They bring you down to their level. The words of Lee’s boss ring in his head. But it is Kemp who is ascendant, a man brilliantly transformed. In the flash of the high, the sudden dopamine rush, he moves quickly and gracefully, with none of the jerkiness of before. As he approaches, it strikes Lee that he should have been a dancer. He’s fleet of foot, old Daz. He could have done swing or rockabilly, in shirtsleeves and flat-fronted trousers and winklepicker shoes, tearing up the dance hall, throwing a partner into a spin. He has the instinctive streak that all good dancers have, and a spring in his gait that says, This is all a game, and we’ve won before we’ve started, and isn’t this a lark?

Then he stops, as of course he must. His pale blue eyes widen as he sees the intruders. The surprise, for both of them, Lee and Darren, is that they have been spared the worst. They grasp this fact at the same time, and Kemp looks terrified and relieved.

‘I didn’t want to do it,’ he says again.

It’s true and it isn’t true. Lee is eye to eye with Kemp. They’re on the same level now, and he hears himself saying, ‘It’s alright, Daz, I know. Don’t worry, okay? I know.’

Day Zero

Sebastian was still in bed when Teena came back from her run. Hearing her come in and put the coffee machine on, he sat up, checked his watch and rubbed his face.

‘You should’ve come,’ she said when she looked in. ‘It’s a beautiful day. No dust.’

He got up. It had been quiet in the flat and he had overslept. His phone had hardly rung all week; everyone thought he’d gone to District 6-13. His packed bag sat on the floor, ready to go. On top sat his press pass and a box of respirator masks. Picking up the box, he turned it over unhappily. He always took the masks on assignments to the outer settlements, but he’d had to cancel this trip at the last minute.

‘You didn’t sleep well?’ called Teena. In the other room, she was opening a window and throwing her running suit over the sill to air.