Read Online Nailed by the Heart by Simon Clark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Simon Clark
Ads: Link
into the water.
"Come
on ... Come on! Get a taste of this!"
Crack!
The
oar cracked against a head.
Then
another. And another.
For
five minutes he batted them off the boat.
Then
suddenly they were gone.
Blackwood
stood in the center of the boat, feet apart, and listened.
Beneath
his feet a stirring, then a light tap.
That
was followed by a series of hard blows that sent tingling shocks up
through the man's legs.
Something
moved around his ankles.
Bastards.
They'd
knocked holes in Suzy's planking. Water swirled up around his knees.
Roaring,
like a lion raging at the death of its mate, he fought as the boat
settled lower in the water. He struck at the unseen men as they used
their body weight to pull his boat down into the sea.
He
wouldn't leave his Suzy. Not ever.
Ferociously
he fought on. Even when the ocean closed over his head and instead of
air in his lungs there was only water.
Chapter
Eleven
Chris
pulled out the drawer in the side of the caravan's sofa and began
rooting through the already swiftly accumulating junk.
"Ruth
... Have you seen the shells?"
She
walked in from the bathroom, hurriedly brushing her hair.
"What
shells? Have you seen the car keys?"
"On
the hook by the door ... Those seashells David found on the beach
last week."
"Forget
the shells, love. We're going to be busy enough today as it is. Do
you think this skirt goes with the t-shirt?"
"Perfect.
I deliberately put them somewhere safe."
Chris
scratched the bridge of his nose as he squatted over the drawer.
"Remember, I told you about-"
"About
how strange they were." Ruth sighed. "That you could see
faces drawn on them. I know, I remember. Where's that money for the
groceries? And I'll need some coins for the phone. Have you got ...
Christ ..."
"What's
the matter?"
"The
bloody goldfish has gone and died on us."
"Jesus.
That's just what we need." He slid the drawer shut. "Where's
David?"
"He's
playing outside."
"Good.
I'll flush it down the toilet. You hide the bowl."
"Reason
for Clark Kent's disappearance?"
He
kissed her on the forehead. "You'll think of something."
The
goldfish lay on the surface of the water. Its body arched so the tail
pointed down toward the little plastic pirate ship.
"Hurry
up, Chris. I've got to phone the architect at half-past."
"I
was just finding the best way to-"
"Dad!"
cried David urgently. "They're here!"
Chris
quickly turned his back on the deceased Clark Kent, using his body to
shield it from his son. David leaned in through the door at the far
end of the caravan.
"What's
the matter, darling?" asked Ruth artificially.
"The
lorries are coming. Shall I tell them where to go?"
"No,
Dad will tell them. Stand somewhere safe to watch." She turned
back to Chris. "Do it later. I'll lock the door. Now you two
look after one another. Bye."
Two
lorries carrying steel skips came swaying through the gateway into
the courtyard. One disconcertingly carried the command PISS OFF in
yellow aerosol.
David
ran forward to clutch Chris's hand to watch as Chris pointed out
where the skips should go.
It
had begun.
All
the rubble, old timbers, Army boots, boxes, broken furniture that lay
heaped throughout the building had to be wheelbarrowed out to the
skips. The trucks would be back in four hours to take the loaded
skips away then return with two more. He would have to work fast. The
tides would dictate his schedules. At high tide the causeway would be
covered by ocean. Then nothing, on wheels anyway, could come in or
out.
While
David played with his cars in the courtyard, Chris began. He chose
the nearest room to the main entrance and began to empty it of old
bedsteads, then a mountain of old Army boots.
For
two hours he worked furiously, losing all track of time.
He
was startled to see Ruth appear. She wore old jeans and a t-shirt
bearing a picture of a black cat and the word PURR ... FECT.
"What
are you doing?" he
"Come
on ... Come on! Get a taste of this!"
Crack!
The
oar cracked against a head.
Then
another. And another.
For
five minutes he batted them off the boat.
Then
suddenly they were gone.
Blackwood
stood in the center of the boat, feet apart, and listened.
Beneath
his feet a stirring, then a light tap.
That
was followed by a series of hard blows that sent tingling shocks up
through the man's legs.
Something
moved around his ankles.
Bastards.
They'd
knocked holes in Suzy's planking. Water swirled up around his knees.
Roaring,
like a lion raging at the death of its mate, he fought as the boat
settled lower in the water. He struck at the unseen men as they used
their body weight to pull his boat down into the sea.
He
wouldn't leave his Suzy. Not ever.
Ferociously
he fought on. Even when the ocean closed over his head and instead of
air in his lungs there was only water.
Chapter
Eleven
Chris
pulled out the drawer in the side of the caravan's sofa and began
rooting through the already swiftly accumulating junk.
"Ruth
... Have you seen the shells?"
She
walked in from the bathroom, hurriedly brushing her hair.
"What
shells? Have you seen the car keys?"
"On
the hook by the door ... Those seashells David found on the beach
last week."
"Forget
the shells, love. We're going to be busy enough today as it is. Do
you think this skirt goes with the t-shirt?"
"Perfect.
I deliberately put them somewhere safe."
Chris
scratched the bridge of his nose as he squatted over the drawer.
"Remember, I told you about-"
"About
how strange they were." Ruth sighed. "That you could see
faces drawn on them. I know, I remember. Where's that money for the
groceries? And I'll need some coins for the phone. Have you got ...
Christ ..."
"What's
the matter?"
"The
bloody goldfish has gone and died on us."
"Jesus.
That's just what we need." He slid the drawer shut. "Where's
David?"
"He's
playing outside."
"Good.
I'll flush it down the toilet. You hide the bowl."
"Reason
for Clark Kent's disappearance?"
He
kissed her on the forehead. "You'll think of something."
The
goldfish lay on the surface of the water. Its body arched so the tail
pointed down toward the little plastic pirate ship.
"Hurry
up, Chris. I've got to phone the architect at half-past."
"I
was just finding the best way to-"
"Dad!"
cried David urgently. "They're here!"
Chris
quickly turned his back on the deceased Clark Kent, using his body to
shield it from his son. David leaned in through the door at the far
end of the caravan.
"What's
the matter, darling?" asked Ruth artificially.
"The
lorries are coming. Shall I tell them where to go?"
"No,
Dad will tell them. Stand somewhere safe to watch." She turned
back to Chris. "Do it later. I'll lock the door. Now you two
look after one another. Bye."
Two
lorries carrying steel skips came swaying through the gateway into
the courtyard. One disconcertingly carried the command PISS OFF in
yellow aerosol.
David
ran forward to clutch Chris's hand to watch as Chris pointed out
where the skips should go.
It
had begun.
All
the rubble, old timbers, Army boots, boxes, broken furniture that lay
heaped throughout the building had to be wheelbarrowed out to the
skips. The trucks would be back in four hours to take the loaded
skips away then return with two more. He would have to work fast. The
tides would dictate his schedules. At high tide the causeway would be
covered by ocean. Then nothing, on wheels anyway, could come in or
out.
While
David played with his cars in the courtyard, Chris began. He chose
the nearest room to the main entrance and began to empty it of old
bedsteads, then a mountain of old Army boots.
For
two hours he worked furiously, losing all track of time.
He
was startled to see Ruth appear. She wore old jeans and a t-shirt
bearing a picture of a black cat and the word PURR ... FECT.
"What
are you doing?" he
Similar Books
