‘Vital signs read normal. Ready when you are Izzy.’

Carefully, she closed her eyes, lowered her breathing and concentrated on the feel of the Drop against her skin. She focussed all her will into those few nerve endings, reaching out through them into the Drop and beyond it into-

Cold and wet and damp. It was raining as usual. Kick the tires of the car, throw the door open. Get home in time for the news if lucky. If not, watch a film then fall asleep and get ready to do it all again. Got health if nothing else. And it is nothing else. Wonder whether Mary will-

Fire! Fire and pain and wet and blood and fire again! Again! Who did this? Have to fight, have to-fire! And again, feel knees give way. Hand to back of head and fire! Fire across hand and oh God have to fight, have to turn and fight and-

Old man! Being killed by old man how is that fair? Have to turn and fight and- legs won’t work. Fire! Cold gravel and rain, Mary will worry. Old man leaving, have to fight have t-

She snapped back to herself. Tears were streaming down her face and she tore several probes loose as she turned and vomited onto the ground. Forcing herself upright, and absently thankful she was together enough to do so on the opposite side to the vomit she turned and-

Nash was standing in the centre of the room. Nash was standing in the centre of the room and there was a pounding on the door-the door that had been bolted from the inside. Two doctors lay unconscious near it and the pools of blood spreading from them said that they were staying that way. Another was cradling an arm and screaming, pushing himself back over the unconscious form of his other two colleagues. Nash was holding an iron bar, the price tag still on it. As she struggled upright, she realised she wasn’t surprised to see him.

Every victim the same.

‘Even looks a little like me, just…not as tired.’

‘I’m sorry Izzy.’

She felt dirty, her legs threatening to give way. ‘Bastard’ His voice was somehow unaffected by the tears. It was light, almost conversational but there was a pleading element to it, something whining she’d never heard before. ‘You think I meant to do this? The night Joe left I fell asleep with my Drop on and dreamed about what I would have done, what anyone would have done. The Drop pulled all those thoughts out of my head and it let me sleep and you know what?’

.