Underlife by Robert Finn (best mobile ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Robert Finn
- Performer: 9781905005697
Book online «Underlife by Robert Finn (best mobile ebook reader txt) đ». Author Robert Finn
He looked over at Rachel to see how she was doing, and noticed tears in her eyes. She was looking towards the cab â to where Sebastianâs body lay â and he realised she was crying for the man who had been killed, and the fact that she hadnât been able to save him â and that made Clipper feel worthless and low. He was busy worrying about his own safety while she was wishing she could have done more to help an injured man. He felt a wave of disgust with himself. This situation was just bringing home to him what heâd been feeling for a while now: he was a parasite who always put himself first.
He just hoped he could hide that from Rachel for a little bit longer. They were in a lot of trouble here, but it sort of felt like they were a team. And that was so much better than going through this on his own. Which meant he desperately didnât want her to notice what a self-centred loser he was.
Dammit, he was doing it again: turning it around so it was about him. He was going to think about somebody elseâs wellbeing for a change before his self-esteem just shrivelled up and blew away.
He reached out to touch Rachelâs arm and said quietly, âItâll be OK.â He wasnât sure what would be OK â it didnât seem likely that anything very much would be â but that wasnât exactly the point.
Rachel looked up at him, and he tried to think of something else to say that would help her to feel better. âYou really tried,â he said, and he meant it. âYou didnât know him, but you still did everything you could for him.â
She didnât respond to that, but after a few moments she nodded a little and he reckoned that maybe heâd consoled her a little. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, until Rachel lifted her head and said, âI think you were right about him.â She meant Warren. âWe should have just run.â
Well, he wasnât going to get into that line of thought. And sadly, he couldnât change the subject by explaining his genius plan to get them out of there because he didnât have one. In fact there wasnât really anything useful he could do, unless it was just to distract her a little. He said, âYou know, I really would like to see those horses you mentioned. Iâm just a bit worried your mum wonât take to me. She sounds like she can be awkward when she wants to be.â
Rachel give a single laugh and said, âWell if thatâs all thatâs spoiling your day, I can tell you now, thereâs no way sheâll approve. But you shouldnât let that put you off visiting. She hates it when people give up too easily.â She didnât really smile, but she looked at him in a way that made him feel like theyâd just shared a joke, which was what heâd wanted.
When Warren reappeared a moment later, Clipper felt like heâd been caught doing something he shouldnât have been, though he wasnât sure what. As Warren clumped towards them, passing between opposing rows of seats, he called out to them, âSo whatâs the story with you two? Friends? Co-workers?â
Before he even thought about it, Clipper said, âSheâs my girlfriend.â He sounded defiant and realised immediately it was kind of an idiotic thing to say. But he felt like he needed to put up some form of resistance, to obstruct Warren in some way, even if he didnât dare challenge him properly. Lying to him felt like a start; a small sign of independence. Plus, he couldnât help feeling a little protective towards Rachel. He wasnât exactly the expert, but out of the two of them, he had to imagine heâd spent more time around violent criminals than she had.
âGirlfriend? I doubt that,â said Warren, âbut you clearly know each other.â Then he suddenly held his hands up, like he was making a big announcement, and said, âBut listen, hereâs the good news. I only need one of you. Right? So you can go if you want. I just need her to stay.â He sounded easygoing, but his eyes never left Clipper as he spoke.
When Clipper didnât react, Warren said, âI mean it. You can go. Get to the other end of the train with all the other passengers. If you get asked to describe me later, make sure you do a bad job of it and weâll be fine.â
Clipper was looking from Warrenâs face to Rachelâs. Warren was doing that trustworthy thing again, spreading his hands a little, trying to sound reasonable, even a little bit amiable. Rachel on the other hand now had a sharp look of fear in her eyes. It was evidently dawning on her that, bad as this situation was, there were ways in which it could get a lot worse.
âIâŠâ Clipper said, not sure of what he was going to say. It was only a matter of time before Warren remembered why Clipperâs face might be familiar, wasnât it? And if things turned ugly, what was the sense in both him and Rachel getting hurt?
Clipper half expected Rachel to say something, to demand that he stay, to make some sort of protest. Maybe even to beg him. But she didnât. She was making it easy for him; she was even avoiding his gaze. He studied her face trying to understand what she was thinking. She looked like she was working hard to keep the fear under control and⊠something else.
âWell?â said Warren.
But Clipper was still wanted to understand Rachelâs expression. Somehow it mattered. It was clear that Warrenâs decision to split them up â and to let him go â had dropped the floor out from underneath her, but there was something else going on in her eyes besides fear. There was a struggle taking place. And then she spoke, quietly. âItâll be OK,â she whispered. She was giving him permission to go, but her eyes were fixed upon her hands, which rested in her lap.
So that was it. He could read her expression now. She was struggling to persuade herself that sheâd be fine on her own. She was clearly terrified, but she wasnât going to drag this out. Thatâs why she wouldnât look at him or beg him. In her mind, he was already walking away, and she was doing her best to prepare for whatever happened next. She must know what Clipper would be thinking: that no one in their right mind would turn down Warrenâs offer of freedom just to keep a stranger company. He wondered, if things were the other way round, whether she would choose to stay. Well, sheâd already decided against leaving him once. And now she was making it easy for him to walk away from her.
As always happened when he got stressed over some sort of decision, he found himself wishing he could ask Gary what to do. Of course Gary had never given him any advice for a situation like this. But he had once said something about nicking from people who might not be able to afford it. Heâd told Clipper, âDonât do anything youâll hate yourself for. Itâs not worth it.â And that was clear enough. Clipper wanted so badly not to be the kind of person whoâd leave Rachel behind. He didnât want to despise himself; in fact he was desperate for a reason not to.
âI⊠donât want to leave without Rachel,â Clipper said. He felt he should give a reason, but he wasnât about to launch into some crazy speech about his self-esteem. âYou know how it is,â was the best he could manage.
Warren studied him. âYouâre sure?â he asked. He was like one of those game-show hosts who tried to get you to change your mind the whole time, to make the game more fun for the audience. Clipper nodded.
And finally Rachel looked at him. He wasnât quite sure what the look signified â it certainly wasnât anything as straightforward as gratitude or relief. But at least she could look at him again. And he realised how much that meant to him.
âExcellent,â said Warren. âI was hoping youâd say that because Iâve got a job for you. And we need to make a start before someone tries to get this train moving again and Iâm forced to do something about that.â
Clipper didnât know how to react. Warren had a job for him? So what was all that about letting him go? Clipper had felt nauseous but sort of noble about his decision to stay for all of maybe three seconds, but now the situation had shifted again.
âYou see, someone has to go down that tunnel and get Kieranâs things,â Warren explained. âFor the time being, Iâm having one or two mobility issues. So, um, Matt? Why donât you go for me and Iâll stay here with⊠Rachel wasnât it? Iâll look after her until you come back.â Warren laid his hand on Rachelâs shoulder, his fingers towards her neck â the fingertips were hidden inside the tumble of her hair. The gesture was both protective and unpleasantly intimate. Rachel looked like she wanted to pull away from him, but she didnât.
Clipper didnât need it spelled out: he knew how a protection racket worked. If Warren didnât get what he wanted, heâd stop âlooking afterâ Rachel. Earlier, heâd just been testing Clipper to see whether he was prepared to give up a chance to escape for Rachelâs sake â and Clipper had passed. Or failed, depending on how you looked at it. Effectively heâd just volunteered Rachel to be his leverage.
It reminded Clipper of chess. In movies, whenever two people got into this cat-and-mouse stuff, someone would point out it was like game of chess. Well, Clipper hated chess. Heâd tried it two or three times and couldnât make any sense of it. The rules seemed like they were plucked out of thin air, and any time you thought youâd worked out what you were supposed to do next it just meant you were about to fall into a trap. This entire thing was exactly like chess and he hated it.
And besides all the mind games, Warren wanted him to go out into the tunnel. Well, the more he thought about that, the more he wasnât too thrilled about the idea of being down there on the tracks. He also didnât like to think about what state Kieranâs body might be in. It had been bad enough standing by the back door of the train and smelling something that shouldnât be familiar but somehow was: a combination of burnt hair and overcooked barbeque meat. He tried not to picture what was waiting for him in the dark of the tunnel.
âWhat if the current is still on?â Clipper asked. He knew the trogs called it âtraction currentâ; and if it was on it meant that the live rail could kill you.
Warren smiled unpleasantly. âWork something out,â he said. âMaybe you
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