these pots.”

“Yeah, of course.” The officer gestured to them, and Matt shut the door.

“Please don’t lock it,” the nurse called to them.

Matt turned worried eyes on Ryan. “So what do we tell them?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not much good, is it!” Matt hissed in a whisper.

Ryan sighed. “What do you want me to say, Matt?”

“I don’t know. Where’s your friend Sheila, and that other girl, Beth? I mean, can’t they explain it?”

Ryan waved his hand, gesturing for Matt to keep his voice down. For all they knew, the officer had

his ear to the door seam, taking notes.

“Let’s just...” He lowered his voice, pulling Matt against him to whisper in his ear. “Let’s just tell

the truth, but leave out all the...weird stuff. They’ll never believe us anyway.”

Matt nodded fervently. “Yeah, too right. I wouldn’t blame ‘em.”

“Right.”

After peeing in their respective pots, they shuffled out from the bathroom, handing their samples to

the nurse. She took them and sat at the desk, dipping various tabs of paper into their urine, as Matt

pulled a disgusted face. The other nurse left, and the police officer sat with them. Ryan tried to put

himself in the man’s shoes. What must he be thinking?

“I should maybe call our boss,” Ryan said, thinking aloud.

“I think someone’s already spoken to whoever owns the building,” the officer said. He had a pen

and notepad ready. Ryan mused that the notepad was too small to fit much in, and that the officer

would have to have very neat writing to make the most of that space.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

Matt and Ryan exchanged a glance. “What, both of us together?” Matt asked.

“This is just a first round of inquiry. We’re just starting to get statements in. Once you’re deemed

fit and healthy, we’ll probably need you to do full statements with us later.”

“Okay.” Matt turned to Ryan again. “You tell him, then.”

“Will this be quick?” Ryan asked. “I really wanted to see...I mean, we wanted to see our friends.”

“Course you do. No, this won’t take long. We’re just trying to establish exactly what happened, in

case there’s further risk. We got everyone out, cordoned off the building, and called in the gas board,

but there aren’t any initial signs of a gas leak. That’s still our main cause for concern, at the moment.”

“Oh, right.” Ryan breathed in disguised relief. “Well, yeah, that part of the building is pretty old.”

“Was it recently opened?”

“Yeah, we –”

The door swung open, and two more men appeared. One was in police uniform, another was in

normal clothes; dark jeans and a jacket, nothing memorable, just average. Ryan was wondering who he

was until the man pulled out a wallet and flipped it open to reveal his badge. “Hello there, I’m

Detective Inspector Walsh. This has been a busy night, hasn’t it? You boys all right?”

Ryan was instantly terrified, but managed to nod. Matt stared at the floor.

“Do you want to take over, sir?” the first officer asked.

“Have you got far?” the detective pulled up a chair next to him.

The officer shook his head. “Just started.”

“I’m just in time, then.” The detective smiled at them, and Ryan thought he seemed pleasant

enough, but cagey. He supposed it paid to be cagey in his line of work. “So, lads, can you talk me

through what happened tonight?”

Ryan tried to breathe calmly. He’d tell the detective as much as he could, but he was going to have

to be a little inventive skirting round the unexplainable and frightening memories that played over and

over in his mind, like a snagged movie reel.

Chapter Twenty-one

Fizz knew he had to be dreaming. He was on a boat, staring at water. He’d never been on a boat in

his life. How strange. There was dark-skinned man, naked to the waist, wearing a turban, drawing

patterns on the wooden deck with a piece of chalk. Sigils. Fizz didn’t know how he knew this, but

knew for certain they were sigils used for protection, healing…

That was the only thing he remembered before he woke up. He knew there had been other things in

the dream, but he couldn’t recall anything. He blinked in the gloom. Where was he? A room. A room

that beeped, and made noises. Someone coughed from far away, and it echoed off walls. It was dark

here, but not pitch black. Light filtered in through from an open door, and Fizz heard female voices

talking in hushed tones, a subdued laugh, and the rustle of paper. A smell of disinfectant and cheap,

starched bedclothes met his nose. He knew instantly where he was; a hospital.

Fizz still felt half asleep, but found himself sitting up, pulling pads, clips and tubes away from his

body. He had somewhere more important to be. He wasn’t awake enough to realise what, he just knew

he had to go.

The floor felt cold under his bare feet. Fizz wandered through the gloom, pushing aside thin

material curtains. Bodies lay in beds, machines whirring quietly next to them. Beep beep beep. The

beeps were good, it meant they were alive. Fizz wondered if he was still dreaming.

When he found who he was looking for, he stood close enough to touch, but was almost afraid to.

He stared down at the sleeping body. This boy wasn’t much older than him, with dark, burnished skin,

and glossy black hair. His face was delicately handsome, marred somewhat by the clear plastic tubing

fed into his nose. Fizz knew that if those eyes had been open, they’d be deep, deep brown, and the

boy’s lips would curve up in a warm smile.

Subdued and hazy, Fizz reached out his fingers, holding the boy’s hand. A plastic clip was on his

index finger, hooked up to a machine that made the beep beep beep.

“Ash?”

The boy didn’t respond. He slept on, as if he’d be that way forever. Fizz wasn’t sure how long he

stood there, but when a woman with a strange, unusual accent came for him, he went with her

willingly. She put him back into his bed, reattaching the clipper to his finger. Fizz closed his eyes, and

he was back in his dream. The wind was in his hair, and he could smell the salt on the waves.

* * *

Ryan decided that Sheila was his saving grace. Not only had she appeared halfway through the

police statements to back up his and Matt’s story, but she’d brought cups of tea.

There honestly wasn’t a lot they could tell the police anyway, and the prospect of a gas leak or

some phenomena with the building was suspect number one, as far as Ryan could make out. There had

been questions about alcohol and drugs, but the initial tests from everyone had come up clean.

Ryan was relieved. There were the two paramedics who’d collapsed too, so that rather pointed to

something in the building being to blame. Ryan blamed the pigeon loft entirely. He hoped the place

would get sealed off for good.

After Detective Walsh and the police had gone, Sheila and a nurse took Ryan and Matt to the ward.

They left Rachel asleep, with the other nurse, who promised to take good care of her. Sheila chatted

with the second nurse, as they led the boys down corridors, through the hospital and onto a quiet ward.

There were so many people affected, they’d been given their own ward. Ryan wondered if they’d

get quarantined, like in zombie movies. He quickly pushed that thought away, and chided himself for

thinking about it in the first place.

The beds were lined up in rows. The two paramedics, then Ash. On the other side were Sammy,

Fizz, Pete, Ginger.

Sheila explained that Fizz wasn’t unconscious, he’d been sedated because he’d become upset in the