and hills swam like sea-serpents in a net of silvery
mist. Birds travelled from nest to nest : tiny black dots in a
complicated spectacle of sheer wonder.
 "This is Freedom's Edge." Nicola said softly. 
 Michael looked at her vaguely. "Isn't this Africa? Surely..."
 Nicola smiled, "This is the edge of the world. After this, there is
eternal life. Eternal freedom." 
 "Where do we go?" Michael asked, looking perplexed.
 "We leap." Nicola said, cleverly hiding the tears in her eyes. She 
took four steps nearer to Freedom's Edge and gazed down into the mist 
that lingered below. It was calling for them. "We must jump together."
 "But... but we'll fall, Nicola." Michael said.
 "Trust me." Nicola smiled and turned to him. "I love you Michael."
 He began to breath frantically, "Nickie! You said-!!"
 "I love you." she repeated more clearly. "And I want you to come with
me."
 He glanced back into the trees, "But our things, our belongings-"
 Nicola shook her head. "We don't need them."
 He turned back around, stared at the edge and said, "Nicola, I'm 
scared. I'm so scared..."
 "Don't be." Nicola said, "Come and hold my hand." She was so calm.
 Michael hesitated, staring worriedly at the blanket of mist that
swirled far below. His mind warned him with rage that there were rocks
down there, sharp spikes and prickly trees.
 "Jump over the edge?" he whispered. "But won't we-"
 "Be free. Yes." Nicola finished for him. "Michael, please. Please."
 "But we might get hurt if we-"
 "Behind the mist is freedom. We have to go now. This is the end of our
journey, Michael. We have to leap over Freedom's Edge, then we will be 
free. No more hurting, no more worries... we can be together always.
Don't you want that? Don't you love me?"
 "I... Nick, please..."
 Nicola said loudly, "Come with me Mike! Do you love me?"
 "Nicola I-"
 "Tell me, do you love me?"
 "Yes!" he shouted.
 Nicola grinned and held out her hand. "Mike, we deserve better than 
this world. Look how the people have treated us. Look how our parents 
have left us. Come with me, come and be free. Take my hand. We'll do 
this together."
 Michael took a step forwards. He held out his hand.
# People were down there. Everything was down there. They were all
#waiting. They were free and they were waiting.
 "Hold on to me very tightly." Nicola said, wiping her eyes on her 
sleeve. "Don't ever let go."
 Michael nodded, briefly closing his eyes to cancel out his fears of 
going over the Edge. If Nicola could do it, he could do it. If she was
going, so was he ; he loved her more than anything. 
 Two police helicopters appeared as narrow black lines on the horizon.
Michael saw them, Nicola soon after. She turned to the uncertain boy 
and shouted :
 "They'll take us away Mike. You'll go back to your grandfather. He'll
lock you up for good. And my mum will never let me see you. They don't 
understand."
 Michael nodded slowly. His lips curved into a smile.
 They paced to the very limits of Freedom's Edge and stared out across 
the world one last time. Michael was shivering with fear and
excitement. Nicola felt as though her blood had frozen solid.
 This was it. It was into the unknown from here.
 Nicola lifted her right foot in the air. She felt the great void of
nothingness beneath the sole of her shoe. Shock blasted through her
body like a fatal electric shock.
 "Oh Mummy..." she whispered and lost control of her bladder. Hot and 
sticky urine gushed out of her, flooded her underpants and ran speedily
down her legs. She began to cry as she prepared to make her left foot
join her right.
 Michael had closed his eyes. He was reaching out like Nicola but the 
loss of anything to support his weight had demoralised him and now he 
was frightened.
 "Nicola hurry..." he pleaded.
 The helicopters were over them. The mist was clearing because of their
presence.
 At last, when Nicola heard a man calling her name, she decided to end 
everything. Michael, who was with her all the way, was ready for her 
signal.
 "Niiiiicoooolaaaa Miiiiills!" a voice bellowed. "Heeeey!"
 "Let's fucking DO IT." Nicola said.
 All around them, the wind gusted, the trees roared and the mist 
swirled. Distant calls warned them of the dangers, coaxed them into
rejoining their loved ones, but Nicola and Michael kept their eyes
firmly closed and their minds focused.
 Together, they leaped over Freedom's Edge.