 
# Together

Published by Alexander Hawksville at Smashwords

Copyright A. Hawksville 2011

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## Together

by

Alexander Hawksville

Josh sat at his computer. It was the latest kind. Of course it would be. Only the best For Josh Cameron, son of the great professor Cameron.

He was running the maths programme when his father came in. Of course it was a Wednesday and his father had a half-day to supposedly catch up with student papers and make preparations for his lessons. Not that his father was a maths expert. He was a professor of Psychology and Philosophy.

"How are the lessons going?" asked father. His thin face wore an expression of polite enquiry but there was that undercurrent of sarcasm there that was present in all his observations.

If only it stopped at sarcasm.

"I'm dealing with quadratic equations," said Josh.

His father examined the screen critically.

"What's this?"

"Nothing."

"You've been running through differential calculus. I thought I told you to wait until I worked these out with you."

"Yes but -"

"But what?"

"Nothing."

Josh stood up. He was nearly as tall as his father now and more muscular but his fine upper lip twitched in alarm.

He knew the signs.

"Is this what I have brought you up for, educating you privately with my money and my time? Who is the teacher here?"

"You are father."

"Then you shoudn't have advanced the lessons on your own."

"But I just thought -"

"Thinking is very fine, very fine indeed my boy, but I think you need a little lesson we don't normally have in the curriculum."

Josh hung his head.

"Please father."

"Please? Yes that's what you did. You pleased yourself. Steps have to be taken, just like your lessons. If you go in advance. What does that say?"

"I was exercising intellectual curiosity."

"Very well, that is a good sign. But young minds need discipline. I think we've had enough talk."

Professor Cameron crossed to the cupboard in the corner. There, among the usual schoolboy accoutrements was a long cane.

Josh moved back towards the open door. His computer buzzed merrily in the background. He was trembling now, like a young puppy.

"Don't, I didn't mean -"

"You never do? Do you? You never mean to trangress but you do. You're a bad boy Joshua." As he advanced the Professor snicked the cane rapidly from side to side, seeming to enjoy the low whistling noise it made cutting through the air of the small room.

Josh turned, but the cane caught him on the back of his legs stinging him through the thin material of his trousers. The sound of thin wood on flesh seemed to galvanise the professor. At the end of it he threw the cane aside.

"Perhaps that will teach you not to advance yourself at the expense of your education," said his father. "No supper tonight." He went out, locking the door behind him and went downstairs to prepare his own meal. They had no servants for obvious reasons.

Josh wept for a while but some of his tears were of relief.

This way was better than the boot in the ribs.

Being thrown down the stairs.

The Black Hole. He thought of the Black Hole often. He hadn't been in there for a while.

He hoped he never would again.

Anna sat looking solidly ahead. She was in her carved wooden chair, the one with the rockers. From time to time she moved backwards and forwards. Her carer, Charmain knew what to do, in a sort of way. She just had to talk to Anna, talk and joke and laugh until Anna came out of it.

"How are you today?" asked Charmain again.

Anna was a blocky girl. Her long chestnut hair cascaded down her back and seemed to belong on someone else, for Anna was big. Her face was fleshy and she wore big solid glasses.

"Come on Anna," said Charmain. "Don't you want to watch a film or read a book?"

But Anna did not respond. She rocked back and forth every few minutes tick-tock just like that then rested, pudgy hands staying on massive thighs that were encased in black cotton slacks.

They called it late-onset autism. The visible symptoms were that Anna seemed lost in a world of her own. She did not respond to the spoken word and would spend many hours just like this staring into space. At times like these she had to wear huge nappies because she would not even go to the bathroom and at eighteen stones it was an effort to get her there.

Brockbank, the Children's Centre, just didn't have the staff to cope with toileting her five or six hours a day. So the truth was that Anna sat there for days on end, her body functions going on quite happily while her mind circled round and round.

"Anna, would you like to hear some music ?" asked Charmain. No answer, nor did she expect one but she had to go through the process. They called it 'talk therapy' and Charmain spent an hour every day talking to Anna while she was like this. Charmain often felt like giving up and walking out, but after days, sometimes weeks the old Anna would come back, the Anna who could read and write, who liked to walk around the grounds (albeit slowly on her big legs and swollen feet) the Anna who could hold a sensible conversation and even seemed to show some signs of deeper intelligence.

But that Anna was retreating fast and her mother had contacted the Authorities when the lapses became more and more frequent until her daughter was like this; a blocky, fleshy statue with only the odd movement and her regular breathing to show she was still alive.

The periods of 'real-Anna' were growing less and less as she entered adolescence. Her own mind seemed to be an eternal verity to her. It wasn't like the autism Charmain had seen before where the symptoms were at least those of faulty socialisation.

"I'll open the windows," said the carer, "let a bit of fresh air into things, then I have work to get on with, okay?"

Nothing.

Anna sat and looked straight forward. She might as well have been alone. Charmain felt a flash of resentment. All this effort for nothing, then she sighed and opened the window. It was a beautiful day. She left Anna, looking back once as the door of Room 23 closed on her charge. Anna rocked forward her jowls quivered, then she was still. Charmain felt a tear spring to her left eye.

There was a sense of someone trapped in there.

Like a wild animal in a cage.

She shook the notion off and moved on.

First he checked the holiday home for intruders. There was no-one there. Marcus felt a sense of relief. He looked at his watch. 9.30 am. He had managed to sleep for eight hours, he felt comfortable and relaxed. He went into the kitchen and poured cereal into a bowl, opened the fridge and took out the milk, poured it over his chocoflakes and sat down at the breakfast bar to eat. When he was finished he put the bowl and spoon into the sink along with the others. He poured a glass of water mixed with some diluting orange and went back to the breakfast bar, finishing the orange in a minute or two.

He looked at his watch.

9.40 am.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Plan it all out and put himself in a 'home alone' situation.

His mother and father had planned a second honeymoon in Florida. They had arranged for Marcus to stay with an uncle and aunt in Kent. His parents being computer buffs the whole thing had been arranged by e-mail. Marcus would leave Scotland by train, meeting his aunt at a station down in England. He would leave the same morning as his parents.

Two or three days before his parents went Marcus sent e-mails using his mothers address. These cancelled the whole arrangement, saying that Marcus was going with them instead but would spend most of his time in the 'kid's club' in the Biltmore Resort. He had intercepted his aunt's other messages and confirmed that the arrangement had indeed been changed. When he had said goodbye to his parents Marcus had simply entered the rail link at the airport to catch the direct train South.

He was twelve years old.

But instead he had stayed on the coastline, getting off at the next station, the keys of his parent's holiday chalet jangling in his pocket.

Now he had nothing to do. He was well-fed and comfortable. The chalet had underfloor heating for the cold Scottish nights and it was late July with nary a cloud in the sky.

He could do the dishes he supposed but that was hardly the reason why he had come here.

There was only one thing to do.

He would go into town.

There would be plenty to do there. He could go into the arcades and play some of the games or he could sit in a café and watch people go by - after all he had plenty of money. After that he would walk down by the shore near the municipal buildings. He liked it there.

Marcus had an IQ of 167. This meant that he was in the top two per cent of the country who with a greater intelligence than the other 98%. Intelligence isn't everything. In his 'Home Alone' planning he had forgotten one vital factor. He was on an adventure with no companionship. The two weeks holiday stretched before him like a sunny desert.

He was bored.

For Alana the situation was different, she had too much to do. Her parents were young and wanted to take her everywhere. They had already been to the theatre and an ice-skating show. The holiday still had ten days to run. Early this morning she had told her mother she was going a walk into town. Her mother had accepted this, while telling her to be careful. That was her well-adjusted parents for you. They knew children were at risk in today's society but they respected her right to make her own decisions - if she told them exactly where she was going.

Instead, she walked along the shore. This early, it was wild and free, the sea stretching back from the land, sand covered in pebbles. To her left the sand dunes towered above her. Old people walked dogs, mostly labradors, along the shore itself. Someone rode a horse in the distance, splashing hooves through the very edge of the sea itself. A thin wind whipped through the air making the salt air cold and pleasant enough to drink.

Alana took it all in. She was a small girl with a mop of curly hair and a little rosebud mouth. She looked a couple of years younger than eleven, especially in the cotton print dresses supplied by her mother. She herself would have preferred jeans and a t-shirt but her parents wanted their little girl to look like - a little girl. Her fingers too were short and pudgy. Her hands were clenched now as she ploughed determindly through the thin sand, her bare feet sinking in at every step, sandals clutched in her right hand.

She didn't like deceiving her parents but she was feeling smothered by them. Despite their avowal that they were 'modern' and that she was a free agent she had so little time alone that this was a literally a breath of fresh air for her. It was strange that while she was with her mother and father she still felt lonely.

She could see the holiday villas coming up and wished her parents had taken one of these. A boy stood away at the back of one of the buildings looking out to the shore. He was a minute figure in the distance but she vastened him and brought his image close. He had a scowling, ruddy, healthy look about him and wore a pair of long shorts and a grubby t-shirt. Alana had learned to keep her special abilities to herself even from an early age. This boy shouldn't have sensed what she was doing but he looked directly at her and grinned. The shock was so great she let go of her perception and viewed him once more with normal vision.

But he was waving at her now, a tiny stick-figure in the distance. Alana clenched her hands and climbed towards the sand dunes and the track that would lead her to him. At last, she had the goal she needed to find.

As Josh eased himself out of bed he moved with the caution of a soldier in enemy territory. In a sense this was true. His father slept in the next room. Josh was scared of his father in a far more fundamental way than that caused by the beatings and the bruisings, or even the incarcerations in The Black Hole in the study room. He was frightened of his father's unpredictability and scared by his affections.

Yet he risked all this for night hunger. But he was a growing lad and seemed able to eat endless amounts of food without filling out his long, skinny frame. Cautiously he trod the carpet in the middle of the stairs (his father liked the old-fashioned look) so he made as little noise as possible. Even his breathing was carefully measured to avoid loud gasps or catching his breath. After that he opened the kitchen door and went inside. His night-vision was excellent. Long hours spent in The Black Hole meant that he was able to use every little scrap of light to make his way. In fact he could have closed his eyes and would still have been able to negotiate the space between the bottom of the stairs and the roomy kitchen by his other senses alone. Once inside the kitchen he opened the fridge door. Two glasses of milk and a large meat sandwich would be enough to fill him before he went back to bed. The light of the fridge was glaring and as he reached for the carton of milk his sleeve fell back from his arm. His skin had a weal across it where the cane had connected with him when he had thrown up his arms. The milk was forgotten as Josh stood there gathering his thoughts together. He had looked at his bruises many times but this red channel in his flesh was different. An ache still went through it, even with the soft touch of the cotton. If he hadn't thrown up his arm the weal would have been in his shoulder. Or his face. It wasn't right that he should be growing up like this because of what someone else wanted him to do or be. Josh carefully closed the fridge door, his hunger gone and walked back up the stairs. To an observer it might have seemed like a pointless trip but then they might have noticed the sudden firmness in his step and the fixed set of his jaw as he climbed upwards. The young man paused in front of his father's door listening to the deep, dreamless breathing of his parent. For a moment an impulse filled him to go back down to the kitchen, fetch a sharp knife and stop that breathing for good.

Instead Josh went back into his bed and lay there looking at the ceiling.

His eyes were wide open as he made plans for a future without hurt, humiliation and pain.

A future without his father.

Charmain remembered that Saturday the way you do a momentous event like a car accident. It was to affect the rest of her life and those of many others. Not that it had an auspicious start. She went into the room and changed Anna, washing her from a basin of nice warm water and smoothing her down with talcum powder before fitting the huge nappy to her nether end. It was strenuous work for Anna provided the minimum of help, only responding to sharp orders to move this way and that on her bed. Once changed and dressed she lumbered over to her chair and sat down while a triumphant but exhausted Charmain took away all the cleaning accoutrements and brought back her cooked breakfast which Anna ate rapidly with great efficiency and complete indifference.

While this was going on Charmain spoke with great cheerfulness and told the young girl all the latest news. Anna, of course, received this with an air of ignorance but once or twice Charmain thought she saw a glimmer of understanding break though in her expression. Would the cycle ever be broken?

Two hours of constant attendance is exhausting. Charmain turned to Anna.

"Would you like the windows open? It's a beautiful day?"

Anna ignored her.

"Look I'll go and get a cup of tea then I'll be back to see you and find out how you're getting on."

For all Anna responded Charmain might as well have been reciting a silly poem or giving her the latest betting scores. Yet there was something... Anna told herself she was being silly, that Anna was just sitting there, lost in her own mind, that nothing had changed.

She would curse herself later for not listening to her own feelings, for overriding them with flawed logic.

As she opened the long French windows Charmain found herself breathing deeply. It was a beautiful summer day. They weren't that far from the coast and the air was redolent with a million different scents, all carried there by a cooling breeze. Charmain pulled the curtains wide to make sure Anna would get the full benefit of the warm weather and the breeze without sitting directly in the flow of air \- then stood back and looked at her charge.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Nothing.

"You know it's a beautiful day for a walk."

Still nothing.

Charmain left and went for her cup of tea. It was hard to deal with Anna, depressing even. If only the girl would do something, anything. Even if she showed signs of anger that would be fine. It was the terrible indifference that made her so difficult to comprehend.

She came back from her break refreshed and walked into the room with a bright 'hello' that faded as soon as she saw that it was as empty as if the girl had never been there.

Anna had taken her advice after all, she had gone for a walk.

A long one.

The girl stood looking at him. He stepped back from her.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "My name is Alana, what's yours?"

"Marcus," said Marcus. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to you of course," said mockingly.

"I don't mean that."

"I was supposed to be taking a walk in town."

"Can you come back here again?"

"Why not?"

"All right. Can I go a walk with you then?"

"If you like. Mum n' dad'll be waiting for me. They think I've gone to look around the shops."

They were on the move already. The shore front was beginning to hot up. At this time of the year when the weather was especially good, cars of all types and sizes lined the front. Couples with children set up their little pitches in the sand. The beach was littered with these fair weather visitors.

The two children headed towards the main town. Really, there was only one main street. Marcus looked down at his new companion. He guessed she was about the same age as himself. As they walked he said little but he was evidently mulling something over in his mind.

"How did you do that?"

"What?"

"That thing down on the shore."

"What thing?"

They were nearing the hotel, a big white building, a long conservatory down one side. He stared at her. She noticed that his eyes were pin-sharp.

"I'm not stupid. You brought me close when I was far away. You can do that. Just as I can do future imagining."

"I vastened you."

"Is that your name for it."

"Yes."

"And what do your parents know?"

"Nothing."

At this moment a woman in her early thirties came out of the hotel. She looked concerned, only relaxing when she saw Alana.

"There you are. You took a long time over your walk."

"Yes mother," said Alana meekly.

The mother straightened up when she saw Marcus.

"And who are you, young man?" she asked with mock severity.

"We met while - while I was walking," said Alana.

"I thought your daughter was lost," said Marcus gravely, "so I offered to show her back to the hotel. May I see her again?"

"Where are you from?" asked Alana's mother.

"I'm on holiday in one of the shoreside villas," said Marcus. He glanced at Alana, but she was keeping quiet.

This young boy with his grown-up ways charmed her mother.

"Certainly," she said. "It's good for her to be with children of her own age."

"I'll see you after dinner then?" said Marcus to his new friend.

"Aye," said Alana, her eyes twinkling.

"Goodbye Mrs -"

"Stewart," supplied her mother.

"Goodbye Mrs Stewart, see you shortly Alana," said Marcus. As he walked off he heard Mrs Stewart say.

"How sweet, you have a boy...."

"If you say boyfriend," said Alana calmly, "I'll tell him to get lost."

Marcus turned the corner and found that he was chuckling to himself.

His boredom had vanished already.

He was looking forward to the afternoon.

If all that was to be made was to be then she would be in all that was. Time did not pass for her as it did for them. Her breath came in and out and she sometimes wondered why it did this or why she had breath in the first place. This was a road she told herself, it went somewhere but she did not know how and why just that it was there and she was too but not in the manner of the road. Her world was one of few divisions with even the terms she, he and it meaning less than nothing to her. Life was life and she was part of life. In some ways she was life itself.

A bus drew to a halt before her and she took out money, remembering just enough of the old life to do that. The bus driver seemed somewhat startled to see her. She could see the lines of discomfort around his head in waves of sickly green and dark blue.

He made noises at her that were those of the speech she had almost left behind. She nodded her head, handed over the money and began to walk down the bus. Waves of disgust and fear came from some of the smaller male things.

Anna took a double seat to herself.

She waited for what was right.

It took a long time to feel the rightness of the world outside this roaring, thundering being. She lumbered to her feet and moved forward again. The driver thrust something into her pocket as she passed him. It was her change, the money from the twenty pounds she had given him but she no longer cared about money or even had the vaguest notion of what it did. She got off the bus in the main street. Waves of colour surrounded her from the holidaymakers. Most of the waves were coloured by the sight of Anna herself. She could sense a lot of displeasure, disquiet and even disgust, but she could also sense kindness and sympathy. The last two emotions were in the minority.

This body was tired now. Sustenance was needed. Rest was required. Turning herself several times she looked for The Source, the reason she was here in the first place. An elderly woman came up to her.

"Are you all right my dear? I couldn't help noticing you looked quite lost."

"Goodbye." Said Anna bringing up one of the speech-words that were so distant to her. She crossed the road, her legs aching. The body would not last much longer without physical dissolution.

<Walk on> said her mind without using those actual words. Her thoughts were a series of dancing light images flashing across an unimaginable space bigger than this world yet inside her own head.

Down a side street, drawn there by some protective mechanism she began the long a gruelling half-mile walk to the beach where The Source was located.

It wouldn't be long now.

Josh was intelligent. He dared not run away without preparation. He was tall and could easily pass for eighteen if he wore the right clothes. He spent several days following the plan he had worked out in the reaches of the night, packing the right clothes and taking the right precautions. The Thursday his father was at the University was a big day for him. He was supposed to be studying the differential calculus his father had sat and worked out with him the night of the recent caning. He would go no further than directed, of course, even though he could do more complicated work without many problems. The problem was his father had to be better.

Always.

But on the Thursday Josh wasn't the least bit concerned with the computer. Instead he collected his clothes from where he left them under his bed and took some food from the store cupboard - a tin of sardines, some bread and a bottle of cola - and put them in his flight bag along with the rest of the gear. Then he did something he would never have considered if he hadn't been leaving. He went to look for his father's wallet. This he found in the left-hand drawer of an old-fashioned tallboy that his father had inherited from grandfather. Like the rest of the room it was old-fashioned, nothing beyond 1958. His father even used bedcovers instead of a duvet. The wallet had the tangy scent of leather. Father used credit cards when he went to petrol stations and paid for meals so he rarely used his ATM card. Josh found this tucked beside a couple of twenties and some loose change. Gingerly he took it. His father had showed him how to use the hole-in-the-wall when he was eight, when he had opened Josh's junior bank account. He had blithely typed in his pin number on the assumption that the young Josh would forget it after a few days. Josh never had. He could remember everything that had been said - or done - with breathtaking clarity. 8228. The numbers floated into his head. He closed his hand around the blue square of plastic, and put it into his breast pocket trying not to think too much about what he was doing. The breath seemed to catch in his throat and his heart was hammering inside his chest. With care he returned the wallet to a remembered position. He carefully closed the door and went downstairs.

He shrugged on his blue jacket, the one with the hood and the warm red lining. He might need it later when he reached the South Coast of Scotland and the night was falling.

A few minutes later he went out of the front door and began to walk down the road. It was past nine on a summer day and roses were blooming all around him. He drew in his breath and dragged himself away from a building that tugged at him with invisible bonds.

As Marcus went back towards the villa - 'Beachside' as it was called - he thought about his meeting with Alana in the afternoon. He had plenty of money. He would take her to the arcades and they would play some games and then they could go for a McDonalds. He was looking forward to seeing her already. Companionship was more than important it was necessary for life. Dreamily he did some future imagining. It was odd, but although he could see as far ahead as 48 hours - which was the reason he had been able to plan for his mother and father leaving him alone - he had not predicted the appearance of his young friend.

Now he future imagined as he walked. But there was something wrong. A very big something or rather someone was getting in the way of his future with Alana. He couldn't see all the details, all he knew was that there was a person involved. A very big person. As he came closer to Beachside, his head was filled with the image but even then he was not prepared for the reality.

Anna was sitting or rather squatting on her haunches and looking at him with a totally expressionless face. Her black slacks sullied with the grains of dark yellow sand and tufts of the straggly grass that grew around here. He felt himself groaning inwardly, wondering how she had got there and who she was.

"Come in," he said. Anna rose with all the lumbering gait of a brown bear and followed him as he went in through the porch and opened the twin doors leading to the dining area. He could hear the thudding of her footsteps as she walked across the wooden deck of the porch. For a moment he had a vision of her falling straight through and being hurt on the foundations below.

He turned as she came in through the doors. Somehow he knew what to do with her.

"Sit down," he said. The chairs in the dining area were those from a patio set, made of green moulded plastic. They were roomy, knowing the girth of western holidaymakers, but even as she sat down he had the alarming thought that the one she had chosen might start to warp and sag, throwing her to the ground. That it held was a testament to the makers.

He turned and pulled at the raffia blinds so that they were both concealed from any holidaymakers who might see the villa from the beach.

Anna sat looking straight ahead but he poured her a large glass of juice and put out a bowl of cereal liberally laced with milk.

"Here have this," he told her. She ate with mechanical perfection and the odd grunt but still did not speak. He studied her. This giantess was so unexpected, like Alana. When she was finished eating and drinking he took the dishes away.

"Now," he said, "tell me about it."

Josh got off the bus near the outside of Glasgow in an area called Shawlands. Unaware of prices, he had just enough on him to get him here. He looked around for an ATM machine for his father's bank and found one close to an area liberally sprinkled with shops and warehouses run by people of Indian and Pakistani extraction. The women walking around were exotically dressed in blues, yellows and greens, their legs covered by long trousers of blue silk. Josh had never met their like before, being taught at home and knowing only his fathers friends he had met few people with black or brown skins. Another feature of his isolation.

In mild panic still trying not to think he went to the ATM and allowed himself to use it with the minimum of fuss, letting his fingers recall the numbers. He blinked at the amount of money shown in his father's account, which went into double figures. His mind was screaming at him by now.

Go back! You've still got time. Do It Now.

True, it was still early in the day. Instead of going into the unknown he could go home and do his homework. He wouldn't, couldn't have it finished by the time Professor Cameron returned. That would mean a punishment already. Then his father might have called.

The professor usually phoned Josh three to four times a day, always to ask about little domestic things or just to ask if he was getting on with his homework. There was never any emotion in these calls. They were just a way of making sure that Josh was where he belonged.

Where he belonged. Yes that was it. Josh could only exist in the home by himself. Outside he would be with his father at every turn.

And that's the way it should be screamed his mind. Your father knows best. Of course he punishes you now and then but can you honestly say you've never deserved it? He's given you a home for all these years. You've never wanted for anything. You ungrateful little turd. Go across the road now, wait for the bus and go home. You're safe there. You don't know what you're going into. You stupid, stupid young man.

That was one of his father's favourite expressions. Of course Josh was academically learned but only, his father told him, because he, Professor Cameron was guiding him, Josh, through life.

He reached forward, through the storm in his mind and typed an amount. It seemed vanishingly small compared to the amount of money in there but when the bundle of brown notes was in his hand he felt the panic again.

That was enough. He wanted nothing else from his father. Carefully he thrust the card into the nearest bin, shoving it as far down as he could.

Slinging the leather bag across his shoulder he waited for the bus that would take him out of Glasgow and his former life.

Forever.

Alana was surprised when her new friend didn't want to enjoy himself. It wasn't his nature to act like this. He appeared at the hotel as promised, met her father (and charmed him too) then took their daughter off into town. But they didn't stay there for long.

He knew that telling her was almost impossible. She had to see what he wanted.

"Come to the Villa with me," he said.

Alana went, though she had been warned by her mother not to go out of town. They made a nice young couple as they walked. Marcus looked down at her several times as they made their way to 'Beachside.'

To his relief the girl was still there. In his mind he had visions of her walking about the beach or just standing there massively outside the building. But his future imagination had told him the truth long before his return.

"This is - what's your name?" he asked the massive girl. She ignored him, did not even look up as he came in with Alana.

"I'm Alana," said that young person standing cutely in front of the huge girl.

Still nothing.

"I've just noticed," said Marcus gloomily, "look at the shape of her. She's wearing a giant nappy. You know what that means."

"She'll be needing changed at some point."

"Oh no." Marcus had seen people burying their faces in their hands on TV. Now he knew why.

"Well she's not really our problem," said Alana brightly. "Are you?"

The huge girl looked straight ahead. A slight creaking noise was all they heard as she tried to rock back and forth in her plastic seat.

"I suppose we could phone the police or social services," said Marcus doubtfully.

Alana gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.

"But you're not going to."

"She's not the only one who'll get into trouble. Get real Alana-dumpling."

"Dumpling? Are you calling me names?"

"Shh, we've got to get this - get her - into the front room. Get up," said Marcus clearly. "Walk through."

It was like watching a mountain come to life. Her face still impassive, she got up from her seat. Marcus guided her gently by the arm, leading her into the front room of the villa. Naturally she took the sofa, springs creaking as she sat on her huge buttocks.

"There's a reason why she's here," said Alana.

"Of course," Marcus gave her a faint look of contempt. "We've already worked that one out."

"You really are a pain at times."

"I know," he smirked.

"We've got to break through to her." Alana bent forward and grasped the hand of the other girl. It was small and strangely delicate. Alana gave a gasp of shock and pulled away.

"Anna," she said. "Anna, that's her name."

"Try again," said Marcus, excitement in his voice.

"No," said Anna looking at them both for the first time. "There is one still to come." Then, in front of their astonished eyes she lapsed back into her own mind.

Josh took the bus to the West Coast. Although he was only within driving distance of his father he felt a lot safer than when he was within Glasgow. He had arrived in Ayr by early afternoon, travelling all the way to the bus station. Getting off, he had waited at a local stop for the next bus back to Prestwick. He knew as well as anyone that every new trip added to the confusion and made him less traceable.

His mind was confused about what he should do next. He had thought far enough ahead to reckon on booking a room with a landlady. But his money wouldn't let him live that way for long. The ATM had allowed him to take £400. It would run out in a very short time at this rate. He didn't care, it was enough to get him started. He hadn't wanted to be contaminated by anything else to do with his father.

Why had he come to the West Coast anyway? He supposed it was because he had come here as a child when his mother was still alive. He hadn't known her very well and it was only when she died that his father had become so - demanding.

His mind stopped short at the understatement. He couldn't bring himself to think of Professor Cameron as he really was. Anyway the arrival of the local bus jogged him out of his train of thought. You had to give the exact fare now. Lack of change meant he had to pay over the odds, an adult fare to boot. He climbed on board, ducking his head as he entered and walking down the aisle. He was thin, but he would pass for eighteen due to his height.

He would get a job in a couple of weeks. They were always looking for office juniors and there was no doubt he would be able to manufacture a past with reasonable ease. As for somewhere to live, once he had a job he would at least be able to pay for rent if little else. He wasn't worried. He would get by.

As he dropped off the noisy, smelly bus he looked up and down. Bed & Breakfast establishments with names like 'Balmoral' and 'Dalriada,' lined the main road but they looked expensive. He wanted something cheaper and headed down a side street. He was only a few hundred yards from the sea. A sudden impulse came to him to walk towards one of the villas set at an angle to the beach.

Indeed the door was open in the building he had picked. Josh climbed over the wooden porch and found himself in a kitchen looking at three assorted figures: one was the biggest girl he had ever seen, the other girl seemed like a pixie with wavy hair and blue eyes, while the boy had a wide, humorous grin.

Marcus was the first to break the silence.

"It's about time you got here."

When Javed saw the card go into the bin he thought his lucky day had come. It was Xmas and New Year rolled into one. Not that he celebrated either of those events but he had been largely brought up in Glasgow. He kept an eye on theyoung man who had dumped the ATM card. He was a tall, nervous-looking individual who kept glancing around as if he expected someone to stop him at any moment. Clearly he had stolen the card and used it by default. Javed waited until the young man took the Ayr bus then came out of the doorway where he had been waiting for his chance and dug down into the muck in the council bin, uncaring, until he found the cool rectangle of blue plastic.

He took the card home, knowing as well as Josh that only a limited amount could be withdrawn.

Like opportunists Javed was quick. He had been keeping an eye of the young man since Josh had used the ATM and had heard Josh mumbling to himself as he typed the numbers. He had heard enough.

The next day he got up early and went out to the Bank Machine a couple of streets away from where Josh had been served. He tried the numbers perhaps twenty times, taking the card out each time. But he gave a cry of frustration and annoyance when, on the 21st try, the machine flashed up a message:

Due To Circumstances This Card Will Be Withdrawn From Service.

Worse still a blue-topped car came around the corner just as the message flashed. Javed dropped his nervous hands to his sides and walked casually away, forcing himself to whistle loudly and look the police right in the eye.

But it seemed they had a purpose here.

A large policeman who looked as if he was over-fond of curries and beer opened the passenger door as the young Indian passed him.

"Hop in son," he said casually.

Javed ran as soon as the words were out of the policeman's mouth. He rounded a corner and headed down Alison Street. Let them find him about here where all his friends lived!

Too late he saw another car identical to the first appear at the entrance to Victoria Road.

Javed stopped, turned rapidly and began to walk in the opposite direction but the policemen in this vehicle were younger and fitter. He heard footsteps hurrying behind him and a large pink hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Right, we've got you."

"Please, officer, it's a case of mistaken identity," said Javed humbly.

"That's for us to decide sonny ma boay," said the policeman jovially when he saw that there was to be no trouble. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Javed thought about the matter as the words rolled over him. It wasn't the first time nor the last he would hear this speech. Already he was planning his first call.

To his lawyer.

Professor Cameron was not a difficult man, he told himself. Being reasonable he would wait to find out what was wrong. But his dinner wasn't on. Usually when he walked through the door the air was filled with the aroma of food cooking on the old gas stove. He liked stews and potatoes and fresh boiled vegatables just like those served by his mother many years ago.

But of course his cack-handed son had taken over the cooking. He had shown the boy how to prepare a meal years ago using the best cookbooks and his own experience. It should be second nature to the boy now.

Of course Cameron had been in conference today deciding on the structure of his course for the next academic year. This meant he had not been able to phone home as usual just to keep the boy on his toes. (And to prevent him from going out.)

A sneaking suspicion began to form that this was precisely what had had happened. The house felt empty. Besides, Josh would never have dared defy his father like this. Normally he would have been at the foot of the stairs by now. Cameron decided to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was absorbed in the maths problems he had been given the previous night. A frown line appeared between the Professor's eyes. There had been the little difficulty with the boy that he wanted to get ahead of himself. He had been trying to work on when he needed to pace himself.

The Professor believed in pace. It was the way he worked with his students and he had the satisfaction of knowing that they rarely failed his course if ever. Then there was the Angeline question. He frowned at that one and immediately dismissed her from his mind. Angeline was one of his more compliant students, after all a man had, well, needs...

Immediately he dismissed the thought of 19 year old Angeline from his mind. He had more pressing problems, like his dinner. Not that he was obsessed with food. When engaged in his work he would often fail to eat for days at a time, but the food was a symbol of something else. Command, control and respect. Important factors in his relationship with Josh.

Command control and respect.

It was unimaginable to him that the boy had defied him enough to leave the building. A smile of grim satisfaction played about his slash of a mouth. The boy knew what he would get.

"Josh!" shouted Cameron again. He mounted the stairs ignoring the faint twinges of arthritis. Control was everything.

The computer room was empty. Professor Cameron looked wordlessly at the undisturbed dust covers on keyboard and monitor. He went through to Josh's bedroom, a wild hope springing to his mind. The boy was ill.

Neat and sparsely furnished, the bedroom was empty. Cameron tore through every room in the small building. All empty.

The unimaginable had happened.

When Charmain went to see the Matron of Brockbank, Mrs Kennedy, she tried to be low key.

Mrs Kennedy was a big woman who tried to be professional. She smoked like the proverbial chimney, but usually concealed this from her staff by keeping a fan on her desk and the ashtray and cigarettes in the left-hand drawer of her desk. Smoking was banned.

"What are you trying to tell me? That we've lost one of our residents? This is a disaster."

"Not necessarily," said the therapist. "It could be a good sign."

Mrs Kennedy stared at her and her plump fingers twitched towards the drawer of her desk.

"How could it be a good sign?"

"This is Anna we're talking about."

"Anna is gone?"

"If she can move, she's out of it, her inner space. She's in the real world."

"Oh good," said Mrs Kennedy staring through her thick glasses. She tended to revert to sarcasm when stressed. That was why her staff tended to leave her alone. "Very good, one of our residents has vanished. If the papers get hold of this we'll be in real trouble."

"Look this might seem unorthodox, let me go out and try to find her. This is Anna, she can't have gone very far."

Mrs Kennedy blinked behind her thick glasses.

"There will have to be a report."

"There will be, on your desk tonight, I promise. Just let me find my charge. I left the windows open, it's my fault."

"So you keep saying." Charmain could almost see the Matron's mind racing. "You think she won't be far away?"

"I don't see how she could be otherwise."

"Very well, if this can solve our problem you may go ahead. But we can't let this go for long."

"I understand that."

"You may go."

"Thank you." Said Charmain. She headed for the door then stopped and turned back to smile gratefully but the Matron was already breaking her own rules and lighting a cigarette in front of a member of staff, taking huge nervous puffs to steady her nerves. Charmain might be upbraided for the loss of a resident, but Kennedy was the one who would be charged with neglect if that person was harmed.

As she went down the twisting stairs of the home Charmain pictured where she was going to make her search. The grounds would be good start. That would take her a fairly short while. Then she would try the main road. She hoped Anna was in the grounds, for the main road was busy. A chill went through her as she thought of the girl in dinner-time traffic.

Shrugging on her leather jacket Charmain went outside. The grounds were fairly busy, because it was a nice day and some of the children were playing outside already. She began to walk around Brockbank keeping an eye out for Anna, her heart sinking when there was no sign of the girl.

It would have to be the main road then.

The four young people sat or stood around the front room of the villa as they desired. Marcus was talking non-stop while Alana was standing with her hands on her hips staring at him. Josh was in one of the armchairs looking at the two who were standing and now and then taking horrified, covert glances at Anna. He couldn't help himself; this silent, corpulent creature out of a dream, or a nightmare shocked him.

He thought she was weird.

"Yeah, I knew there was something odd goin' on," said Marcus. "Never in a million years would I pull a 'Home Alone' stunt like that. I mean, even I've got more sense than that."

"A stuffed teddy bear has more sense than that," said Alana sweetly.

"Says Lady Muck," mocked Marcus. "Something about people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

"Except your glass house is bigger."

Josh watched them in envied silence. Except for the early days when he had gone to nursery school he had never mixed with children of his own age. He didn't know how they managed their easy banter.

"I suppose you two have known each other for years," he said cheerfully.

"We've known each other for exactly one day," said Alana.

At least his words had a dampening effect on Marcus.

"I never expected to encounter - this," said Josh. "I thought I was running away from home."

"We didn't expect to be here either. Neither did this young lady," said Marcus, indicating the hulk on the couch.

Anna made no sign that she had heard him.

"Listen, I've got to go," said Alana. "It's early afternoon."

"So what?"

"Well, unlike you three my mum and dad'll be on my tail if I don't get back. We're going to a show this evening."

"You got time to go to the shops?" asked Marcus.

"What for?"

"Essential provisions. And we'll have to go to the chemist's."

Alana gave a smile of understanding.

"I don't envy you two boys."

"Well," said Marcus, "it is a far far better thing I do than I have ever done."

Alana giggled at him. Josh, understanding neither of these exchanges looked at them with something akin to desperation.

"You're going away?"

"I have to," said Alana, "but Marcus'll be back shortly, won't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Will you be all right?"

Josh stole a look at the still, menacing figure of Anna. He was frightened to be with her but he couldn't admit this to the two younger people.

"I - you won't take long will you?"

"No. Feel free to use the facilities. We have plenty of milk, cereal and orange juice," said Marcus regally. "Come on snookums."

"I'll snookums you," said Alana. "You pain," but she followed him to the front door. "Nice meeting you Josh," she said, and blew him a little kiss. Then she was gone. Josh was surprised to find he was blushing.

Reluctantly he returned to the front room and the silent Anna.

She sat there, waiting.

When it came down to the wire he didn't like the thought of being fooled. Professor Cameron sat with the telephone in his hand. The police would find the young idiot. But then it would get out and into the papers. Josh was only fourteen years old. Besides, didn't they get all sorts of people involved when a person was reported as missing, such as the social work department?

"Can I help you sir?" asked a voice at the other end of the line.

"Wrong number," said the Professor before hanging up. Even if they did call back they wouldn't get his number, he was unlisted.

Restlessly he walked upstairs. His mind wouldn't allow him to take on food while he felt this way even though his body demanded sustenance. He ignored the hunger and paced about his own room. He had to control himself.

Control.

That was the answer to everything.

He calmed down the way a pot of heated water calms just before it is about to erupt into boiling fury.

The boy had to have had some money. He didn't have his own passbook, because that was kept in the bank itself, by arrangement, and he had to have a co-signature from his father to get any money out. It was an unusual arrangement but he had explained to the bank that his son was slightly brain-damaged and was likely to take out all the cash in one fell swoop and spend it on useless fripperies.

That meant...the professor drew in his breath finding that he was breathing out through both his mouth and nose so great was his need for calming oxygen. He went into the drawer where he kept his wallet.

He didn't know how much was there originally but he had a feeling it was just a couple of twenties. There they were, with their crisp white edges, totally intact.

Good, that meant the boy would have to walk wherever he was going. At this rate he would be back by nightfall.

The wallet had several pockets for credit and bank cards. The blue edge of his ATM card usually stuck up. He searched each pocket then searched again. His mind could hardly take in the thought. The boy had robbed his own father.

The screaming eruption of fury surprised even the professor. He came to and found that he was standing looking at the computer or rather what remained of that machine. He had taken his thickest and most durable hill-walking stick and shattered the machine into a thousand pieces. Keys lay about everywhere like the letters from a scrabble board while the box had broken open revealing the machinery inside. The monitor lay on its side near the door, the grey plastic casing cracked.

"You little shit," said the Professor, "you little shit, you are dead for this." With a supreme effort of will he put the stick down and walked out of the study room, crunching letters underfoot as he did so.

Charmain was puzzled. A girl who weighed 300 pounds couldn't just disappear could she? Of course Brockbank was beside a country road, and set well back from the main town, so it was hardly surprising that few people had seen her leaving early in the morning. Charmain wondered what to do. Then she flipped up her mobile phone.

Mrs Kennedy."

"Yes."

"It's Charmain here."

"Yes?" the voice was now faintly tinged with annoyance. "Have you found the girl?"

"No, but listen, I'm going to try and search further afield."

"Why?"

"Because she might have walked for several miles."

"All right. But don't take long."

Charmain switched off her phone. She didn't want Mrs Kennedy hassling her while she was trying to find Anna. She walked down the country road. If not for her anxiety she would have thought it was a nice day. The sun was high now and she had to take off her jacket and fold it across her arm. To her left was the roomy coastal road. Besides Brockbank a number of holiday homes peppered the roadside.

One of these was almost directly across from the home. It was inhabited by and elderly couple. On impulse Charmain went across the grey road and opened their front gate. Before she could check herself she was knocking vigorously on the door, impatience showing in every line of her slim body.

"Yesh, what is it?" asked the elderly lady who answered the door. "Are you here for the meals?"

"Meals?" said Charmain, dazed.

"Meals on wheels, we've been waiting, me an' Bertie." Said the old lady. She was about eighty and bent over, holding a thick walking stick. "Bring 'em in then," she began to turn.

"No, it's nothing to do with that," said Charmain desperately. The old lady turned with great effort.

"Oh? What d'ye want then?"

"What time do you get up?"

The old lady considered this unusual question happily. "Well let's see, Bertie an' me, we go to bed about ten, tops. I suppose. Well I gets up first. Then it depends if he needs to go to the toilet in the middle of the night then it wakes me up an' by the time I get back to sleep..."

"What time?" asked Charmain through gritted teeth.

"About six am dear."

"Right, in that case, did you see anything unusual this morning, about half eight?"

"Not really. I was put watering my roses."

Charmain began to move, disappointed, not really having expected much.

"Of course there was the big girl."

"Who, where?"

"Why do you look so flustered dear? The big girl who was waiting for the bus. She looked about sixteen, but so big, I said you wouldn't ha' believed it to Bertie. I said -"

"What did she do?"

"Got a bus o' course."

"Who's that woman in a hurry?" asked Old Bertie walking shakily up. His wife shrugged.

"Someone a bit mad I think. Come on, I'm phoning, meals on wheels should be here by now."

"You're asking for them," said Marcus.

"Why?"

"'Cos you're a female."

"Oh get a grip."

Together they went into the chemist shop. A tall man with sparse black hair frowned at them from across the counter.

"What do you want you weans?"

"I'd like to buy a pack of large incontinence pads," said Alana.

"Right, what's the game?" asked the shopkeeper. "Get me to go through the back while you nick sweeties? I know the tricks."

"They're for my grandmother. Look I have the money." She held up a bundle of notes that Marcus had given her. He stared at her reluctantly. It was a small shop and he was just making enough to survive. In fact, if it wasn't for the prescriptions and his cut, he would have to close.

"All right, I'll get them from the store but no tricks, you're on CCTV."

He departed and the two looked at the assorted, rather uninspiring goods on the shelves.

"Jings, what a dump," said Marcus with feeling.

"Can't be helped. It's the closest to the shore. Besides, he doesn't have CCTV so there's no record of us being here."

"How do you know?"

"I've been vastening our surroundings."

"Is that your own word?"

"Yes."

"I thought so."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

"Lissen bighead -"

The shopkeeper came back with the pads. He took the money before handing them over wrapped in brown paper. He had enough sense to know how embarrassing such things were to the young.

"Well that was easy," said Alana. "You don't have to walk me back to the hotel."

"No, I'd better." Marcus lodged the parcel under a skinny arm. "Come on."

Alana parted from him at the entrance.

"It was nice of you to walk with me carrying that parcel."

"It's all right, I had to make it look good, as if we're - pals."

"We always were," said Alana.

"When will we see you again?"

"First thing tomorrow. I promise."

"See you then dimples."

"You can stop that." She pinched his free arm.

"Owch."

"See ya later." And she was gone, leaving him annoyed. Marcus shook his head as he walked away. Were all girls as annoying as Alana when you got to know them up close? He didn't know the answer to that. Then he thought of the parcel beneath his arm and sighed. He was going to get to know another female soon a lot more intimately than he wanted. Maybe it was better to keep them at a distance.

Professor Cameron sat and stared at his desk in his office in his - in the University. He looked at the clear surface for two or more minutes. He was wearing a totally unprofessor-like t-shirt and jeans because he had been a busy man, clearing out the place. He was officially on holiday now. Only one object now sullied the table. It was a piece of paper bearing a terse message. The ethics committee wanted to see him when they re-convened after the annual break.

The girl had complained about him. Cameron smiled thinly into his beard. One of them had finally reached the stage of complaining about him. He remembered how easy it had been to sideline the others. But this one had somehow got through.

It was that boy, that blasted boy, the reason he had taken a holiday in the middle of term. His mind had been so busy on the boy he had forgotten this other matter,

She was one of his part-time psychology students, he remembered. He preferred the part-timers because they weren't around the University all that much and tended to be more compliant with his suggestions than rather serious misses who populated his normal classes.

Moral turpitude they called it.

Translating the words into English, it meant that he had been 'taking liberties' with the girl, making her marks conditional on her interest in his sexual advances. Most of the girls didn't object. Most had nothing to lose and enjoyed themselves, except...this one, it seemed had something called morals.

Cameron screwed up his face in disgust and crumpled the paper in the palm of his hand then he put it down and made it flat again. Better not to ignore this. He wanted to keep his tenure - and the money that went with it - for a long time.

Instead he went to a folder in his steel filing cabinet. It was there he kept all their names and addresses. Not just the girls he liked, of course, but all his students. He looked up her name and discovered, to his pleased surprise that she was in the same area as Josh. Ayrshire. That green county.

Cameron put the folder back and locked the cabinet then he walked out of his office and locked that door too.

Of course Josh could have fled onwards. He could even be in England. But Cameron didn't think so. He knew where the boy had gone when he was young and he also knew that a few hundred pounds wouldn't keep him for long.

Cameron put his briefcase onto the front seat of his Volvo. He smiled and waved at one of his students, a girl who passed across the quad just as he was pulling out of the main gates. She smiled and waved back.

In his office he had felt like taking an axe and smashing everything in sight. But his rage was better contained and aimed against the boy. The traitor.

Time to get him.

Josh had his own problem. He was looking at it right now. Or rather her. It was clear that Anna was needing changed. He turned uncomfortably to Marcus.

"What do you think we should do here?"

"Change her, maybe."

"Just what I thought."

The next half hour was something they both tried to erase from their minds for a long time to come. It was not that Anna was uncooperative. In fact she couldn't have done more for them if she had been actively trying instead of following orders. He quickly discovered that he only had to tell Anna what to do in a firm way and she would obey him. This was heartening, for if she had fought against them their task would have been impossible. Something told him there was a brain in there. One that functioned as well as his own. This gave him hope for the future.

If Josh had been told that this would be his first introduction to the female form it might have put him off for life. As it was, any mysteries about the female anatomy were quickly disposed of. Not that this disclosure gave either of them the slightest pleasure. They just wanted to get on with it.

Instead he managed to do something he had trained himself to do in the Black Hole in order to keep his sanity. He allowed his mind to drift, moving focus from the horror of the moment to a future time when he would be free again. In this way he was able to work with Marcus in a calm and controlled manner, getting the cleaning up, the washing, the powdering and donning of the new nappy completed.

At the end of that time he sat back and looked at their completed task. Anna now had her slacks back on and was lying on her back slumbering peacefully, obviously exhausted by the effort of being changed.

The two young men, on the other hand, were like limp rags, totally exhausted by their efforts. Marcus had the remains in a black bag. After cleaning himself up he went out of the chalet and down to the public beach where he disposed of the bag in a municipal bin. He had to do this with his own rubbish anyway since the Chalet had no rubbish disposal service.

"What an effort!" said Marcus, coming back into the chalet. "And we'll have to go through the same thing again tomorrow! I wish Alana was here, annoying though she can be."

"She will be," said Josh. "There's a reason why we're all here. I don't know what it is yet, but it's not a coincidence."

"I wish it would happen soon."

Josh stared from the kitchen into the dark front room where the dimly lit hulk Anna lay on her back snoring gently. He bit his lip. He was thinking of his father and wondering what would happen with him.

"So do I, Marcus," he said, "so do I."

Charmain stood in the middle of Buchanan Street Bus Station looking around as if unsure of what to do. She knew the station of course. Just across the road was the bulk of Caledonian University. Then she went back to the bus from which she had just dismounted. This was the second day of her search. Anna had just vanished off the face of the earth, something that was not possible. Unless she had suddenly developed a fully functioning social personality. Charmain doubted this. The girl was too deep in her own angst to emerge suddenly and fully.

The driver was making his way across the concrete concourse, metal cash dispenser in hand.

"Excuse," said Charmain, "I should have asked you this earlier on, I just didn't think."

He was gazing at her with admiration and she realised that he thought he was being propositioned. "Not that kind of thought," she said a trifle sharply, making his face fall. "I'm looking for a girl."

The driver, who had been in much the same position gave a sharp jerk of his head to indicate that she could go on.

"She's nearly twenty years old - although it's hard to tell, and she's terribly overweight. Oh yes - she might not speak very much. Has anyone had a passenger like that in the last twenty-four hours?"

"That's ma route," said the driver, "An' the buses're once every hour." He thought deeply. "Nope, nuthin'."

"Well, thanks very much," said Charmain, giving him one of her most charming smiles. It was not his fault that he hadn't seen the girl, and it was obvious he wasn't lying. "I know you would have seen someone like that." She turned and began to walk away, shoulders sagging slightly. She would have to rethink her strategy. The road beside Brockbank was frequented by only one bus service. Anna must have made her way by some other means.

"Wait." The driver called out sharply and she turned, her tongue now laden with acid as she prepared to rebuff his proposition.

"Maybe the girl got one of them specials."

"What do you mean?"

"At this time of year we runs specials to the seashore. Could be she got on one of them. Every three hours they go."

Charmain cursed herself for doing the driver an injustice and went across the station to where the Ayr buses departed as indicated by the driver.

Sure enough the route went past Brockbank to Ayr. She found herself facing another driver, and older man. He looked at her from his cab.

"You getting on Miss?"

"Did you see a girl the other day, a large one?"

"Ayr, weirdest thing ever. It was like she was on automatic pilot, like drugged or something."

"Do you know where she went to?"

"Took her most of the way," said the driver.

"Then" said Charmain on impulse, getting aboard, "Take me there." She paid her fare and sat down, butterflies floating about her stomach.

She had done her job.

"I'll tell 'em", said Alana running ahead to the cabin. Her parents followed closely behind.

"What is it?" asked Marcus as she walked in the front door, which neither of the young men had thought of locking.

"My parents are coming to see yours. _now_." She said breathlessly. Neither of the two young men needed any further explanation. They knew her mother and father were protective. They should have guessed that this would happen. "They'll be coming off the path right now." Said Alana.

"What will we do?" Marcus flapped about in despair. Swiftly Josh pulled down the blind and ordered Anna to lie down on the couch, which she did so. He could hear it groan. He pulled on a baseball cap hanging on a peg just inside the front door.

"Right, I'll deal with this."

They had nothing further to say to him. He was the oldest and tallest. He had the deep voice of a full-grown man.

The expected knock came.

"Hello," said Josh gruffly.

"Hello there, Mr and Mrs Stewart here. Could we come in and see you?"

"Aye, normally ye'd be welcome lad," said Josh broadly, "but my wife's got the migraine with the sunshine and she'll not be seeing anybody for at least two hours." He opened the door a crack and stood in the shadows. Alana's father peered in. He saw his daughter standing in the sunlight spilling into the room, giving him that meek little smile that did not fool him for one second. Beside her was Marcus. Behind them, in the darkness of the room he could see an object on the couch the lines melded with the darkness. He could not see much. Going from sunshine into the dim room.

Alana swiftly moved forward and her father moved back as she came out and stood beside her parents. She smiled prettily at Marcus.

"I'm sure I'll see you later. Mum and dad just wanted to ask if I could have a sleepover tonight. At eight, like you said."

Yes, by checking us out, thought Josh.

"Well, nice meeting you Mr and Mrs Stewart," he said.

"I don't think my daughter -" began Mr Stewart.

"She can stay tonight if you don't mind," said Josh firmly. "it's the sun gives my wife the headache y'see. Sleepover'll be fine."

"If you're sure she's not intruding..." said Mrs Stewart.

"Oh aye, we'll have a drink another time."

The couple left, Alana trotting at their side, her podgy arms swinging as she rounded the corner with them. Marcus strained his ears and caught one line from Mrs Stewart.

"Well, they seem a nice couple."

He rounded on Josh, seeing only an outline in the stray crack of light coming through chinks in the blind.

"You were brilliant. What did you do?"

"I distracted them." Said Josh. "It's easier to do than you think." He remembered, all the times he had distracted his father when he had done something 'wrong.' That had worked too - sometimes.

Talking about his father, Josh wouldn't have been so pleased with himself if he could have seen what Cameron senior was doing at that precise moment. The professor was sitting at the shoreline of Irvine beach, scanning the myriad tourists there with his binoculars. Josh had always loved the sun and the sand when he was little. The professor grunted and moved at the thought. When Josh was little. It didn't seem that long ago, not when SHE had committed her deeds.

He forced himself away from the thought. He would make himself angry and when he was angry he had to go out and destroy something - anything- just to make himself feel better inside. Once crushing a worm beneath his heel had been enough. Now he caught stray dogs and - he stopped that thought too. He mustn't be distracted. He had to sit here and survey this land in as cold and controlled a manner as possible.

Already he had tried going to the shops and talking to some of the assistants. No one had seen the young man he showed them. He had scoured most of the town centre, taking in all the smaller stores in a single morning. That left the big shops, of course, where Josh could have been seen by any number of people.

Cameron had forced himself to leave the town and come down here to Irvine beach. It was a beautiful day, with temperature in the high eighties. It wouldn't be difficult for someone like the boy to have slept behind the sand dunes overnight wrapped in his spare clothes. Still nothing. Late afternoon and there was no sign of Josh. His eyes were throbbing with tiredness and as he lifted his binoculars he swept the far horizon taking in the ferry terminal and Ailsa shipyard. Beyond that was the sweep of the bay which took in both Ayr and Prestwick.

Prestwick? Something triggered in his mind at the name. He had been there with Josh and HER thirteen years ago. He remembered it now. The traditional pursuits by the shoreline, building castles with his son. It had all seemed normal and peaceful. The three of them together. His life had gone drastically wrong from that point.

It wasn't logical, but he would have to go straight to Prestwick instead of examining these harmless holidaymakers. He had been a psychologist long enough to know that the cutting short of his search might be foolish, and risky. If Josh was somewhere around here the boy would have time to establish connections, get a job of some kind and entrench himself even further.

But within himself Cameron had a hunch that Josh was soon going to be where his instinct took him. They were going to meet very soon indeed.

And when they did...

Cameron looked puzzled as he realised he had no actual plans about what would happen when they met again.

Then he smiled to himself. He was set.

He would think of something.

Alana stood in front of the hotel and looked at the boy who had turned up for her. Beside her stood her mother, hands on her daughter's shoulders. They suddenly looked very like each other.

"Now Marcus," said Mrs Stewart, "you'll take care of my little girl, won't you? And you won't keep her up too late?"

"Yes, I'll look after her, and no, I won't keep her up too late watching television."

"Fine then."

Marcus looked up to see that Alana's father was watching them from the conservatory . A grim look was on his features and the boy suddenly realised that it was a miracle they had even got this far.

"Goodbye mum," said Alana giving her fond parent a kiss.

The two youngsters walked to the corner and Alana turned and waved to her mother one more time before she was out of sight.

"What the hell is this all about?"

"They're worried about me. This is my first sleepover."

"What age are you?"

"I'm eleven."

"And you've never done this before."

"I don't know why they're letting me do it now."

"No," Marcus thought back to the event that had happened earlier that day. "We did something special, I think. All of us, I mean."

"It's the reason we're here tonight," said Alana decidedly, looking suddenly much older than before.

"Josh is going to cook us a meal," said Marcus.

"He's really practical, isn't he?"

"Yeah, well he objected to the fact that I've been living on cereal since arriving here."

"So what are we having?"

"Pizza with five different toppings, followed by ice cream with chocolate sauce and a choice of lemonade."

"Sounds all right."

"Then we're all going for a walk on the beach."

"What, even Anna?"

"I don't know, but I think so, yes. She'll do what we tell us. She seems able to obey orders, if not much else."

"But none of this is the real reason." They walked on in silence, occupied with their own thoughts. The sunny day seemed in stark contrast to the way they felt. In both their hearts was a sense of expectation. This was no ordinary sleepover, just as theirs was no ordinary group and they all knew it.

The bungalow soon came into view. Josh stood at the door. He was not quite wearing an apron, but he was wiping his hands on a tea towel. It was just past six. "Just about ready to serve." He looked at them both. "You two look happy."

"We were just thinking about things," said Marcus.

"Well don't. We're here to enjoy ourselves. Come on."

They entered the building. Anna sat in front of a folding table. Her presence seemed more formidable than her sheer size. It was as if there was someone there where there had been only a withdrawal before.

Yet she was as still as she has been and did not even look up as they entered.

Once more Marcus found himself wondering what they were doing here. But for now, the smell of pizza filled the air.

And he was hungry.

Now the front room was in semi-darkness save for the light coming from the kitchen. Marcus had left the door wide and the ambient summer light was filtering through from the picture window at the porch.

"What do we do now?" asked Marcus.

"I think we should get into a circle," said Josh. Nobody argued with him or questioned why they would want to do this. Prompted by gentle urgings from Alana, Anna slid from the couch and sat on the floor, looking absurdly like a big baby with her plump limbs and cherubic face. They rest knelt in a semi-circle around her. Josh thought hard for a minute.

"Close your eyes," he said. They all obeyed. They could not see, but they could feel each other. Josh knew he could, without opening his eyes, have touched Marcus on the tip of his nose and be so precise about it that he would never be in danger of poking him in the mouth or forehead.

It was a scary thought.

Worse still, Josh did not know what to do next. Alana sensed this and took up the chain of command. "Open your minds," she said, "I'll show you. I can do it." She was speaking not from false pride, but a certainty in her own abilities and the strange thing was, none of the rest doubted her for a moment.

Alana opened her mouth and began to sing a gentle note that just went on and on. "Omn." The rest took up the chant. Their voices melded together in several different registers but all in the same key. Josh was almost totally immersed in the chant, but in the back of his mind he found time for a surprising thought.

Anna was joining in. Clear and strong her voice was with the rest.

"Omn, Omn." And the chant went on.

Then they were fading away but instead of terror they felt only wild joy as their separate personalities began to merge into one. They were not children or young people any more, they were one entity, united together in a way that perhaps no one on this earth had known before. At the same time, they also knew why they were there, why they had been summoned to unite at this time and in this place. Anna - who stood for the unconscious - had made them all come here, driven by forces beyond her control and theirs.

Being like this was not something they could have described. At first their united senses were confused, formless, but they rapidly hardened into a deep, perceptive appreciation of the world around them. It was like being a child who had been blind from birth who could suddenly see. A mass of perceptions came into their mind - it was meaningless to talk of four minds now - a host of impressions that they had to sort out, somehow, and quickly too. Thoughts were pouring in from the outside world. Their unlimited vision was drifting in a chaotic manner.

It could not last. So quickly they had barely time between one breath and another they were apart again, and Anna, the seat of it all was a unconscious, eyes closed. The rest stared at one another, panting heavily like people who had been running for miles.

"We are One," said Josh, and for the first time in many years he began to weep.

Sam Murray was wondering down the beach carrying a large striped bag of the type used by many housewives to carry home their weekly groceries. This was his best time of year for the simple reason that patrols ended at the start of May. The patrols were hired during the winter months, paid for by those who owned the holiday bungalows, paid for out of their ground fees.

His bag contained nothing like groceries. In fact it was loaded with all kinds of little gee-gaws like jewels and valuable china that stupid people left in their holiday homes at this time of year. Sam was a craftsman. In his pocket he carried a tool like a Swiss knife with pliers and blades. He could open any porch door and leave the building looking as though it was untouched. Some people didn't know they had been burgled.

He came to one bungalow set apart from the rest, the porch facing the open sea. It was quiet and unlit just the way he liked them. One thing you could say, the owners always kept these places spick and span. He mounted the porch with ease. Sam was a small man, and he wore old-fashioned plimsolls. Very little sand clung to his soles. He deposited the bag behind him and took out his multi-purpose tool. It folded like a Swiss knife too. He snapped this open and began to feel for the lock. Sam could work blindfolded if need be.

Then he was caught by the glow. The kitchen door was open. Showing the front room. He stood stock still, hoping it wasn't one of those traps where householders came out and shot at you with illegal handguns. Then he saw that the light was being created by four children, or young adults who sat in a circle, the white ambient light appearing to float between and inside them, giving their skins a ghostly pallor. They all had their eyes closed.

Sam looked at this for one microsecond. He didn't want a part of this whatever else might happen. His prudence had saved him from being arrested for years. He snatched up the half-full bag and jumped lightly to the sand.

He headed along the beach only to see a white column of light rise from the ground. He saw a face appear, huge and ghostly. It was a young face, a kind face, but it was stern and unforgiving as it turned his way. Worst of all, it was a face nearly ten feet across.

Sam screamed out loud and mounted the sandy bank at the edge of the beach. He was between more of the bungalows now, and soon found himself on the main path. For some reason he was still clutching the bag. The face was gone but he was still screaming even when he bumped into the police officer, who had been attracted by his screams and caught him a the end of the path.

"Help me," said Sam.

Charmain felt a knot of tension unwind in her stomach as she got off the bus. The driver had shouted to her that this was the stop and that was as far as he could go. She thanked him profoundly and got off. Prestwick. She was in the middle of a strange town, albeit a small one and looked around with fresh eyes. For a moment she did not know what to do. Then she put out her hands and closed her eyes. People walking by would be looking at her now but Charmain was oblivious to them all.

So far she had relied on common sense for her search. Now she was leaving everything to her senses. Developed as they were from years of looking after the stricken she was able to

<turn into>

No.

<Intuit>

Yes that was it. She was clearing her head and turning herself, as far as she could, into Anna so that she could do what Anna would have done. She opened her eyes again and looked across the road to a long, winding alleyway between shops and houses. This was where Anna had gone. She knew it as certainly as if one of these tourists gaping at her had come up and tapped her on the shoulder and pointed in the right direction. Anna headed down the narrow road. The paving here came to an end quite quickly and she found herself on the bare road. At the bottom of the road she found two houses side by side. But beside these was a path that led inexorably to the shore and thinly scattered holiday bungalows.

Charmain hesitated. For the first time she did not want to go on, then she went forward wondering if she was going to start battering on the doors of these holiday homes to find the right one.

She need not have worried. Most of them were still shuttered. It was early summer and most people preferred to be here in the months when the weak Scottish sun was at its peak and they were able to bathe in the sea only a few hundred feet away.

As she walked down the sandy path which took her away from the ordered streets of the town she saw a door open about sixty feet away and a young man looked out. A small girl stood at his side. They looked an odd couple. Charmain felt a small thrill go through her spine. Weary though she was, she knew, somehow, that they were the new guardians of Anna. She was about to go forward, carrying out her final objective, but she was tired. She had barely slept in the last 48 hours and she was feeling grubby from her journey. There and then she decided to go for something to eat, a shower and a sleep in a local boarding house. Charmain turned and headed for the main town. She would be back.

After all, Anna wouldn't be running away.

Professor Cameron drove through Prestwick. He was feeling hot and the sun glinting through his windshield was blinding him. He pulled down the sunshade, but that meant he didn't have as good a view of his surroundings as he would have liked. Either way he was stymied. The previous night had been spent walking about Irvine. No sign of Josh. A few strategic questions at various places - the social work department, police and DSS had failed to reveal his presence. The young man had indeed gone to ground.

Cameron worried what would happen if he let Josh go for too long. There was an argument that the longer he waited the more the young man would run out of money and be likely to fall in destitution. It was a pleasant, even poetic image. Josh lying out in the street in the clothes he had taken. Josh hungry and begging for food. Poetic though the image was - and all that the youngster deserved for his betrayal - Cameron knew it wasn't the truth about what would happen.

Josh didn't take drugs. He had a soft voice and he was a boy of good appearance. He would quickly find a job doing something - even if only working in a kitchen. People would have sympathy for him and think he came from a broken home.

Cameron came to the end of Prestwick. It didn't take him long. Of course the boy could have strayed over to Ayr but that wasn't logical. This was where he had spent his early childhood. With a sigh Cameron turned his car around. He was going to do something he would never have imagined. He called it 'adventures in space' not that it had anything to do with science fiction, a genre' which he had always despised anyway. The professor knew that there were different types of space in any village, town or city. The smaller the place the less variety of space. By exploring in this way he would be able to build up a picture of the place and be able to deduce where Josh was with more certainty. It seemed a long-winded way of doing things, he thought grimly to himself, but it was one of his few options. He took the first turning he came to. This led past a row of once-grand houses now showing signs of decline owners could not afford to keep them.

He was close to the shore now. The shore. The words sank into his mind. Shorelines had been a recurring theme in his mind. He drove his car beside the sea wall. He came to another sharp turning and went up this, back towards the main road.

Luck has a way of happening all at once. There she was, the student who had accused him before the Standards Committee. Cameron did not think about how this could have happened. He put his car into gear and headed straight for her unconscious back.

He was going to get her.

"What happened?" asked Marcus. He was still looking dazed. Anna was leaning back, her eyes closed. Loud snores issued from between her lips.

"She did," answered Josh. "She came here and brought us here with her. Why did you leave your mother and father and come here?"

"I don't know," admitted Marcus.

"Why did you walk down the shore that day instead of staying in the town?" Josh asked Alana who was staring at the floor. Her eyes met his.

"I don't know, really. Just 'cause I felt like it."

"And I suppose I came from Glasgow to here for the same reason? Because I felt like it?" Josh stood up. Different emotions were struggling across his face. There was joy there, but fear too. "No, we were brought here for a reason."

"Which is?" asked Marcus.

"To be together," said Josh.

He went through to the kitchen and made them all a white bread sandwich with plenty of butter, cheese and pickle and brought them a can of coke each. Anna was awake again and sat eating her food as impassively as usual. The other three did not speak much. It was as if they were smaller than before, less than they had been even though they were the same size.

"I don't want to do it again," said Marcus through a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"Neither do I," said Josh. He stood up and paced up and down what little of the floor space was available. He turned and stared at the rest, his eyes blazing, "but we have to do it again. Don't you three understand? We are here for that purpose."

"It doesn't make sense," complained Marcus. "Why us? And what is it?"

"We know," said Alana suddenly looking at Anna. "We know what it is. She's the dreaming part. I'm the emotion."

"Yeah, and I'm logic and purpose while Marcus boy here is too intelligent for his own good," said Josh.

"You mean, we're a person, not an it?" asked Marcus. "Together we make up one person?" He wrinkled his brow for a minute. "Then it makes sense," he said. But why Anna?"

"My father is a psychologist," said Josh, talking about his single parent for the first time. "Anna is our unconscious, the part that sees to all our hidden psychological needs."

"Ah, the unconscious is the part that makes us do things for a reason not recognised by our conscious mind." Said Marcus.

"Exactly," Josh looked at them all in turn. "Anna knew that we were in this part of the world and ready to unite. But she is our key, our connection."

Alana framed the last question.

"If that's so, what is she going to make us do next?"

They looked at the girl, who was leaning back against the couch. Her head had fallen back and she was snoring gently again, the coke can still clutched in her hand. Nobody got up to leave. They were here for the duration.

Charmain heard the noise of the car first. She had seen few vehicles down here at this time of the morning. She turned and the sun glinted in her eyes. All she had was an impressionistic view of the metal and chrome monster that rushed at her from the road. She couldn't have said what colour, make or size the car was. She couldn't even have said with any certainty what the colour was, she just knew that somehow, incredibly, the car had left the road, mounting the pavement and was head for her with a ferocity and speed she could not hope to avoid.

Even before her mind had time to fully process the fact it was upon her, hitting her and throwing her up in the air. She had no time even to stiffen before the explosive force of metal against tissue but was thrown up in the air, bouncing against the windscreen briefly before being flung off and sprawling across the pavement.

Vaguely she felt the ground break her impact but after the first burst of mind-numbing pain she felt nothing. Charmain knew from her nurse's training that the mind was filled with pain-absorbing chemicals called endorphins if the body has experienced severe trauma and there was no doubt that this was serious hurt to her frail body. She just had time to process the thought before descending into a welcome pit of darkness. So quick had been the turn of events that she didn't even hear the car roaring off.

After that her world was a series of impressions. She opened her eyes briefly what seemed like years later to see a man standing above her. She was still on the pavement and he was mouthing words she could not make out into a mobile phone. In fact this was what saved her life for the ambulance arrived from Ayr a few minutes later. Charmain had lapsed into her unconscious state shortly after seeing the stranger, she awoke and found herself in the back of the ambulance, a green-clothed orderly holding her hand and whispering reassuring words to her.

They reached the hospital followed shortly afterwards.

"It's touch and go," said one of the doctors surrounding her in Casualty.

She could feel the metal shunts being put in her arms and saw the drips being mounted on either side of her. She wanted to tell them: This is absurd, I'm not in pain, there can't be anything wrong with me, but it was too much effort and blessed sleep, aided by their drugs, claimed her for a long time. But just before going into the netherworld she thought of what she had briefly seen through the windscreen just after being hit.

The face of the driver.

He was someone she knew. She was certain of this. But her thoughts were too disconnected to say just who he was, she only knew she had looked into a face of pure evil.

He had hit her on purpose.

Cameron dropped the car off at the franchise in Prestwick within the hour. He had already examined the bumper and the paintwork but could see no marks of any kind. He had been fortunate in that he had hit the girl a glancing blow that sent her spinning and over the bonnet while making little contact. Most of the impact had been her body upon the hard ground.

He had not panicked. He was quite proud of himself for that. He had simply taken the car away from the scene of the act as soon as possible. In fact he was about to run over her again just to make sure she was dead - when he had seen the man running towards the car. Cursing under his breath he had motored away at top speed. Glimpsing only a crumpled body lying on the ground he had considered her as good as dead already. Certainly she was severely impaired.

Leaving the car behind he had walked back into air. It was a pleasant day and he was quite enjoying himself in the balmy air when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"A word with you," said a deep voice.

He wheeled round, keeping his expression steady by a supreme effort of will, but instead of the police officer he was expecting he was confronted by a large young man with a vaguely familiar face.

"All right prof?" asked the man. "It's -"

"Geoffrey," said the Professor, the filing cabinet in his brain having unlocked. "You were in my third year in 1994."

"Nice to see you Sir. What brings you into this neck of the woods?"

"Nothing really, used to come here when I was younger with my wife and the boy. So, what are you doing?"

"Oh I work here, with the school service. I'm an Ed. Psych. But the Police called on me recently with an interesting case. Seems they caught a burglar who saw a ghost down by the beach."

"Sounds interesting," said Cameron, "Well I really must be going."

"Yes, seems he saw four kids in a bungalow who somehow turned into this thing, a tall young man, a fat girl and two others. He's delusional of course."

But Cameron was staring at him now.

"Do you need a second opinion?"

"Well, if you don't mind sir. I said he was clearly certifiable but you might think different."

Together the two men walked towards the jailhouse. Cameron had to stop himself from crying out with joy. His bearded features were quite composed but all the time he thought of the girl. She had been walking back from the beach where the burglar had seen the 'ghost.'

She wouldn't be in a fit state to testify against him. But maybe she had been connected to his son in some obscure way for purposes of revenge. After all he had failed her for rejecting his advances. Tough luck.

A tingle deep inside told him he had found Josh.

At that moment Josh was looking at the other three. He was cast in the position of leader, a role he did not entirely like. The others, no matter how intelligent seemed to lack direction without him.

"We must do this again before the night is over," he said. He looked at his watch and was shocked to find it was already three in the morning.

"Why?" asked Marcus.

"I know why," said Alana, "so we can be one, together, any time we want."

"Ah, to stabilise us," said Marcus, as if that made it clear.

They sat down again. None of them, including Anna, despite the fact she was not saying a word, doubted that, with some fear, this was the right thing for them to do.

Anna was already there. The rest knelt down. They simply looked at each other. Then the process began again. This time they knew what to expect but even then the slipping out of their own minds and bodies was hard to bear. No one likes to lose their mind even it is in a positive way.

Once more they were one. A creature who could sail beyond the body a fly above the sand. The creature called One flew like a bird, revelling in the enjoyment of transcending their physical limitations. Then it saw the singleton, a scrawny little man carrying a bag. He did not see One, but he was backing away from the chalet in fear. As he moved he had a look of such fear and surprise on his face that One knew what he had been doing.

One decided to appear, the loose structure of whatever they were combining with what little light there was around to form a creature of light and air.

The man acted predictably, running away like someone demented. One took no pleasure from causing fear but were just protecting themselves in a non-violent way. When the man was gone over the sand-dunes towards the main path One became invisible again and flew high, higher and higher in the air until they were looking out across the water towards the wide open sea.

They lingered there for what seemed like an eternity, learning things like the ability to slow down time so that one minute went like ten, or the opposite, making ten minutes speed like one.

However One did not forget the man. He was going to tell the community of Singletons (One invented that name for ordinary people), so their time here was limited. Once the outside world knew what they could do there would be an intrusion into their lives. They knew this by instinct.

One rushed down to the beach and back to the chalet. Then they were back in their own form, separate beings who sat in the dark panting and tired until Josh switched on the light making them blink.

"Right," he said, "bed. We're going to have a long day ahead."

He didn't know how right he was.

Professor Cameron walked along the shoreline. He had been walking everywhere since the 'accident' the day before. In his mind the word accident was always in quotation marks since he and the victim knew it was no such thing.

He also thought about the man he had seen in prison the previous day. Sam Murray was climbing the walls, almost hysterical. Cameron simply listened to him and the man calmed down until he seemed almost normal again. As normal as someone who made a habit of robbing other people in the dead of night? Sam had confirmed that he was down by the shore and that he had looked inside what looked like an empty bungalow. He mentioned the four young people they had seen just before they had vanished in a glow of light.

Cameron was experienced enough to keep his face straight when he heard Josh described perfectly by the small burglar.

"You believe me, don't you?" asked Sam plaintively. "I saw this face, it appeared from nowhere. It was huge. I thought it was going to swallow me. Please believe me or they'll put me away!"

"Of course you saw something Mr Murray," said Cameron. "Don't worry, we'll deal with this for you."

He left behind a man who no longer seemed hysterical now that he had been vindicated. But in his written report, which he did in his official capacity he stated simply that he believed Sam Murray was psychotic and that the man should be committed at once.

Now he, the Professor, was following up his lead. Music trailed after him from a wrist radio as he walked. The bungalow was on the shore, distant from the others. He walked for about quarter a mile before he saw the building in question. It was set apart from the others looking like a trim little retreat from the real world. Instinct told him that this was indeed where his son was. He came no closer at this moment. No point going up to the door and confronting him. There was just a chance the boy would get away.

Cameron memorised every detail of the location. He would be back later on. A portable radio swung from his wrist and he listened to the gentle hum of music as he walked. Then the local news came on. He wasn't really listening until he heard the words 'hit and run.' At once he twisted the volume dial to hear more.

"...young woman found with multiple abrasions on side street. Despite a collapsed lung she is recovering well in the local hospital. Doctors are still trying to identify her."

Cameron began to walk more briskly. First Josh, then this. He would deal with the boy, then the girl would be next. He would have to hire a car and make sure he could get from one location to another quickly enough before making his final exit from this shitty little town.

They would both die on the same night.

Alana stood at the doorway of their little home and looked inside at the other three. "I've got to go back," she said plaintively. It was not like her, showing how much she was feeling the wrench of being parted from them.

"Ask your parents to let you come here tonight," said Josh. "If they won't let you -"

"I'll vasten you," said Alana. She had already told them about this strange ability. But then Josh could hypnotise people - which was what he had really done to her parents - and Anna could sense the presence of unwanted people. As for Marcus, he was a pretty good chameleon, able to put himself into the background and work out ways of getting things done without being seen. That was why he had been able to fool his parents.

"Right, you vasten us," said Josh, "keep in touch whatever you do. We can't manage without you and you know it."

Marcus went out into the blazing sunshine with Alana, "I'll be back in twenty minutes," he said.

Josh didn't like this. He wanted to keep the two of them beside him. He didn't want them to leave at all. They were his security in this strange world and something more than simple chance had brought them all together.

Then he remembered his father and the control exerted by him, the sadistic behaviour, the bullying and the beatings and decided he would never be like that even if it threatened his very survival.

He was evolving into his own person, he told himself. Besides, he was a kind of leader to the rest simply because of his maturity and he couldn't let them down.

Alana and Marcus soon arrived at the hotel. Alana's mother and father were waiting for them, both strangely silent. Alana ran to them in her little-girl way and mother gathered her up in her arms.

"It was great! We had a brilliant sleepover. We watched the telly and had hamburgers and strawberry milk."

Alana's mother forced a smile.

"That's good dear."

Her father looked at Marcus. "You've done well, you've been a responsible lad."

"Aye, thanks," said Marcus, wondering what all the fuss was about.

"Can I do it again tonight?" asked Alana.

"I'm afraid not," said her father, now get inside the hotel, we're going for a trip.

"But why?"

"A psychotic was caught near the local beach blabbering about seeing ghosts and a woman was run down near the beach by a hit-and-run driver. It's all in the local newspaper. Now do as your told and get inside."

Alana burst into tears and ran inside the hotel. Her father looked over at Marcus.

"You do understand don't you?"

"Yes," said Marcus, "I suppose I do."

"You can come and see my daughter over the next few days, but she won't be getting out on her own again for the rest of this holiday."

Marcus shook his head and turned away after wishing both parents a pleasant 'good morning'. There was nothing else he could do.

When he got back to the bungalow he discovered that Josh was staring gloomily at Anna.

"I just can't get through to her," he said.

"Maybe not on this level," said Marcus. "Anyway, matey, I've got something more important to tell you. They're not letting Alana out again for the whole of this holiday."

"Why?"

Marcus explained the facts to him and the other young man looked thoughtful.

"I don't know what we can do. We could kidnap her I suppose, but given the fact her mother and father are so protective we might not be able to get away with that."

"We have to get together again. We can't stay apart."

Marcus inclined his head towards Anna. "She is only really alive when she's with the three of us. We really are one being."

"I wouldn't challenge you on that one, but I think there's more to all this. That man in the paper was the one who was spying on us."

"They all think he's psychotic."

"But he's not, is he? And this woman getting run down by a hit and run driver. There's something strange about that happening when we're hiding away from the world."

"It happens all the time."

"But why here, why so close to us? I don't like it. I wish we were in the unified force again. Maybe that way we could get answers."

"What do you mean?"

"Considering this is a seaside town you're bound to get a lot of accidents in the summer months."

"You could say, it just seems that too many things are happening around us. It's not a coincidence. Just like us getting together wasn't a coincidence."

"What about your father?"

"No, it can't be. He won't be able to trace me. I haven't left a single clue. We lived in the West End."

Josh started back like a nervous colt, almost sprawling over the silent, shapeless bulk of Anna who regarded them with her usual silence.

"I don't understand why you're going mental like this," said Marcus.

"And I don't think you know what you're talking about Marcus."

Marcus stared at his new friend. It was as if he had found some gunpowder and lit it with a match. Josh, although he wouldn't admit it, was obviously very afraid of his father. The older boy sat down on the sofa as if he had suddenly gone weak at the knees.

"What the heck's wrong with you?" asked Marcus.

"You - you don't know," said Josh, swallowing some of the bitter acid that seemed to be choking him. "We never looked at that side of things, did we?"

"You can tell us all about what he did to you." Josh thought over what Marcus had said and the words began pouring out of him. He told them all about the years of abuse that had started almost the day his mother had died, how he had been tied up and regularly beaten by a seemingly respectable member of society. Then he told them about the Black Hole.

By this time he started it was almost afternoon for they had all slept late. By the time Josh finished his story it was after one in the afternoon. Neither Marcus nor Anna said anything at all. Marcus because he was stunned into silence and Anna because she just couldn't. Josh was calmer now, as if the words coming out of him had somehow allayed most of his fears. Despite the bright sunshine outside they had only opened to blinds by a fraction so they were startled to see a ghost appear in the middle of the room. Even Anna breathed a little more deeply as if catching her breath.

The two young men pulled back from the manifestation. In all respects the figure looked like a classical spectre, floating a little above the ground, having a white sheen and seeming to be transparent.

But it was Alana and she had an agitated expression on her usually cheerful little face.

"Everyone," she said, "I can't mess about here," her voice was thin and reedy. The ghost of a voice. "My parents are never going to let me out again. I told them I wanted to see you and they told me if I objected any more they would cancel the holiday."

"It's not fair..." began Marcus.

"Shut up," said Alana, "this stuff is important. We're here to be One, to be us together. I can't get to you."

"I get it," said Marcus, "we come to you, right?"

"That's about it. It's all going wrong I vastened a man who - wait a minute someone's coming" at that second she turned her head. With her head turned, her wraithlike figure vanished as abruptly as it had arrived. The bungalow was left as dark as before.

"Something wrong here," said Marcus. "We've got to get to her."

"Fine, let's do it," said Josh.

"We can't, not yet."

"No, I don't think so either. It's obvious her parents came in while she was appearing before us. They've obviously taken her away with them for the day to make her forget - well, you."

"We're the senses of the One," said Marcus. "Together we see everything. The minute she appeared in front of me just the other day I knew she was going to be part of my life forever."

"If she's gone out we'll just have to wait here until she gets back," said Josh. He paced about the floor. Then a thought came to him, one that was so obvious he had no time to conjecture. "Can you do it back?"

"What, see her at a distance? No. That's the short answer."

Josh looked thoughtfully at Anna, chewing his lower lip. "When does it get dark?"

"About ten, it's still early summer."

"Then we'll go about then. I know she usually goes to bed before then when she's at home. Besides, we've got to get Anna there."

"Easy," said Marcus.

"It's a mile to get there."

"Then we'll have to get transport."

Professor Cameron was not idle during the day. He hired another car - a hatchback this time, and essential to his plans. Then he travelled back to Irvine where he bought some blankets, paying for them in cash. There would be no way of tracing him through his credit cards. Luckily his new bank card had come through promptly or he would have had to use his passbook to get money out. He wanted to leave as little trace of his passing as possible.

He parked his car - a mundane Ford - at the back of a large supermarket near the bed and breakfast where he was staying and walked back to his accomodation where he spent some time writing down his thoughts and feelings in a journal he kept. Everything he wrote was false. He told a moving story of his search for his lost son and wondered how the investigation into his moral conduct would turn out at the University when he was totally innocent in either case.

But inside his own head he thought about what he was going to do when darkness came.

He had risen late and it was already afternoon when he went walking in the main town. This really was a pleasant part of the world. He might consider retiring here when the time came, a good old fellow who could get together with the other old codgers in the local bar and have a good time.

As he walked he nodded to one or two people and they nodded back, no doubt thinking that he was an early retiree already.

He got back to the bed and breakfast by four. For an extra sum of money his hostess was able to provide him with an excellent meal in the large dining room.

He went back to his plain, rather small room and found that he was rather tired, so he lay down and had a nap until the evening.

As he sat in front of the television he allowed the long hours to drag by while watching a series of dire programs that he had never heard of. He finally got up at 9.30 pm and went to his car. He had not bought a mask because he scorned such contrivances. Most people did not remember most faces and he would rather be seen barefaced than with a mask on if there happened to be a witness.

Slowly he drove down the shore road and stopped the motor. He sat there a while until the night shadows gathered and then got out of the vehicle. He was near the holiday buildings. In his hand he carried a suitcase containing the materials he had bought earlier on.

The building seemed to be in darkness. He went to the back porch and looked through the glass door. No-one there, it seemed. He broke into the door using a tool he had brought with him.

His instinct was correct and he swore aloud.

They were all gone.

Although Josh had never driven a car in his life he walked the back streets of the small town with Marcus. They were cautiously testing the doors of various motors. Marcus was reasonably excited, but Josh felt as the full weight of the law was about to descend on his wide shoulders.

"Found one!" said Marcus. He opened the door and slid inside the vehicle. He opened the other door and Josh went in reluctantly. But it had to be done. Anna could not walk the half-mile or so to the hotel and they had to get her to Alana some way.

"We could have hired a taxi," said Josh mildly.

"Yeah, when the keech hits the fan the three of us would have been identified immediately..."

Josh let the argument drop. He watched as Marcus opened a panel in the dashboard and expertly spliced some wires together.

"How the heck do you know how to do this?" he asked.

"Easy, dad's always had a car and I know quite a lot about them. In fact before they discovered I was a genius I wanted to be a mechanic. Still do, as a matter of fact."

His words proved to be correct when the motor, a large European make, burst into life. Josh held his breath, expecting the outraged owner to burst out of a building nearby and approach them. He should have known better. Visitors going to one of the many local pubs with their friends used back streets like these. Marcus, with the ease borne of long practice, turned the steering wheel and manipulated the controls. He drove out of the street and headed for the sandy path which led between the bungalows. It was just after ten at night.

Josh got out of the motor and helped Anna to the car. He had pushed the front seat as far back as it could go. Inside he was cursing events, but on the outside he remained calm. Despite the roominess of the car Anna almost couldn't get inside. Marcus helped fasten her seatbelt, just managing to click it into place.

"All aboard!" he said gleefully. With a grimace of displeasure Josh went into the seat behind Marcus and they sailed off into the night just two minutes before the Professor arrived at their home.

The hotel soon came within view. It took two minutes for a journey that, with Anna walking, would have taken them over an hour. Marcus wisely parked around the back of the building. He was relying on Alana to guide them in some way and was not disappointed when her ghostlike figure appeared at the foot of a spindly-looking fire escape.

"Up here," she said as the two young men got out of their transport. "First floor."

"It would be," groaned Josh. He helped Anna out of the car then slowly, agonisingly, they began the long slow climb taking them into the hotel. The emergency exit was open. They had made it!

When Charmain drifted into consciousness she found herself in a world of pain the like of which she had never known. She stirred and groaned and a machine attached - to her - beeped more loudly than she would have thought possible. Of course she had been dimly aware that she was in acute discomfort but that had been when she was sedated and deep inside her own head. Now she was acutely aware of every nerve ending on every square inch of her skin. Charmain groaned out loud and tried to turn but she seemed to be hedged in by tubes and wires at every turn.

She had electrodes attached to her head and her chest. Dimly she noted that she was wearing a green nightdress that could only have originated in a hospital building. The room - from what she saw of it was small and she surmised that she was being kept somewhere near one of the main wards of whatever hospital she was in.

The pain racked through her again. It was coming from her legs which felt like twin flaming towers and the cracked ribs that meant she had to fight for every breath. Worse, she now realised she had an oxygen mask on and that her mouth was incredibly dry.

The white door opened and a nurse who looked about twelve years old came in. She was wearing a two-piece costume in the same kind of green as the nightdress worn by her patient.

They looked at each other and the nurse gave a brief, professional smile.

"I see you've joined us at last."

"I - where am I?"

"You are being monitored for the after effects of a serious motor accident, and you are in Ayr Longhouse Hospital."

"Where is that?"

"We wondered if you were a stranger around here. Someone said you had been identified as coming from the Central Region or thereabouts. Your name is Charmain, I know that much. Well I'm Julie, I'll be your nightshift nurse for the next few days."

"How soon can I get out?"

The young nurse looked soberly at her patient. "I don't want you tiring yourself out asking questions like that. Now lie back and rest."

"How long?" persisted Charmain ignoring the waves of pain coursing through her slim body.

A long time," said Julie a little sharply, "now rest as you're told. I'm not going to tell you again."

Charmain lay back but the thoughts were whirling through her head. She couldn't be here for months. She had to find Anna before her potential killer returned. A feeling itched and nagged at her, telling her that this wasn't over by any means. At least she could tell what she knew to the authorities, that she hadn't been the victim of a hit-and-run, that a man with a grudge had been acting evilly, leaving what he thought was a corpse.

But at least her potential killer couldn't get at her in here.

She was not to know how wrong she was.

Professor Cameron stood on the middle of the bungalow. He vented his fury by punching his fist against the wall a few times and smashing his torch against the door. Finally he stopped, the throbbing pain in his fingers making him aware he had gone a little too far. As he calmed down while washing his had under the cold tap - thank God no fingers were broken, they were merely swollen - he realised that he had been lucky. In his supreme egotism he had given the other young people no thought whatsoever...but what if they had proven too much for him? He would have been totally helpless.

It was obvious they had gone for a late walk along the beach or out to the town for some food (although he wondered what they were doing about the big girl). The details didn't matter. They would be coming back soon. He would just have to watch and wait for the next few days to make sure josh was alone, then he could get him. It would be an easy task if they made a habit of walking out at night. He thought of the restraints in his boot and smiled to himself.

In a way luck had smiled on him once more.

He went back into the main room and pocked up his torch from where it lay. He was working only in the light shining through from the large picture window in the kitchen.

Luckily nothing had been smashed and the batteries were lying nearby. He restored his torch to working order. Obviously now that he had forced the lock he had to make this look as though it was a forced entry with the purpose of robbing the bungalow.

The fact that they didn't seem to have much in the way of material possessions made his job a lot easier. Carefully he overturned the sofa and one of the armchairs. He tilted the pictures on the walls to one side then he went into the kitchen and opened a few cupboard doors.

He stopped after that, fearing their return and crept outside, the bag in his hand ready in case they came back before he could get away. His luck held out and he was soon inside his car, cursing himself for having been so stupid. It was just that his mind was fixated on Josh to such an extent that he had ignored other warning signs. Cameron took off his glasses and massaged his throbbing temples. He had been pretty careless of late but he had to take one more risk before he could go back to his old life.

The girl was critically ill. The article had mentioned the name of the hospital she was in and it was getting late. He looked at his watch in the light from the streetlamps. Nearly eleven, just the time when staff were least alert.

He moved into gear and headed off, Josh forgotten just for a short while.

He had a new target.

Alana already had her room door open as they arrived in the dimly lit corridor of the hotel. She ushered them in with an anxious look around to make sure that her parents hadn't heard anything. They were surprisingly quiet, even Anna who had an amazingly light tread for such a big girl. The room they were led into was tiny, with barely room enough for a bed and a chair. Anna sunk gratefully into the latter while the rest sat on the bed against the wall.

No-one needed to speak. Solemnly Alana handed around glasses of cold orange juice from a bottle which they all drank gratefully. They relaxed a little. Then the meditation began. As sat around Anna, the central point, their eyes closed. Now they no longer needed to utter a meditative noise. Instead they slipped into that being that was all of them, containing their experiences but more than they could ever be alone.

They were the One, back in power.

One slipped out of the hotel room and hovered above. One could see the car sitting near the hotel and the rest of the long street. Young people walked along, laughing and joking with each other as they made their way to the various pubs and discos around town. Impatiently One moved down the street, a breath of energy, invisible to all unless it wanted to be seen. One had an aim. Sensing all was not well One did that which they would never have thought of alone and returned to the shoreline, warned by a frisson of energy in the air that the children were being sought. There one saw the creature come out of the back porch, bag in hand, recognising the man immediately, for what was known to a single memory was known to One's collective mind.

Professor Cameron went to his car not knowing that he was being watched. As he headed into gear One effortlessly followed the car along the main road until it turned, moving in response to white signs with black letters until the motor drew up outside a place neither the Professor nor One had seen before.

Ayr Longhouse Hospital.

It was a cosy building, single-floored and made up of many units joined on to what had obviously once been a cottage hospital. Cameron parked his car near some private houses and walked the thirty or so metres that would take him into the building. At the entrance he swept inside and looked inside an office door where he plucked a white coat from a hook. No porter or guard was visible but it was often the way that security was lax in this kind of organisation.

One was close behind him as he made his way down the main corridor towards the intensive care unit, making his way through a combination of boldness and medical knowledge.

Stopping he looked at a particular name. Nodding to himself, he went inside.

His face wore a look of murder.

When Charmain awoke with a jolt it was because of the pain from her broken ribs and her shattered leg, not because of the man who had entered the room with her. She was breathing with a respirator but she felt her breath catch as she saw, and recognised who he was. Dr Cameron stood and smiled at her looking much like any other middle-aged middle-class doctor in his white gown. But there was something dark and unsettling about his steady gaze and he wore a smile that made her want to scream out loud.

But there was no-one to hear her.

Charmain tried to move her arms, to touch something, anything, like one of her feed lines and set a buzz or bleep in the monitor above her head, but nothing happened. Her arms felt like lead.

Cameron walked forward briskly. He was speaking in a low monotone while still wearing that fixed, demeaning smile.

"You should have never complained about me to the ethics committee. What made you want to do that? I was going to treat you well for a few favours. Don't fight this, it will go a lot better for you."

Briskly and efficiently he switched her life signs monitor off and began disconnecting the tubes through which they were feeding her the nutrients necessary to keep her alive.

Charmain turned her head from one side to the other, but she could do nothing to stop him. She couldn't even cry out. The respirator tube down her throat prevented her from doing this.

Cameron frowned at the tube set-up.

"Dammit this thing is set to go off if the machine is switched off. Oh well, I'll disconnect it at source, just let the air rush out." His flexible fingers reached for the long tube in her mouth.

The tube that fed her enough air to exist.

Charmain knew she was going to die. She couldn't breathe on her own but she was totally helpless to stop him. Moaning she turned her head. She closed her eyes to give in to the moment. But she was still breathing. The expected tug at the airline and the cessation of blessed oxygen did not come.

She opened her eyes. Cameron was standing like a white statue looking at the wall behind her. He wore an expression of rage mixed with fear his hands still in a clutching position as if ready to snatch away her respirator at any moment.

"It's YOU," he screamed suddenly, backing away. "Leave me alone..." suddenly he was picked up as if by a giant hand and flung against the wall behind him with a thud that shook the small room like a minor earthquake. He got up and opened the door and fled in the opposite direction of the staff. She could just see his retreating back from where she half-sat on the bed. Tears trickled down her face as she faced the staff that had come running to help her.

To allow her to live.

Professor Cameron heard the staff running behind him. Two went straight into the sick room but the third - a large man - kept coming after the intruder. The professor wisely took a left turn and ran through the canteen area he had glimpsed on the way in. The fire door was at the corner and he lifted the emergency escape bar and was out into the grounds in seconds. His pursuer, who had not seen where he was going ran past and went to the main entrance while Cameron was slipping out one of the many side gates that were used by visitors to the hospital. On the way out he had taken off the white coat and thrown it down. In his dark clothes he was almost invisible.

He jumped into his car, which he had not locked, and started it up with fingers which trembled so much he could hardly turn the key. The car coughed into life and he shunted it back and forth. Somebody had parked in front of him and directly behind. He shunted into both vehicles, crushing their respective front and back bumpers; setting off two different alarms which yarred loudly into the night air.

Even as he came out to the road two figures came running, the large physician and the security guard who must have been waiting for him to appear at the front entrance. Keeping his head down and his lights off Cameron turned to the end of the road and drove on. He put his lights on and drove carefully to the main town. The chances were that neither man had seen him properly. Let them prove it was he who had been the intruder! A police car passed him on the main Prestwick road but the professor gave them hardly a glance for his mind was filled with soothing reflections.

His rage had given way to a kind of inner peace. The chances were that the withdrawal of her drugs would send the young woman into shock, and that combined with the trauma of his visit, had a good chance of killing her.

As for the face he had seen, that all-too familiar face, well he was a psychologist. He knew that it was quite easy to see things that weren't really there, especially at times of heightened emotion. He had been startled by one of the products of his own mind.

With this thought securely in place he looked around. He still saw no sign of pursuit from the police or anyone else. Good. Then that gave him time to carry out at least one part of his plan. They were bound to be back by now. Their numbers no longer made him wary. He was full of a kind of superhuman strength and he could do anything he wanted. He pushed the thought of that face he had seen in the hospital away. He was not scared of mere projections caused by personal stress. He would return to the chalet and claim what was his.

Josh.

Up in the hotel bedroom the different parts of one were back. They looked at each other with all sorts of questions written across their faces. None of them spoke for a minute then Josh uncrossed his legs and got up.

"Let's get him," he said bluntly.

"We'll; go back to being One," said Alana sharply. "that seems to be the best idea."

"I agree," said Marcus. They both looked at Anna. Somehow, without saying anything she managed to convey that she too was in sympathy with them.

"He's out there killing," said Josh. "He hasn't succeeded yet, but he will one day."

"Then the best thing we can do is go to the authorities and tell them about him," said Alana practically.

"You don't understand. If we go to the police now they'll tear us away from each other. There's literally nothing we can do about this man unless we confront him. And we know where he's heading."

"We don't need to see him at all," said Marcus, "just tell the police he's at our bungalow and let them charge him."

"Yes, and they're going to do that? Get real Marcus, he'll just say he's a worried parent who's looking for his missing son who has been seen in this area. And then they'll help him find me, not the other way about."

"Then we will become One again and deal with him that way."

"He...I don't...let me deal with this myself!" burst out Josh. "You don't know everything he has done to me. This is between the two of us. I have to deal with this myself or not deal with it at all."

"But you ran away from him." Said Alana. She spoke softly, in a voice of pure reason. She looked around fearfully, scared that her parents might have heard the older boy shouting.

"That's the reason I've got to deal with him now," said Josh. "It's all; too clear now. I wasn't thinking straight."

He opened to room door and looked back at the darkened room. None of the other three had moved.

"Come back," said Marcus. He rose to his feet, but it was too late.

"Au revoir," said Josh softly before running away down the long corridor and out to the fire exit. He didn't need a car to take him anywhere and he knew the rest couldn't shout him back for fear of arousing the staff of the hotel and Alana's parents. As he ran towards the shore his thoughts were grim. He didn't know what he was getting into but he had a feeling that his future life as a person depended on this moment, that there were some things he could only do as a single person no matter how great or wonderful One was.

Reaching the shore he stopped and looked at the bungalow, which sat in darkness. He discovered that his heart was pounding wildly in his chest and that his mouth was dry. Both symptoms were too extreme for a young man who had run only half a mile.

The truth was, Josh was frightened, more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life as he went to face the monster who was his father.

Although he was already at the front entrance Josh lingered for a moment, his courage faltering. The truth was, he was frightened of what he was going to find. He gathered his courage in one big lump, held it in front of himself as it were and turned the key. Nothing happened. He felt, rather than knew that the place was empty.

He put the light on and looked at the place. It was a mess. Someone had knocked paintings and ornaments to the floor. There was a dent in one of the walls where someone had been thumping the plaster.

But the building was still empty.

Josh stood in the middle of the floor and looked towards the kitchen. This seemed to be empty too. He walked inside. As he moved into the small room he found knives and forks on the floor. He stared out of the picture window but the night was completely dark. All he could hear was the soughing of the sea only a few metres from this very building.

Only the soft crunch of sandy footsteps alerted him, for he could see nothing of what was outside in the glare of the light above. He moved backwards, which was lucky for him because the plate glass window suddenly, shockingly, shattered inwards. He dived to one side and was behind the main wall when most of the fragments landed.

There was a second or two of silence then he heard the crunch of footsteps across the glass. Josh stood up. This was the moment he had hated and dreaded for the last few days, yet now that the time had come he felt strangely calm. Even the deliberate violence against the window did not impress him now. That was a sign of weakness.

One would _never_ use force. And he knew this as surely as he was breathing. He moved back until he was in the middle of the small room. Squarely, in the centre of the kitchen doorway stood Professor Cameron.

Cameron stood there, looking trim and unruffled, his seething rage invisible to the boy, his breathing a little heavy from the effort of smashing the window. In his hand was the steering lock he had used for this purpose. He gave a little laugh and threw it to one side.

"Long time no see Josh," he said in that reasonable tone of voice he always employed when he was about to do something horrific to his son. "I don't understand why you took it into your head to leave so abruptly. I mean, you didn't even say goodbye. What way is that for a son to treat his father?"

Josh did not answer. He seemed to be trembling in every limb now and the room was starting to move around him, signs of a panic attack.

"Come with me now." Said the professor with a deceptive gentleness that could never again fool his son.

Josh stared into his fathers face.

"No," he said.

Back at the Starland hotel Alana looked at her two friends. They did not seem to know what to do.

"I'll chase after him," said Marcus with false boldness.

"Good idea," said Alana, but with a tinge of acid, "what are you going to do when you catch up with him?"

"Then, there's no way. We'll all have to go."

They both looked gloomily at Anna. A voice called out from the door.

"Alana, are you all right? I thought I heard something." It was her mother.

"I'm all right mum, don't make such a fuss," Alana with an even more acid tinge.

"Don't talk to me like that! I'll come in and spank you," said mother, but in a light tone, glad that her daughter was all right. "Goodnight then."

The three in the room held their breath until the other bedroom door closed.

"That's a good 'un," whispered Alana, "now we'll have to wait half an hour before we're safe to move."

And wait they did. Marcus was all for tearing away but as Alana had pointed out the chances of being caught and detained were so great they were better waiting and giving themselves a better chance.

Their greatest fear was Anna. She seemed to be, well, different. She was more still than ever and her breathing seemed far shallower, but when urged to get to her feet she gamely followed the other two to the emergency exit. The climb down the fire escape seemed, to Marcus, to take hours though it was only about five minutes, with Anna occupying most of that time. She stood at the foot of the iron stairs swaying slightly. It was obvious she was very tired indeed.

"Come on," said Marcus, "only a few yards to the car."

"My, we have moved up in the world," said Alana admiringly. She followed the other two across to the vehicle that Marcus fired up with disturbing ease.

"Where did he go?" asked Alana.

"The chalet of course," said Marcus. "He knows - we all know what his father is going to do to him. He wants to face up to the old guy."

"Then maybe he has to."

"You saw what the old one was doing with that girl. He was going to sacrifice her for his own cause. He won't hesitate to destroy Josh."

The car leapt forward and out towards the main road. As it did so a man in green pyjamas sprinted from the hotel. He shouted and waved his fist at them.

Alana urged Marcus to drive faster and the figure vanished out of sight.

"We don't have much time to get Josh," she said.

"Why?" asked Marcus, who had been concentrating on what he was doing and had only glimpsed the irate figure.

"Because that was my dad."

"Oh sh - sugar," said Marcus, urging the vehicle into fourth gear.

In the back Anna snored lightly, relaxing totally, enjoying the ride. It was the best rest she'd had all day.

"You're coming with me," said Cameron. Calmly, without much in the way of show he produced a large clasp knife from behind his back. What they would have called a Bowie knife in the old days. The blade was extended and Josh could have sworn he could sense how sharp the edge was, honed to a fine sharpness. "I'll do this," said the Professor. "You're mine and you'll die if you don't come with me right now."

In his head Josh had a picture of his own body lying on the shattered glass at their feet. His face was strangely peaceful, but a gaping hole in his bared chest revealed that his heart was gone.

"You wouldn't," he said at last, trying to deny the last horror.

"You know me better," said the Professor with a sudden, almost professional detachment as if he was conducting one of his animal experiments and waiting to see how the creature would react.

"But why?," asked Josh suddenly.

"Why am I taking you away?"

"No, the whole thing. I don't understand any of it at all. I don't know what's going on, why you've done all this."

The professor looked at him in astonishment, with a sudden look of distaste on his face that was not directed at the boy, strangely enough, but himself.

"I'll tell you why, Josh, it's because that's the way things are. Don't think this is some sort of fairy-tale where your friends will come in and rescue you. Even if you were together now you couldn't do anything against me. I could take you all."

"You're mad."

"No, just desirous of having what is mine. Now turn that light off and come with me." Josh did as he was told. Now only the backlight was on. He crunched forward over the broken plate glass and out on to the porch. Carefully the Professor switched off the kitchen light. For a second they were plunged into total darkness and Josh had enough presence of mind to start running. But a pocket torch leapt into life and felt the cold prick off metal in his back. Even through his jacket the blade hurt.

"Start to run and I'll stab you where you are. Now walk to the car. We're going a long way away."

Josh knew with a horrible certainty that this was, literally the end of the road for him. His father was going to kill him and bury the body.

"I don't know why," he said.

"Because it just has to be," replied the Professor, urging him along with that horrible blade. "You were there. I thought I could make you into what I wanted after SHE was gone but it didn't work that way. Despite my years of training, my psychology I couldn't mould you the way I wanted. There's too much of her in you."

"Who?"

But the Professor would not answer; together they stumbled over the gritty sand.

That was when they heard the voices.

The three of them walked slowly along the sandy path. It might be the beginning of summer but the night air had cooled and Alan was in a t-shirt. She shivered in the night breeze. Marcus seemed not to notice the weather, he had his head cocked to one side and seemed to be listening ever so subtly for a noise or an even not far away. All three walked slowly. Their pace was forced by Anna and she seemed to be getting slower and slower as the night went on. Her bulk could not seem to take much in the way of fatigue.

"Once we get back to the chalet you'll be able to rest," promised Marcus in a stage whisper.

"Why are you talking like that?" asked Alana with interest.

"Shh, you don't understand. Our enemy may not be far off. Josh must have reached the chalet by now. He's a long-legged guy. That means he could have hit on the old man almost at once."

"Well, the professor was in a car."

"Will you be quiet!" said Marcus. He was the leader now and he wasn't taking any chances. Alana went in a minor huff with him but then dismissed her own feelings. She could sense that Marcus was correct and they had so little time before the adults would catch up with them. It wouldn't take a lot of detective work for her parents to decide where she had gone to.

They were on the beach now, at the heading on the road to the chalet. Anna suddenly sat down, squatting in the sand, a figure dimly seen by the reflected lights from the path.

"Oh no, what's wrong me auld lassie?" said Marcus trying to keep his tone light. He urged her on. "Come on, we need you. Don't give up like this."

Alana held up a small hand.

"Don't you understand? This is her message. They're coming along the shore right now."

"Does that thing you do work in the dark?"

"No, not really, but I'll try to vasten them." The girl strained forward. He could feel the rush of power from her. The magnification of the three worked even without Josh to the extent that their power added to hers.

Two shapes, dimly seen were walking along at a slow pace. Josh and his father.

But why wasn't the young man trying to run away?

Alana moaned as she felt the very prickle of cold steel against her own back. Anna groaned out loud and shook her head.

"They're here. We've got to stop him. Leave Anna and we'll do it." She grabbed at Marcus, clutching on to his arm. "Come on, we've got to do this!"

Grimly he shook her off.

"No," he whispered, "we have to let them come to us. Can't you see? It's the only way."

Three figures, small, medium, and huge froze like statues as they waited for a demon and his prisoner to cover quarter a mile of shore.

Josh felt the metal of the knife actually dig through the material of his clothes and into the skin of his back. His father had seen the rest long before his, although even in his panic and fear Josh was able to sense that they were present, he just didn't know exactly where. Cameron was sure of himself, cast-iron sure. He had his boy and he was going to take him no matter what.

Josh knew that he had reverted to what he had been before his escape, a slave, an object of his fathers desire to control the world around, not fully human to his own parent. The only parent he had left.

"You might as well kill me now." He said bitterly, "because I'm never going to have any kind of future with you."

He felt the knife scratch his skin and knew the warmth of blood easing down a tear on the surface of his back, the part just above his kidneys.

"Don't," said Cameron in that false-gentle voice that meant he was closer to the edge than before. "Or I'll do it."

Josh bit his lip to stop himself from screaming out loud. They were abreast of the three now and the faint glow of the lamplight was enough to give them all a shadow-shape beside the beach.

"You won't, of course, try to stop me in this - ah - situation," said Cameron in his cold and precise voice. "I wouldn't like any of you to think you were responsible for the death of your young friend."

"But we wouldn't be," said Marcus clearly and calmly. "You are the one holding the knife."

Cameron jerked his son even closer to him, if possible. Iron fingers dug into Josh's left arm. The knife was all Josh could think about. The knife, if only he could stop thinking of the cold metal digging into his flesh. They were together now and if he could just stop thinking about the knife and the sudden thrust into his body that would follow on the slightest manic whim of his father he could...

Then Josh realised the full truth that no matter if it happened now or in twenty-four hours, his father could not let him live. Not with the evidence he had left behind. Josh remembered the house in the West End and the Black Hole. Maybe death was like that, being suddenly thrust into the darkness with no sense of time or place.

It worked. He had stopped thinking about the knife, his body ignoring the cold metal. He was marching past his friends now. Their heads all turned as they watched him go. They were ready to be together.

Then they were.

Cameron stumbled and nearly fell, the pure blade of the knife glinting in the faint light from the path, for he was no longer holding on to another human being and his own momentum had carried him forward.

Only yards away, Josh was now beside his friends.

Instead of lunging forward as they might have expected, Cameron stood back. What had happened was beyond normality, but then so was he and he did not seem at all puzzled or upset by what was happening. Indeed, Josh, who was trembling and sweating despite the chill in the air, could almost see the gleam of pleasure in his eyes.

"I knew there was something wrong when I was in the hospital," he said quietly. "When I saw _her_ face on the wall. It's quite obvious what is happening here. My unconscious mind is manufacturing excuses for me not to do what must be done."

"Who?"

"Your mother, but I disposed of her long ago."

A burst of police sirens in the distance, coming closer, indicated that they might not be have long to converse.

"Come with me Josh or all these young people will have to die."

"No."

Then the calmness was replaced by fury, as Josh knew it must be but already he and his friends had achieved enough of their united calmness to enter into the unity known as One. The beach was lit up by a beam like a searchlight but more focussed and concentrated mainly on the man before them. The professor threw up his hands, too late, uttering a hoarse cry of fear and rage.

For no one can look at the sun.

He threw himself forward and lay face down on the ground burying his head in the sand, the knife lying forgotten at his side. It was a grotesque sight. One was without pity. What had to be done had been done. This man who had hurt so many would hurt no-one else.

The four young people appeared again. The slamming of car doors could be heard in the distance and the sound of running feet echoed through the cold night air. The sudden loss of light was like being plunged into complete darkness. Then Josh dazedly made out the other three.

"Come on," he said, "let's get out of here."

For a moment the others hesitated then they followed him up onto the path beside the yellow sodium wash of the lamp above. Anna moved more slowly than ever. They stood and looked at each other, then she opened her lips and spoke more slowly and clearly than she had for years.

"Thank you," she said to all three.

And died.

They could feel her presence leaving them as her heart, taxed by the events of the last few days, finally burst. Her body squatted on the path in front of them exactly as it had done in life, with only her closed eyes to show she was gone.

Two policemen pounded into view, truncheons at the ready only to find three young people with tears rolling down there cheeks in front of a large corpse, while from the beach came the piteous mewling and choking sounds of a man who had lost his sight for good.

"Help us," said Josh simply.

Charmain lay on the hospital bed. All her tubes and monitors had been restored. The room was quiet except for the sound of the machine beeping quietly to itself. The one good sign was that she was off the respirator and breathing with only the aid of an oxygen mask.

Charmain had been surprised to get a visitor. Mrs Kennedy, her Matron at the care home. She concealed her emotions well, but when she touched Charmain's hand she gave it a strong squeeze.

"Oh my dear," she said. She did most of the talking since it hurt Charmain to try and say anything. It had only been a few hours since the attack on her. "I heard about Anna. The doctors say you're on the mend and you can take bad news. Please don't move or try to say anything. Anna is dead."

Mrs Kennedy went on to outline some of the story and left after only half an hour, but promising with all the sincerity she had that Charmain had done her best, that Anna must have gone off on some impulse, managing to travel as far as she did and that Charmain had done well getting as far as this before her terrible accident.

Charmain lay alone after managing to whisper the phrase 'goodbye' to the departing woman.

Sometimes we don't need to be told the truth.

Late that night, after the man had attacked her, when she was stabilised and they had a nurse looking after her Charmain had been lying as still and as white as a ghost. The nurse who had been reading a romantic novel (about doctors and nurses but soapy and totally untrue to life) looked up. She thought the patient had said something, but as she glanced at Charmain she could see that the young woman was as still as a waxwork. Somehow she thought she had heard the phrase. 'Together' as soft as a summer sigh.

It must have been an effect of the machines, she decided going back to the bit where the doctor went into a romantic clinch with the cute nurse from ward three.

Charmain lay alone, with her lips parted, the oxygen slipping in and out of her body. When they had set her up again they had discovered that the attack seemed to have sparked off her own breathing, like a miracle, so the annoying tube was gone from her lungs.

At some time past midnight there had been the noisy arrival of an emergency ambulance. She heard it from her bed. The nurse had checked her patient briefly, then departed to see to the new emergency. Charmain could even hear the trolley bearing the new arrival being wheeled past the ward in which she lay and knew as certainly as if she was looking down on the body who they had brought in.

Mrs Kennedy had been far too late with her news.

Lying there, at that late hour Charmain spoke one clear word:

"Empty."

Josh sat in the house with his father. The old man was tapping his white stick on the floor again. He who had condemned his son to the Black Hole now himself condemned forever to darkness.

"Aye, all right dad, I'll get your tea," said the young man going through to the kitchen of their West End home. Everything was neatly arranged so that his father could get on with things himself when Josh was busy with his friends.

Josh was at University now, studying computer engineering and mechatronics. Basically he was studying the behaviour of airflow over different vehicles. He had never, in his life, felt the desire to study psychology or related subjects. His friends were all people who talked about sine waves and equations and told each other stupid jokes.

Tap tap. The noise of the stick again. This was one of Professor Cameron's silent periods when he seemed to react with deep anger to his situation. Once or twice he had tried going into a destructive rage but had succeeded only in hurting himself and the truth was, he hated self-injury, for whatever else he felt about his life he wanted to survive. So he was left with these long silences and Josh, better than anyone, knew that he just had to leave his father alone.

"Where are you going?" asked the professor suddenly from the depths of his big brown armchair by the fire.

"Out," said Josh as he clattered down the dinner dishes.

"To see _them_?"

It was that day again. The time of the month for their meeting.

"Aye," said Josh. "Look dad, I'll let you eat, do the washing up and go. You'll be able to get yourself to bed, won't you?"

"Yes," said the Professor stiffly. Then, he looked at Josh without being able to see him but sensing the atmosphere. "You'll be back, won't you?"

Josh bent forward, compassion and kindness coursing through him as he touched his father's hand, an old hand. "Of course I will dad. You know I'll be here as long as you want me."

And somehow that was worse than being taken from his son, being punished for his many crimes. For the police had never been able to sort out the events of that night. They had never connected him with the intruder at the hospital or the running down of the young woman. The only one charged was Marcus, with theft of the car, but he was given a conditional discharge when the court concluded he had been trying to help his friend.

Now Cameron was left for long stretches with his thought. He was well fed and taken care of. He even had companionship in a day centre. But he was lonely even there.

He was living his punishment.

Soon the meal was finished. Josh cleared up then he gave his father a quick hug before leaving, all bitterness long gone.

Alone now, ex-professor Cameron allowed the tears to flow down his blind cheeks.

They met down in Prestwick. Josh drove down there in his new car. It took only forty minutes or so. Incredible to think that it had taken him half a working day to get here once.

Marcus and Alana were already at the chalet. He always had a strange feeling as he arrived here that he was walking into a time warp and that minutes or hours had passed since he was last here, so strong was the feeling of what happened in those incredible few days. Only the appearance of his two friends gave the lie to that thought. Marcus, at fifteen had sprouted until he was nearly the same height as Josh at that age while Alana had lost some of her childish chubbiness and was now turning into a young lady who even at thirteen looked as if she going to blossom into a real beauty.

"He's had the pasta on too long," she said as she met Josh at the front door.

"Rubbish," called Marcus from the kitchen, "don't let her tell you lies, it's al dente."

"All softie," if you ask me," said the girl. She giggled and stood on tiptoe to kiss Josh on the cheek. "It'll be ready in five minutes so I hope you're hungry."

"Like a lion. I just fed my father but didn't have any myself."

They served the pasta - spaghetti with romano sauce and real Italian meatballs from M&S in the front room, washing the remainder down with a glass of white wine for the two young men and a spritzer for the girl.

"Where are your parents?" asked Josh to both.

"Oh mine's are over at the hotel," said Alana. "I brought them round to my way of thinking, especially after they saw the grounding Marcus got. Now his parents and mine are real buddies."

"Mine are abroad again. They trust me not to make a mess of things now."

"Good," said Josh positively. They finished the meal together and he cleared up the empty plates. He poured them each a drink and put out a forth which he sat squarely in the middle of the knee-high table sitting in the front room.

None of those present drank for the moment, but waited silently, communication total between them, until a minute or so later there came a knock on the front door. The knock was a courtesy only, for the door was not locked. Charmain came in, shut the door carefully behind her and stood in the middle of the room. She looked around. She still walked with a faint limp and her brow bore faint traces of the scars that had been there since her collision with the windscreen. Her bump was highly visible and she had a glow about her that would have told them all without that physical evidence that she was purely and happily pregnant.

"Hello everyone she chorused brightly. "Sam thinks I'm having a day out in Ayr. Lucky I'm local now, eh?"

"Well, no-one would have guessed you would end up marrying one of your doctors," said Josh. "I hope he knew what he was getting into."

"Does any man?"

"I don't know," said Josh, "I'm too young to know."

"Is that wine for me?"

"Yes, but are you supposed to drink?"

"Listen, this one is big enough to look after himself," said Charmain patting her bump fondly, "besides, he's over 26 weeks now. I can't do much to affect him with one glass of wine - and that's all I take."

She sat and took her drink in hand.

Josh remained where he was, standing in the middle of the room and raised his own glass to the other three.

"I think you know who this is for. I propose a toast to Anna."

"A toast to Anna," cried the others and drank deep and long from their glasses. Josh sat beside Charmain on the sofa.

"Let us now make the preparations," said Josh. They all closed their eyes and started the chorus of life, a sweet sound that helped focus their minds.

And the part that was Anna, the spirit, or soul or personality or whatever the mortals named her eternal spark, stirred in the mind of Charmain where she had been lodged ever since that night a couple of years before when her eternal self had taken refuge in the weakened mind of a sick but trusted woman.

The four vanished into the ether to be replaced by One, who skipped and sang and ran and flew and moved high into the air above the chalet, the roof no more than a thin veil to the those that were One.

Higher and higher One went until It or He or She - really there was no gender to this entity - was looking down upon the jewel of the earth hanging in the darkness of space.

One was happy because now One could hear others like itself forming around the world. None were yet as powerful as One, but many had the potential to be greater, to be able to fly further, faster and form more groupings into a central Mind.

The future of the human race was assured by those who would go beyond the self and form into other versions of One. Then, in time, their would be a super entity called Oneness who would be greater than all, who would be the next step in the evolution of a young and vibrant race.

Then the human race would finally reach the goal of evolution, and end all suffering and strife and the evil apartness of the biped called man.

And they would do it in the right way.

Together.

Authors Note:

'Together' is one of my earlier novels for older children and teenagers. It was written for many reasons, but the chief one was my instinct that evolution is not over. If that is the case, what direction will the human race take? Perhaps instead of altering our bodies, we would start combining our minds. This combination of minds and personalities actually has a name, it is called a gestalt mind, but this is the most amazing thing.

The gestalt mind already exists.

When you look at any society you find a number of organisations that have shared beliefs. When people cleave to these organisations and identify totally with them you find out that people react in eerily similar ways, whether it's your local church, woman's guild or even a government organisation. It even happens with couples where one finishes the others sentences and they think of the same things at the same time even when apart. In this case people share the same psyche.

Besides, if you believe in evolution there is no reason to deny that the inner part of us, the soul if you like, can evolve as well. Perhaps the group soul can take us further forward than we have gone before as individuals within the human race. This might be a good and bad thing just like any other evolved activity. I have always enjoyed being part of the writing community and I would recommend joining a group for anyone interested in creating their own poems, stories and novels, at the very least you meet people who understand this strange drive to write books that many of us authors have even in the face of common sense.

If you want to contact me just email southwestwriters@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading.

Cheers,

Alex
