The Wooden Mile Read Online Free PDF

teeth.

    Randall Flynn was not alone.

    â€œMeet some old friends , Stanley,” laughed Flynn.
    On Flynn’s right-hand side, slumped into a corner, was a slant-eyed, mean-looking rogue. A recently inflicted wound sat over his left eye.

    â€œThis is me old mate Bill Timbers. The most wicked of pirates. He’s made a thousand men walk the plank.”
    Bill Timbers didn’t greet Stanley. He just fixed an unnerving stare on him and kept his arms folded.
    On the other side of Flynn was a larger, rounded man.
    â€œAnd this ’ere is old Sharkbait Jones. A brave fellow. The victim of a frenzied shark attack, but still ’ere to tell the tale.”
    Sharkbait Jones had a missing left arm and a wooden leg on the same side. He was a terrifying sight. Somehow he had managed to salvage the bones of his arm and hand, and they were sewn onto his jacket in the correct position. He was slightly more friendly than Timbers, but there was something Stanley couldn’t trust in that smile.

    He kept making terrible jokes about being half the man he used to be. Stanley didn’t find this amusing, but he decided to pretend that he found it as funny as they did, and joined in their laughter. He wasn’t sure if being polite was the done thing around pirates, but nevertheless, that was what he was going to do.
    He had never seen such dried-up faces. They smelled of salt water, and when they were close, their breath as like dead shrimps and alcohol mixed together. Their skin was a grim purplish-blue color and the whites of their eyes were yellowed. Their teeth were all black and brown, in higgledy-piggledy rows like crooked tombstones.
    Now, Stanley figured that old Flynn was not really one for making friends, and if he had brought him to The Grinning Rat it wasn’t
because he wanted him to walk his dog again. Stanley figured that this was going to lead to something he didn’t like.
    He was right.
    â€œSo you’re a pal of old Hangman Flynn, are you?” asked Timbers.
    â€œ HANGMAN Flynn?” squeaked Stanley.
    â€œOh, I didn’t tell yer that bit,” grinned Flynn, and they all three burst out
    into raucous laughter, spilling their beer and frightening Silver, who cowered by their feet.
    â€œListen, lad, I know you knows different but as far as anyone else is concerned we’re all shoemakers, yeah,” insisted Timbers.

    Stanley sat trembling. He was hanging on to his nerves and telling himself that bravery was about facing things when you knew deep down that you were scared. He breathed deeply and gritted his teeth.
    â€œCome on, Stanley,” he muttered to himself.
    â€œListen, lad, we ain’t ’ere to mess about,” said Jones. “We want our revenge on Cake. We want rid of ’im, but we need your ’elp.”
    â€œHow’s that then?” Stanley asked. He couldn’t help thinking how ridiculous it seemed. Three vicious pirates, all wanting to get rid of one man—yet they needed the help of an eleven-year-old boy! His heart sank. It was bad enough that he was mingling with pirates. Now he was about to become one!
    â€œWe’ve noticed you’re staying at Candlestick Hall,” said Timbers.

    This was a bad scare for Stanley. They knew where he lived. The last thing he wanted was drunken pirates knocking on the door. Mrs. Carelli would hit the roof.
    â€œOnly for a short while.” Stanley dodged the issue. There was no point in denying it. “I’ll be heading home before too long.”
    â€œThere’s a nasty-looking pistol hanging over that mantelpiece,” Timbers continued.
    â€œThe one in the glass case with the silver bullet. Only one way to kill a werewolf, Stanley. And that’s with a silver bullet.”
    Stanley shuddered. How did they know the inside of the house? The thought of them snooping around sent a shiver winding down from his head to his feet.
    â€œYou mean you want me to get you the