Waves of queasiness flowed through me. Next to me, snoring, was a giant potbellied rat. It’s face didn’t look familiar. I tried pulling myself up but hit my head on the bottom of unseen bench. Rubbing my sore head, I looked around. I seemed to be under a table in the darkened common-room of some sort of dingy inn. Sleeping, snoring and murmuring forms were sprawled around the room, laying on tables and under them. The place reeked of body odor and stale ale. I crawled out from under the table, pulled myself groggily to my feet, then looked around for a few moments. Nothing in the room seemed familiar. My own clothes and even my own body felt strange and foreign to me. Feeling my way through the dark, eventually I found and roused the sleeping inn keeper. He wasn’t happy to be woken. ‘You’re still drunk, you damned fool … ‘ he murmured, half-angry and half-asleep. ‘Go back to sleep. I don’t know who you are … ask your friends. You were drinking and arguing with some girl last night. Then he noticed that Bobby had not put on his seat belt.Van hit the button to open the garage door, and they rolled forward towards the street.Sandy and Sammy were wondering what to do next, when the garage door of the house began to retract. As the car emerged, in the glare from their headlights Sammy and Sandy could both clearly see Bobby, sitting in the front passenger seat next to Van Daddock. From farther away behind Sandy's car, Pete could see Bobby, but couldn't make out the driver.Bobby hadn't put his seat belt on because his mind was on something else. Unbeknownst to Van, Bobby had turned the recorder back on. As Van buckled his seatbelt, Bobby asked conversationally, "So is this the car you used to run me off the road?" Yes," he said shortly in response to Bobby's question. "I just didn't hit you hard enough."Bobby turned to look at the car with its lights shining at them. He thought it looked like Sandy Goodwin's Toyota. He punched the button to roll down his window for a.
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