Demon's Well

By E. R. Mason

Not far from the scenic shores of Southend-on-Sea, a place of mystery and intrigue awaits those reckless enough or bold enough to visit. Through the years Demon House earned it's name through rumor and superstition. But, were people really disappearing there? Why was an attractive, mysterious woman suddenly so determined to uncover its secret? And, just how much risk was Jax Eaton willing to take in such a misadventure to be near her? Little does he know, time is not on his side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. R. Mason
• Release date: Mar 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9780692407677

E. R. Mason

This is the place where many people write their profile in the third person so it sounds like someone else is writing about them. I'm just not comfortable with that. Instead, let's assume that you are the literary authority, (which you are) and I your applicant. Here are my qualifications; As far back as childhood, my passion for space travel, and flight was so strong it was nearly painful. In contrast, I grew up on a horse ranch in Connecticut. It was a rough and ready place. We participated in horse shows and rodeos. My friend Bill Larson rode with us. Somewhere around sixth grade, Bill discovered rock and roll, and dragged me into it, thereby ruining my life forever. We began developing bands around grade six, an addiction that remains strong to this day. Bill is presently lead guitarist for the rock band Road Work, based in Connecticut. http://theroadworkband.com/fr_intro.cfm Bill also introduced me to an even wider range of adventures such as swinging out over a cliff on a knotted rope, climbing Mt. Washington in the freezing rain, and sailing a small boat in the tail end of a hurricane. Two of those did not end well. We attended The Norwich Free Academy High School which is larger than many college campuses, and still reminds me of Hogwarts. There I became completely enamored with a gifted English teacher named Janice MacIntyre. She will always be a part of my inspiration. Somewhere along the way, I found the works of John D. MacDonald. He has remained my favorite author ever since. There I also began writing screen plays and fiction. I began my study of the martial arts at NFA and that continued for many, many years until I finally became a black belt student instructor at a Merritt Island, Florida Taekwondo Center under Masters Walter Simpson, Michael Raney, and half a dozen other gifted instructors. When I was nineteen, I finally got a chance to fly a Piper Cherokee, and have been flying ever since. Because SCUBA diving is much like an EVA, I also became a certified diver and have done quite a bit of salt water, fresh water, and cave diving. The currents of life, which we only think we control, eventually carried me to the Kennedy Space Center. I worked there as a Coordinator for twenty-five years, mostly on the Eastern Range side. I have innumerable rocket stories. I struggled to find the time to write The Empty Door and The Virtual Dead in that period. There I also met bassist-extraordinaire, Stormi ...

Book preview

1

Demon's Well

by

E.R. Mason

Smashwords Version

Copyright 2015 by E.R. Mason

All rights reserved

All characters in this book are fictional

and any resemblance to persons living

or dead is purely coincidental

ISBN: 978-0-692-40767-7

EDITOR:

Tom Macomber

contact info:

[e-mail]

Special Advisors:

Neil Beresford

Northampton, Northamptonshire, UK

Steve Hanrahan

Chelmsford, Essex, UK

My Luftwaffe is invincible . . . And so now we turn to England. How long will this one last - two, three weeks?

Hermann Goring - June 1940

Chapter 1

For such a legendary ghost house the old mansion did not seem particularly menacing, even in the shadowy gloom of early evening. The place did possess a certain emptiness beyond that of abandonment; a mournful hollowness conjured up by faint, ghostly howls of despair carried in the stale wind. It was old and Victorian. Brown brick with embedded designs, tall bay windows trimmed in white. Several tall chimneys within the mansard roofing accented elaborate cornice architecture. Failing turret tiles were burnished faintly in gold that still reflected the setting sun as the shadows grew like threatening phantoms and warped in the fading light. The cry of a lonely animal lamented the slow death of the place.

Willow trees lined the overgrown drive ending at a dying grand oak guarding the front entrance. To the east, a long, run-down dairy barn with ragged silo rising leaned in the distance. Beyond it, a dense forest bordered the east property line. No one ever came to this place anymore. Ghost stories and rumors kept most trespassers away.

Jax Eaton did not believe in ghosts. Although he was born in the U.S., he had spent most of his life in England where many homes appeared old or Victorian. He eyed this mansion’s portico, an entrance that would provide enough concealment to force open a side door. Overgrown bushes and vine made its stone steps almost inaccessible, but if breaking in and exploring this old place would impress the object of his desire, then the task had to be considered imperative. Just getting this close to her had not been easy. The girl was keeping secrets. She was as mysterious as she was desirable.

Jax dared a sideward glance at the enchanting Skyla Corina. She was standing so close the gentle evening breeze was lifting her fine reddish-brown hair against him. The scent of her perfume carried across his face. She seemed indifferent to the closeness, but then there was never a way to really know what she was thinking. Nothing about her was easy to understand. She was not glamorous, but she was irresistible. She claimed to be from a poor family, but her clothes fit too well. The grey-blue bedroom eyes required very little makeup. Fine, delicate lines formed the rose-colored lips, and there was a natural touch of pink in the softness of her cheeks. She claimed never to work out, but her figure was as perfect as the rest of her. Even more perplexing, Skyla was not always truthful.

The deceit was unmistakable. After school, she would accept rides home from him, but not all the way. She had to be dropped off at least a street or two away. She would not say exactly why. He had dared to secretly follow her on two occasions, but both times she had vanished into the dark alleys of the run-down neighborhood.

A tug at Jax’s shirt sleeve snapped him back to reality. Remy Summerfield, his best friend, stood on his opposite side, scowling. Remy was pudgy and slightly overweight, standard physique for a techno geek who spent most waking hours seated in front of a monitor. Remy shook a lock of black hair out from in front of his face and spoke in a half-hearted whisper. The place creeps me out. Let’s duck out of here.

Hoping Skyla wouldn’t hear, Jax leaned in and tried to sound reassuring. It’s just an old house, Rem. Wood, nails, and peeling paint, nothing more. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

Yeah, what about all those people over the years? What about them?

Tall tales, Rem. Scary stories by a campfire. They’re nothing.

The James brothers weren’t nothing. I knew those guys.

They took off with that rock band. Everybody knows that. They didn’t disappear. Come on, already.

There’s more besides them. It’s some kind of conspiracy.

Not that again. I never should have asked you to Google the place.

We’re not going down into the basement, right?

You laddies getting scared without your Mummies, are you? Skyla asked mockingly.

Jax flushed. Gimme a break. Ready when you are.

You at least got a lantern for me? asked Remy.

Jax drew a small penlight from his breast pocket and handed it over. Remy scowled and took it.

Why are you armchair warriors talking in such low tones? There’s nobody around here for miles. We need to get along. It’s almost dark. Skyla gave Jax a gentle push forward.

Yeah but the police patrol this place from time to time. It’d be just our luck to get picked up, replied Remy.

Skyla ignored the warning and looked at Jax. Can you get that door open without making too much of a mess?

There’s not even a deadbolt. I’ll pop it open in a wink.

Let’s go then, wussies. Skyla trotted off across the open lawn and took cover in bushes by the portico door.

Jax rolled his eyes, glanced at his disapproving friend, and dashed off after her. At the steps, he feigned disinterest in his heart’s desire, paused briefly to look around, then climbed to the portico door. Pulling a screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans, he jammed it in the seam of the frame and cracked the weathered wood until the latch jumped free from the strike plate. As an out of breath Remy caught up, Jax brushed away the leaves and branches dragging beneath, then opened the door enough to slip inside.

The air smelled musty. Dim light leaked through colorless, ragged curtains. As Jax’s eyes struggled to focus, the other two pushed in behind him and bumped up too close as though they were both afraid. All three flashlights switched on simultaneously. There was a small dust-covered reception area ahead. Coat racks on the right were back-dropped by peeling, faded wallpaper. An antique table stood tilted on the left, covered with small creature footprints in a deep layer of dust. Overhead, there was an ancient hanging lamp with cobwebs and below it rotten brown carpet. Closed double doors offered a room beyond.

Remy spoke. Well, I’ve seen enough. Ready to leave?

Skyla sneered. Jax ignored them both and went to the double doors. He tucked his light under one arm, twisted the knobs and pushed the doors open. Bouncing flashlight beams revealed a large cobweb-covered sitting room amply decorated with antiques.

What the hell? All the furniture is still here! said Remy. See!

The demons just walked away from this place, suggested Jax.

Nope, replied Remy. They took a second mortgage to try to get their business going again. They were still trying to make it.

Ooo, Demon’s Lair! Skyla teased.

"It’s pronounced de-moan, not demon, replied Remy. He hesitated a moment then stepped up beside Jax. I hear a clicking noise."

The three paused and scanned their lights around the room. Somewhere from the shadows a constant, repetitive ticking sound interrupted the emptiness. As Jax and Remy scoured the area for an answer, Skyla broke away and disappeared into the darkness, her beam floating in the air like an apparition.

There’s no electricity here. What’s gonna be making a noise in a place like this? asked Remy.

Over here, children, called Skyla in still another tease.

For gosh sake, keep it down, insisted Remy.

There’s no one here, Rambo. It’s this grandfather clock, that’s all, said Skyla.

Jax and Remy followed her light and stood staring at the dusty, intricately carved clock in the corner of the room. The pendulum was swinging behind the glass door. The clock face read 6:10.

I wouldn’t be too sure no one’s here, replied Jax in a normal voice. Someone must’ve reset the weights in this thing.

The three explorers froze in a moment of doubt, listening for the sounds of undesirable company.

Skyla shrugged it off. How long can a clock like this run on one setting?

Remy responded, Twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Jax is right. Someone’s been here.

Well, there’s no one here now. Let’s go, she insisted.

The dim light through the ragged window curtains had all but faded away. Following jumping flashlight beams, they crept from room to room, occasionally pausing to brush away cobwebs, each room a different version of dreary abandonment. In the large kitchen, dirty dishes still waited in the sink. Serving plates were scattered across the dust-covered counter tops amid rags and rodent droppings.

Remy kept stopping to brush at his hair, fearing spiders or bugs. Haven’t you seen enough? he complained as the other two continued ahead. He hurried to catch them, but to his dismay, in the adjoining dining area, Skyla’s light found a stairwell. Immediately she went to it and started up followed by Jax. Remy hurried along and grabbed the handrail then scoffed and stopped to wipe the dust from his hand.

The mansion’s second floor was as desolate as the rest of the house. It was comprised of a stagnant array of dilapidated bedrooms, fully furnished complete with remnants of moldy clothing still hanging in some of the closets. The hallway carpet was so old and rotting it crunched beneath their feet. Pictures on the wall hung unevenly. Wallpaper peeled to the floor in places. As Skyla approached the corridor’s end, Jax dared to reach out and catch her by an arm. It’s all the same, Sky. There’s nothing else to see.

Oh really, she replied, and she pulled open a small door at hallway’s end. It revealed a narrow staircase leading upward. Third floor, she said, and with a swipe at cobwebs, she headed upward.

The ascending passageway was so narrow Jax’s shoulders rubbed against the walls. He glanced back at Remy to find him brushing the grime and dirt from his sleeves. Remy paused and looked up. She’s daft, you know? All this just because you fancy her, Jax-man? he said.

Jax rolled his eyes and continued up.

The third floor was an attic divided into several rooms that appeared to have been used to support household staff. Trunks and boxes were stacked everywhere. Still more cobwebs decorated the peaked ceilings. Some doors were only waist high. Warped boards lined the floors. There was the smell of something rotten, though it was impossible to tell what it was or where it was coming from. Periodically the sound of wind whistling through small spaces sounded like whispers from the dark.

All through the exploration, Skyla seemed to be searching for something. Finally, Jax could stand it no longer. Sky, are we just checking the place out, or are you actually looking for something?

For the briefest of moments, Skyla seemed uncomfortable. She recovered quickly. We could look for traces of some of the people who supposedly disappeared here. Just imagine if we found something.

So that’s it? You’re playing detective, sort of? Even if you did find something you’d have to turn it in, after which we’d probably be busted.

Maybe I want to write a book about this place. Maybe it would make a great story. Skyla brushed at her sleeves as she continued to wander from room to room.

I didn’t know you were a writer. You never told me that.

Anyone who wants to write can be a writer, silly.

Remy came up behind them. Not Jax, he said. He flunked English two years in a row.

Jax cast a look of disgust at his friend. Thank you! Thank you so much. It was because I didn’t have time to read, not because I couldn’t write.

Skyla let out a squeaky laugh then coughed to try to cover it up. That’s it for this floor, boys. On to the basement.

Remy complained. Not the basement, you guys . . . Oh, come on!

As they squeezed into the narrow stairwell and started down, Jax stepped on something and nearly lost his footing. He stopped and fumbled with the flashlight to find it. There, glinting in the light near the wall was a set of keys, half a dozen on a rusty-looking keychain. He stooped and picked them up, holding the light for a better look.

Oh this is weird, he said as he thumbed through them. Skyla stopped and came back up to him.

Let me see, she said, and she took them.

I can’t tell if they’re real old, or what, said Jax. Remy peered over his shoulder.

Two of these are separate and look like car keys, said Skyla.

I’ll tell you what it’s about, insisted Remy. They were lost by the guy who set the clock. The bank must have somebody coming out here to keep an eye on the place. He keeps the clock running so it won’t freeze up, and he lost his keys on the last visit. It’s for sure he’ll be back to look for them.

He’d wait for daylight, said Jax.

Which means we can continue, said Skyla

Oh brother, mumbled Remy under his breath.

Skyla headed down the stairs and pushed out the door to the second floor. As they made their way down the hall, she stopped to open a dusty glass cabinet. Jax and Remy squeezed by and went on to the main staircase. As they approached it, there was suddenly a loud creaking like a rusty door opening. They froze and peered cautiously around the corner to look down at the main floor.

On the first floor, double doors to an adjoining room were open. They had not been before. Yellow light was coming from within. As they watched, a dark figure suddenly looked out. Jax and Remy quickly pulled back.

Oh crap, and now I hear somebody up in the attic! whispered Remy. How can that be? We just came from there?

What’s downstairs? What did you guys see? asked Skyla in a hushed tone.

Somebody in a black uniform. It has to be a bobby. Somebody must have seen our lights in the windows. We’re screwed, complained Remy.

I didn’t hear any police cars pull up, replied Jax.

It’s for sure they’ll have one to take us away, moaned Remy.

It’s a big house. We can get out of here without being seen. They’re probably not even sure anybody’s here. All we need to do is stay out of sight and make a dash for it as soon as the coast is clear, whispered Skyla.

Well let’s go then, said Remy nervously.

No, no. Jax held up one hand while sneaking another look around the corner. We can’t go out the same way we came in. We’d never make it. There was a door on the north side. Go down the stairs, through the living room, and out that door. Just follow the edge of the woods back to the car. And, it has to be one at a time and real careful. If we try to charge out of here in a crowd, they’ll see us for sure. So, one at a time, we slip around to the north entrance and meet up at the car. Got it?

Remy stood up straight. I’ll go first.

Jax looked at him reassuringly. No light, right?

Remy sneered. Duh. . . .

Skyla will go after you. I’ll be last. It looks okay down there. Stay below the railing all the way, Rem.

With a last look of annoyance, Remy crept down the staircase. One large creak caused him to pause worriedly. Jax and Skyla leaned around the corner and watched breathlessly.

At the bottom of the stairs, Remy skirted along one wall and slipped out of sight into the next room.

Jax turned to Skyla. He’s going to make it. Your turn.

With a quick look of determination, Skyla pushed by Jax so closely it excited him. She stepped quietly down the stairs never taking her eyes of the lighted room. At the base of the staircase, she ducked around the corner and was gone.

Jax readied himself and shook his head. This was exactly the type of situation that always seemed to blow up in his face. But, at least there were no regrets. If he had to do this over again just to get near Skyla, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Jax crept to the top step. Up until now, the stairwell had been friendly. There had been no sagging steps and only a single creaking board. Halfway down, Jax managed to find the one. Even though he placed his weight with the utmost of care, the board let out a whine and groan that would have awakened the dead. He froze.

From the lighted room there came the sound of a fireplace poker being withdrawn from its holder. A shadow suddenly appeared at the open door. It crept along as though stalking something. Jax hurried down the remaining stairs. It looked as though he could make the turn, but it was not to be. The black suited figure appeared in the doorway holding the poker. Jax dove down below the banister and watched, wide-eyed. Fireplace glow from within the open room flickered like a strobe. The figure paused by the door for a moment, searching.

Jax considered his options. With an all-out run, he might make the woods. On the other hand, if there was a police car and officer out there, he might just run right into them. Why was a cop wielding a fireplace poker, anyway? Either way, this was not the place to be.

Jax dashed into the next room and kept on to the back door. It had been left open for him. On the porch, Remy was still crouched down waiting. Together they ran across the open lawn to the forest edge where Skyla peered out from the bushes.

You guys were supposed to meet me at the car, complained Jax.

I don’t have the keys to Jax’s car. Do you have keys, Remy? asked Skyla.

Nope, I do not have any car keys.

Okay, okay, very funny. Let’s get out of here, conceded Jax.

Back at the car, Remy leaned against the hood to catch his breath. Ow! What the hell?

What now, Rem? asked Jax.

The engine is still hot on this thing. How can the hood still be this hot?

Who cares? Let’s just get out of here, complained Skyla.

On the road, the mood settled to quiet relief. I’ve been thinking, said Jax, I’m not sure that was a cop back there.

How good a look did you get? asked Skyla.

Only a glimpse and it was bad fireplace light, but there was something about the guy that didn’t look right.

A cop made a fire in the fireplace? asked Skyla. Since when do the police build fires in somebody’s fireplace?

They would if they were there to watch the place for a whole shift or something, said Remy.

Why would the police station somebody at Demon House? said Skyla sarcastically.

How about if there was a crime committed there? countered Remy.

Okay, you’ve got me there. And after all, we are detectives investigating mysterious happenings, commented Skyla.

Is that what this is all about? asked Jax. Are you playing amateur sleuth or something? Trying to solve the mystery of Demon House?

It’s an idea, she replied.

But there’d be crime scene tape around the place if that was the case, countered Remy. The cop you saw, was he wearing a PC helmet? You know, the kind that’s rounded at the top?

No. He didn’t have any hat at all. He did have a leather strap running down his back, though.

Cop, definitely, said Remy.

Oh yeah, he had black leather boots that came up to the knee.

Oh man. Speed cop. He must have been on a motorcycle. That’s why we didn’t see any cars outside, and that’s why no hat. He left it on his bike.

We made a clean getaway, my fellow sleuths. There’s nothing to worry about, said Skyla confidently.

So did we satisfy your insatiable curiosity then? Are you over it? asked Jax.

Are you kidding? We didn’t check out any of the northern rooms, and I must see the basement, said Skyla.

Oh boy, here we go. Welcome to my nightmare, mumbled Remy.

Besides, I still have these. Skyla held up the keys they had found and jingled them.

Jax stared silently ahead trying to get his mind around another trespass. He did his best to sound indifferent. When would you want to make another trip?

Tomorrow. This time I want to go during daylight. You miss too much using just flashlights. And I need to take some photos. I can’t do that well enough at night.

It was not the answer Jax was hoping for. Aren’t you afraid they’ll be waiting for us after what happened tonight?

And I got news for you, Missy. You’ll need flashlights in there even in the day. The place is like a tomb.

We’ll be sly. We’ll make sure no one’s there and we’ll have a preplanned escape route, said Skyla.

But why so soon? asked Jax.

Time is of the essence, she answered. Haven’t you ever heard that?

How about curiosity killed the cat, Sky? Ever hear that? asked Remy.

Chapter 2

He stretched out on his bed and clicked away on his mobile phone. Only seven people had won the Diamond Maze game. He was number 3 on the list. The most important trick was remembering where you had already been. Jax’s photographic memory was serving him well. The only interruption now was thoughts of the day gone by. He had been bumping up against her almost continuously during the exploration and she had not complained. That closeness gave him warm feeling bordering on erotic arousal. Returning to Demon House tomorrow would be an unwise and risky venture. Jax couldn’t wait.

He paused to check his wristwatch: 6:50 P.M. He had promised to pick up his Mom at 8:00, so there was plenty of time. The familiar pang of guilt arose in him. She was working late again. He hated the fact she was supporting him. Lately jobs had not been easy to find around Southend-on-Sea. The best he could do was part-time work here and there, usually manual labor. With school now behind him, there was no chance at higher education. No way to finance that. His grades were fair to good, but even if he could enroll somewhere it would mean moving away and leaving his mother on her own. That thought was unacceptable. Her health was slowly becoming a more and more of a problem. Sooner or later he would become the sole provider.

Jax glanced at the photo of his Dad on the dresser, a man he had never met. Strangely, somehow it felt as though he knew him. Such tragic irony. A top test pilot risking his life on a daily basis, killed by a fuel tank mistakenly left empty. Steve Eaton had been taken a short time after Jax’s birth. The toll on his Mom had been catastrophic. She had avoided all romantic contact afterward, choosing to devote her life to her son, all she had left of the man she’d so loved. Jax drifted off into a light, dreamless sleep.

The sound of the mobile phone brought Jax back to reality. He fumbled to answer.

Jax, you’re going to come get me right? his Mom asked.

Jax sat up, jerked his hand up and looked at his watch. Yeah, Mom. I thought you said 8:00. It’s only 7:30.

It’s 8:30, Jax. I’m ready to come home.

Jax looked over at the clock radio by his bed. It glared 8:30. Mom, I’m sorry. My watch must’ve stopped. I’m on my way.

That’s okay sweetie. Don’t rush now. Please be careful. I’m okay.

Jax tore down the steps and squealed his tires pulling out onto the road. He used every shortcut available to reach his tired parent.

I’m really sorry, Mom, he said as she climbed into the car.

It’s alright dear. I know how easy it is to lose track of time.

No, it was my watch, Mom. Somehow the thing was an hour slow, but I can’t find a thing wrong with it. It must have stopped for some reason.

I didn’t mind waiting. How was your day?

It was okay. I hung out with Remy.

How is Remington? Has he decided on a school or a job yet?

He’s probably going with Drax Industries. He can continue his education while he works for them. The guy’s such a computer genius anybody would take him.

And how about you? I know it’s only been a week since graduation, but have you thought any more about what you’d like to do?

I’m staying around here for the time being, Mom. I’ll get something pretty soon. Until then, I can make some money with odd jobs here and there.

That’s fine, dear. I’ll be glad to have you around. I’m sure things will work out. You’re so talented and so smart about so many things. You know your father had the same uncanny memory that you have. You inherited that from him.

I know, Mom.

And there’s no rush for you to hurry off to college. Many people wait these days.

There’s a job advert for a caddy up at the Golf Club. I thought I might talk to them.

Oh, that’s a great idea, but what do you know about such things?

It’s easy, Mom. Each golf club has a distance range. I don’t need to know that much. I’ll just skim over all the brands and their characteristics.

You can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen it time and time again.

Thanks, Mom. I love you.

Cynthia Eaton looked over at her son with adoring eyes. She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Jax smiled back at her and struggled to put away his secret misgivings about the future.

Jax awoke to the irritating buzz of his date-time clock, just as he had most mornings of his life. He squinted against the morning light and for a moment considered blindly slapping the snooze button. The clock’s green light flashed insistently. He turned his head and strained to focus on the date and time: July 02 2007, 08:30 A.M. Something felt different this time. A new kind of depression suddenly began to well up inside him. Senior school was finished. Most of his friends were getting ready to leave for college somewhere. For Jax that was not an option.

He looked again at the glaring date: July 06 2007, 08:31. Time was moving ahead. It would not wait for anyone. There was no turning it back. How had he come to be at such a dead end time and place? Who was he supposed to be now? Where was he supposed to go? It was as though time had dropped him off on the side of the road and abandoned him there.

The mobile phone gave off its special Skyla ring tone. Jax jumped, nearly cut himself with the razor, fumbled placing it on the soapy dish, and had to struggle to stop it from falling to the floor. He quickly wiped his wet hands on his jeans and hurried not to miss her call.

Hey Ace, ready for another adventure? Skyla’s voice was teasing and seductive.

Jax tried to sound aloof. You sure about this?

You kidding? I’ve already got Remington. I had to buy him tea to get him going.

Remy’s there? How did you manage that? Even I can’t get him going in the morning.

I know. I was afraid he’d cop out, so I went to his home and his Aunt let me in his bedroom. I took his covers. Just lucky he wears pajamas. But, did you know they have little turtles all over them? Now his Aunt thinks I’m one of his love interests. LOL.

Okay, I may be dreaming but if I’m not, where are you guys?

At the café. You coming?

On my way.

Do you have a camera?

Yeah.

Digital?

Yeah.

Bring it, please?

Jax made the café in record time. Inside he quickly found his two companions and as he approached, Skyla surprised him by scooting over so he could sit beside her. He did his best