The Worm King by Steve Ryan Read Free Book Online Page B

anything?’
    ‘No.’
    The cop shrugged. ‘Seems fine to me.’ A car tooted
in the distance. It was still beyond the park but nearer than the tire screech
a minute ago. ‘You hear that?’ Seconds later headlights appeared at the eastern
end. ‘Is that doctor over there?’
    A fat man kneeling at the fountain wall glanced
around. ‘Yes. One minute, I will be.’ He continued to inspect a ladies foot
while she sat on the edge of the fountain. One of the men next to the doctor was
pointing his torch at Lord Brown, studying him closely . . . Pinstripe?
    The doctor lumbered over. The policeman said,
‘There you are mate. Take a squiz at her will you.’ He waved dismissively at
the girl. ‘I’m gonna check that car.’ With that he turned and left. Case solved.
    The fat man dropped to his haunches before
the girl. ‘How are you this evening madam?’ The other man with the torch, who still
could be Pinstripe, stood close behind.
    ‘Fine thank you.’
    ‘No sniffles or upsets you need to tell me
about?’ His droopy jowls wobbled when he spoke which made the girl smile.
    ‘No. I was helping someone with mad cow
disease but I don’t think I caught it.’ Pinstripe didn’t have a hat, so maybe
that wasn’t him after all.
    The doctor asked, ‘have you been eating a
lot of hay, find yourself mooing sometimes, that sort of thing?’
    The girl looked worried. ‘No. Well, not
really.’
    ‘Hmmmm. I think you’ll pull through.’
    ‘Promise?’
    ‘Yep. Cut right back on the hay though. What
you think?’ the doctor asked the man behind him.
    ‘Way less hay. I’ve pretty much cut it out
completely myself.’ The Hat lowered his torch and stepped forward to grasp Lord
Brown’s hand. ‘Good to see you old timer. I thought it was you! Keeping well?’
    ‘Splendid thank you.’
    Not pinstripe, one of his students, John. Eighty-seven.
    Ninety-nine. The
rain was mesmerizing. You could almost count the drops but there were zillions
of them; never-ending. The moisture poured down, churning through the atmosphere
at a rate determining the prosperity and health of everything on the planet. Absolutely
everything. Apart from the patter of wetness it remained quiet. Lord Brown let
his head drift back and eyes close, so the only sensation came from the fat
balls of water tap, tap tapping away. Was that another pause? It felt like
there’d been a momentary gap in the downpour earlier, when he first met the
girl . . . no, the flow was steady as a rock. A dripping, wet
ball of rock in space. He smiled and the ting of drops hitting his teeth
was refreshing.
    ‘Still with us?’ asked the Hat.
    Lord Brown opened his eyes. The girl and her
mother had long gone. The huddled crowd were spread over the park like human
jam. One hundred and eleven.
    ‘Let’s see what they’re arguing about,’ suggested
the doctor. A stationwagon had parked up next to the footpath where just that
afternoon Lord Brown had earned $22.30. Its driver was talking to the policeman
and pointing energetically towards the east. The policeman shouted back at him,
pointing in varying directions using both hands. Four other men stood around
the pair, watching, with arms crossed.
    The Hat didn’t like it. ‘I don’t like this. There
hasn’t been another earthquake in ages. If the house is still in one piece, we
can get inside and get a bit more comfy . . . take the old boy
back and get him warm.’ He nodded at Lord Brown.
    The doctor shook his head and gestured
towards the stationwagon. ‘Why his car working and all the others not? And the
power and the cars happen before the earthquake? We see what he’s saying,
then go back.’ The Hat reluctantly agreed.
     The man who owned the stationwagon came
from Parramatta and was in a panic. ‘We taste, is sea water. Is sea water! I
know, I taste.’ Spittle flew from his mouth. Parramatta? How could seawater be
knee-deep there? That was more than ten miles inland. So what would it be on
the