And then the fire raged again, erupting from the pit of his stomach, ripping through his chest and into his head. He could feel his brain pushing out against the inside of his skull. Too many thoughts, and so much disgust. And this fire, that made him alive and sterilised his doubts and fears, it would soon start to purify the world.

The coaster rolled alongside the platform and juddered to a rest. Once the passengers were out of the carriage and through the exit gate, he pressed the button on the wall to open the stalls, allowing the next passengers to get into their seats. The Asian group were laughing as they settled down. The middle-aged woman couldn’t reach her restraint, so Fletcher tugged it into place for her. She thanked him and smiled. He smiled back. Nice eyes, he thought.

The fire was burning still, not as rampant as a moment ago, but still streaming through his arms and fingers. He’d never felt so vital. He had ultimate control over these people, over who would live and who would die. And after it was all over, he would take his place in history, one of the growing army of warriors who had stood up and fought to secure an existence for his people and a future for white children.

He watched the woman settle into the seat. Not now. Not until they’d been round one time. One last time.

#

The ride was so much worse than Zahra had imagined. The restraint was too tight, her back hurt and now it was pelting down.

As the car began the steep ascent, she screwed her eyes tight and was aware of nothing but the blast of bitter, wet air on her cheeks. The clanking stopped and Zahra knew she was at the top but resisted the urge to peek. Then her body was slammed into the seat and her stomach entered her head as she plummeted. She battled to hold her head still as the train looped and twisted and rolled, and then panicked as she realised she was momentarily upside down and only the restraint was stopping her from popping out of the car like a cork from a bottle.

And then it slowed and stopped with a jolt, and it was over.

She swore quietly. And again loudly. Maryam laughed.

‘Your face. Brilliant. Wish I had my phone.’

Zahra wiped away the beads of perspiration on her forehead and self-consciously adjusted her hijab. The coaster had come to a rest ten metres before the station on a flat section of track. The train in front – the one with her mother and brother and his mates – appeared to have stopped in the station, but passengers were still in their seats. Zahra’s eyes darted along the train to find Imran, but its headrests made it impossible to see the occupants clearly.

The guy in the emerald shirt was ambling up the platform alongside the train in front, bending over every few seconds. It looked like he was fiddling with something, Zahra thought. She squinted. The man had something in his hand.