Six Days Read Online Free
Author: Philip Webb
early. “Wilbur, you were sure the artifact was here, weren’t you? Maybe it still is. We haven’t looked properly …” There’s strain in his voice now, like he’s somehow tied to the place, like he’s scared of being alone here.
I stop by the bell, but I don’t have the heart to look at him. Cos it’s wrong. I know it is. But I can’t pick up no stray. There ain’t nowhere for him to go. Nothing I can do.
“Take me with you,” he goes.
“Look, I ain’t got the foggiest where you racked up from. But that’s the problem, see? Where I’m going to, there ain’t no time for answering questions and holding your hand on things you don’t know nothing about.”
“He helped us,” goes Wilbur.
“I kind of know that!” I snap. “But what’s he doing here, eh? All on his jack.” I face Pajama Boy. “You ain’t gonna tell us in a hurry, are you? Cos if you’re on this side of the Thames creeping about like a ghost, then you’re bound to be in seven different kinds of trouble. And you probably don’t even know that if the Vlads catch you on this side of the river after the shifts are done, they’ll shoot you.”
He dumps all the color from his face at that, but still his voice is firm. “I just need to get back across the river. There’s someone waiting for me there.”
I look at him, trying to weigh it up. I shake my head.
“How’d you get here in the first place?” I try.
His lips clam up. Which ain’t that much of a surprise.
I give him a shrug. “There ain’t no way back across the river ‘less you’re a scav that’s come over here on a shift in the first place. Gangmasters clock you in and clock you out again. If they don’t know who you are, you’ll have to explain yourself to the Vlads. That’ll be one conversation that’s over in a flash.”
He frowns then. “These Vlads – what do they know that makes them so sure the artifact’s here?”
“Gramps says it’s got to be something to do with the old computer machines,” goes Wilbur. “They’ve been broken or switched off for a whole century. Only Vlads can see what’s inside them with their scanners …”
“Who’s Gramps?”
“Enough yacking, all right?” I give Wilbur daggers. Cos this stranger could be a spy for all we know – plonked here in his jim-jam outfit to wheedle stuff out of gullible scavs like my brother. Except he don’t seem tough enough for a spy …
“There’s got to be a way to help him,” Wilbur whispers.
Then I think about what would’ve happened if this boy hadn’t showed up. Even if I’d figured out on my own how to snatch Wilbur off the clock face, we’d just be dangling there with no one to haul us to safety. Waiting. Till maybe the Vlads used us for target practice. But then I think about what he’s even doing here – maybe he trailed Wilbur to Big Ben in the first place. His words rattle around in my mind.
Wilbur’s only just got here
, like he’s been waiting for him to show up … Which is suspect. So maybe it’s best to keep this stranger close, find out what he’s up to. But what am I thinking of? Helping him is too risky.
I gaze at him then and he’s just so out there – like he’s just stepped out of one of them pictures of olden-time London, all dandied up and innocent-looking. Clueless about the disaster that’s just about to wipe him out. Cos he don’t seem to cotton on that he ain’t gonna last muchmore than a week around here, with the Parliament crews closing in.
“Thing is, look at you,” I go. “You’re a lubber. You ain’t got a clue. We’d be rumbled at the first hurdle. If you was a scav, then it’d be a start.”
“So make me into a scav.”
WINGING IT
I must be mad.
But there ain’t no time to fart about. If I’m gonna let him tag along, it has to be right now. Cos the longer I leave it, the harder it’s gonna be. He pitched in for us, so I’m returning the favor, though God knows it’ll be the undoing of me. I know it. I
I stop by the bell, but I don’t have the heart to look at him. Cos it’s wrong. I know it is. But I can’t pick up no stray. There ain’t nowhere for him to go. Nothing I can do.
“Take me with you,” he goes.
“Look, I ain’t got the foggiest where you racked up from. But that’s the problem, see? Where I’m going to, there ain’t no time for answering questions and holding your hand on things you don’t know nothing about.”
“He helped us,” goes Wilbur.
“I kind of know that!” I snap. “But what’s he doing here, eh? All on his jack.” I face Pajama Boy. “You ain’t gonna tell us in a hurry, are you? Cos if you’re on this side of the Thames creeping about like a ghost, then you’re bound to be in seven different kinds of trouble. And you probably don’t even know that if the Vlads catch you on this side of the river after the shifts are done, they’ll shoot you.”
He dumps all the color from his face at that, but still his voice is firm. “I just need to get back across the river. There’s someone waiting for me there.”
I look at him, trying to weigh it up. I shake my head.
“How’d you get here in the first place?” I try.
His lips clam up. Which ain’t that much of a surprise.
I give him a shrug. “There ain’t no way back across the river ‘less you’re a scav that’s come over here on a shift in the first place. Gangmasters clock you in and clock you out again. If they don’t know who you are, you’ll have to explain yourself to the Vlads. That’ll be one conversation that’s over in a flash.”
He frowns then. “These Vlads – what do they know that makes them so sure the artifact’s here?”
“Gramps says it’s got to be something to do with the old computer machines,” goes Wilbur. “They’ve been broken or switched off for a whole century. Only Vlads can see what’s inside them with their scanners …”
“Who’s Gramps?”
“Enough yacking, all right?” I give Wilbur daggers. Cos this stranger could be a spy for all we know – plonked here in his jim-jam outfit to wheedle stuff out of gullible scavs like my brother. Except he don’t seem tough enough for a spy …
“There’s got to be a way to help him,” Wilbur whispers.
Then I think about what would’ve happened if this boy hadn’t showed up. Even if I’d figured out on my own how to snatch Wilbur off the clock face, we’d just be dangling there with no one to haul us to safety. Waiting. Till maybe the Vlads used us for target practice. But then I think about what he’s even doing here – maybe he trailed Wilbur to Big Ben in the first place. His words rattle around in my mind.
Wilbur’s only just got here
, like he’s been waiting for him to show up … Which is suspect. So maybe it’s best to keep this stranger close, find out what he’s up to. But what am I thinking of? Helping him is too risky.
I gaze at him then and he’s just so out there – like he’s just stepped out of one of them pictures of olden-time London, all dandied up and innocent-looking. Clueless about the disaster that’s just about to wipe him out. Cos he don’t seem to cotton on that he ain’t gonna last muchmore than a week around here, with the Parliament crews closing in.
“Thing is, look at you,” I go. “You’re a lubber. You ain’t got a clue. We’d be rumbled at the first hurdle. If you was a scav, then it’d be a start.”
“So make me into a scav.”
WINGING IT
I must be mad.
But there ain’t no time to fart about. If I’m gonna let him tag along, it has to be right now. Cos the longer I leave it, the harder it’s gonna be. He pitched in for us, so I’m returning the favor, though God knows it’ll be the undoing of me. I know it. I