Theatre review: Luke Jermay, Sixth Sense

Mindreader Luke Jermay says he'll 'fuck you up' in his show Sixth Sense, currently at London's Leicester Square Theatre, even if you're a sceptic when you take your seats. Well, after spending an hour with him, we spiralled through a huge range of emotions, from hysterical laughter to jaw-dropping incredulity. Check out my full Luke Jermay: Sixth Sense theatre review over on The Void...

Twin Towers Estate 3: Smack - out today!

Finishing off the Twin Towers Estate 'Riot Trilogy' is book three in the series, 'Smack' - out today on Amazon! Whereas Kitty took us back in time, to a few months before the riots kicked off, Smack is set a few months after the violent conflicts. Old characters from Crack and Kitty return, their lives twisted in entirely different directions by the riots, and the estate is even more volatile and dangerous as the desperate inhabitants clash with the police...

After moving into the notorious Twin Towers Estate with his older brother Waif, eleven-year-old Adam soon starts hanging around with the wrong crowd. But when he’s knocked down by a hit-and-run driver, a chance at revenge turns into a life-or-death struggle with the very worst the estate has to offer.

I've been writing Smack since Christmas and have to admit to being a little excited about finishing off the story of the riots. I'm already writing the fourth Twin Towers Estate book, set several years after this trilogy - but it focuses on one of the main characters again, still a little fucked up from their adventures in the first set of books :) More news soon!

Pick up Smack on Amazon for just 99p! Also available on Amazon.com, .ca, and most European sites.

3 [Thrillers] #3: Demon

My fifth book, 3 [Thrillers], a collection of three crime/mystery thrillers, has just hit the Kindle Store - but a heads up for you guys, as a thank you for following my blog: I'm running a special promotion from Sunday 14th April where you can download the book for free for a very limited time. Check back for more info this weekend.

I've shared an excerpt of part one (The Borstal) and part two (Fulfilment) already, so here's chapter one of the final part, 'Demon'...

Part One: Kerisan

I

He was on point when the warning came, two sharp whistles from behind. Kerisan twisted, sending ripples across the surface of the ocean, and peered over his shoulder. The others had stopped dead, around fifty yards from the shore. Richos extended his hand, his index finger dipped to the water that lapped gently against his torso. The sun’s glare made a fiery blanket of the sea, and Kerisan had to squint to keep his eyes from being scorched. He nodded, then sucked in a breath and lowered himself fully into the warm water.

Immediately he saw it. Their footsteps had disturbed a seven-foot blood-red panther eel, which had shrugged out from beneath the sand and was suspended behind the fisher’s legs. The thing looked like an enormous bulging arm, with a bony, swollen head in place of a fist. Its scales, tough enough to effortlessly brush away their spears, shone in the flickering ocean light. Richos held still as trained, but the creature stroked the man’s toned muscles with its tail, as if daring him to move. Kerisan saw the fisher’s toes curl and spark up a miniature cloud of sand. The eel curled up and twitched its jaws and cruel poison-tipped teeth emerged, black and serrated.

How did I miss it?

“Panther eel,” Kerisan gasped as he broke the surface, spitting the salt from his lips. Pon and Fenn were stood either side of Richos, mere yards away. They braced themselves and turned towards the eel, but Kerisan waved them back. If the beast knew it was surrounded, desperation and survival instinct would kick in. He had to draw the creature away from the group.

He stood on one leg and kicked the other through the ocean, slapping his palms against the frothy surface. His disturbance had an instant effect. When he sunk back under, a crimson bulk filled his vision as the eel streaked towards him. Kerisan bent his elbows and dragged one foot back, his toes buried in the sand.

One chance.

The thing was a blur, slicing at incredible speed through the water, but it closed the gap in a predictable line. The beast’s mouth gaped, those deadly teeth framing a gaping black gullet. Kerisan tensed and spread his fingers, and when the eel was almost on him he slammed his palms together and felt the beast’s solid scales pressed beneath his fingers.

His entire body jerked and his legs thrashed through swirling froth as the eel drove him backwards. Muscular jaws snapped before him through the white sheet of foam. His arms whipped from side to side as the monster writhed, but his feet found the bed again and he dug his heels into the sand. Bubbles burst from between his lips, his chest taut and full of fire. His biceps ached, wrenched by the endless thrashing of the eel. The current threw him one way as the beast dragged him another, and that gaping maw edged closer. His knife was cold at his hip.

End it, quick!

With a silent roar, Kerisan squeezed his arms together until his muscles were ripe to burst. The thrashing intensified and he timed his move perfectly, whipping the bulging head to the side and wrapping his forearm across the creature’s throat and crushing it to his chest. He could feel its heartbeat against his flesh, fierce and frantic. The tail whipped past his leg, scales scouring his skin. When he was sure his arm had the beast, he slipped his other hand to the hilt of his knife and pulled it free, and the slate blade sliced through the froth and found the eel’s eye. He pushed against the frenzied thrashing as bright spots burst across his vision. The creature bucked once, twice, then finally fell limp in his grasp.

He burst from the sea and glorious air crashed into his lungs. Immediately the pain was gone. Someone prised the dead beast from his hands, while another patted him on the back. Voices surrounded him, but all he could hear was the ocean’s roar and his own blood as it pulsed through his ears.

Too close…far too close…

Back on land, the scrouts crouched in a circle around the dead eel and took it in turns to prod it with a stick. Each time they did, they would turn and run, screaming, as if the thing had sprung back to life and was ready to sink its jaws into them. Kerisan watched them while his strength returned. The sand was hot against his legs and back, coating his body like a second skin, but he was numb to the heat as he ran his fingers through the fine grains.

Someone was headed this way, a blur at the edge of his vision. He could already tell it was Eva before her shadow crossed his bare chest.

“Are you hurt?” Her hand gripped his shoulder and he smothered it with his own, his neck twisted so he could focus on her bronzed face.

“Panther eel caught us by surprise. It was my fault, I missed the damned thing as we headed out.” Her skin was smooth. He traced his thumb over her palm and she squeezed it tight.

“I heard you wrestled that thing. It has to be three feet bigger than you!”

“We were lucky no one got hurt. I just don’t know how it happened.” He sighed and stared out to the horizon, the distant clouds skimming over the sea as if they were dancing on its surface. “We need to make our way out again, I’ve cost us too much time already.”

“Sure you’re up for it?”

“Course. Just needed to breathe, that’s all.” He rolled onto his side and heaved himself up, then took her in his arms. Her deep green eyes sparkled beneath long black lashes.

“I can still come out with you tomorrow, right? This hasn’t changed anything?”

“I don’t know,” Kerisan said, his head suddenly heavy. A hazy image came to him. Eva waist-deep in the water, the bloodstained eel wrapped around her leg, its teeth bared and ready to delve into her firm belly.

“But you know I’m ready,” Eva said, her face drooping. Her fingers worked their way over his chest, then latched on to his shoulders. “I’ve trained for as long as Richos or any of the others.”

“I know, but what happened today…”

“Was a freak occurrence, and I wouldn’t feel safer with anyone else out there on point.” She smiled and slapped his cheek, just sharp enough to sting. He recoiled as if she’d punched him and staggered backwards.

“Ooh, ahh, my jaw! You knocked it out of joint!” He dropped to his knees and masked his grin with his hands. Eva strode over and pulled his head into her belly.

“Poor baby, let me nurse you better.” Instead, she dug an elbow into his shoulder and kneed him back onto the sand. Kerisan stared up at her, a glorious shape drowned out by the sun, and for a moment the eel slipped from his thoughts.

“If something happened to you, I’d have to kill myself,” he said. “I’d take my own knife and bury it in my heart, or throw myself into the sea and swim until my body gave out and I sank to the bottom.”

“Oh, don’t be so depressing. You know you wouldn’t do either. But you’d better be upset, or I’d make you regret it. I’d come back as a demon and make your life a nightmare.” She bent down and pressed her lips to his, washing the salt taste away. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her back, until she pulled away and dark shadows filled his vision. He was surrounded by the three fishers, their eyes cast down at him.

“Gonna lie around all afternoon?” Fenn asked, his shaggy hair tossed back over his shoulders. “Fights with one little fish and he’s done for the day.” Pon, the eldest fisher, ground her knuckle into Fenn’s side and pushed him back.

“Time to rise.” She offered Kerisan a hand and hauled him to his feet. “Do you want me to take point this time?”

“I’ll manage,” Kerisan said, his voice firm. Pon raised an eyebrow.

“Manage isn’t what we need. Can you do it?”

“I can do it.” He met their gaze, one by one, and wished he could read their thoughts. But then, how could he ever fish with them if he knew that they doubted him?

“Aye,” Richos said, “but try not to miss one of those bastards again. I almost filled my trunks when it popped out the sand.”

Fenn chuckled and slapped his arm and even Pon found a rare smile, but Kerisan saw an uncertain hesitation in Richos’ rich brown eyes, just for a moment. Then the boy’s gaze flickered over Kerisan’s shoulder. He turned to catch a form tearing across the beach towards them, and he pressed his palm to his brow to block out the sun. The figure was Wax, one of the gatherers. The young boy’s fists pumped awkwardly at his sides as he jerked his way over the sand.

“Quick, come,” Wax yelled when he was close enough, his voice hoarse as if he’d run the entire length of the land. The fishers gathered in a line.

“What is it?” Kerisan asked as the boy struggled to a halt, his silver hair whipping across the fisher’s navel. “Hohh, careful, what’s got you in a rush?”

“Sammus. Got to come help.” Wax doubled over and grabbed his knees, his chest trembling. “Sammus climbed up the cliff by the waterfall…see if he could make it. He made it to the top…but then he disappeared. We waited for him to come back, but then we heard him screaming! He was calling our names, he sounded scared, really scared! We came straight back for help, I swear!” Wax straightened, his hand pressed to his gut, his terrified face half hidden behind a mess of hair. Kerisan frowned and nodded to the others.

“Grab your knives and meet me at the trail.” They murmured acknowledgement and ran to their homes, a row of wooden huts that filled the space between the dunes and the trees.

“Do you need some help?” Eva asked, her hand rested on the hilt of her dagger which poked free of her shawl. Kerisan shook his head.

“Four of us is plenty. Boy probably came up against some pigs. I reckon we’ll find him hiding up a tree.”

Yet as he took the beach in powerful strides, something in his gut told him he was wrong...

3 [Thrillers] #2: Fulfilment

3 [Thrillers] is my fifth book, consisting of three thrilling novellas about humans pushed to their limits, willing to do the unthinkable to get what they want. On Sunday I shared an excerpt of part one, 'The Borstal'. Now here's an excerpt from part two, 'Fulfilment', about a stranger who happens across a man who's suspiciously similar to himself...

The needle hung over him, aimed at a spot right between his eyes. Adam stared at it, not daring to blink, as if shifting his gaze would cause it to plunge down and bury itself inside his skull. A drop of sweat ran down his temple and itched the skin.

“Hello?” he said, his voice distorted by the foam plugs lodged in his ears. He tensed his jaw and balled his hands into blotchy fists. Someone walked past, a bright white apron flicking across his peripheral vision, but his eyes remained on the needle. “Actually, I’m having second thoughts. This is a really, really bad idea.”

Another voice murmured at his side. The flash of white reappeared and this time he glanced over, staring into the black goggles that hid most of Apron Man’s face. He imagined the stiff, discomforting gaze that lingered beneath. The kind of look that could silence a screaming child, or empty the bowels of a hardened sports hooligan. Adam opened his mouth to speak again, but too late. The prick in his bicep was just a scratch as promised. When his words finally came, they were slurred and stupid.

“Leave me...ughhhhlone....”

The goggles melted across Apron Man’s pale, muscular cheeks and then darkness fell.

One

London, 21/12/2024

Four days before Christmas. Duncan’s morning had been the usual mash-up of monotony and grief until precisely 10.34am. Rise with the alarm, feed the cat, eat cereal, shower, brush teeth, kiss the wife goodbye as she slumbers, walk to the tube station, crushed into a boiling hot carriage with hundreds of other silent commuters, stroll into the RBS offices, greet receptionist with twenty seconds of banal conversation, sit at desk, read emails, yawn, check BBC News, hunt for missing biro, give up, accuse colleague of stealing pen, put on coat in a rage and head to local cafe for a strong coffee and a serious think about life.

At 10.33am he stepped into the greasy spoon, a tiny square room with a glass counter and just three double-seater tables crammed in tight. A colour TV draped in tinsel hung in the corner, showing an excitable weatherman bleating on about the latest cold front. The grill behind the counter was covered with bacon, eggs and sausages, which sizzled as the owner stabbed at them with a semi-melted spatula. Heavy oil vapours filled the room and Duncan felt a layer of grease solidify across his face the moment he walked in, his arrival announced by a tinny and pointless bell that dangled above the door.

He blew on his hands and rubbed them together, then shuffled up to the counter and nodded at the owner, a slender man with a white beard and an apron.

“What can I getcha?” the owner asked.

“Just a latte, please. Extra large shot.” He turned and leaned against the glass surface, ignoring the cold meats and pastries that sat inside. The rest of the cafe was empty, the tables unused. He gazed at the TV and saw it was halfway through a familiar advert, one that had been playing for months now. A woman was sat alone on her sofa, shovelling massive spoonfuls of ice cream into her face as she sobbed hysterically. Then it cut to her entering some shiny lobby made of glass and marble. Another cut, her talking to an impossibly neat-looking scientist with blonde hair, blue eyes and a chiselled jaw, and a lab coat with pens arranged in size order in his breast pocket. The camera skipped to a curved doorway which pumped out a dense yellow fog, as if the room behind was some kind of out-of-control disco. The same woman from earlier emerged from the smoke, but now she was strangely more attractive. Her face had changed in subtle ways, her cheeks more defined and her nose slightly narrower, but so had the rest of her body. Her hips were wider and her legs seemed to have stretched out. The final shot was back in the lobby as she strode out into the sunset with an enormous cheesy grin, followed by a superimposed slogan: ‘Fulfilment – Eternal Happiness at an Affordable Price’.

Duncan watched half of the next advert, which featured a dancing koala bear drinking some kind of pink smoothie, until the cafe’s pointless bell tinkled again and the door swung wide open.

The clock behind the counter ticked onto 10.34am.

He turned and stared at the suited man who pushed his way inside. It started as just a cursory glance, a reaction to the sound of the bell, but his eyes locked on the other man and he exhaled sharply. In turn, the other man froze partway to the counter.

“Jesus,” Duncan said, an inadvertent chuckle gurgling out from his throat. The person stood just three feet away was identical to him in almost every way. Same shade of skin colour, same thick wiry hair, same cleft chin. Aside from the suit (this man’s garments were navy blue rather than off-grey), he could have been staring at himself in a mirror. The other man took a step towards him and squinted.

“Hi there.”

“Hi there,” Duncan replied. “This is...kind of weird.”

“Yeah. Weird.” They stood a foot apart and studied each other, eyebrows raised. Duncan struggled for something to say. Eventually, he settled for the obvious.

“You look just like me.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry, I’m just kind of stunned here.” The other man shook his head and offered his hand. “I’m David.”

The pair of them paid for coffee and, without either suggesting it, sat together at one of the tables. Duncan wrapped his hands around the ceramic mug and felt the warmth flow into his palms.

“So,” he said, “out of curiosity, is your surname Henderson?” David shook his head again.

“Richardson.” He smirked and blew away the steam rising from his coffee. “So I guess we’re not long lost twins, then.”

“Unless one of us was adopted, I guess?”

“Adopted?”

“Yeah, think about it.” Duncan leaned forwards and rested his chin on his fist. “Maybe our parents had us, but didn’t want twins. They just wanted one kid. So they gave one up for adoption to another couple, maybe a couple who couldn’t have kids of their own or something, to raise as their own. How old are you?”

“34.”

“Shit, same here. You got any siblings?”

“Nope,” David said, frowning. “Only child.”

“Same,” Duncan said, his heart pounding. “Are your parents around?”

“They died a few years back. How about yours?”

“Shit. Mine passed too, accident five years ago.” He exhaled, then stretched back in his chair and rubbed his neck. “Guess that means we’ll never find out.”

“Well, where did you grow up?” David asked.

“America, small town in Massachusetts. I moved here a couple of years back.”

“You don’t sound American.”

“Nah,” Duncan said. He took a sip of his coffee, the hot liquid burning his lips. “I lost my accent pretty quick, I guess. How about you?”

“My parents were British but emigrated to Southern Spain before I was born. I moved back here after they died, wanted to try a different life.”

“Ha, incredible.” Duncan grinned. “So, we were born the same year to British parents but grew up in another country, the only children in the family. Our parents died and we moved to the homeland to start a new life.” He drummed his fingers against his cup and sucked on his inner cheek. “What do you do for a living?”

“Uhh, I’m a business analyst. I make predictions about stocks and write reports, stuff like that.”

“Close enough,” Duncan said. “I work for a bank doing risk assessment.” He nodded at David’s hand, spread out on the table. “And looks like you got married.”

“Yep, last summer. You?” Duncan raised his arm and wiggled his ring finger.

“Exactly the same. You starting to get a cold chill down your spine?”

“I’m about to shit my pants in terror.” David rested his elbows on the table and squeezed his head in his hands, until his face turned bright red. “This is, like, Outer Limits, Twilight Zone, X-Files, all rolled up and covered in a massive pile of crack.”

“It’s got to be real, right? We’ve got to be twins. You hear about this all the time, twins separated at birth who go on to lead pretty much identical lives, completely independent of each other. I bet even our wives are similar, same hair colour and everything.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it with a couple of taps and sat it on the table, pushing it through a sticky coffee stain towards David. “This is mine. Karen. She’s a natural brunette but she has highlights done, so her hair’s a little lighter than normal.” The other man stared down at the phone and his lips parted, but he stayed silent. A moment later he looked up at Duncan, his face frozen. Duncan blinked. “What? Does she look like yours?”

David’s hand trembled slightly as he pulled out his own phone and swiped the screen with a fingertip. He found what he was looking for, then he repeated Duncan’s motion, resting the mobile on the table and pushing it over. Duncan peered down at the photo. It was a summery shot taken in some park. A woman reclined on a blanket beside a giant hamper. She was wearing a low-cut top and shorts, and her narrow face was split by an enormous smile. Duncan’s stomach churned and his hand curled into a fist on the table top.

“That’s Karen,” he whispered, meeting David’s gaze. “That’s my bloody wife.”

An excerpt from part three is coming in a couple of days.

3 [Thrillers] will be available on the Kindle Store this weekend...

3 [Thrillers] #1: The Borstal

3 [Thrillers] is my fifth book, three thrilling novellas about humans pushed to their limits, willing to do the unthinkable to get what they want. It hits Amazon's Kindle Store this week...

Number one, The Borstal, takes place in an impoverished communist country where the power-hungry government rules its citizens with terror. A girl and her brother are thrown into a dangerous institute for taming criminals and hardening its inmates into the next generation of soldiers. Their struggle for survival turns into a lust for revenge, as their story is told in two parts: the oppression of the borstal and the tragic events that led them there.

Here's chapter one...

Jenn shivered as she pulled off her vest and dropped it into the sack. The soldier nodded at her, expressionless.

“Underwear too.”

She glanced down at her scrawny pink body and her cheeks burned. The threadbare white knickers were the only thing she had left, although they barely offered any concealment thanks to the worn patches that riddled the surface. For a moment she hesitated, then her fingers tugged at the thin material and slipped them down to her ankles. She lifted her feet one at a time and snatched the knickers up and threw them at the soldier, who caught them one-handed and dropped them into the sack.

Jenn glared at the officer as he strode down the line, collecting the clothes of the other kids. Boys and girls huddled shoulder-to-shoulder, naked and terrified. Many had their heads bowed or eyes closed, while others tried to cover their privates with their hands. None of them glanced around or dared to talk with their neighbours. Jenn guessed that she was one of the eldest gathered at thirteen years old, although a muscular boy further down the row looked to be a year or two older. Her brother Daniel was also far from the youngest at ten. Some of the others were shockingly young, perhaps only six or seven.

Jenn twisted around and stroked Daniel’s hair, and he wrapped his arms around her. When he glanced up, tears had run down his cheeks and carved through the grime that coated his skin.

“I wanna go home,” he whispered. She forced a smile, then grabbed his hand and squeezed. Her skin had goosepimpled in the frozen air and the soles of her feet were already numb and filthy against the rough stone floor. Somewhere to her right, she heard one of the others start to wail. A boy around the same age as Daniel tried to back away from the soldier as he thrust the sack out. The kid was still wearing his raggedy underwear, his arms wrapped tight across his chest. He shook his head furiously and begged to be let go, but the solider signalled to two other guards, who strode over and grabbed the boy. Jenn watched as the kid fought back, but in just a few seconds they had him stripped. One of the guards pulled back and lashed his palm across the boy’s face, stunning him into silence. A tiny girl whimpered as the crack of the blow echoed through the room, but she fell quiet when the soldiers threw the boy to the ground and glanced around the room.

“Good,” said the soldier with the sack. He threw the bundle into a corner and grabbed a large white container from the wooden table, the only furniture in the room. “This is a skin rub. Pass it down the row and take a handful each, and apply it all over your body. This is to stop disease from spreading.” He unscrewed the lid and passed the tub to a girl with short black hair and freckles stood at the end of the row. She lifted it to her face and sniffed. Her face creased, but she pushed her hand inside and scooped out a clump of clear jelly before passing to the next kid. The container came quickly down the line, until Daniel had it in his hands. He peered inside and his nose wrinkled.

“What’s this stuff?” he whispered to Jenn. She shook her head, then reached in and dug her fingers into the thick gel. She brought out enough for them both, then handed the tub off.

“Just put it on.” With a grimace she slapped half of the gel into Daniel’s palm, then smothered the rest over herself. Her skin tingled at its touch.

When they were all coated, the soldier tossed them each a pair of yellowing boxer shorts and a near-see-through vest and swung open a large rusted metal door. They were ushered through single-file into another room. This one was smaller but still mostly bare, with dark stone walls dripping moisture and just two naked bulbs dangling from the ceiling, throwing out enough light so the children could see each other’s terrified expressions. Two dentist chairs stood in the middle of the room, each manned by another guard. Jenn eyed them up, her muscles clenched tight.

“Two at a time, into the chairs,” the first soldier said. At the front of the line, the girl with freckles hesitated, her arms crushed over her chest. “Come on, quick!” the soldier barked at her. She shot him a pleading look but stepped up to the nearest chair, easing herself back. The older boy followed to the next seat and jumped in, letting out a deep breath. As soon as they were seated, the guards pulled out electric razors and began to shear the hair from their subjects. In less than a minute they shoved the pair away, their naked skulls glowing beneath the bulbs.

When it came to Jenn’s turn, she balked at the cold embrace of the chair. As she shuffled back to settle into the plastic cover, the guard grabbed her chin and yanked her back and the razor’s dull metal blades sliced across her scalp. She bit her lip and kept silent, thick locks of her auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders and resting on her belly. Afterwards, she hugged Daniel close and stroked his head, the tiny grains of stubble rough beneath her fingers. Her own head was chilled but she didn’t dare touch it.

Everything afterwards was just noise, bright lights, distant voices. Jenn never let go of Daniel and she didn’t look up until they were led inside a square room with a low ceiling. Nine bunk beds were lined up only two feet apart from their neighbours. Five of them were already occupied with a mixture of boys and girls dressed in brown uniforms, and Jenn felt their eyes boring into her. She stared back, fighting the urge to twist away.

“Take a spare bed,” their escort said. “You’ll find your uniforms at the back. Lights out in twenty minutes.” The guard strode back out through the doorway, little more than a hole in the wall as there was no door attached. Jenn saw that the girl with freckles and the older boy had also been left behind. The girl’s gaze met her own and a flicker of a smile stretched her lips, although her eyes were misted.

“Come on, D,” Jenn said, squeezing her brother’s shoulder. They pushed through the narrow gap to the back of the room, past a makeshift washing line that stretched from wall to wall. Trousers and shirts dripped water onto the floor, where the murky liquid disappeared into tiny cracks in the rock. A small pile of unused uniforms sat on a wooden crate in a heap. They grabbed whatever looked like it would fit and slipped into their new clothes, shuffling aside so the other two could also get dressed. Jenn cringed as the rough material bristled against her skin and itched her. Her shirt was too tight, biting into her chest, while Daniel’s trousers were far too short for him. Both of them fared better than the older boy. He was so tall and broad-shouldered that he couldn’t find a big enough shirt to fit. Even his vest was stretched to breaking point. Eventually he gave up with a grunt and threw the uniform back on the pile.

The others had drifted from their bunks and surrounded the four newcomers, staring silently. Jenn held Daniel close and glanced around. Four boys and a girl, all around her age.

“What happened to your face?” one of the boys asked her, a tall but scrawny kid with missing teeth. She raised a hand to her cheek and felt the rough gouge marks with her fingertips. The grooves ran all the way from her hairline to her chin, devastating that half of her face. They were still tender and touching them caused a jolt of pain to shoot down to the bone.

“Just an accident,” she replied. The boy with missing teeth snorted.

“Looks terrible. Was it one of them?”

“Them? You mean the guards?”

“My first day here, they broke my ribs, three or four of ‘em. Every breath for a week hurt like hell.”

“Why’d they do that?” the girl with freckles asked. Her voice was thin, trembling.

“Ahh, something I said about their mothers and pigs.” Toothless kid smirked. “My name’s Josef.”

“I’m Fran,” said the girl with freckles. She flashed that same forced smile, but Jenn thought the girl would burst into tears at any moment.

“Is it really as bad in here as everyone says?” Jenn asked. Josef laughed and stroked his chin.

“If they say it’s a dirty, crowded dung hole run by sadist dogs, then yes. But take my advice, don’t let them know it. When they shove a plate of rat meat in front of you, eat it like it’s the best beef you ever tasted. If they beat you, just smile and thank them. At first they make it harder, they try to break you, but their patience is like paper, very thin. They give up too easy. Move onto someone weaker.”

“They can’t all be like that,” Fran said, eyes stretched wide. Josef shook his head.

“Some are good. The ones who lived in places like this when they were our age, mostly. They understand, they try to make life tolerable. If only there were more like that.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back and whispered. “But this place is run by the state, never forget that. All they’re interested in is producing strong little troops for their training camps. When you turn sixteen, you leave here and go to the camps just like every other niento in the country, and then you’re theirs for real.”

Daniel pushed his head into Jenn’s side, and she stroked his neck. Josef glanced at them both, one eyebrow raised. “So you two, what you called?”

“I’m Jenn, this is Daniel.”

“How’d you end up in this dump? Parents dead?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Her tone was harder than she’d planned. Josef chewed on a knuckle then nodded.

“Fair enough. But I’d get that face checked by the doc, looks pretty bad.”

“I already cleaned it up, but thanks anyway.”

“Okay then.” He peered over at the older boy who’d climbed into the nearest available bunk. The only free ones were up on top, and the ceiling was so low that it practically touched the kid’s chest when he breathed in. “What about you, muscles? What’s your name?” The new boy slowly turned his head and glared at Josef, then resumed staring at the ceiling. Josef shrugged with a smile. “Fine, be like that. But you’ll want to find a shirt from somewhere. The guards like to beat on anyone who doesn’t take care of their uniform.”

The other kids introduced themselves and Jenn struggled to remember their names, but tiredness fogged her mind and ached her limbs and the introductions were interrupted by a piercing bell that rang out from the corridor. Everyone slipped into their beds and Jenn led Daniel to an adjacent pair of free top bunks, helping him up into his before she clambered into her own. She had to shuffle sideways onto the stiff mattress to keep from smacking her head off the ceiling, and when she lay on her back, the callused yellow plaster was less than a foot from her nose.

“I’m scared, Jenn,” her brother whispered, and she leaned over and forced a reassuring smile.

“Me too, D. But we’ll figure out a way out of here, okay?” Daniel stared at her, then nodded and pulled his blanket up to his chin. Outside their dorm room, the chatter of the other children faded and just seconds later the lightbulb fizzed and died, leaving them in darkness.

Despite her exhaustion, Jenn found sleep impossible. The slightest sound made her twitch, not helped by the persistent hacking cough of one of the other kids, and her mind kept peeling back through the past few days, grasping every little thing that had happened to them. She cursed the state, she cursed the soldiers, she cursed the whole rotten country. And when she chose a face to focus her hate, it was the face of General Uhtrif.

You can buy 3 [Thrillers] later this week, and check back on Sunday 14th for news of a special deal...