The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Thirty-Five - Samuel

Samuel - June 2019

'This way,' Billy whispered. Well, he thought he was whispering but the risky volume at which he spoke caused Sam's eyes to dart around the campsite. Surely Billy's ever-clumsy nature would end this night-time adventure before it had even begun.
​'I saw them this way. I swear.' Billy excitedly glanced back to Sam who was watching for every guy rope in their path. He could just foresee Billy's foot becoming tangled and sending him careering through the pitch of the late evening and clambering onto someone's tent, turning their peaceful sleep into a cling-film wrap of tent lining.
​'There!'
​'Shh!' Sam found himself hushing Billy, as he enthusiastically jabbed towards the faint grey outline of a line of bikes resting against the fence of the campsite entrance.
​The campsite which they had temporarily set up at for the evening, allowing them to take advantage of a nearby pub that had been raved about apparently before they would head back home tomorrow, was only about a five minute drive from where Dave had taken them out on the lake. And where, of course, the hotel resided.
​'I don't think I saw a bike lock on here,' Billy started and then turned to Sam with a sly grin. 'They are too trusting up here in the Lakes. That would have disappeared back home by now.'
​He laughed, and Sam winced. He could already feel his dad's grasp over his shoulder.
​'What are you doing?' he would say, already knowing that Sam had betrayed him. Already aware of exactly where Sam would be going.
​'Sleepwalking, Mr. Knight,' Sam imagined Billy to reply. A haphazard reply from a boy of clumsy nature.
​'Back to bed,' his dad would command, sternly. And then he would watch them until they were back in bed.
​And even though Billy would likely suggest they just sneak out once again when his dad falls back to sleep, Sam knew that he would likely stay awake to keep watch... there was something about the man in the hotel that had changed something in his dad...
​'Yes! I was right!' Billy cheered, and again, Sam was brought back to the crisp, dark night with a shiver of embarrassment.
​'Quiet, Billy! They will hear us!' Sam whispered.
​Billy shooed Sam and haphazardly untangled one of the bikes from the rest. A thick framed mountain bike. Sam followed Billy and took the one behind it, gently shaking its pedal loose from the entanglement of the one it leant against.
​'Right, so you know where we are going, yes?' Sam confirmed with Billy.
​Billy raised a podgy finger and tapped his temples. His eyes narrowed as his cheeks rose into a wide grin.
​'Oh yes. It is all in here. End of the road, turn right. Ride down that road. Miss the first left, turn down the second left. Ride down through the forest, and then we will arrive at the opening where the canoes were. From there, I will follow you up the path you and your dad walked up with Dave.'
​Sam nodded. 'Right.'
​'Let's go. Its...' Billy pulled back his coat from around his wrist and revealed a Velcro strapped canvas watch strap fronted with a bright red and white Pokeball face. 'Eleven PM. I reckon it'll take us fifteen minutes at least. And then we have to hope the hotel is still open...'
​'It should be. I think it was going on until midnight.'
​'Then we better get going,' Billy nodded, hoisted up the bike, and then shuffled it forward until it was rolling enough on its own momentum for him to pick up his feet. Sam followed suit, and soon they had rolled down over the grass, through the gate, and were riding along the gravel of the road and away from the stone walled campsite.

'Bloody... hell... this... is... posh...' a sweaty faced and breathless Billy gasped as he dropped the bike, walked forward and leaned over, propping himself on his knees.
​'Are you going to throw up?' Sam cautiously approached him, setting his bike down a little more carefully than Billy had.
​'No... just... getting my breath...' He straightened up and Sam could see that he had given himself head rush as he stumbled back slightly. Sam steadied him with his hand.
​'Looks like the party is still going on.'
​'Yep.'
​'Let's get inside and find this mystery man. You know what he looks like close up?'
​Sam nodded. 'I think I'll remember him when I see him. He was a Manager, I think. The guy behind the bar called him to come down when an older man was complaining.'
​Billy's eyes seemed to light up.
​'What are you thinking?' Sam quickly questioned.
​'Follow me,' he beamed.
​Sam felt his stomach tingle. He did not have a good feeling about this...
​As they moved into the grand entrance to the hotel once again, Sam felt a familiarity overcome him. He was back. But this time, he had a different purpose. A mission. Find the mystery man. Find Ryan Roberts.
​'Where would he be?' Billy mouthed.
​Sam was sure he was speaking, but as they stepped further inside, the wave of country music, heat from a bustling room of filled armchairs, and waft of food seemed to block his voice from reaching Sam's ears. Sam pointed to the other end of the bar, further away from the busyness of the lounge area with large windows, and instead towards a few trolleys aligned for suitcases parked neatly beside a lush leather sofa and tall, leaning, and leafy plant.
​As they plopped down onto the sofa, Sam could feel his hearing returning and he turned to Billy, who surveyed the room eagerly.
​'What do we do?' Sam asked.
​Billy pinched his lips in thought. 'I...'
​At that moment, two metallic doors to their left obscured by the large plant, and which they had not noticed before, slid open. Behind them, a smartly dressed man mid conversation with another younger man was revealed – Sam recognised them both instantly. One was Maxwell, the barman from earlier in the day. And the other...
​'Is that him?' Billy asked, eagerly.
​'It is,' Sam agreed.
​'What's his name again?' Billy asked, as Ryan and Maxwell moved from the lift, deep in conversation.
​'...and are you sure you will be okay? Do you have enough staff?' Sam caught the end of Ryan asking Maxwell.
​'Ryan,' Sam answered from the corner of his mouth to Billy.
​'Got it.'
​'Why?'
​Before Sam could even get the question fully out, Billy had sprung from the sofa and was chasing Ryan and Maxwell towards the bustling crowd.
​'Mr. Ryan! Mr. Ryan!'
​'Billy!' Sam leapt from the sofa and followed after them, marching along the wooden floors of the hotel with such force his legs instantly pulled with pain as if as tight as the string of a bow under tension. His heart started to pick up pace to match his stride.
​'Mr. Ryan!' Billy called again.
​He was getting closer. Sam wasn't. For the first time he could barely keep up with Billy, Maxwell, and Ryan.
​'Mr. Ryan!'
​They stopped. All of them. Billy leant over, out of breath again. And Sam caught up, finally. His heart yoyoing as his eyes shot from Billy to the backs of Ryan and Maxwell's heads. Just as Ryan and Maxwell turned around, a look of puzzlement across their faces. And then, he saw Sam. Ryan continued to turn his body to fully be facing Sam.
​But Sam was left breathless. And not from the running, or the bike riding, or the shock. His chest clenched. Suddenly face to face with Ryan, the mystery man, and without proper planning of knowing what he was even going to say. The air left his lungs. Not now, not when he finally had a chance to get the answers he needed. He fell deaf to the room and suddenly Ryan, Maxwell, and Billy were moving away from him. He reached out and his palm met the relieving steely cold of the door handle to the outside. He pulled with what little strength in his body he had. And he pushed himself outside, staggering forward and gasping breaths of the chill night air. He fell to the floor.
​Sam clenched his eyes shut. Spots ricocheted under his eyelids and he breathed. In, and out. In through his nose. Such deep breaths that it stung a little as the icy air flowed down through his throat and into his chest. And out through his mouth, shakily.
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
​He laid back and gently allowed his eyes to open. Above him, the night sky was framed by the spiky tops of the trees, and stars glimmered far, far in the distance.
​'Are you okay?' the voice came, but it wasn't Billy's.
​Sam didn't sit up. He stayed laying down and replied to the sky. His whole body now weak, and limp.
​'Yeah...'
​'A panic attack?' the voice asked.
​Sam almost felt emotional at the admittance of this. 'Yes.'
​He laughed. 'I've had one or two of those in my time. Here,' the man, Ryan Roberts, extended a hand out into Sam's vision. He took it and was eased up to a sitting position.
​Only now did Sam realise that Ryan was actually sat down on the floor beside him, still in his suit, and with a glass of water in his other hand.
​'This is for you. It's chilled.'
​Sam gratefully took the glass, and downed several glugs, before positioning it on the floor in front of him. He placed his hands around it and felt the icy cold flowing up through his palms, into his wrists, and up his arms. Sam let out a shuddering breath.
​'Tiring things, panic attacks. You did well to get outside.'
​Sam nodded. 'Wh-where is Billy?'
​Ryan laughed. 'Oh, don't worry. Maxwell is getting him a coke, a snack, and a good seat to watch the band for now. I came to check on you myself.'
​'Thank you.'
​'You're fine. So, why are you here tonight?'
​Sam's eyes widened and he searched his head for a reason. Any reason. But his weary head, and the anxiety already bubbling in his stomach pleaded with him to tell the truth.
​'To find you.'
​Ryan grinned. 'Does your dad know you're here?'
​Sam dropped his head and shook slowly.
​'I see. I'm Ryan,' he offered kindly.
​'Sam.'
​'Nice to meet you, Sam.' He paused, and then moved his body, cross legged, to look out from the hotel and out over the river. To look at the same view offered by the hotel lobby with its tall glass windows.
​At night, there was something almost eerie about the surrounding scenery. The illumination of the hotel created faint silhouettes of trees in the immediate surrounding, and across the lake the mountain peaks, backlit only by the soft glow of the moon, cast the space between the hotel and the mountain tops into an inky darkness. It was dark, but calm, and quiet. So quiet.
​'It's peaceful, isn't it?' Ryan appreciated aloud.
​Sam nodded. 'Very.' He paused for a second. 'Ryan, how do you know my dad?'
​Ryan didn't turn to face Sam but let out a long sigh.
​'From many, many years ago. Before you were born.' A small, shaky laugh fell from his mouth.
​'Like, in school?'
​Ryan smiled. 'Something like that.'
​'Did you...' Sam stopped himself, but then the image of his notebook, and the glittering 'A' on the front came into mind. 'Did you know my mum, too?'
​This time Ryan didn't speak, he ran his hand over his face, and then nodded short, small nods.
​'I don't think you should have come here tonight, Sam. It was very dangerous to ride up here alone.'
​'I know...'
​'Your dad will be worried.'
​Sam gulped, and his cheeks warmed in embarrassment.
​'Can I call him for you? To come and pick you up?'
​Sam quickly shook his head. 'Me and Billy can ride back.'
​'Let me drive you back to where you are staying at least. Is it far?'
​'It's just down the road. The stone walled campsite if you know it?'
​Ryan smiled. 'I do. They weren't very happy when we opened the hotel here actually. A shame really as I was actually always quite fond of camping so was rather upset that we had made things difficult for them... anyway, let me go grab your friend and we can get you home safely. Stay here, okay?'
​'Yes.'
​'Up you get.' Ryan hopped to his feet, and then pulled Sam up to meet him.
​As Ryan turned away from Sam, he felt his heart lurch and words were travelling up to his tongue before he could stop them.
​'Why did my dad take me away from you so quickly yesterday?'
​Ryan staggered to a halt, and his shoulders dropped slightly.
​'I don't think it's my place to say, Sam. I'm sorry.' He turned to Sam again. 'I really am. Let's get you back to your dad safely, okay?'
​Sam nodded. As Ryan re-entered the hotel, Sam felt defeated. What had he achieved tonight by coming here? All they had done was break the trust he had with his dad, and he knew nothing more about Ryan...
​And now his dad was more than likely going to wake up when they got back to the campsite and not talk to him for the rest of the weekend. He sighed. Tomorrow marked the last day of their time camping too, and someone knew his secret. And as the note had only appeared at the start of the camping trip, he was convinced that by the end of the trip the author of the note, whoever it was, would ensure that everyone would know the secret. A secret that would likely come out and distract his dad from having to tell him the story of him and Ryan.