Page 1 - Bottle

The trill of the telephone wrenched him out of
sleep. He was surprised to see that it was bright
outside. A glance at the clock told him it was past
nine. He lay there for a moment wondering what
had woken him.

He didn't have a hangover in a traditional sense.
His head didn't ache, but he felt out of phase. And
his stomach was a tumble-drier.

Then he heard the phone.
The phone hadn't awakened him in years now.
Not since the break-in at Mick's.
"Kev. It's Martin."
"Yeah, what?" he had stammered. "It's dark.
What time is it?"
"Three. Get over to Johnson's as soon as you
can. The alarm's gone off at Mick's."
"Why are we meeting there?" Johnson's scrap
yard was round the corner from the garage.
"Jeez Kev, think about it on the way. Bring
something heavy." He had a crowbar under the
front passenger car seat.
"What about the police?"
"They're on their way. Now fuck off and get
going. Wait there for us. Mick and Kurt are on their
way."
Yes, light-years ago.
He swung wearily out of bed. By the time he
was standing the phone had jolted his nerves a
third time. How long had it been ringing before

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