Hope. Four letters that give a person the ability to see light in darkness. More than Womack's superpowers, hope can lift the spirits of the downtrodden with invisible hands. It can carry them on their way into, and hopefully through, the traumas faced.

Hope is a mighty warrior in the battle against torment, yet it can be slain with a look. With a word. With an absence.

Thomas's hope dissolved along with Bren's body.

He didn't blame her for going, but he realised just how much he relied on her being there, and in how short a time that reliance had come. Her vanishing in front of him had been a kick in the teeth for his self confidence. His vulnerability was all too obvious. When Lacey closed in on him fought hard. He kicked out and his arms windmilled, trying to make painful contact purely based on the rapid number of swipes he was making in the air.

Two hit home. One was a glancing blow to the woman's shoulder, catching the bone and hurting Thomas more than her, and the second was a slap of her ear, making her jerk back and swear.

"Come here, you little fucker. You're coming whether you like it or not, so you may as well save your energy. You'll need it."

Thomas was certain he would need his energy for what they had planned for him. If he was entered into The Spot, though, he'd have less chance than here. Here there was one woman. There, they had at least half a dozen Spotters on the tail of the contestant. The odds were not in his favour either way, but he could make a show of resistance even if it was futile.

Which it was. Lacey smacked the back of his head with more force than he'd put into his strike. He was a boy with only the limbs he was born with to aid him. She was older, and was a Spotter. They were generally well muscled and very fit. For many powers, athleticism wasn't needed. There was no physical requirement to be able to use something that was genetic. Even if you were a lazy, obese slob, you could still outrun a gazelle if that was your power. This, though, was television and they had an image to keep up.

So, Lacey's smack sent Thomas reeling. He narrowly avoided falling against the stump and his ear – his whole head – was ringing.

He didn't have time to fall. He was enclosed in her force field before he touched the ground. He felt himself be raised up and then he was floating behind the woman, along the path her leader had walked as he made left the scene. He tried to move, but was unable to. The force field was a snug fit, one that tightened if he struggled.

When they reached the exit, David was gone. Another car pulled up next to her and the boot popped open. Thomas knew immediately was she intended and he started to wriggle in a bid to free himself. It didn't work. Instead, he found the force field was shrinking to the point he was finding it hard to breathe. He was lowered into the boot with a slight motion of Lacey's hand, his legs bending and his knees coming up to his chest. He tried to push them back down, to straighten himself, but the field wouldn't let him. The boot lid came down and he was lost in darkness.

Within a minute, he felt the car start to move and knew his death sentence had just been signed.

Thomas wasn't generally afraid of the dark. It was just the result of the sun being fed up of looking at one place all day so had moved on. It'd be back in the morning. In this case, being unable to move and being in the dark, he was scared. It wasn't so much to do with the knowledge he was going to be dead in a day or two. There was no way to avoid that. It was what was going to happen in the meantime. What was planned for him when they arrived at wherever they were going,

The ride was smooth and relatively quiet. Considering the state of the roads, which meant driving them including some swerving for the damaged sections, Thomas expected to be thrown about the boot more than he was and for the journey to be much noisier. It was as if the car wasn't quite touching the road. He wondered if the Floater was in the car along with David and was keeping it elevated, making it a vehicle purely for show or the comfort of the man who'd captured him. He wondered at how important a person must be to be able to have that sort of transport.

His body started to ache from being forced to stay in position, his knees brought up to his chest and kept there by the force field. He wished he could stretch out – the boot was certainly large enough – and try to find some way out. He'd seen a movie where someone similarly trapped had been able to get through the back seat of the car and escape out the rear door. He didn't think he'd be that lucky, but it was worth a try. If only he was able to move.

He tried again, but was still unable to shift even slightly. At least the field was no longer tightening around him. He could do nothing other than wait, for how long, he didn't know.

Cramped as he was, the evenness of the ride and the almost silent thrum of the field as it pulsed around him lulled him to sleep. He was dreaming when the car finally stopped and the boot lid reopened.

His dream was actually more than one, running into each other like relay runners fumbling the baton and tripping over the feet of the next person.

He was floating, laying in a foetal position, over a dirty lake. He couldn't see the edges of the water and imagined it pouring off the edge of the world. Something moved beneath him, just on the edge of visibility. He couldn't quite make out its shape, but a large shadow swam in the murky water. He could feel whatever held him in place was weakening and knew it would soon fail completely, dropping him into the water and into the path of the creature. He had the sense it was a shark of some sort, though it wouldn't be a Great White or Hammerhead. It would be something new. Something more ferocious. More bloodthirsty.

He could see someone standing on a boat, coming towards him. A girl. The boat was moving slowly but had a large, turbulent wake stretching out behind. A serpent's tail. Thomas was willing the girl to make it go faster, except the boat was incapable of any decent speed. She was already pushing its engine as much as she could and any further attempts would render it wrecked and them stranded.

He wanted to call out to her or to wave. Any attempts to do so would cause the field enveloping him to collapse completely and he'd be lost to the water and the monster.

The boat started to veer off course and the girl was looking around, unable to see Thomas, even though he was in plain view. He had no choice but to call out.

"Bren! I'm over here!"

She looked directly at him and waved. He waved back.

The field failed and he dropped...

He splashed into the water, falling faster than he should have. Any buoyancy his body might have had was gone and he was sinking rapidly. He held his breath until his lungs burned and he started to see black spots in the water in front of him. Except it wasn't an aberration of his vision. The black spots were there, appearing and disappearing, just as they had in the vials. He reached out to touch one, but his speed increased. He looked down and saw the creature swimming below him becoming clearer. Closer. It stopped its movement and turned upwards, facing him. Welcoming him.

He could see its eyes, a darker black in the water that was growing clearer the deeper he submerged. He could see its mouth opening. Its teeth, so many rows, inviting. Something darker still, as if the night had come alive and was dwelling in its throat, waited for him. He opened his mouth to scream as he passed the first row of teeth. His scream was silent, except for the sudden escape of bubbles from the last vestiges of air trapped in his lungs.

The mouth closed. The teeth pressed. Pierced. He screamed again, this time sucking in...

Air.

He opened the eyes he'd closed against the impending death and saw he was no longer knocking on the belly of the beast. He looked down at his arms and body, expecting to see blood seeping from the puncture wounds, but there were none. He was unhurt.

He was standing in a car park. The building nearby was large and low, a single story emporium, no doubt housing everything the modern day shopper could possibly desire. He couldn't make out the shop's name. The letters were big and bold and brightly lit, but he seemed to be unable to focus on them long enough to read it. They kept slipping off, as if the sign had a sort of visual grease coating it that sent his eyes on their way before they could take hold.

The car park was empty apart from a single car parked across two spaces a few rows away from him. Next to the shop's entrance was a trolley park. It, too, was empty.

A muffled voice announced something he couldn't quite hear from within the building. At least that meant there was life. Thomas started to walk in the direction of the entrance. As he went, he surveyed the building and the car park. They looked odd, but only in the respect that they were untouched. There were no scorch marked across either the brickwork or tarmac. No pot holes or missing sections or walls. They looked as they should have done. As they would have done years earlier, before the Outbreak.

He was walking, and could see progress through the painted white lines he was crossing, but the building wasn't getting any closer. He walked faster, not quite jogging, but dancing on the edge of it but, still, he wasn't getting any closer.

Then he heard the engine. The roar of over revving. The screech of tyres. He looked back and his near-jog turned into a sprint. Even with the lack of a superpower, he knew he could run, and he made full use of his skill.

But, he was a boy. A ten year old, powerless boy. There was no way he could outrun a car. With the building still keeping its distance and the sound of the engine drawing rapidly closer, he turned to face the car. Perhaps, if the driver saw his face and saw the fear and the lack of any means to escape, he might take pity on the boy.

Except, there was no driver. The seat behind the wheel was empty, yet the vehicle was still accelerating. Thomas moved to the side and the car swerved to keep him in its sights.