It’s not enough. The dead man is too heavy and his feet kept tripping, causing Ben to lose momentum. He clenches his jaw and tries harder. The train comes into view. Two bright lights like the eyes of a snake as the driver finally notices the smouldering corpses on the tracks. He hits the brakes, which screech and send a deeper vibration through the ground. A young female police officer runs on to the platform, sweeping her gaze over everything until catching sight of Ben. They lock eyes for the briefest of seconds before she turns and shouts at the driver but the train hits a body that bursts apart like a ripe melon spraying blood and gore everywhere. Sparks shoot out from metallic objects trapped between the wheels and the metal track. Ben lifts his head to stare at the showering sparks getting closer as the train closes the gap.

‘GET HIM.’

Words shouted in a second of absolute confusion. He snaps his head round and instantly screws his eyes closed at the dazzling blue light filling his vision in the darkness of the tunnel mouth. An impact from the side. People grabbing him hard, forcing him across the tracks. The ginger man is ripped from his hands. The train comes in fast. Too many sensations at once. Too many things happening. A second later the detonation sends a massive shock wave through the tunnel. Bricks and dust fall from the ceiling. Everything vibrating and shuddering. The noise is indescribable. A solid wall of intense sound. Fire. Flames. Twisting metal. Voices screaming. Smells of chemicals and heat all overwhelm his senses. He hits out, punching and raging at whoever is attacking him. Chaos and confusion. Torches shining in his eyes. Sounds everywhere. He’s taken down to the ground and dragged into a world of silence that his mind cannot comprehend.

‘Jab him,’ a voice grunts. ‘Fuck’s sake . . . jab him . . .’ Ben fights hard, driving his fists into bodies that yelp out in pain.

‘Have you got him?’ another voice asks from somewhere a bit further away.

‘Please . . . stop hitting me!’

‘Malcolm, I suggest you inject him now . . .’

‘I’m trying! But he’s fighting like a . . .’

‘Ben, calm down. We’re here to help.’ Ben recognises that voice somewhere in the layers of his subconscious thought but the front of his mind is filled with people in I Love London jackets and a country lane in the middle of nowhere. Dense smoke seeps into the room. Bricks and debris fly past, bouncing off walls.

‘Turn it off!’

‘Bloody trying . . . Boss . . . turn it off . . .’

‘Ben, just calm . . .’

People saying his name over and over again. He grabs something and bites into it. Someone screams so he bites harder and kicks into something else that also screams out in pain. Two men holding him down. They scrabble about trying to grab his arms while a third voice, the one Ben recognises, gives instructions from further away.