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a few tenners, did they?’
    ‘That’s it,’ the female guard said as we hurried past them. ‘One more word out of you and you’re not coming in.’
    Her threat didn’t stop the mutters that started rising around us. ‘Yeah!’ someone else shouted. ‘Why can’t they wait in the queue like everyone else?’
    Ian Denning turned and pointed his gun at them. ‘This man is the reason you’re all here in the first place,’ he said, indicating Mr Brightman. ‘Now shut up, or none of you’ll be getting in.’
    The queue went quiet, save for the girl still sobbing and screaming on the ground, but I could feel their anger, radiating towards us. I was glad when we got through the gates.
    Mum gave another one of those terrible groans, her legs buckling under her. Mr Brightman swore. ‘We need to be quicker than this, Ian,’ he said.
    By now they were almost carrying Mum between them, Mr Brightman limping heavily but moving so fast that the rest of us could hardly keep up. As we hurried after them through a dark maze of warehouses and machinery, I saw the silhouette of an enormous ship rising up over one of the warehouse roofs. At last, we reached a long wooden pier that jutted out to sea. We were surrounded by ships. Balanced on their keels in dry concrete channels, they looked truly gigantic.
    And in front of us, across the water, was the dark shape of an island, the moonlight making a glittering path on the waves between here and there.
    Hope.
    ‘This way,’ Ian Denning said, leading us onto the pier, where the smell of salt and seaweed was so strong it stung my nostrils. At the end a ladder led down to the water. I peered over the edge and saw a little wooden boat bobbing on the waves, with two men sitting inside. When they saw us, they began climbing up the ladder. Sol and I retreated behind Mrs Brightman, our eyes on their guns.
    Just then, Mum screamed, and back in the direction of the dock gates, I thought I heard someone else scream, too. But the sound didn’t come again. Maybe it was just an echo.
    Mr Brightman crouched next to Mum and explained she’d have to climb down the ladder. Mum shook her head. ‘You have to, Clare,’ Mr Brightman told her. ‘You can’t have the baby here.’
    He and Ian Denning got Mum to her feet and guided her over to the ladder. Somehow, she made it down to the boat. ‘Diane, Sol, Cass, come on,’ Mr Brightman called hoarsely, beckoning us over. Then, behind us, we heard a yell. I whirled to see a man running along the pier. At first I thought it was the man from the queue, the one who said we’d bribed Ian Denning to let us through the gates. Then I realized he was younger, with longer hair, matted and filthy.
    And that his eyes were as silver as the moon.
    Ian Denning wrenched his gun from his back and fired it at the man. The sound of the shot was deafening, but he missed and the man kept coming. Sol and I both screamed and ran for the ladder. Mrs Brightman ran too, but she wasn’t quick enough, and the Fearless grabbed her and started to pull her back along the pier. As she shrieked and struggled, Mr Brightman fired his own gun – just as the Fearless turned back towards us, his face frozen in a manic grin and Mrs Brightman held like a shield in front of him.
    The bullet slammed into her stomach, and her shriek turned to a screech.
    She and the Fearless crumpled to the ground together. ‘Diane!’ Mr Brightman yelled hoarsely. ‘
Diane!
’
    As he ran towards her the Fearless got to his feet again, blood pouring from a hole in his abdomen, his face twisted in a grimace. Ian Denning tried to shoot again, but his gun jammed. Mr Brightman just stood there, staring at his wife, who wasn’t moving.
    ‘Dad!’ Sol yelled. Even with the horrific wound in his stomach, the Fearless moved frighteningly fast. ‘
Dad!
’
    Mr Brightman ran for the ladder and we all scrambled down it. Mum was already curled up in the bottom of the boat. The Fearless reached the ladder too; as