Meat

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Briefly, to my publisher and editor, Simon Petherick, for edging out along an untested branch and to my family for encouraging it to grow. To my in-laws for keeping faith and to my friends for being true. To all – whether Beautiful or Bloody – for their enthusiasm.

My thanks also to Colin Smythe, Lisanne Radice, Stephen Calcutt, Kate Pool, Kenilworth Writers and Doomey, Deplancher & Theo at www.tqrstories.com for their support.

And especially to you, for opening this book.

Under skies of tarnished silver, towards the granite clouds, Richard Shanti runs home.

Step after crushing step, his breath falling in and out of strange rhythms with the pounding of his feet. Mucus building at the back of his throat – the only moisture left in his body. His legs alternately telling him that they’re burning beyond endurance, that they’re too weak to go on. He wants to listen.

Instead, he spits out his precious phlegm.

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