You’re disoriented; for a moment you think you’re back in your room in Fellbarrow Road. You go to swing your legs out of bed but you’re already lying on the floor. You sit up, and bang your head again. It’s pitch dark, nothing’s where it ought to be. You nearly panic; then your hand brushes the switch on the bulkhead, you see the little metal cell. You remember where you are, what you and Paul have done. This time you’re really scared. You stare round. The ACV has stopped. Everything’s silent; no sounds at all, except your own hard breathing. You need a loo. Badly. You reach behind you. There’s a little square trap set in the bulkhead. You turn the catch and it opens. Beyond is a narrow corridor lit by one dim lamp. You lower yourself down, pad along it. There are more of the little traps, set at shoulder height; at the end of the corridor is a small door. You edge it open cautiously. It’s a loo. You’ve never been so grateful for anything in your life.
