Jemma stopped the car. I got into the front seat, being especially careful not the wake, the now sleeping Tom. His hands hugged around the air, almost like a young child would hold a teddy bear. He looked helpless, and several times he spoke, absorbed in his ever swallowing slumber. I very quietly shut the car door on the right passenger side. The ground under my feet was thick with clingy mud, intent on ruining my relatively new, white nike airmacs. While not the best choice on my part, I was not expecting to encounter this sort of terrain on my travels across the country. Rather than choosing to remain in the freezing cold countryside, I opted to soldier on through the thick wet mess, for the few steps I was forced to do so.

I kicked the heels on my shoes on the side pf the car, again being careful not to wake Tom, and quickly entered the front seat. Jemma smiled at me, her long hair was a tangled mess, partly drooped over her face, while another brave strand fell down her slender right shoulder. She still looked beautiful, despite her hair apparently having a mind of its own. Being a teenage boy, it was easy to focus on the rather more intimate parts of Jemma's body, but I had never understood the point of doing so. Jack, and even at some times Tom had commented on the physical attributes of many unsuspecting girls at our school. I had always brushed them off as hormone-fuelled spontaneous observations, rather than a way of thinking. Now I was wondering whether or not Tom, and especially Jack had been right to think of females in that way.

But I was too tired to think of pitiful things at this time of morning, I should try to get some sleep. Not even quality time with Jemma was as precious as falling victim to life's natural off switch. As I looked out the windscreen, past the dust covered exterior and beyond at the world beyond, the tiny amount I could see that was illuminated by the fogged headlights, I realised how much the landscaped had changed since the morning. The dusty wasteland had been replaced by a luscious forest, prickly pine trees, cocooned the deserted mountain pass, and not so much as a squirrel dared to cross the hidden hideaway of the wild woods. After a while the blackened blindness, sent me to sleep.

I was back in the forest. Running. Running for my life. The man in the gas mask was chasing me, only this time he was much, much faster than me. My lungs were on fire and my legs were about to collapse underneath me. I fell to the ground. I see the gas mask man run at me, past me... I turned around and saw my mother. ALIVE. She shouted something to me, but I couldn't hear it. The gas mask man ran at her, putting a hand over her mouth. I see the fear in her eyes, before my view of her was blocked by the figure's back. I hear a muffled scream, and then the man throws something against a tree. Blood oozes onto the forest floor, the side of the tree stained red. I have watched my mother die, for a second time. The man turns towards me, clasping his hand over the mask, and pulls it off.

I wake up. I hear the sound of screeching tyres, burnt rubber, and a feminine scream. I scream at the top of my lungs, my entire body convulsing. Unable to control myself I continue to scream and a hand clutches at my face. I punch back at the hand, and then... I black out.

I wake to the image pf bright sunlight, the glare burning my eyeballs. I clutch at my eyes and lie there, curling into a ball. I'm outside, a cool breeze flowing across my neck and back. I open my eyes, slowly this time, and examine my surroundings. Jemma sits beside me, gazing at me, while Tom holds a rifle, it's stock pressed up against his shoulder. His face holds a grimacing expression, his knee bent at an awkward angle. Jemma realises i am awake, and jumps at me, hugging me tightly and I feel moisture hit my face.

She puts her lips on mine and I respond, but in the back of my head i am trying to resist asking the thousands of questions that come to mind. We keep the kiss for over a minute, her hands on my shaking shoulders, mine on her arms. We separate and I look around. We're not on the mountain pass anymore. Ten police cars surround the Toyota and over twenty police officers are visible, high powered rifles on display. I notice that the Toyota's windscreen is utterly smashed to pieces, the tyres have been punctured and two doors have been completely torn from the car, effortlessly picked off. The front of the car is unrecognisable. The entire hood has folded in on itself, while bullet holes pepper the entire of the cars body. The rear is blackened, as if it has been burned. A police officer approaches me, gun drawn and says, we're going to have to speak with you Nicolas, NOW.