Another step, and she slipped in the mud, slamming face down into the ground to lie stunned for a second, knees bruised, eyes dizzy. The sea was a quiet splash in the distance, the endless dark above.

All I had, I gave to Romida . . .

You have to try.

‘Casey?’ Hessa’s whisper, urgent in the dark.

‘I’m fine.’

Casey forced herself to her feet, and they crept forward again.

A door banged somewhere. Who was that?

Another step. And another. Some animal whipped away, just in front of her, and her scream almost burst into the air.

But I’m alive.

Another step.

So alive.

Finally, she could sense the barns just ahead, a darker shape in the night. A last few steps, her hands in front of her face, and she touched the cold corrugated iron.

Everything was still. Casey felt her way along the barn wall. There were gaps here and there. Cracks, where the iron had peeled away from the timbers. Finally, a big wooden door.

Maybe.

A panic like vertigo: I can’t.

You have to try.

Casey held her breath and pushed gently at the door. It swung open, lighter than she expected, creaking loudly.

‘Casey.’ An angry hiss.

She ignored Ed, stepping forward and peering across the barn in the faintest of hint of light.

Tables and benches. Piles of machinery, shrouded by darkness. Odd pieces of steel dumped here and there.

And two shapes on the floor.

Casey forced herself to breathe. Two men, asleep. Workers? Guards?

A jerk at her arm startled her; Ed had seen them too. His gesture was firm: no. But she pulled away, pointing to a walled-off section at the back of the barn.

They might be there.

Maybe.

I have to try.

He shook his head, more forcefully. Come away.

Casey jerked her arm out of his grasp, and stepped forward too fast for him to grab. She heard Ed murmur, too late.

One step. Another. Out of his reach.

And now the men were between her and the door: no escape, no way out. Casey edged across the floor, the demons dancing just out of sight.

She was halfway across the barn when the silence shattered. Casey froze, flat against the wall, unable to breathe or think as a phone shrieked, impossibly, unbearably loud.

One of the men half-sat, reached blearily for his phone. Casey saw the glow as he answered it. Don’t move, don’t breathe, crush the scream in your throat. There was a grunt, a rattle of words, the phone chucked down again.

Silence.

The man settled back into sleep.

Casey stood against the wall, forcing herself to breathe. The seconds ticked by. Forward, or back. Forward or back.

I have to try.

Forward.

She inched on.

Just a few feet to the inner door.

Nearly there. Nearly. There. Closed. Locked? No.

Very carefully, Casey pushed down on the handle. She eased the door open: tiny movements, almost tender.