chapter fifteen‘Where the shitting hell is he, Huxley?’ asked Dutton, pacing up and down. He was sniffing like a tracker dog in search of coke, each one in time to his steps as he paced up and down in the portacabin. ‘He should be back by now!’‘We weren’t to know there would be... complications,’ replied the colonel, steepling his fingers.‘It’s all right for you, we have a lot riding on this.’ He waved his hand across to indicate the general, who was still sitting in his same seat. ‘Our country’s in the toilet and this could get us out of it.’‘Then thank your lucky stars it came along,’ Huxley told him.‘Where is your man?’ Dutton asked once more. ‘He should have been here ages ago.’‘Relax, Baker will be here when he’s here.’‘Relax!’ screamed Dutton, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You don’t know the kind of pressure I’m under here, the people I have to report to. And that’s before we get to the PM.’‘No, I just have the P
chapter sixteenThe ambulance had almost made it. Radford didn’t quite know what happened.It hadn’t been the Sleepers at the barrier attacking, or the ones chasing the ambulance, though they were pouring over it now. Must have been inside, because whoever had been driving was pulling some crazy stunts. Radford had just stood there and watched it brake, then roll over once to land on its side.He was well aware of what happened after that, however—though he didn’t truly believe it. Dr Strauss, emerging from the vehicle, battered but still alive, carrying a woman Radford hadn’t seen before. He didn’t quite understand the significance of this, nor why the Sleepers near them were backing off.A few minutes later, another figure staggered from the wreckage. It was the black soldier, Jackson, who’d been fighting with... Timms, yes he was there too! Neither of them had their masks on, but seemed okay, if a little dazed and confused; helpi
chapter seventeenThey were together at last.She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was delighted. Everything had changed after he’d kissed her for the first time back there. Then he’d told her he loved her and they were just sitting here on the beach, waiting for the dawn to break. It was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced, like something out of a dream. That was it, this was her dream man. The one she’d longed for all her life.And as they held hands she knew it was going to last forever.* * *When Baker came to, it was still dark in the city.His legs were both smashed, but strangely he couldn’t feel a thing. He tried to pull the driver’s door open, but it was jammed. Hardly surprising after the crash; the last thing he remembered. He could see no sign of the case he had to deliver, and his radio was dead, so he grabbed his pistol and pulled himself along on his elbows, ou
epilogueSuzy woke with a jerk from the dream.Her mum was calling her anyway. ‘Get up, sleepyhead. I’ve been shouting you for quarter of an hour.’‘Whaa...?’ said Suzy, still groggy from the deep sleep. She rubbed her eyes.‘It’s Sunday, remember? Come and have breakfast, then you’ve really got to start getting ready. We want to be leaving by ten.’That’s right, she’d been looking forward to today the whole week! Sunday. Dad’s day off. He was an important person, her dad; mum too, come to think of it. She was the mayoress to his mayor. Suzanne didn’t understand exactly what that entailed, but she knew they ran the town. That they were trying to build it up, expand it, put it on the map.One day, her dad often told her, she’d be just as important—if not more so.Suzy thought about telling her mother about the dream, about how she’d been all grown up but asleep, and how there had been this strange disease that sent eve
prologueSuzie had a recurring dream.In it she was a little girl, no more than about eight. Her parents had taken her to a country park somewhere, all trees, rolling hills and looking-glass lakes. They were having a picnic by one of those lakes, the chequered blanket spread out on the grass, and Suzie was basking in the warmth of the late August sun.Her mum and dad were smiling, laughing. It was a good time, a good dream. Suzie ate and ate until she thought she might burst: sandwiches, sausage rolls (her absolute favourite), crisps; and then ice cream, chocolates, fancy buns with icing on them her mother had made. There were birds singing, and Suzie looked up at the sky to see some of them flapping overhead—a V-like formation, like the Red Arrows had flown in at that air display her folks had taken her to.Closer to the ground, a butterfly flew past, the oranges and blacks so rich it looked like it had just been painted into
chapter oneThe disorder presented itself as a mild form of fatigue at first.A Mr Norman Eley was badgered into going to his local GP by his wife, Corrine, who’d noticed his continual lack of energy over the past couple of days. She also insisted on coming along with him, to make sure the doctor got the whole picture. Corrine knew how Norman was for hiding things, especially from figures of authority.‘So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,’ said Dr Marsha Wray of the East Middletown Community Health Centre, sitting behind her desk and glancing up at the anxious couple in-between jotting things down on the pad in front of her. ‘You say your husband has been feeling particularly tired of late, more so than usual?’‘Definitely,’ stated Mrs Eley. ‘He’s been nodding off as soon as he gets home from work at night... well, from one of his jobs.’Dr Wray paused. ‘Did you say one of his jobs?’‘Er... yes,’ admitted Mrs Eley.
chapter two‘It’s time. Come, quickly... I need you!’The words followed him, up out of unconsciousness as he was roused from his precious sleep. Precious, for him especially as an insomniac. The time he spent in a dream state—especially these days—was few and far between, and he resented anything that interrupted it.Andrew Strauss groaned as he lifted his sore head off the pillow. Had it really been worth all that booze last night to put him under? Yes, definitely, always, if it meant he spent a few hours asleep. The incessant ringing of the phone on the bedside table—not his mobile, because that was switched off—seemed to be accompanying the booms he was hearing between his ears. A symphony for the hung-over in A-Minor. He needed pills... but painkillers this time; not the sleeping ones he seemed to be increasingly immune to these days. Alcohol didn’t usually have much of an effect, so he must have really tied one on the previous evening. Mos
chapter threeThe move was a risky one, but if he held his nerve he could pull it off.Sweat trickled down his brow, his breathing coming in short bursts, but he fought to control it; fought to give the impression he was cool, calm and collected. He needed to, or everything was lost. Private First Class Jackson Monks sucked on the cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth, watching for any hint of weakness in his opponents. He glanced down at his nut-coloured hands, which were as steady as a rock. He couldn’t afford any slip ups with this operation. Not now, not when he was so close to victory.His main enemy was staring straight at him, as if demanding he make his move. Jackson attempted a smirk, but it came out more like a grimace. His foe was about to strike, anyone could see that; but would he be able to beat Jackson to the draw?The soldier sitting opposite tossed a handful of twenty pound notes into the centre of the table