I hear a crash over the crackling of the flames, and turn to see Ade on the floor, with Digger pinning her to the ground, crushing the walkie in his mandibles. I run to help at the same time as Kat drops from the balcony onto Digger’s back. He rears up like an angry bull and tries to shake her, but she clings on around his shoulders, and stabs something into his eye. He shrieks and tries to get airborne, managing to rise a few metres above the ground, his powerful wings dislodging Kat and sending her crashing down. Then he turns to Mak, who is holding the last walkie, and speeds towards him, his eye dripping black goo. Mak doesn’t have many options, and he knows he needs to protect the walkie, so he zig-zags across the hub, using anything he can to hide behind as the spit balls fly. And that’s mostly glitching sporelings.

I grab the plastic box from the desk and tip it open, snatching up the bottle of water. The heat 296 from the fire is growing fierce now, blasting out from the tree, and sweat is pouring off every bit of my skin.

‘Mak!’ I shout. ‘Bait him, I’m coming.’

‘Got it!’ he calls back, and he darts toward the lift at the back of the hub where there are fewer sporelings. Digger sees his opportunity and beats his wings, rising until he’s almost at the ceiling, and then he plummets towards Mak. I run.

He grabs Mak with his claw hands and tries to lift him into the air. Mak only has one free hand, but he uses it to fight, punching upwards into the joint of Digger’s arm, making it buckle. Mak drops, and as Digger swoops again to catch him, I take a flying leap with my open bottle of water and throw the contents into the wound on Digger’s eye. Mak hits the ground, and rolls into a crouch, while I just smack down like a brick off a bridge, and crack my chin on the rock-hard floor. Digger flails around, screeching, and swiping at his eye, then he backs away, crawls up the wall and disappears out of the broken ceiling.

‘Are you OK, Lance?’ Kat says, holding out a hand to help me up. ‘You’re bleeding again.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, not even bothering to wipe the 297 sticky wetness on my face. ‘Are you? Are the others? You need to be ready to get out.’

‘All good.’ Ade and Mak run over.

‘And we’re not getting out without you,’ says Kat, starting to cough. ‘How long until the sprinklers kick in?’