She had left him peacefully sleeping less than an hour ago but now, as she skidded into the bedroom, he was neither peaceful, nor asleep.

The crash had come from the dresser, which was on its side, its drawers spilling out, and Ethan stood next to it, awake, motionless, holding the knife.

Thea didn’t move. Maybe if she stayed still, he’d stay still too. He looked awake, but Thea knew he wasn’t. Not really. This wasn’t one of his normal nightmares. She knew exactly what was happening because she’d just seen it happen to Ted in the video diary. Poor Ted in his pyjamas, trying to throw imaginary spiders out of a window.

But Ted hadn’t had a knife.

Thea realized that this wasn’t Moses’s tech anymore. Delores had taken it from him and who knew what they’d done to it, or how quickly it worked.

Or how quickly you got to the dead-eyed, dribbling stage …

Did the bedroom door lock? Maybe Thea could just lock him in. But then he’d be locked in with a knife and Thea didn’t want to imagine what he might do to himself. She couldn’t leave him to that, after what they’d been through.

She had to try and get the knife from him.

‘Ethan?’ she said softly.

Almost as if he had become voice-activated, he sprang to life, marching over to her. She willed herself not to cower against the wall.

‘Ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stay here. We have a situation.’

Thea couldn’t take her eyes away from the knife, how sharp it looked with its evil, serrated edge.

‘Ethan—’

‘I’m sorry, but this is no place for—’ His eyes flicked upwards and he suddenly gripped her with one hand. ‘MA’AM! DOWN! INCOMING!’

He threw her to the ground with such force, a searing pain shot through her shoulder. His weight pinned her down, protecting her from an imaginary blast and she gasped, the air crushed out of her lungs, spots forming in front of her eyes.

Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint, she chanted to herself.

She screwed up her eyes and blinked furiously as, above her, he shouted out instructions to the wallpaper. Mercifully, after a few minutes, he moved and she rolled into a half-seated position, gingerly prodding her shoulder as he crouched in front of her, the knife gripped firmly in his hand.

‘Ma’am.’ He spoke to her over his shoulder, warily watching the door. ‘Stay here. Stay down.’

At least he didn’t think she was the enemy.

Yet.