Free The Worm King by Steve Ryan

ignored it, continuing to stare at the roof and flinching
each time the heavens roared. ‘Got him from the pound half an hour before they were
gunna put him down.’
    ‘Lucky dog,’ said Winston.
    Dick licked corned beef fat from his
fingers. ‘Exceptional. That was a truly exceptional meal.’ He and the twins had
pilfered widely from the shelves, gathering cans of the mushy beef, stale bread
rolls and bottles of fizzy-pop for the picnic. Four tartan travel rugs were
spread on the floor. Three kerosene lamps, also courtesy of BP, cast an eerie
glow around the shop. The lamps stank but another smell drifted in the air too,
even more off-putting . . . what was it? Sulphur? Winston couldn’t
quite place it, but it sure wasn’t cheeseburger.
    The sky fizzled with lightning.
    ‘Someone’s there,’ said Azziz quietly, pointing
at the front window.
    When Winston looked he saw only black glass.
A second later a flash of lightning illuminated a man’s face with his nose
practically touching the pane on the outside. Blackness again. Winston glanced
around—everyone else had seen it too—then another fork of lightning but the
face had gone.
    ‘You think he wants to come in? asked Leroy
nervously.
    Dick got to his feet and went to the window.
‘I hope not. Did you lock the van?’ Leroy had parked just off the road at the
entrance to the servo because three abandoned cars blocked the sheltered
section of the forecourt directly outside shop.
    ‘The locks don’t work.’
    ‘If anyone pinches it, we’re going to be
shafted right up the k’ganga.’
    ‘I’ll take Peanuts out for a wiz. We’ll wait
in me van for a while.’ Leroy stood, then immediately bent over, placing his
hands on his knees. He straightened slowly and rubbed his stomach. At his feet lay
three empty cans of corned beef. He’d also skulled a 2 liter bottle of warm caramel
milk and woofed an entire jumbo bag of pineapple lumps. He walked to the door
and opened it, letting a gust of hot wind blast in which knocked over a
postcard stand. He paused momentarily, about to step back and re-stand it but
the wind was howling in so he slid the door closed and disappeared.
    Simple electrical storm!! Sydney always got
its fair share of thunder and lightning, Winston knew that, but surely this was
more than a simple . . . what the fuck was he going on
about now? Dick had been explaining opposing air pressure systems and isobars
to the Girl Guides. The noise rolled overhead in a continuous roar although it
didn’t sound as loud as earlier, suggesting it may be coming from further away.
    John the Hat sat cross-legged on the floor
next to Winston who lay flat out on his back, staring up at the roof. The Hat
bent low, getting right down near Winston’s ear. ‘The door, see the one going
out the back?’ He nodded towards the rear of the shop. ‘It just moved.’
    Winston came up on one elbow. The dim light
made it hard to focus but gradually he began to make out a set of fingers on
the door, wrapped around the edge just below the handle. Then the dark crescent
edge of a head protruded slowly, growing and stretching into a shadowed face.
    ‘Hey!’ yelled Dick. The door slammed open and
a heavyset man jumped into the room.
    ‘Whatayadoinyanotsposetabeere,’ the stranger
hollered, wildly waving a thick, silver wand in the air. Dick jumped to his
feet; Astrid and the twins screeched.
    ‘Whoa!’ shouted the Hat.
    Winston rolled away, trying to squirm beyond
reach but the intruder loomed directly over him in a flash. He held a spanner,
not a wand, and was a big bloke too. Most people looked big to Winston but when
they’re towering over you, angrily waving a 30 ounce forged-steel Viking-class clubbing
spanner, they look especially big. He curled into a ball, clutching his arms
around his oversized head and pulling his knees up tightly in preparation for the
rain of blows. Instead the yelling petered, fading, until the only shouting
came from Āmiria, then