The nearest phone was in the bar. Sammy waited out in the stairwell, while Matt slipped into the back bar. The music was playing, as normal, and Rachel was leaning on the bar, chatting to two of the regulars, totally oblivious to what went on upstairs.
Matt picked up the phone, and opened the pub's diary on the counter to locate Ginger's number. He dialled, and the phone rang. Matt knew Ginger would always pick up a call from the pub. He was practically married to this place.
After four rings, Ginger's voice grumbled, "What?"
"It's Matt. I think you need to get back here, quick."
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Fizz is ill or something."
"Ill?" Ginger repeated. "Ill, how?"
"Don't know," Matt said honestly. "He's acting really strange. Wheezy breaths, sleepy, and... er, yeah, just kinda weird.
