Six Days Read Online Free Page A

ain’t even got the shadow of a plan, but you’ve got to start somewhere. And that’d be with the pigging pajamas.
    He holds out his hand this time, all hopeful and grateful and eager beaver. But there ain’t no time for meet-and-greet right now. I plonk my helmet and coat on his arm like it’s a rack.
    “Stick these on. You won’t last five minutes in the scav zone, looking like the prince of ponce.”
    Then I’m racing down the stairs, dispensing advice over my shoulder, trying to think of the next thing, the next thing …
    “You stick on my shoulder. You don’t gawp about like a tourist – all this is same old same old to you, right? And you don’t open your cake-hole for nothing. These are the rules, OK?”
    “What?”
    “Flippin’ Nora. Do like I do and keep your gob zipped. Comprehend-day?”
    Wilbur goes, “Copy us and don’t say anything.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, I inspect him. And it ain’t filling me with hope and sunshine.
    “His shoes,” goes Wilbur. And he’s right. Moccasin affairs with no tread to speak of. They’re a proper giveaway.
    I peel off a clod of mud from my boots and smear the silky shine off his slippers.
    “First chance you get, go knee-deep in crud.”
    I plant the rest on his chops. He grins at me and rubs it in his hair, up his nostrils.
    “There you go. You’ll pass muster.”
    So it’s out onto the scaffold and the port-a-loo roof and into the streets. We skirt round Big Ben and head toward the roar of the crushers. And would you credit it? The smog’s really lifting on account the wind’s picked up, and it ain’t so simple to blend in now cos it’s masks off. So folks are starting to cast odd looks our way. Like we don’t belong. And down the end of Bridge Street, coming toward us, is a Vlad guard patrol – five soldiers with black armor and headsets and machine guns. This ain’t no stroll in thepark neither. They’re in formation, checking down alleyways. Stop ‘n’ search.
    My apprentice scav stops dead in his tracks.
    “Ain’t no time for the jitters!” I hiss at him. “Stay cool.”
    “We have to hide,” he mutters, all the while darting his head about like a spooked squirrel.
    “What’s your name?” I go.
    “What?”
    “Your name, bonehead. They give those out where you come from?”
    “Peyto.”
    “Well, listen up, Peyto. If you head for the hills now, they’re gonna clock you bang to rights. You run, you’ve got something to hide. Which is why we’re gonna stay put, see?”
    “But –”
    “But nothing. Wilbur, get on the deck and look injured.”
    Wilbur lies down and starts groaning, a bit too loudly.
    I give him a kick. “Hey, tone it down! This ain’t the village show. Just play dead.”
    The soldiers are closing in. I can hear the crackle of their radios, the bark of Russian orders.
    “Peyto, don’t look at them. Look at Wilbur. And let me do the talking.”
    We kneel down to Wilbur, and I cradle his head to give him some water. At the last minute I dab a bit round my eyes.
    The boots stop and shadows close over us.
    “You there! Stand clear. Hands on heads.” Cocking of safety catches. “NOW!”
    I stand up, giving it all shaky and lost. Actually the truth is,
I am
pretty shaky, cos all five guns are pointing at me.
    “Please, sir, help us. My brother –”
    “Hands on heads! Crew number?”
    “He got caught in a cellar collapse. Please, you can take him! He ain’t gonna make it if you don’t. Please!”
    The officer stares at me through his visor. I might as well be a wood louse, cos behind the dust and reflections, there ain’t one jot of mercy for me. He looks whacked and tensed up at the same time. Which is weird, cos most times the Vlad soldiers just look bored. I figure it’s touch and go whether he pulls the trigger to let off a bit of steam. But I’ve got to carry on playing the card I’m playing or we’re done for.
    I crumple up my face and reach out to him. “You’ve got to help us. We