Waltzing Matilda (Emma Frost Book 11)
WALTZING MATILDA
Willow Rose
BUOY MEDIA LLC
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part I
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part II
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Part III
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Part IV
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Part V
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Part VI
Chapter 68
Afterword
Books by the Author
About the Author
Copyright
One, Two ... He is coming for you
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Order your copy today!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part I
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part II
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Part III
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Part IV
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Part V
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Part VI
Chapter 68
Afterword
Books by the Author
About the Author
Copyright
One, Two ... He is coming for you
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Order your copy today!
You’ll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me.
Prologue
Fanoe Island 1982
Chapter 1
John Andersen liked to say he was at the bottom of the food chain. A bottom-feeder. It was things like that they said about themselves, you know—plumber to plumber—while smoking behind the shop. They'd make jokes about it and say stuff like, Your crap is my family's bread and butter; or Every time your toilet won't flush, you put food in my mouth; or John's favorite, Plumbing is the only profession where you can take a leak and fix it at the same time.
Other than the jokes, there wasn't much to laugh about in his profession. John Andersen had stopped enjoying his work many years ago. To be honest, he was sick of it. They were busier than ever around the island since more and more people lately had problems with their pipes and plumbing. Sometimes, John wondered if it was an age thing, if the pipes laid underneath Fanoe Island were getting too old. It wasn't unusual for John to be busy this time of year since the cold was starting to set in and often people's pipes would freeze overnight and even crack. But this January had been a lot busier than what they were used to. A lot.
John rolled the minivan up in front of the old building that housed Fishy Pines and killed the engine. He let a long sigh hiss through his teeth and took off his seatbelt. It was his last job of the day and, hopefully, it was going to be a fast one.
Tina, his wife, was waiting back at the house. She had dinner ready. Pork chops and mashed potatoes, his favorite, and he had promised to be home before six o'clock today. He looked at his watch. Half an hour. It was all he had and all he was going to give this.
John got out and grabbed his toolbox. A woman came out from the building and approached him.
"Are you the plumber?"
John nodded indifferently and pointed at the van that said Plumber-John in big letters. Next to it, a sticker said:
THE MAN
THE MYTH
THE PLUMBER
"So glad you're here," the lady said. She was wearing a white coat over her knitted sweater and he guessed she was a nurse. She could also be a doctor, but she didn't look like one to John.
The place was known around town as the nut-case house. It was where you ended up if things didn't quite add up inside your head, as John's mom had put it when driving by back when he was still just a kid himself. John remembered how he, as a child, would picture the people in this place. How they would sit in their chairs and rip out the hair from their head, pull it all out, while laughing maniacally and pointing at you with their crooked fingers, telling you that you are up next.
A shiver ran down John's spine as he walked up toward the front door and followed the lady inside.
"I understand it was some issue with the pipes?" he asked as the fluorescent light engulfed him.
The woman nodded
. "Yes. Especially at nighttime. It keeps our patients up and, between you and me, the last thing you want in a place like this is grumpy patients."
John chuckled. "I bet."
"Let me show you where it is," she said, and he followed her to the door that had WOMEN written on the front of it.
Back when John was younger, he had often fantasized about what was on the other side of a door with that sign and dreamt of going in there. Back when he was a teenager in high school—and he didn't know toilets would be all he would see day in and day out for the rest of his life—he and a friend had even spied on the girls through their window while they were in there chatting and putting on make-up. But the janitor had caught them one day, and that was the end of that. John had served detention every afternoon for a year after that stunt, whereas his friend Max had somehow talked his way out of punishment. John had never been able to talk his way out of anything in his life. Most of the time, opening his mouth meant getting himself into more trouble. He realized that at an early age. So, ever since his teenage years, he had kept it shut unless speaking was absolutely necessary. It had proved helpful in marriage and in his work.
"It's this one," the lady said and pointed at the middle stall. She opened the door and revealed an old pink toilet, a Gustavberg anno 1931.
"This one makes a lot of noise. Like a thumping. It goes on and on all night long with no end to it. On and on. And it is clogged. We can't use it."
John looked down into it, then back at the woman. "It looks fine." He flushed it and it worked perfectly.
"Yes, right now, of course, it works. It stops working at the same time as the noise starts."
"What noise? I can't seem to hear anything."
The woman looked at her watch a little annoyed.
"It usually starts here at six o'clock and goes on for the rest of the night. It's like a loud banging noise, sometimes scratching. To me, it sounds like an animal might be trapped down there or something. But that's just me, I guess. We can hear it all over the building once it starts. In every room. That's how we figured it had to be the pipes. A colleague of mine said it had to do with the fact that the temperature drops as the sun goes down."
John nodded. It amazed him how many people were amateur plumbers.
"I don't know. I’m not a plumber," she continued. "But I do know we need it fixed as soon as possible. It's such a commotion and very unsettling for the patients. If you'll just wait a few more minutes, you can hear it for yourself."
John looked at his watch and thought of the pork chops. He was going to have a cold dinner again. There was only one thing he loathed more than cleaning people's pipes and looking into their toilets—and that was eating cold food.
Chapter 2
"It's probably frozen pipes," John said. "They might have cracked. It's been happening a lot lately."
He got down on one knee next to the toilet. His knee complained. It was getting harder and harder for him to do his job since it had started to act up. They had always told him it would one day. It happened to all plumbers, they said. Especially with the changing winds when it got colder, then he would be able to feel it. Back then, when he was younger, John had just thought it was old nonsense. He was stronger than most and it would never happen to him.
John winced in pain as he plunged into position. The lady was still hovering above his shoulder. He hated when clients did that…when they stayed to watch him. It was like they believed they had to be there in case he needed help or just to keep an eye on him. There was only one thing he hated more than that and that was when they left money out in plain sight, just to check if he would steal it.
"So, you believe that would cause it to make that sound?" the lady asked. "If they are cracked?"
He sighed. The pain shot through his knee and into his body. "That could be it, yes."
The woman shifted on her feet and looked at him. "I have to go check on a patient. Let me know if you need anything."
Finally.
He didn't turn to look at her as he said, "Will do."
The lady's high heels clacked across the tiles as she left and finally John could get started. He wasn't going to wait for the sound. He could already tell that the toilet tank had cracks in it. It was no wonder. It was very old and so were the rest of them in this restroom. They were probably going to have to replace all of them within the next six months.
John knew how it would go. One of them, probably the one he was looking at now, would crack first, then spill water down the side of the toilet and on the floor. About one hour later, the entire restroom and the hallways outside would be flooded. Since those things mostly happened at night, the patients would probably wake up and put their feet into the rising waters as they tried to get out of their beds. It was going to be a lot more disturbing to them than a thumping noise from the pipes.
It wouldn't be enough to just replace one of the toilets. If they didn't replace all of them, it would happen all over again a few weeks later, once the next in line cracked. John had seen it before and he usually recommended that people replace all their toilets since they were often from the same time period, but for the most part, people couldn't afford to replace all of them at once and so he would have to come back once it happened all over again. It was their loss, not his since he would make more money that way, but it amazed him how people always refused to listen and thought he was just out to get more money out of them. He would often ask those people if they owned a canoe before he left the house.
John looked at the cracks in the side of the tank, then wondered if that could be what made the noise at night. Probably not, he concluded. There had to be more. It wasn't the reason for the clogging either. There had to be something stuck in the drainage. Probably just old dirt and maybe tampons that the patients tried to flush. He would recommend that the lady have them cleaned as well as put in new toilets.
John rose to his feet, straining with the pain, then turned around to put his tool back in the box. This wasn't something he could fix in this short period of time. It was a bigger job. He’d probably have to come back with several of his guys and it was going to be costly.
Maybe I will be home in time for dinner after all.
John sighed. He hated restrooms like these. They reminded him of elementary school. Those years hadn't been good to him. John had been a bed-wetter and occasionally he peed himself in class as well. An overactive bladder, his doctor had told him. He would grow out of it. But he hadn't until he was fourteen and it earned him nicknames like Pee Bucket or The Urinator in school.
John shook his head when remembering the days he feared going to school. Just the smallest tickling sensation inside made him wince. Constantly fearing, What if I don't make it in time?
John's back was still turned to the toilet when he heard it. He turned to look over his shoulder, tool still in his hand. He took a step inside the stall and looked down in the bowl. The water in it was shaking, splashing up against the sides. John took another step closer and stared into the bowl, where the water was rising fast while the thumping grew louder.
"What in the…?"
Now, John had seen and heard many things in his profession as a plumber, but never this. Not this strange sound that grew louder and louder and made it feel like his head was about to explode.
The rising water suddenly stopped just when he was afraid it might spill over, and that was when it was rapidly sucked out of the bowl, faster than any toilet could ever flush. Suddenly, the bowl was completely dried out while the suction was still going.
John rubbed his chin, his hands shaking slightly. The sound was growing louder like something was approaching, something big. He was wondering what inside the pipes could make that sound. He had never seen or heard anything like it.