Who We Were | Book One

9. A Small Photo

The car park that lay in front of us was barren. Only empty spaces were left in between the cracked white lines which divided the tarmac.

The building didn't seem to be in the best condition either. Letters displaying ENTRANCE flaked off the glass sliding door which had been wedged open. Cracks spiralled the glass, spreading outwards where only the door frame could stop them.

Distant groans echoed from behind and Josh readjusted himself, taking the lead in front. I picked up my feet behind him, holding the blade steady in my hand.

A mini-golf course spread out to the right of the car park. Its various hills and obstacles seemed like a life-size dot-to-dot against the green, separated by water which was an unnatural shade of bright blue. The small course was accompanied by various props made to look like a plane crash in the jungle.

It would have been fun once.

The off-white paint of the main building had started to flake and peel, revealing the rotten wooden boards covered in soft green patches beneath. The windows on the second floor were not only shielded with a layer of grime, but the double glazing had burst on all of them, further fogging the view inside.

Josh straightened his body as we reached the door and the two of us stood either side of it.

"You ready?" I hushed, wrapping my fingertips around the frame.

He nodded as his lips pulled further across his cheeks, turning upwards at the corners. "Breach and clear," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Just... open the door," he stated, his face dropping as he shook his head.

I held my breath as I pulled on the frame, bringing the door open wide. Josh crept over the threshold; his body steady as he made his way into the room. I followed close behind, matching his movements.

The ground floor stood as open space. A small café-bar area opened out to the right, decorated with wooden chairs and tables. On the back wall, the cracked black screen of a TV was hanging from its cables and twisted wires struggled against the weight. To the left of the space, golf equipment stood in metal crates and hung from falling pegs dotted along the wall.

Josh's head perked up as his eyes clocked the bar that ran along the length of the back wall where bottles lined the shelves.

"Well," he whispered, lowering his knife and striding towards it. "Looks like we picked the right place," he added, pulling the bandana from his mouth.

"Is that the best idea right now?" I half-joked, removing the wedge and pulling the door shut. I took in the room as I lowered the fabric from my mouth. The fogged windows allowed little light in, making the furniture appear as strangely-shaped silhouettes.

"I thought you were a student?" He retorted, jumping over the countertop and disappearing behind it.

"I was," I stated, scuffing my feet on the dark red carpet where mysterious stains had worked themselves into the worn fabric. "I'm usually advised against drinking in life-threatening situations..." I trailed off and stepped further into the room where pale- coloured wallpaper was peeling in large chunks from the walls and glass from the light fittings seemed to have exploded like confetti onto the carpet.

"You ever played golf?" I asked over the sound of clinking bottles as I ripped a chunk from the wallpaper.

"Only once," he replied, his head reappearing from behind the bar. His fingers were now grasped around the neck of a whiskey bottle.

He beamed as he pulled himself and his trophy back over.

"Don't you think we should check upstairs?" I motioned to the dark wooden staircase behind the counter.