Den of Shadows Collection: Lose yourself in the fantasy, mystery, and intrigue of this stand out trilogy. Christopher Byford

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СКАЧАТЬ coughs interrupted, eventually suppressed with more whisky. ‘And I wish that for you more than anything else.’

      There were a million things that Franco wished to confess. This wasn’t how he wanted things to end but as Pappy once told him, you can’t deviate from your life when you’re set along the path. There was no use in complaining and certainly no use in getting upset. Things were just how things were, whether by chance or construct of the divine. With head held high, Franco said the only thing that came to mind that could encapsulate his feelings.

      ‘Thank you. I mean … thank you, Grandad. For everything.’

      A lingering, compassionate smile painted the pair, ruined completely with Pappy’s wave of a hand.

      ‘Now go. Get out of here, you hear? Get on board that train and don’t you dare look back else you’ll feel my foot meet your backside.’

      Instinctively Franco’s fingers reached for the bottle to take with him. Briefly hesitating he retrieved it from the dirt and placed it at Pappy’s feet leaving both it and his cup beside it. A singular pat fell on Pappy’s shoulder heavily on passing. Nothing else was spoken. Nothing needed to be. They were each aware of what this moment was and both decided not to change it with further sentiment.

      The Eiferian 433 sat waiting for him in the stillness, an iron and steel sentry anticipating its new owner’s command. The moment he stepped foot into what had been the sleeping carriage, Franco realized that he was quite alone. It was a feeling he had not been accustomed to since Pappy became a quick surrogate for his absentee father. That may have been forced upon him in adolescence but it made him no less thankful.

      Tears stained his cheeks as he cursed once, twice, and finally a third time until his throat gave. Sitting on Pappy’s bed, he allowed himself this moment before wiping his face and bringing about composure. The car was closed up as he moved out to the engine cab, greeted by the sight of Rosso who folded up a newspaper.

      ‘Where to now, boss?’

      ‘Anywhere, Mister Rosso. Absolutely anywhere but here.’

      ‘Forgive me but does anywhere have a location in particular?’

      A thunderbolt of inspiration struck. ‘Yes, actually. Enlighten me: where would have a good yard for outfitting this here train with some flair?’

      ‘You’ll be wanting Packers out this way. I’ve seen them overhaul plenty and never an ill word against them. It’ll be about a day’s travel. Are you looking to give this old girl a new lick of paint?’

      ‘That and a new name.’

      Rosso released the brakes and set the throttle open. The train complied and heaved forward.

      The air was already turning cool. The night would be closing in soon.

      The next few hours would be spent trying to outrun it.

      * * *

      Slurping from a bottle as the sun slowly sank on the horizon, Pappy watched the train depart. The sight comforted him. A lasting smile indented itself, curling his jowls and emanating warmth. He had done well, he told himself, and the boy would do him proud. The cigarette breathed its last wisp of smoke into the crisp evening air. It met its final fate, crushed beneath the sole of a work boot.

      ‘Ah. So beautiful,’ Pappy declared.

      And the train made its way off and over the horizon.

      * * *

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Ketan confessed, not knowing too well where to put his attention.

      ‘Yeah, well, me too.’ Franco gave consideration once again to the rapping on the stone outside. ‘It wasn’t the nicest of times. It’s also a good reminder that you should appreciate your father being around while he still is, despite being a pain in your backside. He’s trying to do you good. You know that, don’t you?’’

      ‘You would have to be a fool not to, obviously.’

      ‘Then stop this. All you’re doing is rushing your way to the bone pile. Move somewhere away from the trouble and be better.’

      Ketan sighed, seemingly giving this consideration.

      Someone rapped on the jail door, catching their attention. The jailer heaved himself up with old bones, grumbling at the inconvenience and the lateness of the hour. While out of sight, Franco picked up fragments of the conversation, a female voice, wet with promises of a good time. Payment from his colleagues. All things that caused the front door to slam shut. Silence descended as he indulged in male sensibilities and shirked responsibilities.

      Ketan snorted. ‘Do you hear that? It’s all right for some, isn’t it.’

      Franco picked himself up and patted himself down, brushing away deposits of dust from his jacket. ‘Anyway, let’s say, hypothetically, you had an out. Would you take it?’

      ‘You’re dealing with the impossible now.’

      ‘Answer the question. If you had a chance to go legitimate. Honest work. Would you make a go of it?’

      Ketan groaned wearily. It was, admittedly, something that had passed his mind but the more he contemplated, the more hopeless the situation seemed. ‘Guys like me don’t have those kinds of breaks, Franco. We use all our chances quickly; it’s why we die so quick.’

      ‘That’s just crazy talk.’

      ‘Is it? If you don’t get out then you get put down. Six feet down if you get my meaning. We are born in the gutter and die in it just the same. We both know it’s true.’

      They did. It was.

      ‘When it happens,’ Ketan continued. ‘Who will cry for me, anyways? Who gets to mourn? We ain’t got nothing of worth in this life but family, Franco, and back then I considered you mine.’

      ‘You still have your father.’

      ‘Just don’t, all right …’

      Franco nodded in understanding, moving the conversation on to a new subject. ‘How’s the leg?’

      ‘Like it’s been shot,’ he delivered with a glaze of fading patronization. ‘But better. Thanks.’

      Franco leant back in his cell. He heard the murmurs and chatter outside, then the continuation of a code relayed by the tapping of iron guttering. ‘Think it can stand walking a fair distance?’

      ‘It has been so far for what good it’s done us.’

      ‘What about some running?’

      Ketan tilted his head in question.

      The outer wall erupted in debris, exploding inward and peppering the pair with rubble. Dust plumes dragged across the floor, causing Ketan to splutter and his eyes to weep. From the hole, waving the dust aside, Kitty rested a leg on shattered brickwork, proud of her handiwork. Behind, Corinne and two other showgirls in tow pulled the rubble aside for the getaway.

      Kitty saluted her boss, nodding quite happily to herself. СКАЧАТЬ