My breath starts to come fast and furious when a man’s voice stops my panic attack cold. It’s loud and electronic, coming through a speaker. ‘Are you awake?’

I try to answer him, but my throat is too dry. I tap my fingers on the bench and realize it’s metal, too. A few seconds later there is a noise to my right, and I can sense something has been placed near me.

‘There’s a glass of water and a straw beside you. Take a sip,’ the man says.

I turn my head and find the straw with my mouth. The skin on my lips cracks as I try to close them around the straw. When I take a sip of water, I can taste the metallic tinge of blood and I hear a low humming in my ears. It’s the same hum I heard at the gate. The box I’m in must be flowing with electricity.

‘What were you doing at that gate?’ The man asks. Every time he speaks, I am struck by how neutral his voice is. It isn’t friendly, but neither is it threatening.

‘Lost,’ I whisper. ‘I was lost.’

‘How did you get lost?’

I take another sip before saying, ‘I don’t know.’

‘ You don’t know. I see. Your number is six, is it not?’

I cough and choke at the question, mentally chewing myself out for doing so. I’m usually cooler than this, but my mind is completely cooked by the sun. If he wasn’t sure of the answer before, he is now. I resolve to get a grip, to stop making stupid mistakes.

The voice is back. ‘Well, number six. You’re pretty famous around here. The footage from the high school in Paradise and the way you took down those helicopters in Tennessee was impressive. And then there’s the incredible show you put on in D.C. last week, breaking John Smith and Sam Goode out of a federal facility. You are quite the little warrior princess, aren’t you?’

I’m still stuck on how he could know who I am; now he’s talking like he had front-row seats to my life? My body sways hard to the left, and I realize I must be in a moving vehicle that just took a turn, taking me who knows where. I push against the strap over my forehead – nothing happens. I try using my telekinesis, but as soon as I even start to focus my thoughts pain rolls through my stomach so bad I almost throw up again.

‘What you need to do is relax. Trying to fight isn’t going to get you anywhere. You’re dehydrated and most likely have heat stroke. You’re going to feel pretty sick for a while.’

‘Who are you?’ I manage to ask, painfully.