‘You were right,’ said the young man, as Johnny was dragged out into the night. ‘This is station BD3!’

‘I know,’ said Johnny. ‘I remembered you just telling me.’

He staggered and grabbed at Yo-less to stay upright. The world was spinning around him. He hadn’t felt like this since that business with the cider at Christmas. The voices around him seemed to be muffled, and he couldn’t be sure whether they were really there, or voices he was remembering, or words that hadn’t even been spoken yet.

He felt that his mind was being shaken loose in time, and it was only still here because his body was a huge great anchor.

‘It’s downhill all the way,’ said Kirsty, and sped off. Yo-less followed her.

Far away, down in the town, a church clock began to strike eleven.

Johnny tried to lumber into a run, but the ground kept shifting under his feet.

Why are we doing this? he thought. We know it happened, I’ve got a copy of the paper in my pocket, the bombs will land and the siren won’t go off.

You can’t steer a train!

That’s what you think, said a voice in his head …

He wished he’d been better at this. He wished he’d been a hero.

From up ahead, he heard Yo-less’s desperate cry.

‘I’ve tripped over a sheep! I’ve tripped over a sheep!’

The lights of Blackbury spread out below them. There weren’t many of them – the occasional smudge from a car, the tiny gleam from a window where the moths had got at the blackout curtain.

A wind had followed the storm. Streamers of cloud blew across the sky. Here and there a star shone through.

They ran on. Yo-less ran into another sheep in the blackness.

There was the crunch of heavy boots on the road behind them and Tom caught them up.

‘If you’re wrong there’s going to be big trouble!’ he panted.

‘What if we’re right?’ said Kirsty.

‘I hope you’re wrong!’

Thunder rumbled again, but the four runners plunged on in a bubble of desperate silence.

They were leaving the moor behind. There were hedges on either side of the road now.

Tom’s boots skidded to a halt.

‘Listen!’

They stopped. There was the grumbling of the thunder and the hiss of the rain.

And, behind the noises of the weather, a faint and distant droning.

Gravel flew up as the young man started to run again. He’d been moving fast before but now he flew down the road.

A large house loomed up against the night. He leapt over the fence, pounded across the lawns, and started to hammer on the front door.

‘Open up! Open up! It’s an emergency!’ Johnny and the others reached the gate. The droning was louder now.

We could have done something, Johnny thought. I could have done something. I could’ve … well, there must have been something. We thought it would be so easy. Just because we’re from the future. What do we know about anything? And now the bombers are nearly here and there’s nothing we can do.