Awake

THREE

"Check the front of the boat."

I nearly bit through my lip. That was another voice, nearby. Thank God, it was still on the other side of the glass. If anyone opened the door onto the front deck, I'd be discovered immediately.

I started to crawl towards the staircase that led to the exterior walkway on the lower level of the boat, my hands and knees slipping on the icy, fog-damp deck.

I'd just rounded the corner when I heard the door open. I scrabbled down the stairs backwards, my head spinning with adrenaline – probably not the most helpful response to stress – and looked around, still crouching, so I wouldn't be visible through the windows.

I know the ferry back to front, so I was able to duck into a shallow recess that held a box of life-jackets, hopefully concealing me from a casual look up and down the side of the boat.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when something behind me crashed, and leaned down a little lower to look through one of the vents that opened to the interior. I couldn't really see anything, except for a pair of worn leather business shoes unevenly backing away from two sets of dusty boots.

The voice I heard next wasn't any of the harsh, pragmatic ones from before. It was terrified.

"Where's everyone gone? What's going on? What the fuck's happening? This isn't fucking happening!"

The boots advanced closer towards the business shoes. They were backed against a wall, now.

The woman I'd heard before spoke again. "Our Hound was supposed to dream up a bank. One we're familiar with. Does this look like a bank to you?"

Business Shoes wasn't listening. "What the fuck's going on? Is this one of those TV prank things? It's not fucking funny."

"You can stop the act. We know what you are." That was a man speaking. I assumed his voice belonged to the boots that stepped closer to Business Shoes, and shifted, as though bracing themselves for something. "Only a Waker could fuck us over so spectacularly. One that's a lot better than our bitch. We were just out fishing for some loonies, but it looks like we've caught ourselves something much better. Put your hands out, let us cuff you, and this doesn't have to be painful."

The woman's boots shifted towards Business Shoes, and he made a run for it.

He didn't get far. I didn't see what the woman did, but he suddenly slammed down, into my line of sight.

He was just an ordinary looking man, in his mid thirties, in a cheap suit. His cheek was pressed against the dirty blue plastic floor, and he was staring right into my eyes, terror on his face. I saw someone's knee pressing into his back as rough hands jerked his arms back and fastened them together with pale blue loops that glowed a poisonous colour.

"We might not even sell you," the woman whispered. "We might keep you for ourselves."

The man tried to jerk away from her, "Get the fuck off! Who the fuck do you people think you are?" The woman hopped off him and the second pair of boots started to drag him up to his feet. "Help me!" he shouted, "Help me, please!" He was still staring at me.

The other two pairs of shoes abruptly went still.

"Who are you talking to?" the man asked.

The smaller pair of boots strode towards my side of the ferry and I scrabbled backwards and away.

No time for crawling. I skidded along the damp walkway to the steel door that led to the crew cabin. I'd never been there before, and I prayed it wasn't locked. My fingers slipped on the metal handle, and I heard a wooden sliding door further up the ferry slam open.