Jo lay with her head against the ground, looking at the trees directly above. She wondered where David was, whether he’d managed to find anyone. She wondered how close they were to civilization. She tried to listen for car engines and voices. But all that came back was the whisper of the trees, the soft crackle of pine needles hitting the ground, and her own, shattered sobs: they shuddered out of her throat, as broken as the bones under her skin. She couldn’t feel her legs. The pain seared across her stomach. Just breathing hurt her more than any injury she’d ever had in her life. She cried some more, letting it all come out, letting the tears run unhindered down the sides of her face, and then, when she’d gathered herself, she brought the cellphone in closer, still gripped in her hand.

She’d expected to find no bars.

But there was one.

Very slowly, trying not to move her hand, trying not to let the reception get away from her, she pushed 9 three times and then pressed Dial. It failed to connect.

She tried again: 999.

Nothing.

The reception dropped out for a moment, then came back again. When she tried to get through to the police, a paramedic, anyone, anything, the same thing happened for a third time – it just kept refusing to connect. As she looked at the display, at the bar blinking in and out in the top corner, she began to cry again, a huge wave of emotion hitting her.

Confusion. Pain.

And then, just for a second, some clarity.

As quickly as she could, she raised the cellphone again – her arm juddering, a spasm of agony flashing across her chest – and, as steadily as she could, she began to put Ethan’s number in. She was struggling to see properly, struggling to focus, but once it was in, she tabbed down to the message space. She blinked the tears away, steadied the emotion that was rocking her hand from side to side, and typed her message.

Ethan, it’s Mom. I’m in trouble.

I need help. I don’t know where I

am but I’m hurt

She stopped, watching the cursor blink.

The text might not even send – and even if it did, how would anyone ever find her? What if this was the last message she ever got to send to her son?

It didn’t matter how much you loved a person.

Eventually, you had to let them go.

She started typing again.

I love you so much. I need to let

you know that in case I don’t

make it home. You are

everything to me. Absolutely

everything. You are all that ever

mattered. Be safe. Mom x

Jo pushed Send.

As she waited to see if it would go, she closed her eyes, tired now – and the second she did, she felt herself drift.

Darkness.

And then, gradually, something else.

A kitchen.