Here’s an excerpt to get you started:
The ringing of the phone took on the phantasmic insistence that only occurs in the dead of night when the news is nothing but bad. Peter knew logically, as the sound drilled through his sleep, that the ring was the same as ever, but given the hour, he felt the trill was somehow grimmer. He glanced at Charles, dead in slumber, and slipped out of the bed as quietly as he could to take the call.
“Peter? I thought you’d never answer.”
Jules’s voice was tight, and Peter immediately discarded the rebuke that had first come to his lips, the reminder that Jules was not supposed to call him at home. “You’re hurt. Did you get him?”
“You’ve got to come get me.”
Peter’s knees went watery. He leaned against the kitchen counter. “You know I can’t do that. Where are you?” He was picturing Jules in the cramped flat again, now bleeding like a wounded animal. “How bad is it?”
“We trained together.” His voice was shaking. A wounded animal, yes, frantic with fear. “A year ago, it would have been you out here instead of me. You have to come get me.”
The line went dead.