Mind the Gap by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page B

asked. “Cadge?”
    “Not me, Mr. F. I’m clean an’ tidy.”
    Mr. F. smiled and held up the half-empty biscuit wrapper. “Someone craving bourbons? It’s hardly surprising. They are, after all, members of the biscuit royalty, though I’d only bestow a princehood on them. The king being…?”
    “Chocolate Hobnobs,” a tall boy said, rubbing his stomach and sighing.
    “Right. So…?”
    A chorus of no’s and shaken heads, and then the strange group went back to tidying their haul.
    “As ever, I believe you all,” the man said. His voice was lower than before, and Jazz could see the confusion on his face.
    Damn, she really needed to pee.
    Jazz sobbed. She couldn’t help it. She quickly pressed her hand to her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut, and the torch slipped between her knees. The handle touched the metal wall of the cabinet, making a sound as loud and striking as a school dinner bell.
    Oh fuck!
    “Guests?” she heard Mr. F. say.
    She tried to open her eyes, but fear kept them glued shut. Tears squeezed out and tickled her cheeks, and when she finally found the strength to look, the shelter was frantic with activity, children darting here and there as they searched for the intruder. The only person not moving was Mr. F. He was once again standing on the blanket in the center, turning slowly around until his gaze settled in her direction.
    “Cadge?” he said.
    “Mr. F.?” The voice came from very close by, and Jazz’s breath caught in her throat. She leaned forward slightly and saw the ginger boy, Cadge, standing six feet away.
    “The coat cupboard,” Mr. F. said.
    Jazz kicked open the doors and went to leap out and brandish the torch as a weapon. But her left leg had gone to sleep, and instead of leaping she stumbled, falling to the ground and sending the torch spinning away.
    Cadge was on her quickly, knocking her left hand away and sending her falling painfully onto her side. He sat astride her and pinned her right arm beneath his legs.
    Jazz struggled for a moment, then realized it was far too late.
    “Mr. F.!” Cadge called. “’Fink we caught us a proper lady!”
    “Is she wearing a hat?” one of the girls asked, and everyone laughed.
    “Trust Hattie to think of the most important things,” Mr. F. said. He came into Jazz’s field of vision, sideways because she still had her face pressed to the cool concrete, and he looked even stranger close up. His skin was so pale as to be almost white, and even beneath the stubbled chin and cheeks it looked like flesh that had been underwater for too long. He had a large Roman nose, a wide mouth, and deeply piercing eyes. She thought they were green, but it was difficult to tell in this light.
    There were very fine, very intricate tattoo swirls beneath both ears and disappearing down under the collar of his coat.
    “Who are you?” Jazz asked.
    “We ask the questions down ’ere,” Stevie Sharpe said. “In fact, you don’t even talk. Not a word. This is our place, and the walls hear only our words.”
    Mr. F. pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think, my pets, that we should hear this girl’s story before we start imposing such rules?”
    “She could be trouble,” a tall girl said.
    “She could be, Faith. But weren’t you trouble as well when I found you?”
    Faith shrugged, still staring at Jazz. “Suppose.”
    “First thing I wanna know is how she found us,” Stevie said.
    Cadge remained silent, still pressing her down. Jazz could sense that he was tensed and ready to move should she try anything foolish.
    “I really need to piss,” Jazz said.
    Mr. F. frowned. “We don’t swear and curse down here, young lady. Avoid vulgarity, please.”
    “Right. Pee.”
    Mr. F. regarded her for a while, expression unchanging.
    “She does look a bit desperate,” a short, chubby boy said.
    “Hmm.” The tall man squatted and turned his head so that Jazz could see him straight on. “Well then, Hattie, would you be good enough