“Go away!” Ryan shouted, leaning over Ginger protectively. “Just...fuck off! Go back inside your

fucking room and stay there!”

Laughter answered him. “I’m not going anywhere...yet.”

“Please.” Ryan choked on a sob. “What have you done?”

Movement flickered in front of him. Ryan blinked in surprise, twice. The first blink, there was no

one there. The second blink, a person stood with their back to him, facing into the pigeon loft. Ryan

recognised the dark green military jacket, the scruff of brown hair.

It’s that man.

A growl came from inside the pigeon loft, sounding almost animalistic. “What do you want?”

“You’re hurting them,” the man said gruffly. “Stop it.”

“No. This is my chance, Martin, don’t you see?”

“You’re not coming out.” The man waved his hand, and Ryan watched the door to the pigeon loft

slam shut.

Relief flooded him. Fizz – or whoever the hell that boy was – had been kept away. Ryan realised

that the man was trying to protect him. Ryan wanted to ask who he was, but the words stuck in his

throat. As the man turned to look down at him, Ryan saw a dark patch of blood stain his chest. It

dripped over the brass buttons, seeping down his clothes. “I can’t hold him for long,” the man said,

then he vanished.

Ryan blinked. The stairwell was empty, just as before. He looked around, but the man really had

vanished into nothing.

“Oh shit.” Ryan grabbed for Ginger’s hand. “Daniel? Shit, Daniel, you got to wake up. I think – I

think I’m going mad.” He tried to feel for a pulse, but his own was beating too loud. Ryan leant down

instead, holding his breath, and placed his ear against Ginger’s chest.

A faint thud was music to his ears. “Thank God,” he breathed. Ginger was breathing, but he was

still unconscious. “Just hold on, Daniel,” he said. “I’m going to sort this all out.”

The door down the stairs opened. “Ryan?” Pete called.

Pete!

“Here!” Ryan called back.

Pete heaved himself up the stairs. When he got to the landing, he glanced down at them before

dropping to his knees. “I just got back. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said honestly. “He just – he collapsed. He’s breathing, but he won’t wake up.”

“Okay.” Pete crouched at Ginger’s other side. “Matt’s calling an ambulance. Let’s put him in

recovery. You get his legs.”

Ryan cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. He moved and, with Pete’s help, they shifted

Ginger onto his side. Pete had done a first aid course, but a long time ago. He’d been happy for Ginger

to take over that duty. Not that it helped them much now, but Ryan hoped Pete remembered enough to

help until the ambulance arrived.

Pete arranged Ginger’s arms, bending one elbow to support his own head. Ryan positioned Ginger’s

legs, the bottom one out straight, the other bent to keep the body from moving back and forth. He kept

his hand on Ginger’s thigh, desperate to stay in physical contact.

“Where’s Fizz?” Pete glanced at the pigeon loft. “And why’s the door shut?”

“He – um, he...”

“Guys?” Matt’s voice called, as his boots stomped up the stairs. “How old is Ginger?”

“Thirty-two,” Ryan and Pete answered together.

Matt came up the stairs, cordless phone in hand. He would’ve had to have gone into the basement’s

office to get the cordless. “Thirty-two,” Matt said into the phone. “Hello? Sorry, you’re breaking up.

Hello?”

“Shit,” Ryan cursed. “Matt, the reception doesn’t work up here! Go back down.”

“What?”

“Go back downstairs!”

“Okay, okay.” Matt retreated, staying near the bottom of the stairs.

Ryan wiped a hand over his face, breathing deeply. Pete touched his shoulder. “It’s all right. They’ll

be here soon.”

With Matt at the bottom of the stairs, speaking to 999 on the phone, Ryan and Pete stayed with

Ginger. They had to all work together, answering the questions Matt was being asked by the operator.

“Why isn’t the reception working?” Pete frowned in confusion. He checked his own mobile. “My

phone won’t work either.”

“Mine too.” Ryan said.

“Ambulance on its way,” Matt called up the stairs. “They want me to stay on the line.”

“Okay!” Ryan called back. Please, God, he thought to himself. Please, please, please. Ryan

squeezed Ginger’s hand, which felt limp and cold.

“Oh, hang on,” Matt said, then shouted up, “What about Fizz? They want to know if anyone else, er,

needs assistance?”

Pete looked at him, but Ryan couldn’t meet his eyes.

“He...um...”

“Hello?” a small voice called from behind the door.

Pete glanced at the pigeon loft. “Fizz? That you?”

“Can somebody help me, please?”

Ryan grabbed his arm as Pete went to move. “Pete, no. Leave him in there.”

“What?” Pete frowned at him. “What’s wrong? Rachel said he was ill or something? He hasn’t

collapsed as well, has he?”

“No, but...” Ryan’s words faltered. How could he possibly tell his boss about Fizz acting weird, and

rooms full of blood, and strange men in uniform? Pete would think he’d lost his mind.

“Guys?” Matt called again. “Should I tell them?”

“Well, yeah, if he’s ill too,” Pete called back. “Hang on, I’ll check.”

“Shit.” Ryan gripped onto Ginger’s body, as Pete stood up and opened the door to the pigeon loft.

The darkness and the tilting floorboards had mysteriously vanished. It was all as it normally looked.

Ryan stared, not quite believing his eyes.

“Fizz?” Pete stepped inside.

“In here,” the small voice called. “Please...”

“Pete,” Ryan tried again. “Don’t.”

“I can’t ignore him, Ryan,” Pete said. “This mess is all my responsibility, don’t forget.” He went in,

walking down the hall, and turned to Fizz’s room. “Fizz?”

Ryan held his breath, and watched Pete disappear from view as he went into Fizz’s room. Ryan

strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything. “Pete?”

No answer.

“Pete!”

“Ryan?” Matt called. “What’s going on? The lady on the phone wants to know about Fizz.”

“Shit,” Ryan muttered. What the hell was going on? “Matt, come up here.”

“What?” Matt walked up the stairs. “But the phone goes all crackly up here.” He held it away from

his ear as he stared at it. Ryan could hear the static blast from the ear piece.

“Never mind that. Go check on Pete, but don’t go in the room. Just tell me what he’s doing?”

Matt turned worried eyes to the pigeon loft. “Uh...okay.” He left the phone on the bannister, and

carefully stepped over Ginger’s legs.

“Just tell me what’s happening,” Ryan said again. “Don’t go in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt muttered. “I heard you the first time.” He crossed the threshold and crept along

the hall. Ryan watched him. Matt cautiously peeked around the open door to Fizz’s room, then started

backwards. Ryan’s breath froze as Matt hurried toward him, a look of shock on his face.

“Matt, what –”

The door swung in. Ryan saw Matt’s face as he almost reached it, and the stark look in his eyes

before it slammed shut.

“Matt!” Ryan scrambled up, pulling at the doorknob in vain.

“Ryan!” Matt shouted from inside. “Ryan, open up!”

“It opens in. Shit. Look, uh, you pull on the door, I’m going to kick it, all right?”

“Okay.” Matt’s voice hitched in panic. The doorknob rattled, and Ryan could see the wood straining

as Matt pulled from the inside. Ryan leaned back on the bannister with his hands, hoping it would take

his weight. He raised one foot, aimed it where the wood of the door would be weakest, and kicked

hard.

The door stood fast. Pain rippled up his leg. “Fuck,” he ground out, hobbling back to the ground.

“Ryan?” The doorknob rattled. “Shit, don’t leave me in here. Pete’s collapsed in that room, and –