Read Online Deadfolk by Charlie Williams - Free Book Online Page B

never have found himself on the deck getting a shoeing in the ribs in the first place. But if he ever did you could be sure he’d get out of it somehow. And he’d not waste all that sweat and blood fighting back neither. He’d do it clever. He’d have lost his gun by now, else he wouldn’t be getting a kicking. But he’d have summat else hid away. Summat like a knife.
    Well, I didn’t have no knife down me trouser leg. But I did have the old monkey wrench tucked away in the lining of my jacket. As I slipped my arm in to get at it, Baz left off my ribs and started on the back of my head, which made it hard to think but easier to ferret around in me leather. I don’t know how long it took cos it were hard to keep track with Baz shoeing my head, but after a bit my fingers curled round cold hard metal.
    I rolled over and took one in the face. He tried to pull the leg back, but I grabbed it and twisted, wanting him to go down. That didn’t work. He stopped the kicking and hopped around a bit, but stayed up. While he were busy doing that, I pulled meself up using his leg for support. Soon as I were level with him I swung the wrench. And swung it again.
    And again.
    And…
    A noise.
    I looked up, feeling summat hot and black and solid drain out of us. A mongrel were sniffing around a headstone not ten foot away. He were a tatty old cur with not too much hair and only one ear. That didn’t seem to bother him, mind, wagging his tail as he were. He cocked his leg and started pissing. I watched the steaming flow darkening the old grey stone, and a little knot of worry took hold in my belly. I looked down at Baz, and felt me breakfast clamouring for daylight.
    I turned about and chucked me guts on the path. As the chunder spewed forth, I shook my head. It’d never been like this in the old days. Spilt blood were summat to be proud of back then. A mashed face were the mark of a job well done, not summat to make you sick. I stood up and tried to calm meself. Couple of deep breaths ought to do it. Stretch the back and loosen up them neck muscles.
    Baz were lying still where I’d left him. Didn’t look much like Baz now mind. More like one of Alvin’s kebabs with extra chilli sauce. I laughed. In a good-natured way, mind. We was all mates underneath. Even if we was acting like enemies. One day we’d all be codgers sitting in the pub blabbing on about the good old days when we used to thump each other ragged. But I stopped laughing when I noticed that Baz weren’t moving.
    Right on cue his head shifted a bit, like he were trying out his neck. His mouth opened and closed. Didn’t sound too good. Sounded like he’d need a bit of wiring there. Plus all the stitches. Maybe I’d gone a bit overboard. I had to admit, I hadn’t left no one with a face like that before. But I couldn’t blame meself. It’d been a long time since I’d had a scrap, so I’d had a lot of steam to let off. Baz knew that and shouldn’t have pushed us. I felt more chunder stirring in me guts. But I couldn’t hang around for none of that. Nobody were about, apart from the mongrel. And now he’d pissed off somewhere looking for a fight or a bone or a shag. But you never knew who’d be along next. I took off.
    Summat made us stop after three or four strides. I dunno what it were. Might have been the good Samaritan in us, taking pity on the poor battered Munton lying roadside. Whatever it were, I found I couldn’t walk no further. Not without going back for another gander at him. Just to be sure he were all right and that.
    Course, it were only when I found him eyes open and not breathing that I knew he weren’t all right.
    He were dead, weren’t he.
    I scratched my ear, wondering how that had happened. I got the monkey wrench out and looked at it, shaking my head. But them who talks of workmen and their tools is right, you know. I had to shoulder some of the blame. Specially after all I’d been saying about monkey wrenches and being careful with