Maverick and I climbed the rusty ladder once again, but before we could reach the top the lid swung wide open; giving us a skyward view of a group wearing fluorescent hiking gear.

“Vus eis ze camping lodge, yes?” asked a strange-looking critter behind checker-framed skiing goggles, frost in his blonde beard.

“Can you get outta the way ya muppet.” scoffed Maverick, as we hurried up onto the snow.

“Are ze rost?” the bearded man asked his group. They all seemed to shrug shoulders and know no more than the last.

“Where are you looking for?” I asked the blonde man, while Maverick sparked a cigarette.

“Yeah, this is the place. It’s a hundred bucks a night though.” Maverick stated, his eyelids worn thin.

“Zat can’t Ze wright. Eyes alreassy paid ze full amounts before we left.” replied the blonde man, checking to his group, who nodded and murmured in accordance.

“What’s your name?” asked Maverick, swiping his dart away between two fingers.

“Fabio,” replied Fabio.

Maverick comically checked his phone, and scrolled along his Home Screen inspecting different default applications, “I don’t see your name here…Fabian.”

“It’s Fabio,” replied Fabio, taking off his gloves and using them to mop his beard clean of ice. “We needs to gets inside ze bunker now,” he added, as he and his friends began to make their way into the bunker.

“Yeah, whatever mate, if it weren’t for you lot we wouldn’t have needed this bunker in the first place.” Maverick spat, as he kicked the bunker door shut.

“Jesus man, calm down.” I hissed at Maverick.

“What?” he asked,

“We’re trying to sell Acid to these people you can’t act that way, otherwise we won’t be able to sell any.” I groaned, wiping the cringe away from my eyes.

“That’s not exactly the kind of people we wanna be dealing with,” replied Maverick, chuffing his dart.

“What? The kind of people that flew over here from Germany on a holiday that probably have bundles of cash burning a hole in their pocket?” I argued.

Maverick didn’t reply, but he did look up at the sun as it appeared from behind a grey cloud. Suddenly the chill didn’t feel as life-threatening as before, and I thought for a moment that we might be alright.

Next to turn up was a pair of what looked like tradie blokes, both dressed head to toe in Swanndri and padded work boot steel caps, “Just down here is it?” One asked Maverick.

“Yeah bro, that’s the tahi. By the way, did you wanna buy some acid before you get in?” Maverick asked, showing off his tabs.

One of the tradies looked to the other, “I’m keen if you are.” was the expression exchange, “Do you have some smaller bags to put ‘em in? Not too keen to take it right now.”

Maverick shook his head, “Sorry bud, no can do. Hit us up when you’re ready to trip. We’ll be here all 3 days.” he finished as the two tradies descended inside.

For a while, it was just us two that stood there, freezing our asses off as the sun disappeared into a darkening sky. Maverick had finished his cigarette and gestured for us to relocate our door greeter gig to the bottom of the bunker ladder.

As the hours rolled by groups upon groups and dozens upon dozens of compounding people arrived. Including an old wizard-looking man who was the supposed Trance DJ; Maverick had a sneaking suspicion that that lad had his own agenda and wanted to sell his own product under our noses. So he kept a close eye on him as people began to greet and yarn with him as he set up his DJ equipment in the gutted Mess Hall.

Like a drug-fuelled twist to pass the parcel an unravelling of different substances and home brew concoctions began to be passed around and sold and bartered and bargained for.

We’d unloaded a fair bit of Acid to a group of trust fund hippie types wearing skimp new age hippie clothing not fit for the current climate.

Maverick and I made jokes about one of them in particular who would shiver and concort at odd angles as he battled the frost, it was a Christmas miracle that those lot of hippies even made it this far through the bush. But that’s to dismiss the effects of hard drugs.

This one guy kept making the rounds selling his homebrew bottles of whisky at 20 bucks a pop, he was really making a killing it seemed.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Maybe people just wanna take it easy on the first day.” I relayed to Maverick's left ear.

“I think you’re right.” He agreed.

Then again that same damned guy Had come up to us wavering a clear glass bottle of Vodka, “Sure I can’t tempt ya?” he asked behind a lazy eye.

“I’m good man,” I confirmed.

“Any reason?” he queried, shaking the bottle.

“I can’t do vodka.” I began,

“Why’s that?” He asked, passing the bottle off to a thirsty buyer and slipping the twenty bill into his bum bag.

“I had a bad experience with it when I was 16,” I explained.

“What’s your drink of choice?” he asked me, struggling with the bum bags jammed zipper.

“I like Southern Comfort,” I said, trying not to paint myself into a corner.

“You’re a Whisky man?” he noted, “How about this. You give me a tenner, I’ll give you a flask of some superb whisky I got off a friend of mine. My own personal supply.”

I looked at the inflamed incrustations that had formed around his mouth, a disgusting sight, “I’m good.” I finished.

“He’s good man, beat it.” Finished Maverick, shoving the seagull along, “That guy was doing my head in.” said Mav, chewing some gum in his mouth.

“Do you have any more of that?” I asked him,

“More of what?” He asked me,

“The gum.” I clarified.

“I don’t have gum,” Maverick concluded, moving into the crowd, his jaw gurning like crazy.

I clicked my tongue and watched him as he moved amongst the crowd. People came out to him here and there brushing shoulders with him. I watched him make sales from a distance, but it was never anything crazy. I don’t know how much he’d driven the price up, but I doubted we’d passed the 7-spot mark.

I felt a pinch on my side, I turned to see a somewhat familiar face, a young woman who I’d met before but couldn’t put a name to.

“Yo, who are you?” I asked as I looked upon a woman with a big forehead, green eyes, and dark hair, in a flower print dress and a green cardigan for warmth.

“Alice,” she replied, with a smile.

The frontward ponytail should have given it away.

“Shiet, trippy. You’re down here. How’d you get down here?” I asked.

“I ended up catching a ride with a few friends doing woofer work over the country” She replied.

“Woofer work?”

“Like fruit picking and such. It doesn’t pay much but it’s all cash so we bludge the benefit as well.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, I’d offer for you to join but I can’t stand that guy Maverick aye ugh.”

“Fair enough. What about your mum, your brother Carlos? What about them, where are they?” I asked.

“Fuck knows about Carlore, I think he’s been on a bender with his friend probably. And Mum moved back in with Her ex-boyfriend in Hamilton, which yeah, I know, sucks for your brother, but I think the age gap is just ugh.” She said further.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I agreed, keeping an eye on Maverick.

“So what brings you here anyway? This doesn’t seem like the kinda gig you would be keen to go to,” she asked me.

“Ah fuck, it’s all a long story. We’re selling acid here, trying to get repairs on my car.” I explained.

“Who’s we?” she queried,

“My brother Maverick,” I answered.

“Oh cool. I’ll have to say hi if I run into him.” She said sarcastically.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard, only so many people here in this little bunker,” I replied.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she replied, taking a sip of a drink.

This shifty-looking youngin approached us in a puffer Kathmandu vest and some camo hunting pants, “You guys after any MD?” he asked us both, his eyes fluttering quickly between us.

“How much?” she asked him.

“60 bucks a cap,” he replied.

“Shit. That’s a bit steep, don’t ya reckon?” She asked him.

“It’s the only stuff you’ll find around these ways, I’ve already scoured this entire room.” The dealer answered, chewing on gum.

She dug into her handbag and pulled out two fifty-dollar bills, “Two caps for a hundred?” She offered, holding them up.

He hummed and harred, his eyes rolling, “Yeah, alright.” he said. Snatching the bills and slipping her a couple small bags, “By the way it’s not MDMA it’s MA.” he added, before moving off.

As he fell out of earshot, she spoke up; “60 bucks a cap, what a joke.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit much isn’t it.” I agreed.

“Do you partake?” She asked me.

“Not really…but I’ll make an exception,” I replied, as she led me towards the dormitory halls.

We sat on the hard concrete floor that she and her friends had moved their weekend belongings into.

She fished a flat surface birth control packet out of her bag, “Don’t judge.” she stated, as she began breaking up a couple of rocks with her debit card.

She dug through her bag for a toot and then racked up a couple of lines. She then snorted an unhealthily long line, blocked her other nostril and sniffed the powder further into her sinuses. “Your turn,” she stated, dropping the toot to the BC case.

I looked at the other line, I couldn’t tell if the one she’d snorted was bigger, or if mine was, but I ended up snorting it anyway, despite being sceptical.

At the end of the line, I felt my heart begin to rush, my adrenaline fully peak, my worries and dread melt away as I drifted off into oblivion. I felt a feeling I had never felt from any upper.

“Fuck man, I’m pumping!” I yelled.

“Shit yeah, it’s good aye?” She agreed, leaning against the wall.

“What’s MA?” I asked her.

“MA?” she repeated.

“Yeah, it’s what this is, that guy said,” I explained.

“I don’t know…” she answered, pulling her phone out, “I haven’t got any reception down here, let’s move upstairs.” She said, leading us off to the ladder that led up.

Once we’d found some reception she gave a quick Google search for MA. I saw the moment her face dropped, “We just did Meth!” she croaked.

“Are you fuckin serious?!” I scoffed, throwing my head in my hands and acting like I didn’t love it.

“That’s fucked up. I’ve been dealing with Mav acting up all week, and then this? This couldn’t get any worse.” I groaned.

“Let’s go back down to the bunker. I’m freezing my tits off up here,” she stated, moving back towards the ladder.

But somehow the hatch had flung shut, and wouldn’t open. We tried our best to get it open, with all our cracked-out might, but it just wouldn’t open.

“We can go back to the van if you like?” I offered.

“What van?” She asked, chewing on her lip.

“Well it’s a bus actually but we can go there if you like?” I offered to her.

The breeze picked up, and she quickly began to hop along towards the treaded bush path, “Yeah, come on, hurry up!” she said. As she began jogging across the field.