“I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!”

The king of the world - also known as Sam - or Samuel, as his mother called him when he was in trouble - was balanced precariously atop the cabin of a rusted out truck, his body arched, his arms raised to the brilliant blue sky above as his voice carried on the wind to nowhere in particular. He was all of nine, and with his best friend Rory beside him he was in his element, full of life and zest and boyish confidence.

It had all started with the old cars in the woods, way, way back at the beginning of the summer holidays, not long after school had ended. The two boys had heard whispers on the wind, through the grapevine, that on the edge of town, surrounded by thick bush, lay a graveyard of old cars and trucks that had long since been abandoned. The weeks had passed, and with the threat of school looming in the days ahead there had been no more time to waste.

Neither Sam or his friend Rory could even remember whose idea it had been to venture across the highway - further from home than either of them had ever dared to go - through the scrubland and the sun-baked paddocks, across the dry creek bed and over the fence that distinctly said, in faded red letters that gave not a hint of ambiguity, ‘KEEP OUT - TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT’. But none of it mattered now anyway. 

Peering down from on high, Sam grinned as he surveyed his kingdom, stretching out before him. His subjects - rusted and decaying, lay still like silent, dark creatures in the overgrown grass. There had to be a hundred of them, he thought to himself - cars and trucks of all shapes and sizes, rusting away, long forgotten. He stared at the remains of the homestead in the distance, with its rotting timber and caved in roof, and began to wonder who had once lived there, where they’d gone - and why they’d left behind such a wealth of old cars. Just his mind began to wander, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice from below.

“Sam…come on, what if someone sees or hears us...stop being stupid OK?”

“What. Nobody’s gonna hear us - look at this place, it’s all deserted”, said Sam, thudding down in the dirt beside Rory, causing a flurry of dust to rise into the air. 

“Echo!” he yelled, only to be met by his own voice as it reverberated back at him off the dull, rusted metal that surrounded them. “See?”

But his friend gave no response, staring out over the abandoned lot. There was nothing - nothing except for the dark wing of a crow in the distance as it descended from a paperpark as if searching for something below, nothing but the whisper of the ghost gums. Rory was the smaller and quieter of the two boys; it wasn’t unusual for him to seem lost in his own head, but today he seemed even further away than usual, chewing his nails as he so often did when he was ill-at ease or had something lingering on his mind. Even after all these years, sometimes Sam still couldn’t seem to figure Rory out - the depth of his mind, of his feelings, as if he was some sort of puzzle yet to be solved; he never could have guessed at the gnawing feeling that was building within him.

“You OK? Hello?”

“Oh…yeah - sorry. Just…”

“What?

Rory opened his mouth to say something, hesitating for a moment as if something was weighing heavy on his mind - but stopped himself.

“Nothing. Maybe we should go...”

“We don’t have to be home till dark, when the streetlights come on”, said Sam, looking at the sun high in the sky. “We got ages. Come on, let’s go look around.”


*****

Rory followed silently in Sam’s wake as he peered through windows, looked in and under cars, kicked at tyres and stamped the dust below him as boyish curiosity overtook him in this strange, wild kingdom of metal and rust. As he meandered through the rows of cars, half-hidden by long grass, sometimes he’d stop to look at some peculiar detail, only occasionally noticing that his friend was lagging behind.

But despite his excitement, Sam couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. All of the cars and trucks he’d come across were either missing their handles, rusted shut or just plain locked tight - evidently, whoever had left them all had taken care to lock them. The only way to get into one would have been to smash a window; at one point he had bent to pick up a rock he’d found hidden in the grass - painfully, with his foot - but luckily Rory had, as usual, used his better judgement and cautioned against it. 

The sun had moved lower in the sky now, both boys having lost track of time; before they knew it, they’d come to the end of the row of cars. They stared up at the homestead that loomed before them, both of them cast in its shadow; it had once been proud and strong but now it creaked and groaned, as if a small breeze could bring it crashing down at any moment. The brick chimney was the only recognisable part of it.

Sam stared at his friend - once again Rory seemed lost in thought as he stared up at the mess of tin and timber, his arms around his chest. He grinned, an idea coming to his head.

“Hey Rory -”

“What…”

"You ever heard about the guy that used to live here? The guy that left all these cars and stuff here?”

“No…”

“You don’t know? His name was Mr Lumb - he was a teacher, way back in the olden days.”

“Oh Really? Wait - you mean from our school?”

“Yup. You know what else?”

There was a note of hesitation in Rory’s voice. “What…”

“He died.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. A long, long time ago. I heard he had a big fight with his wife one day, and he went outside and got an axe and chopped her up.”

Rory gulped. “You’re just making that up…” It seemed like one of the numerous stories he’d read growing up as he devoured every book he could get his hands on - the legends of the Australian bush, and the unique kind of madness it could inspire in the hearts and minds of men. 

“No, it’s true - I swear.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. And you wanna know something else?”

“What…”

“I heard someone say, one time, that her skeleton’s still in there…and so is his.”

Despite the heat of the day, Sam could see his friend shudder, as if a shiver had run up his spine. Sam grinned. Before Rory could notice, he ducked low, beneath the cover of the long grass, and flattened himself against the cool earth. The moments passed in anticipation - he had to wait until the timing was right. He waited, and waited - until at last, with an almighty shriek he sprang forth, up and above the long grass towards Rory. It had had the intended effect - he seemed to jump a metre in the air with fright, nearly falling over. Sam howled with laughter, feeling like his sides were going to split.

“Screw you Sam…Idiot…”, said Rory, his voice shaking. 

Before Sam could say anything, Rory turned away. A pang of regret gripped Sam as he watched his friend turn heel and begin to make his way back through the rusted cars and towards the fence, realizing he might have gone too far this time.

“Come on, it was just a joke…where are you going!?”

“Leave me alone - this was a dumb idea anyway.”

Sam began to follow, but Rory was already too far ahead, lost amongst the scrap.

*****

The shadows had grown long, the day almost at its end by the time Sam found Rory. He hadn’t made it far, slumped against the tyre of a rusted station wagon on the edge of the abandoned lot.

“Found ya…”

As Sam flopped down beside Rory, stretching his legs into the afternoon sun, he didn’t notice his friend roll his eyes. 

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Just…knew I guess. You weren’t ever that good at hide and seek, remember? When we were little - I always found you first.”

Rory shrugged. “That’s little kid stuff.”

Despite the heat of the day, his arms were clasped around his knees as he stared out over the flatlands. As Sam looked at him, he could see his eyes were reddened, as if he’d been crying.

“Are you OK? I’m really sorry I scared you - before. It wasn’t real, that story - I just made it up…”

“Doesn’t matter”, said Rory softly, trying to wipe his eyes without Sam seeing. 

“You sure? You were kinda mad before…”

“Sam, just stop OK?”, snapped Rory. “I already said it doesn’t matter.”

“OK, sorry…”

For a long time the two boys were silent. Rory was always better with words than Sam was - they’d had arguments before, but this was different, and now neither of them knew how to bridge this new gap that seemed to have formed between them. Wordlessly, Sam leaned his head on Rory’s shoulder, only to feel him jerk away, as if burned by Sam’s touch.

“Just don’t OK?”, said Rory, as he turned his head. There was something in his friends voice he didn’t recognise - a hesitation, a quietness he’d never heard before. Sam didnt know how to put it into words - this feeling that something was wrong - very wrong - and what was worse was that he had no idea how to fix it.

“What’s going on with you - you’ve been acting all weird and quiet all day and now you’re crying - it’s like you don’t wanna hang around with me anymore. Just tell me…”

Rory sighed, his voice small.

“You really wanna know?

“Yeah, I do.”

“Fine.”

In this kingdom of rust, where the past hung heavy and still, nothing else - no tales of dead men or skeletons or madness - could have gripped Sam’s heart more than the two simple words his friend spoke - words that as long as he lived he’d never be able to forget.

“I’m moving….”