Marcher: The Author's Preferred Text - Plot & Excerpts
Carl was lying on his bed in the dark, fully dressed. He hadn’t slept or been outside since he killed Burkitt. He’d barely eaten. ‘We’ve rented a flat just off Clifton High Street, where we’ve got everything stashed. Meet us there, all right Carl? I’ll tell you the rest then. It’s all a bit last minute for you, I’m afraid, mate. Most of the rest of us have been planning this for months. But we’ll fill you in, Carl my old mate, and I know you’ll do fine.’ ‘Um. I don’t know if I’m – like – ready for this, Gunnar mate,’ Carl muttered. ‘You know, so soon after…’ ‘I understand, Carl. I understand. It’s all a bit too much too fast eh? I know. And I’m ever so sorry about that. But I’m afraid you need to do it anyway, my old son, because we didn’t really cover our tracks on that Burkitt job. We were working on the basis that we’d all soon be out of here, you see, so if you don’t come with us, the police will be onto you pretty soon.
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