All right, these were things he should have been thinking.
1. find a new identity.
2. find a job.
3. find a new home.
4. do something.
It was overwhelming. Where did he start? What should he do?
On one hand, go to the authorities. Let them take care of this. Only, he was pretty sure they'd put him in the loony bend for starters. And even if they believed them, well, Jennifer would take care of them. One by one. He supposed. Maybe she'd take care of them by the shitloads, for all he knew.
So there he was with a slushie, THE BIG GULP, sitting there in his car feasting on breakfast, maybe that was dinner. Could be supper. He didn't know the time of day. And then he heard a cell ringing. It wasn't his cell. It was somewhere in his messy backseat.
Suddenly, he got a jolt from the past. When it happened. When Jennifer had disgustingly did what she did to Patrick that she thought was him, he'd taken Patrick's cell that had somehow edged its way where Colin had hid from the uber-monster. He'd taken it. And ran.
He'd called 911 on that cell. Then. And now it was ringing.
Colin held his breath wondering who it could be. Now. He dove for the phone in the backseat. Jerked it open to see an unfamiliar phone number. He answered.
"Patrick! Patrick are you, OK?" It was a male voice. Colin couldn't place it. He thought he knew all of Patrick's pals. Evidently, not.