Harry feels a mask pushed on his face and sweet oxygen flowing down his burning throat as someone starts cutting his clothes off. He tries feebly to bat them away.

‘It’s okay, Harry. Stay calm. We’re here to help you.’

Pulsing with energy but freezing cold, his body starts shivering with the first danger sign of hypothermia and his skin, now exposed to the air, feels like razor blades are being pulled over it.

‘Hypodermic shock, where’s the thermal blanket?’ Konrad says.

‘By your feet, dickhead. And it’s “hypothermic” not “dermic” . . . “hypodermic” is a needle thing,’ Malcolm says.

‘Needle thing? Good explanation.’

‘At least I know what it is,’ Malcolm huffs.

The hands roll him on to his left side and push a thin material over his back before rolling him over on to his right side, cocooning him within the blanket.

‘Is it on?’ Konrad asks.

‘I don’t know, I’m driving the bloody boat now,’ Malcolm replies.

‘It’s on. Oh, it feels so nice and warm, my hands are freezing.’

Instant heat surrounds Harry but the shivering continues as the blanket works to raise his core temperature. Not vomiting now, but his lungs hurt with each breath and his throat burns. Exhaustion saps at his mind as the adrenaline burns off. The sweet oxygen and the heat of the blanket lull him down from frenzied consciousness back towards sleep.

‘Hey, I think he’s alright now,’ Konrad says.

‘Good work, just got to get the hell out of here now,’ Malcolm mutters.

‘Harry, can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me. He’s nodding.’

‘Is he? Wow.’

‘Sarcastic twat,’ Konrad says.

‘You just proved an English bloke can nod when you ask him . . . well done for that.’

‘Harry, just rest. We’re getting you somewhere safe so don’t panic. Everything will be okay. Rest now, Harry. I’ll give him the sedative now, Malc. He’s out. Christ, that town is ruined. Have you seen it?’

‘Seriously?’

‘What?’ Konrad asks.

‘You’re asking me if I’ve seen the town? The town that’s just had the shit bombed out of it . . . the town with the massive fires . . . the town we’re going away from . . . that town?’

‘Shut up.’

‘No, really. Did you mean that town or is there another one?’

‘Such a sarcastic dick. We ready to go yet?’ Konrad asks sulkily.

‘Almost, we’re still in visual sight. Give it another minute.’

‘Mad Harry, eh?’ Konrad says. ‘Christ, we’ve got Mad Harry . . . the actual Mad Harry . . . at least I hope it’s Mad Harry. Do you think it’s Mad Harry? What if we got the wrong one?’

‘He’s not the wrong man. The program matched him,’ Malcolm says.

‘No, I mean what if we got the wrong one, like . . . picked up the wrong bloke.’

‘Oh, I see. We’ll just bring him back if we have and do it again.’