Free The Worm King by Steve Ryan Page A

silence. Winston risked a peek.
    Dennis the service station assistant manager
stared at the twins. He’d stopped shouting several seconds ago and finally
closed his pudgy mouth. The raised arm came down and the spanner smacked his
fat thigh with a slap. Anyone breaking into his place didn’t seem likely to
have two identical blonde teenagers in brown uniforms as part of their gang. He
paused, confused, and scratched his itchy hip where the belt beneath the dirty
green overalls dug into his skin. ‘Mr Lee said I gotta keep it locked up till
he gets back.’ Dennis spoke slowly and his face was thickset and pale with large
round eyes and Neanderthal brow ridges.
    Winston uncurled. He suspected there might
be some kind of mild Down’s syndrome going on with Dennis, and Mr Lee must be
the owner: the mastermind who’d dished out the dungarees emblazoned Dennis–Assistant
Station Manager . A second badge lower down read: “ TrainEE” .
    ‘I live over the road. Saw the lights.’ Lightning
lit the forecourt and wind belted the glass giving it a distinct wobble. Dennis
looked out nervously. ‘Guess you should be alright to wait a while if you want.’
He didn’t seem that keen to go back outside himself. Winston could hear a dog
barking, coming in muffled snatches between gusts.
    Denis stared at Dick. ‘My name’s Dennis. You’re
on telly! I like telly.’
    Dick grinned. ‘That’s right. Good to meet
another Channel Six fan.’
    They shook hands like old friends. Winston
would’ve been surprised if Dennis usually watched anything more complicated
than The Wiggles .
    ‘Can you hear that dog barking?’ asked
Astrid.
    Āmiria cocked her head. ‘I can.’
    The keen Māori had already made it halfway
to the door when Astrid called her back sharply. ‘No! Wait here, I’ll go.’ She walked
to the front window, shining her torch out for a few seconds but seeing nothing,
then turned to Dennis. ‘You got a dog Dennis?’
    ‘Nup.’ A long pause. ‘Mr Lee does but.’
    ‘Does it sound like that?’
    ‘No.’ Dennis frowned, concentrating. ‘He
took it with him.’
    It must be Peanuts.
    Astrid couldn’t get her penlight beam any
further than the cars immediately out front and the van was parked at least seventy
meters away, on the other side of the forecourt. She pulled the sliding door
back and stepped through the gap. The wind raced in lifting the edge of the
floor rug and re-scattering the postcards Leroy left.
    Winston made a snap decision to follow and reached
the door just as Astrid slid it closed in his face. He dragged it open and went
through, noticing Azziz and the Hat close behind. As soon as they were outside
he flicked on his torch but could hardly see past his feet because the batteries
were nearly shot and the servo had been cleaned out of new ones prior to their
arrival. Neither the Hat nor Azziz had a torch so he waited while Azziz fumbled
with a lighter, using his bulky frame as a windbreak to get a cigarette
started.
    ‘Holy mother of God, I needed that!’ Azziz
sucked the smoke in greedily with his eyes closed and head tilted back.
    Something hooked onto Winston’s shoe and he pointed
the torch down to see a white plastic supermarket bag wrapped around his ankle.
He bent awkwardly to unhook it; when you’re that much closer to the ground, getting
tangled up in rubbish seems to happen more often. The Hat and Azziz waited. On
the other side of the pumps an empty can tumbled and clattered across the
forecourt. The dog barked again. They could see Astrid already at the van,
working her way towards the front when her beam began waving erratically.
    ‘Help! Oh please, quick! Quickly!’ Her voice
rang high and frantic. He lost sight of her as she moved behind the pumps then
the beam reappeared, probing shakily along the side of the van. He finally
kicked the plastic bag free and began waddling across the forecourt at top
speed, already trailing Azziz and the Hat by a good ten meters.
    By the time