“We gotta go see what that was!” David said to Will and Scoot.

The three friends had been quietly fishing, about to pack up due to the rain when they had heard an almighty explosion from up above. That was quickly followed by the black helicopter.

David Clark, Will Peterson and Scoot Millar were good friends. The best of friends. They had grown up together, their parents knew each other, and they loved to hang out. Often, they would spend their time climbing trees, fishing, sneaking in the movie house or reading comics. They were never in. They’d go out in the morning and return home when it was dark, flying around on their bikes, keeping themselves busy.

David turned to Will and Scoot. “Well?” he said impatiently. “You coming? We seriously need to go see what’s going on! Come on! Nothing ever happens here, we gotta go check it out”.

“Yeah, I’m in” said Will without hesitation.

“But, but it’s starting to rain and you wanna go all the way up there?!” said Scoot quietly. “Were gunna get soaked”.

“Come on grandma” David said jokingly, “a bit of rain never hurt anyone, you’re not gunna melt!”.

Scoot – his actual name was Scott, but everyone had called him Scoot for as long as he could remember, shrugged and nodded. The three boys packed their fishing rods away and headed off in the general direction of the smoke. The rain was getting harder and their T shirts were soaked through.

David patted his back and checked his knife was still tucked under his shirt as they navigated the rocks and boulders around the lake edge before disappearing past the tree line.