Connor Temple awoke with a jolt. He was lying on a hard, cold floor, underneath a huge weight.
"Connor, you alright?" asked a voice. Connor sat up. He'd recognise that voice anywhere.
"Cutter?" he asked. "But, you were dead! Where's Sarah, and Danny, and Becker?"
"You must have got a little concussed when you dropped that weight and it hit you," said Abby's warm voice. Connor tried to move but couldn't. "Here," said Abby, and yanked the weight off him.
"No one's dead, Connor," said Jenny, who was sitting beside Cutter. "We're all fine. There's no Becker, or Sarah, or Danny."
"But what about the Pristichampsus, or the gremlin, or the mutating mushroom, or-" began Connor.
"Are you sure you're alright Connor?" said Abby, one eyebrow raised.
"Couldn't be better!" said Connor, feeling as if a huge responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders. Everything horrible, the deaths, the disasters, everything. It was all just a dream.
Later that night, Connor was just closing the door of Abby's flat when he saw three figures standing on the lawn. When he got a little closer, he recognised them as Danny, Sarah and Becker from his dream. But when he tried to touch them, his fingers closed on thin air.
"We have come to warn you," said Sarah, her voice rippling strangely.
"Your dreams are about to become terrible reality," said Becker.
"Helen Cutter will return, greater and stronger than ever before," said Danny.
"Beware, Connor Temple," all three of them said. "You will have to face your fears. When your time comes, you will now what to do. Beware, Connor Temple. Beware…" The three figures swirled away into the dark night, still chanting, in unearthly whispers, "Beware." Then, there was no sign of their presence left but a strange chill in the air and, on the lawn, a scarlet stain of blood…