Chapter One

The first thing Vick did was keep his eyes closed. They taught him that. In any situation where it’s dark and danger is coming, keep your eyes closed and your ears open.

His eyes were comfortably shut. He’d done this a thousand times before: shut your eyes enough like you’re going to sleep, and focus all your energy on staying still and listening. The techniques were similar to light meditation, but the end result was about to be the very opposite.

Vick heard the front door handle move an inch. His bedroom was upstairs and on the other side of the house to the front door, but he could hear the front door opening like he was stood next to it.

Another inch. Stop. Another inch. Stop. Another inch.

The door moved from its latch. The sound of outside flooded in and filled the house. A faint wind, a drop in temperature. A big boot stepped onto the welcome mat. Vick returned the gesture, lightly dropping his bare foot on to the bedroom floor. He smoothly followed it with his other foot, moving into a crouch position at the side of the bed.

Vick heard another boot step onto the welcome mat, then the door creak partially shut. Whoever this was, they didn’t shut the door to the latch—they either didn’t intend on sticking around or they were about to be followed in by somebody else.

Vick knew it would be the latter, and 3 seconds later when the third boot hit his welcome mat, he got his thought confirmed. Vick stayed taut in his crouched position, knuckles resting heavily on the floor, eyes shut, legs in a sprinter’s position.

He listened to the four boots climb every single step, slowly, quietly and methodically.

After he heard four steps from the four boots, Vick took one taut step towards the bedroom door.

Four steps. Walk. Four steps. Walk.

When Vick got close to the door, he grabbed his aluminium baseball bat and his high-powered flashlight. Stayed crouched in his taut sprinter’s position, now with a baseball bat in one crunched fist and torch in the other.

He kept his eyes shut, head down facing the floor. Listening hard.

Vick’s bedroom door was the last door in the upstairs corridor. The four boots knew exactly which door Vick was behind. They slowly moved across the thick carpeted floor, like some kind of a tiptoeing horse straight out of a cartoon. Vick couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

Vick snapped back to the task at hand, but kept the grin on his face.

Vick heard the handle on his bedroom door start to turn an inch.

Vick grinned wider. Slung the baseball bat over his shoulder.

The handle lowered another inch. Vick aimed the touch at the door and got himself into a low, powerful squat position.

The handle lowered a final inch, Vick tensed, finger hovering over the torch button.

The door smashed open.

Vick opened his eyes for the first time.