"We’re meeting at 6am tomorrow. Don’t forget!"

"Oh God." I moaned.

Phil winked and jumped away from the window with a wave as the bus pulled away from campus. I sat back in my seat and groaned. The girl next to me patted my arm sympathetically.

~

"Morning!"

The phone was brighter than the centre of the bloody sun and scorched my retinas, leaving a blind spot in front of my eyes that I tried to blink away.

"Hey Phil. What do you want."

"Just making sure you’re up."

"Well clearly I am."

"Are you out of bed though?"

"…"

"Dan…?"

"…"

"Daniel."

"…"

"Don’t make me call Chris over-"

"I’m moving I’m moving!" I grunted, pulling myself up and rubbing my eyes awake. I turned to the curtains. It was still dark outside.

"I hate you all."

~

I stomped up and down on the grit path trying to stay warm. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, but the night air lingered in the dawn chorus. James Street was still sleeping, so I turned in astonishment as a small, battered looking grey Fiat swung round the corner and started heading up the hill towards me and the building site.

"I didn’t know you had a car." I said, surprised, as PJ swung out of the driver’s seat with a yawn.

"Nah, I’m not that rich. It’s my parents’; they let me borrow it for all the camera equipment. Would’ve been a bitch taking this lot on the train." PJ crunched back to the boot of the small car, narrowly avoiding being hit by the back door as Phil flung it open with his foot, his head focused on the tripod he was manoeuvring out of the back seat.

"Hey dancer Dan." Chris grinned as he wandered round from the passenger side, clapping me on the back.

"Don’t you dare." I cringed.

"Morning sleepy head." Phil smiled through the window at the sound of my voice, still struggling with the tripod.

Chris jumped forward to give him a hand and I was left standing watching, acutely aware of how useless I was.

"When are Bryony and Adam getting here?" I asked.

"Any minute now." PJ replied, his voice muffled by a heavy camera case.

I scuffed my feet around in the dirt as I waited, turning my face to the building site. It was surrounded by a high chainlink fence, easily climbable but somehow imposing and institutional. Tall skeletons of buildings constructed from huge grey slabs of concrete reached into the sky, creating phantom streets and walkways coated in fine grey dust. It was eerily quiet; muffled, cold and emotionless. It was hard to imagine living, breathing people making their homes here. So I guess in that respect it was perfect.

"Right! Let’s get this show on the road." Chris came up behind me, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Okay then. Just one question," I said mildly, "how are you planning to get all the equipment over that fence?"

~

"Aaaaand action!" PJ yelled.

Bryony let loose a disturbingly realistic scream that sent a shiver down my spine as she ran across the shot, Phil carefully panning the camera as she leapt over half built walls and ditches perused by Chris and Adam in full zombie garb.

I’d spent most of the shoot just watching, my big moment was going to be filmed at sunset for maximum dramatic effect and I couldn’t do much to help, except shift rubble and help carry stuff. They didn’t trust me with their expensive cameras. Sitting around for several hours left me restless, and I got up again to wander round the site. The builder’s machines had been left overnight, but without any keys they only provided entertainment for a few minutes. A large yellow, brutal looking contraption caught my eye and I went to investigate. It seemed to be designed to crunch up some of the rubble for transport, and was certainly overflowing. I started sifting through lazily, looking for some good bricks for the explosion scenes that wouldn’t be missed. I unearthed a scrap of purple fabric amongst the concrete and tugged at it curiously. My hands touched something cold and waxy. I pushed aside some more bricks and pulled up a human arm, clothed in a ripped purple shirt, gruesome gashes in the skin. I poked at it, fascinated, trying to lift it out to get a better look.

"Woah Bryony you’ve really gone to town on this one, it’s so realistic! Literally, where in Reading did you find such a-AHHH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

I leapt backwards. I’d pulled at the arm, but it didn’t come away at the elbow like I’d expected. A whole forearm followed, and then a shoulder; and then a neck – pale white and bulging. And then a face. Eyes wide, pupils rolled into the back of the head exposing milky white. The expression was blank and gaunt, a single dribble of dried blood ran down one side of his face, matted and crusted into his mop of brown hair.

I blanched. Shock poured over me. I was going to be sick, right then and there. I collapsed on the ground on all fours, shaking and retching. My head was spinning. All I registered before I blacked out was the sound of Phil’s running feet; a moment of silence, and then a scream.

He was still screaming when I came round.

"Phil! Phil calm down! Phil breathe please just breathe!" Chris’s shouts filled my ears, but they seemed as if they were coming from far away, behind a glass screen. All I could hear was a ringing in my ears which refused to go away. I was vaguely aware of PJ beside me with his hands on my shoulders.

"Dan? Dan can you hear me? Are you okay? What did you see?"

I closed my eyes, my head swaying again. “There’s a dead body in there.” I whispered, the taste of vomit on my tongue.

PJ’s sharp intake of breath was drowned out by a sudden silence. Phil had stopped screaming.

My eyes finally focused and I took in the scene. Chris, Adam and Bryony were gathered around Phil, who was stood rooted to the spot – staring blankly into the distance. PJ was crouched down next to me. All of them were eyeing the heavy metal bucket with terror.

"Don’t go near it." Adam muttered, clinging onto Bryony’s arm. "I think we can believe them."

"Are you okay Dan?" PJ asked me again.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah.” I said, my voice hoarse. “Just a little shaken. I, I’ve never seen a dead person before. I reckon I’d have been okay if I hadn’t fucking touched it.” I shuddered, still lightheaded and faintly nauseous.

"Did - did you recognize it-them?" PJ asked tentatively.

I shook my head, trying to swallow.

Only that wasn’t quite true, I thought suddenly. I had seen that purple shirt before. But where?

"Phil? Do you know who it is-was, oh god." PJ cringed. "I don’t really wanna go look…"

Phil turned slowly to face PJ – his eyes wide and terrified. He froze for a moment, and then slower still he shook his head. He blinked. Then his gaze turned to me. There was something in his eyes, something beyond the shock and revolution I was feeling. It was almost pleading.

I frowned, trying to understand what he was communicating to me. I shook my head helplessly. His brow furrowed pitifully and a single tear dropped out of his left eye. That was too much for me and I got shakily to my feet and ran forwards. I wrapped my arms around him and he clung to me, sobbing quietly into my shoulder. The other four held a murmured conversation as they stood around us.

"What do we do?"

"I guess we just call the police and they’ll come and… deal with it."

"D’you think… that they’ll think that we did it?"

"Nah… No, they can’t - we wouldn’t have called if we did, and they’ve got people who can tell how long it’s dead for. We’re not going to prison don’t worry. We’ll probably get into trouble for breaking in here though…"

"Shit. There goes our shoot. There’s no way we’ll be able to come back either, it’s a crime scene."

"Do you think… do you think we maybe could… just, keep shooting a little longer before we call I mean…"

There was silence for a moment, then Bryony cut in.

"I don’t think they could take it. You do what you want, but we need to get those two out.”

I thanked her silently through screwed shut eyes as I held Phil closer still.

"Oh yeah, absolutely. Well I guess… well maybe just a few more shots, we’ll move right away to the other side though, obviously…"

"Why waste this golden opportunity though, let’s get a few close ups of the dead guy!"

I heard a muffled thud and then an “Ow!”

I guessed Chris’s twisted humour was not appreciated.

My breathing had slowed by now and I felt kind of guilty for not crying. But I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t know him. It was like walking in graveyard and stumbling across an open grave.

I felt numb, sick and still slightly dizzy. But the tears certainly weren’t splashing down onto anyone’s hoodie in waves. I tried to rub Phil’s back soothingly, pulling him tighter. I looked up for help and caught PJ’s eye. He was staring sadly at Phil, a look of understanding in his eye. Obviously there was something I didn’t know. What mattered now though was making Phil feel better so, trying to ignore the circle of people around us, I ducked down and kissed Phil quickly on the cheek, blushing. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I breathed out in relief, cradling him in my arms once more.

More voices joined the murmur in the background. Apparently Chris had decided to call the police after all. A horrible sinking feeling rose in my stomach when I realised I’d probably have to make a statement, seeing as I found the body. Phil too. I gave his shoulders a squeeze and closed my eyes against his hair.

~

"Have they identified the body yet?"

"No, it’s all hushed up actually - they asked us not to talk to newspapers and not to tell anyone, then offered us counselling." I rolled my eyes at the thought of the burly police officers sitting me down to talk about ‘feelings’. "They said there’s a lot more to the case than just a murder, and they’re worried that if it gets out there will be more dead bodies cropping up. But that’s all they’d tell us." I shrugged, focusing on the burger I was eating.

"Intriguing." PJ murmured.

The tone had been sombre all day; I’d stayed over in Phil’s bed to help him sleep. Truthfully I didn’t fancy walking home on my own anyway. As soon as I left Phil’s arms I saw thatface in every reflective surface, behind every corner, in every magazine or billboard… I shuddered. Phil and Chris were in lessons so PJ and I went to McDonalds – looking for comfort food rather than the paper sandwiches served in the college canteen.

"Do you know why Phil acted… the way he did?" I asked in between chips.

PJ sighed sadly. “Yes. But I think I should let him tell you as and when he wants to. It’s not my story to tell.”

I nodded, swirling a chip around in the little paper ketchup pot. “Fair enough. Did any of you actually see the body? Or was it just me and Phil?”

"it’s ‘Phil and I’, actually, and no. None of us wanted to go anywhere near after your reactions." PJ grinned.

"Yeah I know but that sounds stupid. You guys are made of steel.” I laughed. “I’d have thought Chris would have been well up for it, I’m surprised he didn’t try to take it home and keep it in the cupboard.”

"Me too," PJ grinned, "He’s not really as fucked up as he pretends to be though. He’s a big softie on the inside. He likes long cuddles and rom-coms. And knitting."

"Are you serious?!" I spluttered, showering the table with mushed up potato.

"Yeah!" PJ laughed, "You should see the scarf he’s working on, it’s incredible."

"Oh my god." I laughed, wiping my eyes, "I’ve just got this incredible mental picture of Chris having a natter with a bunch of old biddies up at the hospice and knitting a tea cosy." I chuckled to myself. "And then making some sort of horrific sexual innuendo and causing multiple heart attacks and a stroke."