Read Online The Outcast by Michael Walters - Free Book Online

“What’s this all about? Not just you turning up here and throwing Doripalam out, I assume you have your reasons for that, though forgive me if I don’t quite follow them at the moment. But all of it. What happened yesterday?” He frowned, as if the question had only just occurred to him. “What did happen yesterday, anyway?”
    â€œSeveral questions,” Nergui said. “All of them good ones.”
    â€œThank you. Not much chance of a satisfactory answer, then, I take it.” Tunjin stared up at the ceiling. The place looked less pristine up there. A spider had taken up residence in one corner, ignored by the assiduous cleaners who took care of the lower parts of the room. “About as much chance as there is of me getting a drink in this place.”
    â€œAbstinence will do you good,” Nergui pointed out. “You’ve been ill, after all.”
    Tunjin twisted his head again. “That’s another thing,” he said. “I thought I was dying. At one point, I thought I was probably dead already. Now I feel, well, not healthy exactly, but a long way from dead. I’m sure this place is good, but I didn’t know they were miracle workers.”
    â€œYou’d be surprised what they can do,” Nergui said.
    Tunjin opened his mouth to speak, then decided there was little point in asking more. He stared up at the dense tapestry of the web in the high corner of the room, trying to make out the spider presumably lurking somewhere in the middle of it. “I’ve known you for too long,” he said finally. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
    â€œI’ll tell you when I’m ready,” Nergui agreed. “Some of it I can tell you now. So long as you tell me some things in return.”
    â€œFair enough. I’ll tell you everything I know. That shouldn’t detain you long.”
    Nergui nodded, as if taking the proposition seriously. “Okay, so tell me what you remember about yesterday.”
    Tunjin frowned. “Yesterday? Easy. I remember it as if it was—” He stopped. It was, after all, a good question. What did he remember about yesterday?
    Nergui leaned back, rocking on the two rear legs of his chair like a restless child at school. “Start at the beginning,” he said. “If you can. First thing in the morning.”
    Tunjin thought hard. Had yesterday been any different from most of the days that preceded it? There was no reason to think so—except that somehow he had ended up here. But all he had were images, pale half-memories that had flooded his head on waking but were now dissolving like last night’s dream. Those drifting memories of gunshots and crowds and screams.
    He closed his eyes and saw again, as though imprinted on his retina, the searing brilliance of the muzzle flash. Somewhere behind that, crowding in, a string of other thoughts, ideas, memories. Yesterday.
    â€œI remember waking up,” he said at last. “It was just another day. I was on the afternoon shift. So I woke up late. A bit hung over, but better than a lot of days. Just a few vodkas. I’d been on late shift the previous day, too, so didn’t go mad.” He looked at Nergui. “Is this what you want? Is this any good?”
    â€œKeep going,” Nergui said.
    â€œI got up, got dressed. The apartment was a mess, so I thought I’d grab a coffee on the way in.” He paused, trying to concentrate. “It was another hot day. I had plenty of time. I decided to walk into work.”
    â€œYou hadn’t any other plans?”
    â€œNo, just walk in, grab a coffee, maybe a shot of vodka. Just one. Set me up for the day.”
    â€œHair of the dog,” Nergui agreed.
    â€œI left the apartment—I’m still in the same place, you know. Thought I might want to move after all that happened. But I feel at home there, despite everything. Anyway, I left there, walked up the