Mayday

As quickly as the imaginary darkness had fallen, it seemed, the stars dissolved.

Had I slept? I couldn't be sure. Was I still sleeping? No. Yes. Or maybe somewhere between waking and dreaming.

In my mind I saw, as big as a cinema screen, a computer monitor. Across it flashed words, phrases, pictures and diagrams from the dossier I'd been given on the memory stick.

All these words and images came and went, along with the sound of Mr Smith's voice from the video clip. Project Lupus... real danger ... believe me... intoned the voice - then, at intervals, I would hear his voice saying a number.

These numbers leapt out, sounding far louder - and as he said each number, it would remain before me on the screen.

Gradually, the series of numbers took shape - until, on-screen, the changing pictures and text - and that calming voice - stopped.

Then the numbers too, disappeared. And for an instant, one word appeared on the screen of my mind:

OVERRIDDEN

My eyes flashed open - I hadn't realised until that point just how tightly closed they were - and I brought my hands up before my face. Free. I clenched, then unclenched, my fists. Such a simple movement, but it felt wonderful.

I had no idea how Mr Smith had done it, but that didn't matter right now. Now I only had one aim. To find Jen and get us out of here.



Story begins here.