" THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON TRANSMITTING, OVER." I was about to say it again, when a big booming voice broke through the silence."CARTER! WHERE YOU BEEN,...BOY? WE MISSED YOU!" The voice on the radio was friendly -- jovial, even. I looked at Ingmar with a 'what the fuck?' expression on my face."Talk to him!" Ingmar said."THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON, TRANSMITTING FROM BROOKE ARMY HOSPITAL IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS. OVER."Well, hell. If this guy on the radio was one of our friends from outside, they already. "But, sir, the... uh... music you're making is sure to..." I'll stop when the cops show up," Matt said. "That's a rule that's always worked for me in the past. Now tell me what you think of this riff. Too heavy? Or not heavy enough?"And with that, he ground out a crunching, multifaceted riff that reverterbrated throughout the floor above and below his.Emil didn't answer. He simply fled back to his bedroom, worried for his immigration status when the cops finally did arrive.Matt chuckled under. More

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