90 Packets of Instant Noodles by Deb Fitzpatrick Read Free Book Online

say, but shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the road instead. They’re in his old man’s car, and he doesn’t want to stack it. A prang is the last thing they need.
    Sull pats the dash. ‘Your old man let you have his wheels for once, eh?’
    â€˜Well, he told me to fuck off,’ Craggs says. ‘So I did. Thought he’d appreciate me doing what he wanted for a change. And I can’t help that he taught me to drive when I was twelve, now, can I?’
    When they laugh Craggs knows it’s more from the relief of being out of danger, if only for a little while. He washes down with tequila the thought of getting sprung by the cops.
    After a while he parks opposite a servo and the three of them pass around the bottle. In the rear-view, Craggs sees Joel holding it up, peering at it—and listens to him crapping on for a bit about the worm. Craggs gets out of the car. When he sticks his head in the window a few minutes later, he’s holding up a crowbar. Now look at their faces!
    â€˜What the fuck is that for?’
    â€˜It’s for Sull,’ he says, grinning.
    As usual, Joel hasn’t got a clue; he turns to Sull. ‘What are you gunna do with that?’
    Sull is frowning. ‘No idea, mate. What are you on about, Craggs, you crazy bastard?’
    Time to lay it down for them. ‘You see that servo?’
    â€˜The petrol station?’
    â€˜Yeah. They’ve got cash in there. A shitload of cash.’
    â€˜Oh, Craggs, don’t be fucken insane,’ Joel says.
    â€˜I’m not.’
    There’s silence then.
    Joel pipes up again. ‘Just get back in the car and chill out, all right? There’s about ten cartons in the boot we’ve gotta get through yet.’
    Craggs keeps looking at Sull. ‘Whaddya reckon, mate?’
    â€˜Don’t be a stupid fucker,’ Joel croaks in Sull’s direction. ‘There’s someone in there, for fuck’s sake.’
    â€˜Whaddya reckon, mate?’ Craggs demands.
    â€˜Well ... how much cash is in there?’
    Craggs looks over at the joint. ‘Maybe a thou, maybe more.’
    Sull drains the bottle of its last yellow mouthful. ‘You’re on. Let’s go.’
    Sull gets out of the car. They piss on the sand. Craggs looks back at Joel. ‘You coming?’
    â€˜Nah, mate, I’m not.’
    Weak as. He shakes his head like a disappointed teacher.
    He and Sull head towards the fluoro-bright building. He passes Sull the crowbar. Jesus. Sull holds it like he doesn’t know how. There’s no one else there apart from the person in the shop, no cars fuelling up. You can see the figure behind the counter. A chick. Shit. Hope she’s cool. Craggs looks back at the car, at Joel, his eyes tiny and shining in the blackness. Frozen.
    Once they’re in, it happens in fast-forward.
    The sliding doors shut. The fluoros are so harsh. Sull half raises his arm. The girl behind the counter is opening the till. Then a moan goes up, the moan of yet another alarm, and there’s a sudden blur of movement—and Craggs is leaping the counter, half climbing over it—and then the girl is dropping back, and he is grabbing Sull by the shirt, shouting Get up! and they are running to the car, the crowbar dangling from Sull’s hand.
    Craggs shoves him into the car and sees Joel staring at Sull’s T-shirt. At the blood on it. Fine sprayed spots, even a couple on his face, like little zits.
    They drive away in silence.
    Sull begins to vomit in the footwell.

14
    I was awake all night, waiting.
    I found out later that the cops were over at Craggs’s within a couple of hours, then they busted Sull. They paid me a visit the next day. I was taken down to the station for questioning. McPhee was there, lording around like King Dick himself. Said he liked the mug shot I’d left them on the CCTV, and laughed. They’d already primed Craggs and Sull, but they still hauled