For a few seconds I went through the scenes in my head, of me stabbing Staring Crone, and Old Albert, and Dr Jones, and everybody, with that blunt knife, before leaping on to a boat and heading for the coast, leaving another pile of fresh bodies behind me on the mesoglea. But it was always an unreal scene, because I couldn’t remember what I looked like and, you know, if you’re watching yourself doing something in your imagination then it’s like you’re telling a story about somebody else, and watching the action from a distance. Maybe a better version of yourself? In my head-movie I had tight black trousers and long, flowing, curly blonde hair and a beautiful face. I had no clue what my face really looked like, obviously, but I did know that my hair and rags weren’t like that at all.

‘Do you think we should wrestle the others to the ground, so we can climb on board?’ said James. He looked at me in a more intense way than he normally does, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking: whether he was making fun of me, or whether he was really suggesting it.

‘No . . .’ I said, making sure I sounded shocked. ‘But we can try, if you think it’s a good idea?’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ he said.

‘I do,’ said Lana. ‘I think they’ll let us anyway. But I’ll friggin’ stab anybody in the eye who tries to stop me from leaving first.’

‘It’s coming!’ Staring Crone gave a sudden shout.

‘What?’

‘Do my hair!’ said James. ‘Quick!’ I grabbed the knife and started sawing. A crowd had gathered by Staring Crone.

‘Can we do this while we’re watching, James?’ I said.

‘I don’t mind not watching,’ he said. ‘But yes.’

I led him, by the hair, to stand next to the others. Soldier John had chosen one of the best boats, the one we’d always said we’d try, when we’d talked about what we’d do on shore. It was small, but still looked in almost perfect condition, and had a sail which its owners had tied up before leaving it. The sail was, as we’d always hoped, in perfect working order.

Soldier John was making rapid progress towards us, whilst the other two stayed watching on the shore. He arrived just a couple of minutes later, skimming easily over the top of those tentacles. He let down the sail, gliding the last few metres in. ‘Don’t dock me,’ he said, throwing the mooring rope at us. ‘Turn the boat round first, so that I’m facing away. I may need to leave quickly.’