Travis Redgrave was numb.
The phone rang.
His body was convulsing.
The phone rang.
He wanted to tear someone apart.
The phone rang.
He wanted to be sick.
The phone rang.
He wanted the world to end.
The phone rang.
But before it did he wanted to kill at least two people.
The phone went to voicemail.
‘Guess you recognised her. Now you know how we felt. And yeah, you can’t call out. We basically turned your phone into a glorified walkie-talkie. Dial one or two and press call to talk to me or my colleague. In your own time.’
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Travis Redgrave is not having a good morning.
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