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The ground was muddy, and wet. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was surrounded by large grey stones. He knew this place, Stonehenge. He tried to think, he sat up. He kept asking himself ‘how did I get here?’ but no answer sprang to mind. The sun was low on the eastern horizon; it was early morning probably 7.30 am.

He saw a woman heading up to the stones, she looked angry. She was short, brown hair cut by her ears. She was in a Stonehenge preservation uniform.

He quickly lay on his back and closed his eyes. Her footsteps grew closer, they stopped. He listened wearily for sound. A high pitched scream shocked him and he jolted. His eyes flashed opened and he saw the woman; she was running back shouting for help. He lifted his hands and observed his bony fingers. They were dripping with blood.

Some time later a flurry of people in uniform came up to meet him.  His eyes blurred slightly and although he blinked the a grey film remained over his vision. He couldn’t see the people properly, they all looked the same and he couldn’t see the detail on their faces. They lead him away from Stonehenge. He was taken down a road to a building, outside was a car park. It didn’t look right, he couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong. Then he was taken into the building and allowed to clean up in the bathroom. He stood alone in the Men’s, the walls were tiled green although Dean could sense they had once been white. The repetitive dripping echo was driving him insane, he splashed his face. The water tasted stale. His red hands wouldn’t clean.

He scrubbed hard, the blood wouldn’t leave his skin. The water was running clear down the plug hole. He scratched at it, hard. He began to see a red line curve into the plug, he eventually was clean. He turned the stiff tap and the water stopped running. The repetitive dripping echo was driving him insane. The door opened and a dark man entered the room. He stroked the blinding white tiles as he made his way to the urinals. Dean stood frozen at the sink, he noticed the dripping had stopped, he turned the stiff tap and the water stopped running. A strange sense of de ja vu crept over him. “Your not clean yet, trust me. You have an unclean spirit still.” Dean turned round sharply but no one was there. He stood alone in the green tiled bathroom.

“You have memory loss related to some sort of accident, hitting your head etc. other than that you are fine.” The doctor was a nice man, he was one of those on call doctors.  “One little knock to the head hadn’t done any damage, and in time you should remember what happened in the past few months.” The doctor stood up and left.

He shook his head, that didn’t sound right, that didn’t sound like a doctor-ish thing to say. He went to the bathroom again.

Overcome suddenly by the events, he was sick. After he felt better though. As he came out of the toilets he noticed a news report on the TV. He went and sat down on a chair to watch, there were several other people watching too.

            “The hunt for the three missing teenagers; Katherine Barnfield, Dean Knight and Taryn Ash is reaching it’s second month…”

His photo came up on the screen.

He didn’t have to look to know all eyes were on him.

*

Zander thought for a moment.

“Yes, I think I do. It’s been a long time though.” He gestured for Katherine to stand up. “Take your crystal out and hold it tight in your hand.” Katherine stood still; she looked around and then gasped. “I don’t know where it is!”

“What!” Taryn exclaimed “It was in your bag last I knew.”

“Where is my bag? You’ve got my book with the map and I had my bag.”

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