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“I got through,” Curtis continued, focusing his gaze on his mobile. There was no internet connection, no networks available. Puzzled, he turned his concentration towards Patrick and was gripped by a sudden fear. No longer sobbing, Patrick sat at the table, a heap of cartridges strewn out in front of him, and a twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands.
“Patrick, where the hell did you get that?”
“By the fireplace. Standing there, as if waiting for me to find it.” Grinning, he fed two cartridges into the chambers and snapped the g*n shut. “If he comes back, I’ll blow the bastard apart.”
“Patrick, for god’s sake, you can’t be—”
“He punched me, for crying out loud, Curtis! Nobody does that to me, do you hear? Nobody.” Curtis nodded feebly, his fingers unconsciously creeping to his throat wher
