Free Dead Days (Book 1): Mike by Tom Hartill Page A

cancel the call and head for the shower.
     
    FUCK! 
     
    I’d forgotten the broken glass and now I’ve cut my foot.  It’s bleeding quite a bit, and I don’t want to trek it around the flat so I hop awkwardly into the bathroom.  I sit on the loo and examine the cut for any tiny pieces of glass before wrapping it in toilet paper.  It stings like a motherfucker.  I limp around the bedroom picking up the remains of the glass before balancing the shards on my bedside table.  I glower at them, knowing that it’s impossible for an inanimate object to be spiteful, whilst at the same time knowing this is absolutely what has happened.
          I take my shower, cleaning out the cut as best I can.  Typically I don’t have any bandages or plasters so I ball up a wad of tissue paper and put a sock over it.  That’ll do for now.  As I get dressed I notice I have a missed call from Mum.  I suppose I should call her back, or she’ll only keep ringing.
     
    I call her number but it doesn’t connect.  I try again and this time it goes through.  She picks up on the third ring.
     
    “Hi Mum.  Sorry I missed your call, I was in the shower.”
    “Oh?  Not going to work today?”  There’s an edge to her voice I don’t much care for.
    “No, I’m a bit under the weather so I’m not going in.”
    “Hmm.”  Motherly disapproval oozes through the receiver.  “Is this one of those illnesses that’s largely self-inflicted?”
    “Give it a rest Mum.”
    “Fine, but I’m calling to remind you it’s your father’s birthday at the end of the week and you need to at least send a card.”
    “I hadn’t forgotten.” 
     
    I absolutely had.
     
    “And you need to talk to Tess.”
    “Mum…”
    “I mean it.  You had a good thing going there so stop being a baby and just talk to her.  You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
    “It’s a bit more complicated than that-”
    “Nonsense, but Mike, if you do go out be careful, those riots are still all over the news.”
    “Its fine, they aren’t even near me.”
    “Alright well just be careful.”
    “I will. Is Dad there?”
    “No, he’s taken the dog out.  Do you want me to get him to call you later?”
    “No it’s ok, I’ll ring tonight.”
    “I’ll tell him you’ll speak to him later then.”  I can hear the warning tone, I’m committed to that call now.
    “Ok.  Bye mum, love you.”
    “Love you too, speak to you later.” 
    The phone beeps as the call ends.
     
    I think about calling Tess but decide against it.  She’s probably on her way to work now anyway.  I pour myself some cereal and flick on the T.V.  The news is on, covering the riots.  The report shows a line of policemen holding back a surging crowd, somewhere in Clapham.  It looks pretty violent, some of the people are bloodied.  The reporter’s voice seems a little shaky.
     
    “And we’re getting reports in the last few minutes that hospitals around the capital are being flooded with people caught up in the violence, as well as the beginnings of unrest in Manchester and Birmingham.  Initially thought to be racially motivated, these riots seem to be escalating both in scale and intensity.  We will of course be following the story as it develops.  We’re now going live to the Chief of the Metropolitan police for a-”
     
    I flick the channel to a repeat of ‘Friends’.  I wash up my bowl and turn on the Mac, taking a glance out of the living room window to the street below.  I see a man packing his car with suitcases, his wife and young son helping him. 
     
    A good time to go on holiday I guess.
     
    I look across the street to the house opposite.  A teenage girl is watching T.V. in her room.  She sees me looking and scowls, closing her curtains.  Great, now I’m a pervert. 
           I call work again.  My Boss’s phone rings out for a long time, and I’m just about to hang up when someone picks up the receiver.
    “Hello, Phil Duncan’s office how