Skarzy by Shane Jeffery Read Free Book Online Page A

evening
passengers.”
    A real, live,
human voice.
    Not
computerized.
    “There’s some
trouble with the railway. We’ll be going to  Flinders Street direct. Buses will
be waiting for you there.”
    Trouble with
the railway? Yeah … bullshit.
    They were onto
him.
    Skarzy
realized something else too.
    There must be
other people on the train.
    He pulled out
the gun and kept on going. Two more carriages before the exit. Skarzy pictured
the great metal door. A circular handle. Glass peephole. A fire hydrant resting
beside it. Maybe an axe too.
    Stations
passed.
    Caulfield. Malvern.
Toorak.
    People too.
    A man. A
woman. A child.
    And Skarzy’s
expression never changed.
    Of course,
there was no emergency exit.
    No axe
resting. No fire hydrant sinking.
    No handle, no
peephole, no swearing, no running, no drinking, no smoking –
    JUST A
BLEEDING BLANK WALL.
    Skarzy spun
around. His eyes were hazy.
    Hawskburn. 
South Yarra. Richmond.
    He was spinning.
    He felt sick
to the pit of his stomach.
    Fear held him.
Danced with him.
    He gripped the
sliding door. Shook it.
    Nothing.
    Skarzy
swallowed. He tasted blood.
    Am I bleeding
again?
    His head
shook. Pain.
    He aimed the
gun high. Charged forward.
    The people had
run from him. But he ran after.
    He ran and ran
and ran.
    Until finally,
he tripped.

 
    22
     
     On Curly’s bat. The sucker must have
left it behind.
    Skarzy sat up.
The train was still moving. He’d been knocked unconscious … but only for the
briefest of moments. It was a knock he needed.
    Not having a
tongue meant he couldn’t speak to other people.
    But it didn’t
mean he couldn’t talk to himself.
    Come Skarzy.
On your knees, tough guy.
    Skarzy went
there. Gradually the haze was bettering.
    He was by the
door. 
    And the
outstretched obstruction was not in fact a baseball bat, but a foot, connected
to a leg, connected to a man standing over him pointing a gun.
    “That’s right,
motherfucker,” the shaky voice snapped. “One wrong move and –”
    The train was
slowing down. They were in the dark Flinders Street Subway.
    Skarzy
twisted. He did move. First right, then left. The door was locked of course. He
couldn’t get out of man’s aim. He looked a little longer; and realized it was
just a dude. A couple years younger than him.
    Who put you in
charge of…?
    The train
stopped but the doors did not open.
    Skarzy tried
to stand, but the dude belted him with the gun.
    “Sit down, you bitch .”
    The conductor’s
voice on the P.A again.
    “Good evening
passengers. Please refrain from trying to leave your carriage. Police are
coming aboard. For your own safety, please remain seated.”
    The dude
smiled. Laughed.
    Skarzy had
never met him. He felt the man was deranged.
    Settling some
personal vendetta.
    And Skarzy
almost … related .
    He remembered
owning a gun like that.
    Suddenly –
from nowhere – the door Skarzy was resting against ploughed open.
    “Whoa, HEY
– ”
    The dude was
sure surprised by something.
    Skarzy just
let his head roll onto the pavement, following his back –
    QUIPP – QUIPP
– QUIPP –
    Shots fired.
    QUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPPQUIPP
    The sound
scorched Skarzy’s ears. He scrunched up his eyes, waiting for the pain to
settle in, the white light to come, the peace, the rapture, and for the love of
–
    Someone had
his arm. They were dragging him across the pavement.
    And then to his
feet. Skarzy looked at the officer, and swallowed.
    His busted
forehead throbbed.
    “Okay, pal?”
the policeman asked him.
    Skarzy nodded.
He looked over in the direction of the train.
    They had shot
the dude something of a dozen times. He lay pressed up against the opposite
doors, sprawled out, twitching. Officers surrounded him. Kicked away the
revolver.
    Skarzy looked
to the rest of the train. A few doors had been opened down the far end, but
from what he could tell no passengers had been let out.
    “That’s Detective
Simmons, over there,” the officer pointed to a plain