Resurrection. The Underwood and Flinch Chronicles: Volume One.

Chapter Four

4

When Lisa woke up, David’s side of the bed was cold. The luminous digits of the clock told her it was four forty-seven. She listened: she could hear the bathroom extractor fan. She turned on the bedside lamp and called, ‘David?’

He walked in. He was already dressed in black jeans, a grey suit jacket and a faded Motörhead t-shirt. His hair was damp and he had shaved, but he looked rough: his face was puffy and his eyes red and bleary. His toothbrush was sticking out of his mouth. He took it out. ‘Hiya.’ His voice sounded like he had a head cold. He looked down, embarrassed. ‘Sorry about last night.’ He came over and sat down on the bed. ‘I must have been ... pretty ugly.’

‘Yes, and you don’t look so good this morning either.’

He smiled. ‘Did I do anything, sort of ... stupid?’

‘You mean besides drink a bottle of whisky on your own?’

‘Yeah, well, besides that – like chucking a TV out of the window or anything like that? I know the TV’s okay, but I’m worried in case I damaged anything else.’

‘Like us?’ She smiled. ‘No. But you’re going to have to apologise to your neighbours. You upset a lot of them. Apparently you are a big asshole.’

‘Oh. What was it? Music?’

‘Yes. And you told the guys in the flat downstairs that you were going to murder them.’

He put a hand over his face and sighed. ‘Oh shit. Still, at least I didn’t actually murder them.’

‘Yes, thankfully, but don’t worry. I apologised for you.’

‘Thanks. I should really go down and say something myself, but ...’

‘You aren’t going to be here.’

‘No.’ He scratched his head. ‘Not for a while anyway.’

She took his hand. ‘When do you think you will be coming back?’

‘I don’t know, it’s impossible to say. Listen, can I ask: how much did I tell you about what’s going on?’

‘Last night?’

He nodded.

‘Well, you told me your brother was dying, that your family was evil and that you were bred – like a cow. You said your name was Flinch and that you had a terrible job to do that you couldn’t escape from. I tried to get you to tell me more, but you said that for me to know more would be dangerous.’

‘Hmm, Not exactly a date with David Niven then? Sorry if I freaked you out.’

‘Never mind that; is it true?’ 

‘What part?’

‘All of it?’

He sighed. ‘Well, my brother is dying, yes, and my name – my father’s name – is Flinch. As for the family being evil and the terrible job; it sounds as if I was being a bit hysterical. There is a job to do, it’s a family thing. But it isn’t anything for you to worry about; you’re not in any danger.’

‘But what about you? Will you be in any danger?’

He rubbed his temples and she thought for a moment that she saw his hand tremble slightly. ‘Damn it. Why did I have to drink? That’s two years of sobriety down the drain.’

‘I know. I still can’t believe it. Why didn’t you call your friend, Steve?’

He smiled weakly. ‘Because I wanted to get fucking blotto. I wanted to just let go of the steering wheel; put my foot down hard and shut out the ... ’