Last Days / Prologue / The Old Man

The smell of urine in the morning had stopped being unsettling to the old man a long time ago. The warm, humid sensation around his groin had become second nature – a relief, in fact, for at least it proved he’d been given another day. Another day of shitty rain, sure, but even that was just as well.

Last Days / Prologue / Amy

A rainy day was as good as any to ascend to a higher being, Amy figured. In fact, it gave a suitable touch of drama to what was to come. She opened her bathroom window and watched how passers-by hastily fled to their destinations. Then she lowered herself to check the bath’s temperature and took off her pyjamas.

Last Days / Prologue / Zach & Jeremy

“Bollocks.”

“I’m telling you man, it’s true. The King is alive.”

“That’s only ‘cause he never really died, mate.”

“I shit you not man, I saw it on the news.”

“What news are we talking about here? Was it on CNN or on one of your hardcore underground forums that are always wrong?”

Zach sniffed as usual in the face of disbelief. Of course his roommate did have a point there, which made him annoyed he’d been divulging one too many false rumours from his major source on previous occasions. But this time he was completely sure.

Last Days / Prologue / Eve

It was baffling, the lot of it.

Her legs jolted into a metal contraption undoubtedly fabricated during the glory days of the Third Reich, an unnervingly slick-talking medic rummaging around in her most private parts, and her utterly useless twat of a husband managing to once again showcase his unrivalled talent for stating the blatantly obvious.

“Push, dear. You can do it!”

Last Days / Prologue / Avery

There should be a time and a place for everything – and playing the trumpet at dawn in front of my building isn’t taking either of those into consideration, Avery thought.

Then the fact that he was still in possession of a head hit him – hard. It was the kind of head that felt like it would be best of supporting a very minor part of the Great Wall of China, not the kind of head he enjoyed having growing from his neck on an early Saturday morning after far too many G&T’s the night before, especially being rudely awoken by a trumpet player that couldn’t have misjudged the suitability of his venue more than he was doing right now.