Read Online Road of the Dead by Kevin Brooks - Free Book Online Page B

cigarette.
    “We need a room,” Cole said to him.
    “You what?” the man said.
    “We need a room.”
    Across the bar, someone laughed.
    “Who’s we ?” the barman asked Cole.
    “Me and my brother.”
    The barman glanced at me, then back at Cole. “Is that him?”
    Cole nodded.
    The barman shook his head. “We don’t take kids.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “What do you think I mean?”
    “I don’t know,” Cole said slowly. “That’s why I’m asking.”
    The barman drained the whiskey from his glass, took a drag on his cigarette, then stabbed it out in an ashtray. Along the bar, someone called out to him. “When you’re ready, Will—couple of pints.”
    Will nodded and started filling a glass. As Cole stared at him, I realized that the bar was beginning to fill up with noise again. People were talking. People were drinking. People were laughing.
    I moved up behind Cole and whispered in his ear. “Come on,” I said, “let’s get out of here.”
    He didn’t move, just kept on staring at Will the barman. He watched him fill the beer glasses and pass them over. He watched him take the money and put it in the till. He watched him pass over the change.
    Then he said, “Hey, mister—I’m talking to you.”
    As Will stopped and stared at him, the room went quiet again. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my thumping heart.
    Will said to Cole, “Listen, boy, I just told you—we don’t take kids. You want a room, that’s fine. But the squit over there ain’t staying here.”
    He looked at me again, and for some strange reason I smiled at him. I don’t know why…maybe it was because I’d never been called a squit before. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I kind of liked it.
    “How old are you, kid?” Will said to me.
    “What?”
    “How old are you?”
    “Forty-six,” I heard myself say. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve got a very rare glandular condition that makes me look perpetually young. It’s a genetic disorder—been in the family for years.”
    He looked at me for a moment, then shook his head and turned back to Cole. “Go on,” he said, jerking his head at the door. “Out—both of you.”
    “I want a drink,” Cole said.
    “Try somewhere else.”
    “I kind of like it in here. There’s a nice atmosphere.” He pulled a £20 note from his pocket and dropped it on the counter. “I’ll have a pint of Stella.” He turned to me. “What do you want, Rube?”
    “A pint of Malibu.”
    Cole turned back to Will. “Pint of Stella and a pint of Malibu.” He pushed the £20 note across the bar. “And have one yourself.”
    Will didn’t move. I saw his eyes flick to one side, and I looked over to see the uniformed policeman rolling along the bar toward us. He was bald and fat—fat head, fat mouth, fat belly. His face was glowing with sweat, and he had a cigarette clamped in his mouth. As he stopped in front of us, I could smell the beer and smoke on his breath.
    “All right, son,” he said to Cole, “how about stepping outside for a minute?”
    Cole turned around and looked him up and down. “Who the hell are you?”
    The policeman put his hand on Cole’s shoulder. Cole looked at it. The policeman said, “You’re not much of a one for listening, are you?”
    “Get your hand off—”
    “Shut up. What were you told this afternoon?”
    “What?”
    “What did Pomeroy tell you?”
    “He didn’t—”
    “I’ll tell you what he didn’t tell you. He didn’t tell you to come down here and start kicking the shit out of people, did he? He didn’t tell you to come in here and start taking the piss, either. No, what he told you was to keep out of trouble and leave everything to us. That’s what he told you. Remember?”
    Cole said nothing.
    The policeman smiled at him. “Now, I know you’re under a lot of strain right now, what with your sister and everything, but you’ve already been warned against taking things into your own hands, haven’t you?”