The Worm King Read Online Free

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but Winston felt for her, stretching on tiptoes and teetering at the edge of
balance with her raincoat stretched tight while attempting with a spare elbow
to nudge the microphone back on square. A job for an octopus, not a petite
redhead with distractingly pert jugs.
    Winston refocused on the lens and concentrated
on breathing in and out. They were ready for action . . . 
    Dick Snow was a professional. The man rolled
through his lines like a Colombian powderhound at an arse-sniffing party.
    Winston waited for his turn to come around, wishing
he were somewhere else—anywhere—and trying not to dwell on his headache. Something thwacked the back of his coat and the Māori sniggered. Dick swung an
arm up mid-sentence and pointed back at the rock pinnacles, almost karate chopping
Winston in the process.
    ‘So if you want to try one of the best meat
pies in the universe and catch a spectacular view at the same time, then the
place to come is the Three Sisters visitor centre and visit my old friend Sonny
Malisovich. Maybe not tonight though, right Sonny?’ Dick laughed, pointing up at
the dirty night. ‘Everyone loves a good Aussie pie though don’t they? What
about our girl guides, how’re you going?’
    The twins froze.
    Slow seconds passed. Winston turned to see
the twins staring blankly and open-mouthed at Dick. Someone poked him sharply
in the back, then again.
    ‘Seventeen and wet all day,’ he blurted, looking
around in confusion.
    The Māori laughed. ‘Stupid cunt,’ she whispered.
    ‘That’s right, we’re in for a damp one
tomorrow,’ Dick smoothly continued. ‘By the weekend, the front should’ve moved
southeast towards New Zealand and we can all get outside again. For those of
you in the northern half of New South Wales, a low pressure system is moving—’
    Zzzzzzzick! The
streetlight next to the truck disappeared. ‘We’ve lost the link,’ called the
cameraman from under his plastic sheet.
    ‘—Your way,’ droned Dick, continuing
unperturbed. ‘This will bring more unsettled—’
    ‘Still nothing,’ said the cameraman with a
touch more urgency.
    Astrid tapped her earphone. ‘Nothing here either.’
    ‘—Weather for the rest of the week.’ Dick’s
jaw finally clanked to a halt. He touched his ear and shook his head.
    ‘They’re out too,’ said the cameraman.
    The second operator, who’d set up the spotlight
bolted back to the truck, wrenched the door open and stopped dead. The interior
was pitch dark.
    ‘No, I mean the floodlights are out. On the
rock.’
    Winston looked over his shoulder, seeing
only an inky void where the Sisters used to be. The carpark had disappeared too,
with the streetlights all off. Nobody seemed sure what to do and apart from the
cold glare of the spotlight, the night suddenly became black as a grave.
    ‘Must be a power grid thing,’ said the number
one cameraman, shortly after emerging from the truck with two torches.
    ‘Which means . . . ?’
asked Dick.
    ‘The power isn’t really working.’
    ‘We pay you for that, do we?’
    The cameraman looked down sheepishly and
kicked at the asphalt, catching the edge of his shoe and nearly tripping over. He
glanced up at Astrid and Winston but avoided Dick’s steely gaze. ‘Sat phones are
out and I can’t get through on the mobile either. Anyone else’s phone working?’
    ‘Tried mine while you were in the truck,’ replied
Astrid. ‘No signal either.’
    Winston’s mobile felt like a hunk of lead in
his back pocket but he knew it had to come out eventually. The last thing he
needed was for sole communication to rest on his scungy phone. Three weeks ago
it’d sat in a puddle of beer at the pub long enough to ensure the ‘five’ in the
middle of the keyboard now seldom worked. Hopefully Astrid and Dick didn’t want
to speak to anyone with fives in their number.
    He drew it out, scrolled down to the number
for his flat then pushed dial. Nothing. Not a sound. Dead as doornail. Phew!