‘Huh?’ Ben asks, blinking at the doctor.

‘Bringing people back like that,’ the doctor says. ‘It induces shock and that, coupled with the medications and sedatives given to you, plus the adrenaline and chemical releases, would put anyone into an awful state of mind. It could have equally caused anxiety to the extent of psychosis just as much as severe clinical depression. The doctor, or rather I should have been first . . .’

Roland stiffens at the repeated rebuke. His face showing the strain. ‘There is no precedent for this . . .’

‘There is,’ Doctor Watson says, not unkindly. ‘Not extraction for time travelling, but there is precedent for isolation from society. Prison? Solitary confinement? Persons trapped for long periods of time? Persons kidnapped? There is a great deal of precedent.’

Ben listens. His brain no longer trying to work through a fug of confusion. He swallows and nods at the doctor in agreement of everything said.

‘Can you send me in?’ Ben asks as the others look at him in confusion. ‘To Safa and Harry. Can you send me there?’

‘Ben,’ Roland says gently. ‘They’re gone. It’s too late.’

‘I’m going back for them,’ he says with firmness building in his tone and a resolve hardening by the second.

‘You can’t . . .’ Malcolm says.

‘I am,’ Ben cuts him off with a firm nod as he stands up from the wall. ‘Send me back . . .’

‘Ben, please,’ Malcolm protests. ‘Please listen . . .’

‘I’m going back.’

‘Please listen,’ Malcolm asks. ‘It was bad . . .’

‘What was?’

‘We opened the window but we did it in the storm and the waves came through the window into the room . . .’

‘So?’

‘Tons of water,’ Malcolm gabbles, desperate to get the words out. ‘We were too low down and the doctor’s yacht came through . . .’

‘What the hell are you on about?’

‘Listen to him, Ben,’ Roland pleads. ‘Safa and Harry were attached to ropes. They had five minutes to find the doctor before we pulled them back but the doctor’s yacht crashed through the window, jamming everything. The water was everywhere . . . we couldn’t get it out the room fast enough . . . look at the walls.’

Dark patches on every wall. The water stains solid from three feet down, giving an indication of the sheer volume of water coming into the bunker.

Malcolm rushes on, taking advantage of the brief silence. ‘It’s too much out there. No one can get through that and survive.’

‘Show me.’

‘You can’t see through it,’ Roland says.

‘Show me.’

‘Ben, please,’ Malcolm whimpers.

‘Just bloody show me.’ Ben’s turn to plead.

‘Show him,’ Doctor Watson says. ‘Let him see for himself.’

‘Roland?’ Konrad asks, turning to Roland, who just nods and blows air out through his puffed-out cheeks.

Malcolm unlocks the door with the red light over it to reveal a room that now stinks of seawater and seaweed. Holes and dents in the walls speak of things smashing into them. Deep gouge marks everywhere.