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made the beach into a cratered wasteland, sending out a long shadow from every half-buried drink can and scrap of paper. Down along the water-line a few solitary runners were passing back and forth.
    Finn’s head thumped. How could two cans of soft drink produce such a howling hangover? But worse, his chest still burned where his dream-enemies had shot him. It hurt to breathe.
    He lifted his T-shirt. ‘Crikey Moses!’ Long red welts striped the skin of his chest where it had scraped against the sand last night. In some places they had lifted into nasty yellow blisters; he touched one of them gently and gasped at the pain.
    ‘Yeow! Hey, Jed!’ He leaned over to give the sleeping biker a push. ‘Look what’s happened to me!’
    Jed snapped awake as if Finn had switched him on, all systems go. Finn faced into the sun and lifted his shirt again, and Jed did a double take. ‘Where’d that come from? You looked okay last night.’
    ‘Don’t know. I feel shocking, though. My head hurts, my bones hurt and my guts don’t feel too great either. And those scratches sting like crazy.’
    ‘It looks pretty bad. You should go to a doctor.’
    ‘It’s poison, I reckon. It’s in the water.’ He felt chilled, remembering the tankerman in his protective suit, remembering the whiffs of foulness he’d caught on the waves as he swam last night. ‘And I reckon I know who put it there,’ he said, swallowing a nauseous feeling and letting his shirt drop over the damage.
    ‘Yeah?’ Jed was doing a quick check of his own skin.
    Finn told him about the tanker, about the disgusting smell. He felt his skin creeping as he talked, and the patch of fire across his chest.
    Jed scowled. ‘You should report them, mate. Did you get their number?’
    ‘I can’t remember seeing any licence plates, as a matter of fact.’
    ‘Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t be that stupid. Reckon you could catch ’em at it again?’
    ‘I don’t know. It could’ve been a one-off dump, or maybe they just cruise around, going to different locations each time so people don’t get suspicious.’ Finn lay down, not caring if his hair got filled with sand. ‘I feel revolting,’ he said, and started to shiver.
    ‘Come on, man. There’s one of those 24-hour medical places up on the main drag. Let’s go there and get you checked out.’ Jed helped Finn to his feet and put his heavy leather jacket around his shoulders.
    Finn walked up the beach feeling very peculiar, as if he were only just in control of the various parts of his body. At the foot of the steps he pulled up short. ‘What’s
that
?’ He pointed down at the sand, not trusting himself to bend and look.
    ‘What?’
    ‘That shiny thing.’
    Jed crouched and drew in his breath. ‘Can you believe it?’ he muttered.
    ‘What is it?’ Finn felt a twinge of his dream-fear.
    ‘You remember those kids who were sitting up here in the middle of the night, carrying on like idiots? Well, they’ve left a little souvenir.’ He picked up a piece of cardboard and started carefully scooping sand aside. When Finn could bring himself to focus properly he saw three hypodermic syringes, planted, needles up, in a neat row.
    ‘Careful, don’t spike yourself, Jed.’ Finn’s voice was about to start wobbling, and he tottered up the stairs unable to watch any longer. He was afraid he might throw up, or cry. The world felt full of ill will, and he wished briefly that the poison would kill him so that he could escape from it all.
    He sat on the top step slowly brushing sand from hisclothes, feeling transparent and weak. Jed’s jacket was a comforting weight; he put his arms in the sleeves and then rolled the cuffs back so he could tie his shoelaces. Concentrating on little mechanical tasks kept the worst queasiness at bay.
    Jed retrieved a newspaper from a nearby rubbish bin, carefully wrapped the syringes and dumped the parcel back in the bin. Then he turned to Finn ‘You okay?’
    Finn looked up at him.