‘After everything we’ve seen today, you know we can’t risk it.’ I hold eye contact, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Everyone is different, and we all process stuff in our own way. Some people panic, some lash out, some bury their anxiety under a layer of calm. I’ve only known Karim for a few months, and my gut says he can deal. But, however he’s feeling, I can’t let him wake her up.

His eyes drop. ‘At least I know she’s alive and that she’s not freaking out.’

‘Exactly. Being spored actually makes people physically healthier,’ I say. ‘Like my mum.’

He nods, and I know he knows that I get it.

‘We should take a quick look in the final room, in case there’s someone in there who needs help, and then we have to get out of here,’ I whisper. ‘We’ve been down here too long, and whoever put your mum here is going to be coming back to check on her.’

We turn back to the hatch, and I glance in as I move to replace the shutter. The bed is empty.

94 ‘Where is she?’ Kat says as we edge our faces closer to the bars for a better view. There’s no sound from inside the cell, just the low electrical hum coming from the cave lights above us. My stomach churns, but whether it’s cos of the smell, or the fact that my mate’s mum has just disappeared from right in front of us, I don’t know. Everything is still and quiet as we stare at that empty bed – so still that the lights flicker off. My nose is poking through the bars in the hatch, my ears straining for any sign that she’s in there. And then, at lightning speed, her face appears on the other side of the bars – so close that I feel her breath on my face as she says, ‘Who’s there?’

We all instinctively hit the ground in less than a second, the movement making the light ping back on. I manage to stop myself from shouting out – god knows how. Kat gasps, and Karim makes a sound like a guinea pig being strangled but there’s nothing identifiable. We crouch in front of the door, and my heart is thumping so hard that it actually hurts. I tell myself: the lights were out; she doesn’t know it’s us. The most important thing is that we keep it that way.

‘Is someone there?’ Her voice calls through the 95 open grate. ‘Please? I need help. I’m being held here against my will.’