Free The Legend of Kevin the Plumber by Scot Gardner Page B

I don’t think . . .’
    â€˜I’ll lower you down.’
    Then he was holding my hands, my limp and totally unreliable hands, like he was going to give me a wizzy dizzy. He lifted me off the floor and hung my feet into the pit. My work boots scraped against the wall then farted and squelched into the sludge on the bottom. I guessed the shower caps that covered them were ‘single use only’. I kept going down. The sludge was above my ankles when I hit concrete and Kevin let go of my hands.
    â€˜Now what?’ I asked. The pit was deep enough to echo like a cave when I talked.
    â€˜Just grab the head. It’ll be there somewhere. Hurry though because at any minute —’
    He didn’t get to finish his sentence. A waterfall eruptedfrom the pipe next to my thigh. It flooded my boot. And the smell. It stank like a fridge surprise. One of those cartons that had been tucked up the back for a month too long. The milk that doesn’t pour onto your Weeties, it vomits. I gagged.
    â€˜Just grab the thing before you get totally drowned,’ Kevin said, and I stuck my hand into the brown-green goop. Nothing. I swapped hands and eventually found the rooter head two metres from where I saw it land. I chucked it out of the pit and nearly chucked up on myself.
    â€˜Well done, Gary. Give me your hands. Wipe them first.’
    I shook my slimed fingers and wiped them on my coveralls. Kevin hoiked me out of the pit like I was a two-year-old and I stomped my boots near the edge.
    â€˜I think you might need a new set of boot covers,’ Kevin said, and I thought I saw him smile. Underneath all that beard, I’d swear I saw his lips move.
    He kicked the head of the rooter clear and grabbed the grate. I took the end of the mesh and had to hold back my own smile.
    â€˜One . . . two . . . ’
    We hauled on three and the metal lifted. We shuffled and I could feel my grubby fingers slipping.
    I lost my grip.
    There was a commotion and Kevin dropped his end of the grate. It came down with a crunch and clatter and Kevin thudded onto his bum. He howled like that big hairy dude off Star Wars . He didn’t stop.
    His ankle was under the metal.
    â€˜Arghh! Get it off!’ he screamed, and I was there besidehim. I held the grate and it lifted like a paperweight. I don’t know where the strength came from. I held the thing like Superman as Kevin scrabbled free, then dropped it. It rang like a gong but it didn’t drown Kevin’s groaning.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ I asked, and felt like a total dick again. What a fuckwit thing to ask. What a fuckwit thing to do. I’d dropped the grate.
    I put my hand on Kevin’s shoulder. He pushed me off and shook his head.
    I carefully removed his boot cover and pushed the leg of his overalls up.
    He stopped groaning and started sucking air.
    There wasn’t much blood, but I could see the bone.
    â€˜Fuck,’ I said.
    Kevin’s face had gone white. ‘Back off. Just back off.’
    â€˜I’ll get them to call an ambulance.’
    â€˜Don’t do anything !’ he snapped. ‘Just stay out of the way.’
    I stood there, useless, as Kevin struggled to his feet. His good leg shook and he screwed up his face then hopped across the factory floor. No-one had noticed the accident. No-one had seen us leaving.
    â€˜Finish the job,’ Kevin said, as we got outside the front door of the factory.
    â€˜What?’
    His eyes were scrunched shut.
    I flicked my slimy boot covers off and headed back through the door. I could see prints of slime on the foyer carpet. I scuffed at one with my boot and managed to spread it around.
    It took every shaking muscle in my body to drag the grate back into place. I was carrying the probe and the sewer rooter through the foyer when the bloke with the thick glasses ducked out of the office.
    â€˜How did you go?’
    â€˜Ah. Yes. We sent down the probe and found a blockage. Got