The Dreaming 1.21

By Asynca, who needs to figure out how to give fan fiction a soundtrack.

Thanks to Omnipatent.

Sam was clutching my arm so tightly my hand was tingling. As I watched Sean Frost pick up the box and examine it, time slowed down for a second. I released the safety on the gun. It made the faintest of clicking noises, but I felt as if the whole mine site might have heard it. In my mind, I could just see Sean drawing his own gun and firing directly through the thin wooden doors. I had to be ready to fire the first shot if I so much as saw him reach behind his back. I didn't want to find out if I could survive being shot by a .45.

Any second now, I thought, any second and he's going to look up at the wardrobe and lock eyes with me through the ventilation slats. I could hear every breath I was taking and my pulse throbbed in my ears.

"Well at least they brought the Slave Stone with them," Dianne said, walking over beside Sean and taking the lid of the box from him. Every time she turned her head and I saw the line of her neck under her ear, part of me imagined cutting through the delicate flesh there. I knew exactly how to do it; I could even use my pocket knife. Diane examined the lid, oblivious to the fact I was there and how much 'I' wanted to slice her to pieces. "Maybe I won't have to charge a new one after all."

'Charge a new one'? My mind raced. Slave Stones needed to be charged? How did that work? It did mean one thing, though: Amanda had asked the right question when she'd wondered if there were more. There probably weren't. At least, not yet.

Sean knelt smoothly down on one knee and looked under the bed. I could hardly breathe, I was sure the next place he would search was the wardrobe. "They didn't drop anything else," he said.

Diane turned the lid over in her hands. "So, what now? If the site is in lockdown, it should be easy to see anyone moving around."

Sean shook his head. "That's probably not the best way to get them," he said. "Come on, Di." He gestured outside. "We have a site with five hundred money-hungry convicted criminals. Let's use them."

Diane watched him, her thin eyebrows low over her eyes. She wanted him to elaborate.

He did. "Offer whoever brings the four of them in one piece to us something substantial. Maybe ten thousand?"

Diane snorted. "It takes more than one person to catch four people. Make it a hundred, they can figure out how to split it amongst themselves." She thought for a moment. "They're will probably be some competition. Do we have enough security to deal with any conflict?"

Sean shrugged. "They'll probably want to be in on it, too, though."

Diane made a frustrated noise and shook her head. "You know what? I don't care. Let them fucking beat the shit out of each other. None of the labourers have even been given directives yet, and there's plenty more where they came from."

I frowned. 'Directives' seemed like an oddly formal word to use, even for her. It didn't sound like she meant ordinary instructions. It was difficult to focus too much on what she might have meant, though. I was too busy struggling with how much I wanted to kill her and how terrified I was that Sean would find us in here.

Diane looked down at Old Johnson. "We should get rid of the elder, though. Too many people will start looking for him if we just keep him here."

Sean was unreadable. "Kill him, you mean?"

Sam moved a little next to me and I heard her inhale sharply. I had the same reaction. If you draw on that man, I mentally told Sean, I swear to God I will shoot you first.

Diane made a face. "If he dies I don't want any connection to it," she said. "Just direct him to go—" She sucked air through her teeth. "—No, there's too much that can go wrong with that. Just don't give him any more directives and get Ops to dump him on the outskirts of Fitzroy Crossing. In this rain no one will see them do it. If anyone finds him before he dies of exposure, they'll probably just think he's drunk too much of that weird alcohol they drink and given himself brain damage."

Sean raised his eyebrows. "Fuck. Okay," he said simply. "You know he has a little girl—"

"—so do you, Sean. Three of them. And if someone were to tip off the police about a kidnapping, several deaths and the fact you have an unlicensed firearm, they're going to have children of their own before you get out of jail," Diane said calmly. Sean just stared back at her, but I could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he tried not to let her see his reaction. "Go get the whole site looking for those little shits. The two girls, I want them in my custody so I can give them directives as soon as possible. A TV heiress and her actress friend: there's a lot I could do with them. The other two just have to live so we don't get investigated and what I just mentioned doesn't actually happen." She looked down at the lid again. "I don't like not having a stone. I'm going to go to Processing in the meantime and see if there are any others big enough to charge. It might be useful to have two, anyway."

Diane was speaking like everything had already been decided, and didn't look at all concerned about the impact of the threats she'd made to her brother. Sean didn't even say anything about them at all. I expected him to warn her not to bring his family into it, or warn her that she could also be implicated, but he didn't. He didn't say anything about it. When he spoke, it was about something completely different. "What if they know how to use the Stone?" he asked her. "They could have all five hundred of the labourers and all of the security—"

"—handle it, Sean," Diane said dismissively. "Just handle it."

I glanced back at the strap of my daypack. The stone could control so many people at once? God, that made me nervous. I was glad Natla wasn't around to exploit it. Diane and Sean were no Atlantean queens but if they were going to use it on politicians and potentially hundreds or even thousands of other people… well, I couldn't let that happen.

So 'Ops' would dump Old Johnson near Fitzroy Crossing. That was alright, I though, nodding to myself. I could work with that. It at least meant Sam and I wouldn't need to find a way to carry him out of the mine. I would just have to find a quiet area later that had enough reception for me to call Macca and the others so I could tell them to collect him.

Sean reached around behind his back and, by reflex, I drew the gun from the holster, ready to fire it. He didn't hold the gun up, though, he just checked the barrel and then tucked the gun in the front of his belt.

Diane had been watching him. "You can come with me to Processing," she said. "I don't know what training those kids have had, but if there's two dead and one critical like my pager said, I'm not taking any chances."

Sean actually didn't look too pleased about that request. He didn't refuse, however. He just took his radio off the back of his belt and held it near his mouth. "It's Sean Frost," he said into the mic, dispensing with the comms lingo. "You can cancel the lockdown. I want you to broadcast that there are four eco-terrorists on site, a blonde man with dreadlocks, two young women and an aboriginal child. I want them all in custody in one piece. Tell them the reward is one hundred thousand dollars – no part payments. All four or not a cent. Remind them anyone caught injuring another employee will still be subject to severe pay cuts."

There was a silence, and then the radio crackled. "…Ops Fifteen," the radio said. "Did you say a hundred thousand dollars?"

Sean glanced at Diane. "That's right, Ops Fifteen."

"…Holy shit. These must be some serious tree-huggers."

"Who we're serious about catching," Sean said. "Also, tell the site no one's to go through their belongings. If I found out anything has been taken from them, not a cent. And I need four Ops to bring a van around to Isolation asap. The guys who have been working here the longest, please."

"…Control," another voice said. "Roger that, Mr. Frost."

The wailing alarm outside cut off, replaced by a voice over the PA. As control started to issue instructions to the site, Sean talked over them. "I understand why you want this mine," he said. "But this is an awful lot of fucking trouble for one cave." One cave? "And Frost International was doing just fine before we got involved in this voodoo shit. Every time I use it I ask myself what the fuck I'm doing. Call me old fashioned, but I think it's too much trouble."

Diane scoffed at him. "Well, you would," she said. "And that's why Mum and Dad left me in charge. You don't think big enough."

Sean sighed. "Fuck you, Di," he said, sounding resigned. "You have no idea how big I think." Diane didn't seem to understand what he meant, and he didn't look like he wanted to explain it. He shook his head. "I'm going to wait outside," he said, and left. The door slammed behind him.

The second he was gone, those violent hallucinations intensified. Diane was all alone, defenceless, standing probably less than five feet from me. It would be easy to kill her right now, with Sean gone. I could probably put a bullet right between her eyes, just one. Before she even blinked she'd be on the floor with blood pooling at the back of—

Sam shook me. I didn't realise why until the door opened, revealing a security guard wearing a bright orange japara. "Boss," he said, acknowledging her. Two more followed him inside.

Diane gestured at Old Johnson. "He's drunk himself into a stupor. I can't have his drinking habits associated with Frost International. Dump him outside Fitzroy crossing, try not to put any bruises on scratches on him, okay? Don't be seen."

The guards looked at each other. One of them nodded. "Okay," he said, and didn't ask any further questions. The two other guards sling-carried him out of the door, trying to be gentle. Despite the care given, it was awful to watch such a proud man being swung around like a sack of potatoes. When I phoned the others to get him, Blanket would have to see him like that. Poor girl, I thought. She doesn't deserve this. Neither of them do.

Diane followed them out. I listened for the sound of the door locking, but I didn't hear it. At least we wouldn't be breaking through the ceiling again.

We waited until we were sure they were gone, and then slowly pushed the doors open and climbed out of the wardrobe. I stretched my legs, looking at the empty bed.

Sam leaned into me. "Sean sounds like he doesn't want Diane to do whatever she's doing," she whispered. "Maybe we can use that?"

I shrugged. "He shot at us, Sam," I reminded her. "He's not on our side."

She didn't look convinced. "I don't mean, like, to join forces with him or anything. But it might come in handy."

She was probably right, but I couldn't really sit and think about master plans when we were in so much immediate danger. I motioned for her to come and stand behind my back as I approached the door. Opening it a crack I pointed my gun toward it, and then kicked it further open with the toe of my boot and corner-checked. There wasn't anyone on the walkway, but I could see Diane and Sean jogging back across the brightly lit yard toward the work buildings. One of the guards had given Diane his safety japara and she was holding it over her head. It was like a bright orange flag showing me the direction they were moving in.

In the yard and all around the dormitories, there were men everywhere. They would see us the minute we stepped onto the walkway, and we were half of their ticket to a hundred grand.

I leant back into the room and took a breath, looking across at Sam. "Are you ready for this?"

She grinned, but there was something hollow about it. "Absolutely," she said with false enthusiasm. "I love running for my life."

I mirrored her smile, and then peeked around the door again. "Right," I said. "Let's go."

No sooner had we stepped outside into the pounding rain I heard shouting and someone pointed a torch at my face. Fortunately it was from the ground which was some distance below us. At least I didn't have to try and figure out which direction to run in; I pelted towards the kitchen we'd jumped through earlier that day.

The rain made it hard to see properly, and I couldn't hear Sam's footsteps to know if she was behind me. I threw a glance over my shoulder to see her hot on my heels as we sprinted along the suspended walkway. The door to the kitchen was missing – they must have rammed it off trying to get inside earlier – and the window was boarded. We wouldn't be going through it, after all.

I looked either side of the kitchen. Two walkways led in opposite directions. God, which way to go? I ran down the walkway that led to the darker stairway. As I did I could feel the steel grid shake heavily under our feet; there were people running across the other side of it after us. You have the gun, Lara, I thought. Remember that.

Rather than bothering with the second half of the stairs I vaulted over it. Sam copied my movement with less grace and landed awkwardly on the concrete beneath us.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, helping her upright. "Is your ankle—"

"—Go, go!" she interrupted, pushing me. I hadn't realised how closely the men had been following us until a hand reach through the railing and nearly grabbed Sam's t-shirt. I gasped, pulling her away from it.

We ran between a pair of dormitories, over a railing and down a slight incline onto an internal road. I took just a second to look about us and my eyes rested on recreation building that had two doors on either side of it. If they thought we were hiding in there, it might open some distance between us and we could lose them. "Come on!" I called to Sam, taking her hand. The door was locked, but it was just a flimsy portable building. I stuck the axe under the handle and snapped the whole lock out. It fell on the ground beside us. I let Sam go through first and then I followed her, sliding the closest item of furniture which was a work table up against the door. "Go across and out the other side," I told Sam, throwing a couple of chairs on the ground just for good measure.

The other door was locked, too, but since they opened outward I just kicked it, breaking the cylinders out of the deadlock. At least that meant I was able to push the door to and make it look as if we hadn't used it. Crouching, we ran along the side of the building around the back of another set of flats. We needed to go through it to get out the other side.

Inside, with the sound of the rain muted, I could hear men talking. "Check every fucking room," someone was saying. "I want my twenty-five."

"If you didn't gamble in the first place you wouldn't be so fucked anyway," another voice said.

The sound of a sharp slap echoed through the long corridor inside. The next person who spoke had a Russian accent. My heart pounded. "Shut up, idiot," the voice said. "You want to warn them? You want them to go climbing out the window so you don't get your money?"

"Fuck you, Ruski," one of the other men said, clearly calling him by a nickname. They sounded like they were coming toward us, but it was hard to tell because of how dark the building was inside. "Just check that one."

Sam and I slunk along the corridor, following the emergency lighting. Torches were beaming from the side corridors and it was difficult to know how close they were. In the end, we made it to the far door.

Sam shone the forward light on the lock while I knocked away at it until it popped off the door.

"They're not here, let's check the other side," someone said. I glanced back towards the voices. God, they were close. Too close.

I twisted the handle and pulled the door, but all it did was make a loud shaking noise. I tried again, aware of how audible it was.

"What was that?" I heard the Russian man say, and then there were footsteps on the linoleum.

"Shit!" I took the camera off Sam and shone it all the way up the door… to find a pinlock at the very top of it. I wouldn't be able to reach it.

"Get on my back," Sam told me, panicking and glancing behind us at the dark corridor.

"There's not enough time!" I said, shining the camera all over the area in case there were any windows I could smash and we could jump through.

The men rounded the corridor. "There's the chicks!" One of the men shouted. I couldn't see them very well, but there were four torch beams. There was no avoiding this, I was going to need to try and shoot them all before they got to us.

I held the gun up as they approached. I couldn't see them, though, because of the bright torches. I shot several times where I thought their bodies would be, but from the sound of it I only connected with one of the men.

Beside me, Sam was screaming, but her scream stopped short by a heavy sound; someone had put their hand over her mouth.

"Sam!" I shrieked but something heavy collided with the side of my head and then I fell against the door and against the ground, dazed.

"That's for fucking shooting me, bitch!" A man's voice was screaming at me. He groaned and made a pained noise. "Shit," he appeared to be talking to the other men. "There's blood pissing out of this. Jesus. Give me your belt."

"Just think of your twenty five thousand," the Russian man said again. "Don't touch my fucking belt. That's for her hands."

I couldn't see anything because there were at least three torches shining on my face. I was trying to get up, that much I was aware of. I couldn't tell which way was up, but I was pushing myself off the flat surface which had to be the ground. "Sam…?"

I felt a knee against my chest and I realised the pressure on my wrist was someone standing on it. That explained why I couldn't get up. "So," an Australian voice said. "Where's the boy and the kid?"

"Not here," I said. "So you might as well let us go, because with just two of us you're not getting a cent." I felt a sharp pain in my side and I curled around it. Someone had kicked me.

"Nice try," he said. I felt something cool and solid on my temple. When the safety clicked, I realised it was the gun. "Tell us or we'll kill you. Like you said. You're not worth a cent without them."

"Jesus. Jesus…" the other man was still saying. He sounded like he was panicking. "Guys. Fuck. I'm bleeding like a fucking river here."

"Good, more money for us," the Russian said, flatly. His voice was beside me, and I could feel him slipping the belt under my wrist.

The light shone on Sam for a second. She was face down on the ground and there was a boot on her back. Her face was turned away from me and for one awful moment I thought she might be unconscious. Then I saw she was holding the camera innocuously beside her thigh and pointing it up so the lens was facing the men. The LED was flashing and I nearly cried with relief. As I turned back to the matter at hand, I was dimly aware of how impressive Sam's dedication to a good shot was. We were in mortal danger and the camera was still rolling.

The gun pressed heavily into my cheek and there was a torch directly in front of my face. Behind it, I could see a man with thick facial hair. "I asked you a fucking question!"

I had been about to fire something back at him that definitely would have earned me another kick in the side, but there was a dull thump and then something heavy fell on my chest. For a moment I thought I'd been shot, but the crushing continued and I could feel my own breath on my face. I realised the man holding the gun had fallen on me.

"What the—" One of the other guys began, and then stopped short, just as Sam had.

There was shouting. Two new voices were speaking Chinese to each other.

"They want the money!" the Russian man said, and then stood up and got punched.

The man on top of me was out cold – so much that he was drooling on me. I felt along his arm until I found the gun and then slipped it out of his relaxed hand. His torch was in the other hand, and I pointed it at the group of men. They were actually fighting with each other. I used the torch to differentiate them, and shot the two I thought looked most dangerous. They didn't notice at first because they were shouting so loudly at each other, but when there were only two of them left, they looked at each other, and then at me.

"That's better," I said, and rolled the body off me so I could stand. I don't think they'd even realised the man supposed to be pinning me to the ground was unconscious. I could have easily shot them both, but I didn't want to waste any more bullets and I probably didn't need to kill them for us to get away.

Beside me on the ground the sixth man was still bleeding; he'd sunk to the floor against the wall and was breathing very rapidly. There was a pool of blood around him and it was gushing out of a bullet hole in his thigh. He wouldn't be leaving this place. He knew it, too, I could see it in his eyes.

I gestured at him. "You want to join him?" I asked the other two men. "Do you?" Both of the men looked at each other. "Then get out of here," I said, waving the gun at them. "Go!"

Both of them looked at each other for a moment, and I know at least one of them was considering making a lunge for me. In the end he didn't, and they both ran down the corridor and out of the door where we'd entered.

I shone the torch down at the pile of bleeding, twitching men. God, there was blood everywhere. With the storm outside, I almost expected myself to walk out the door onto a Japanese island. Against the wall, the first man I shot was already unconscious and taking agonal breaths.

I hadn't see Sam stand up, but she was filming. "Whoa," she said, looking horrified.

I put the safety back on the gun and put it into the holster, closing my jaw. "Are you okay?" I asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her the once over with the torch before discarding it. She looked to be in one piece, and I couldn't see any blood on her. Confirming my assessment, she nodded. I smiled briefly. "Help me with the lock?" She did, and I climbed on her back to snap the pin with the axe.

The building opened up into the well-lit yard, but the doorway was protected by an awning. We stood in it while I peeked out. There were groups of men walking around, searching through bins, under the portable buildings, everywhere. It was only a matter of time before they found us if we waited here for too long. They'd definitely find us if we run out into that quadrangle with all the big lights shining down on it, but there wasn't any other way for us to go.

Like a shining beacon, a huge white building on the far side of the quadrangle had the sign 'PROCESSING' suspended across its walls in the Frost International font. Bingo, I thought.

"We could make a run for it," Sam suggested. "We'd probably be okay. You have the gun, after all."

"And six bullets left in it," I reminded her. "There's more than six men out there." As I was speaking, I noticed something on top of the lights. I squinted at it, but couldn't figure out what it was until it alighted and flew away through the rain.

What was the pigeon spirit doing on top of the light? While I was trying to figure out what it meant, I spotted it on a light on the other corner. That was a little unnerving; it hadn't flown in that direction at all. It was odd to be reminded it actually was a spirit.

"What's it doing?" Sam asked me. I shook my head, watching it land on the third light. When it landed on the forth, far off on the other side of the quadrangle, it didn't reappear.

"The lights," I thought aloud. "Four lights…" All the counting I'd been doing had been of bullets and that reminded me of the gun. I looked down at it. "Four lights, six bullets." I drew my gun, and then looked across at the lights at each corner of the yard. "Of course," I said. "I could never kill this many man with six bullets, but if they don't see us I won't need any at all."

With the pigeon gone, Sam held the camera up, pointing it at where my gun was aimed.

I lined up the shot and held my breath, pulling the trigger. A shower of sparks erupted from the globe as it blew out. The roar of the rain and the fact there was a silencer on my gun made it look as if the weather had caused them to short-circuit. I shot the second light, and the third. I missed the fourth because it was so far away, and swore. I used the fifth bullet on the light before it finally went out.

One bullet left, I thought. I put the gun back in the holster.

"That was pretty cool," Sam said, sounding impressed. She turned the camera on herself. "I'm dating that," she told everyone, sounding very proud. When she pointed it back at me, I pulled her trick and winked at it as I put the gun back in the armpit holster. I supposed it was much easier to be impressed when I shot objects instead of people.

"All clear," I said, and we slunk around the edge of the quadrangle in the shadows of the surrounding buildings until we'd made it all the way around the yard.

We collided with two men on the way into Processing. They were just as surprised as we were, and I took advantage of that to knock one of them unconscious with the axe. The other man looked familiar and for a moment we just stared at each other.

Sam frowned at him. I didn't really want to take any chances, so I just swung the join of the axe into his jaw before he could catch me off guard. He dropped to the ground and I stood over him. "Isn't that the guy who—" I began, but Sam finished my sentence.

"Yeah, it is," she confirmed, and then stood over him and said very sarcastically. "Ni hao."

I grinned at her, and then put my axe back on my belt and drew the gun. I opened the magazine just to be completely certain I'd counted correctly and there was only one bullet. I had, and there was.

Sam was switching memory cards. "You know what really sucks?" she asked me as she popped the spare in. "I just thought of something really cool I could have said to him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said. "'Actually, my people say 'adeus'!'"

She tested the camera again while I looked nervously down at the unconscious men. "Is that Portuguese?"

"Yup!" she said, and then snapped the case closed. "Let's go."

Processing was a huge multi-level facility. A huge roller door big enough for jumbo trucks backed onto the edge of an equally as large conveyer belt. The belt travelled a long loop around the floor of the facility, around a central control panel with big glass windows in the centre. Along the belt there were a number of different stations on the floor for filtering and separating the ore from the rest of the rock. The machinery was completely pristine and brand new, though. It had obviously never been turned on, so I don't know what Diane thought she was going to find in here.

The Frosts weren't in the central area, though. I couldn't see them anywhere. The central processing area went up to the roof, and all the other levels had walkways that opened out into the space over the factory floor. I looked up at all the other levels. There were just so many doors up there; the Frosts could be in any of them. A lift serviced the levels but that was the last thing I wanted to use.

Well, at least there at least didn't appear to be any other men in here looking for us inside. Small mercies, I supposed.

"Over here," Sam said, finding stairwell. We ran up it to the first level, which seemed to be full of equipment for controlling the processing machines. They weren't on the second level either, or the third.

On the fourth level, there was a door was unlocked on the open walkway where the lifts were, and the light was on inside. Here you are, I thought. I motioned for Sam to stay where she was, and edged up to the door.

My heart was pounding. As I approached the door I mentally rehearsed shooting whoever was inside so that I wouldn't even hesitate. The door had metal hinges and I couldn't risk it squeaking if I tried to open it slowly.

Taking a breath, I kicked it open and held up my gun. Diane's borrowed orange japara was hanging in the corner directly opposite the door, and I was so wired that I accidentally used my last bullet to shoot it. Even as I was pulling the trigger I realised it wasn't her.

Sam's shriek made me spin around.

Sean was standing behind Sam with his gun to her head. "Olá," he said to her, and to me, he said, "Drop the gun. Over the edge."

I did, immediately, throwing it over the bannister into the central facility. There was no point in keeping it anyway, I had no more ammo.

Sam stared at me, panic evident. She was looking at something behind me, and before Diane even spoke I knew it was her. I still have the axe, I thought, surprised. He could clearly see it on my belt, and I could easily kill his sister with that. God, I wanted to. He should have told me to throw that down, too. Why didn't he?

"Could you possibly be any louder?" Diane asked from behind me. "I think you woke up the dead on the way in here." I felt deft hands unzip my bag and rifle around inside it. "Where are the others?"

"Not here," I said. "Not even in the mine."

She snorted as she continued to search my belongings. "You're lying."

"You're right," I said, and then shouted to no one, "Now!"

Both Diane and Sean looked startled, as if they expected Macca to jump up from the shadows at them. It was enough for me to shove Diane backwards and make a lunge towards Sean and Sam.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard Sean's gun fire. "Sam!"

When she opened her eyes again, she just looked extremely spooked. I could see her legs shaking, but he hadn't shot her. There was a bullet hole in the wall beside them. Sean did not look pleased. "Nice try," he said. "Diane wants you both alive, which is why I haven't already shot you. But if it comes down to a choice between shooting you or getting hurt myself, I'm sure you can imagine which I'm likely to choose." He looked behind me. "Just do her quickly before she tries something else."

Diane walked around in front of me. She didn't look triumphant, though, just exhausted and a bit angry. In gloved hands, she was holding the Slave Stone.

Sam struggled. "No!" she yelled. "No, Lara, just run! Just run!"

Sean easily restrained her. "You know what happens if you don't do as we say," he said pleasantly to me, jabbing the gun into Sam's temple.

Diane held out her hand, motioning for me to raise my own. When I didn't she took it anyway. This close to her, there were so many ways I could hurt her. I could bury my axe in between her collarbones. I could strangle her, throw her over the railing and watch her slam against the concrete and machinery four storeys below. I could even wrap my hands around her neck and just snap it. Why on earth did Sean not take the axe off me?

I looked over Diane's shoulder and him, and he raised his eyebrows at me as if he were impatiently waiting for me to do something.

What?

Before I could figure out what that meant, Diane wrenched my hand and placed it palm down on the stone.

The second my hand connected with it, it stuck fast to my palm and something about it opened. It had a black hole-like pull about it, and my innards were being sucked through a vortex into it. Diane was saying something. I could see her lips move and I could hear sound coming out of them but I couldn't hear her properly or understand her. I wanted to struggle, to grab onto the railing, to her clothing, to anything that would prevent me from being eaten by the stone. Part of me was struggling wildy, even though I was dimly aware of the fact I was standing completely still. Like quicksand, though, I just kept sinking further into it as I tried to resist.

When it finally enveloped me completely I just stood there in total darkness. There was nothing at all around me.

A voice was speaking, though. "Listen to me," it said. I recognised it. "Listen to me."

I couldn't not listen to it, there was nothing else at all here. It was sensory deprivation in the truest sense. When I opened my mouth, nothing came out of it. Even when I squinted toward where I thought the voice was coming from, I didn't see anything. Or did I? 'ran' toward it, although I didn't move at all. The air around me was as thick as soup, but I could see the speaker approaching me. When she was close enough for me to recognise her, I thought I would probably see Diane. She was the one giving me instructions.

When the woman was close enough to me and my vision cleared enough to be able to see her, I got the shock of my life. It wasn't Diane.

It was me.

I think I screamed. It just gazed back at me, placid and relaxed. Its eyes were complete empty of any emotion. "I'm listening," it said. I think the words came out of my own mouth.

"No, I'm not!" I tried to shout, but no sound emerged. Not even empty breath.

Diane may have been speaking, but at that point I heard Sam's voice as if it were present in my head. "Listen to me, Lara! Don't listen to Diane!" she was screaming. It reverberated around my head, shaking my skull and filling every crevice of wherever I was being held. "Don't listen to anything she says, stop listening! Stop listening!"

The effect was immediate. Like a snapped rubbed band I sprung back into my body, and the impact of being reunited with it was disorienting. Someone was close to me, I think it was Diane. I shoved her away from me by reflex and heard the sound of an object hitting the carpeted walkway. I kicked it over the edge down into the main facility. She shouted. Putting a hand against the railing, I braced myself. I wasn't sure that I wouldn't pitch over it if I didn't hold onto something. God, my head…

Sean looked as if he almost wanted to roll his eyes. "Fucking hell!" he said as Diane leaned over the edge and watched the stone clatter on the ground below.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she hissed. "This is fucking mayhem. I'm just going to charge the second stone." She patted a bulge in her pocket.

Sean stopped her. "Di," he said. "Aren't you going to go after that one?" He motioned over the edge towards where the stone had fallen with a nod of his head. "It's right there!"

She looked disgusted. "And get myself killed in the crossfire? No thanks. Good luck," she said a little sarcastically to him, and jogged down the other direction on the walkway. From the way she moved, I could see didn't share her brother's athleticism.

In the confusion, Sam elbowed Sean very firmly in the stomach. He bent double and the gun dropped from her temple, enough for her to elbow him a second time and then grab his wrist with the gun in it. This wasn't going to end well if she was going to turn it into strength competition. I staggered toward them, my head clearing as he was shouting at her.

She didn't try to wrestle the gun from him, though, she just twisted the skin on his wrist very roughly and smacked it on the railing. The gun fell from his hand and I heard the thump of it falling on the conveyer belt below.

He turned angrily to her and slapped her so hard she fell over, growling at the back of his throat. She sat half upright, holding her face and looking stunned. He was lucky I didn't have anything to shoot him with at that second, that was for sure.

Sean and I both looked over the edge of the railing at the gun on the conveyer belt and the Slave Stone on the floor. Then, we looked at each other.

Shit. I had to get that gun and the stone before he did.

I launched myself towards the stairs as he went for the lift. They'd used it to get up. Because of that, it chimed and the doors slid open immediately as I stepped onto the stairs. I could hear Sam following me as I sprinted down them, jumping down as many sets of them as I could. When I got to the ground floor I realised I'd beaten the lift down and ran over to it, unhooking the axe from my belt.

I stood beside the lift, axe ready. When it chimed again and the doors slid open, I took a deep breath. No one came out of it, though.

I stood, confused, and then something connected solidly with my head from behind me. I dropped like the stone had, and after a moment I was aware of the cool concrete against my cheek.

Sean had begun to say something, but then he shouted with surprise. I rolled over and tried to push myself up, spotting Sam with a fire extinguisher in her hand. She was spraying him with it and coating him in a thick white foam as he tried to shield himself.

It was enough time for me to knock his legs out from underneath him I go for my axe which I'd dropped some distance from me. When I'd managed to get it, however, he was already on his feet. For a moment I thought he might try and restrain Sam to use against me again, but she brandished the extinguisher at him. "I don't know if this stuff makes you blind like oven cleaner does," she yelled at him. "But if you come any closer you'll find out!"

That's my girl, I thought, grinning. I took off towards the conveyer belt.

Sean ran after me for a short distance and then gave up and took a detour to a control panel. He lifted the sheet of clear plastic from the buttons and turned a key. The machines shuddered and lights flickered to life on them.

"But the power's out!" I said aloud, confused.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Diesel-powered machinery is a lot cheaper to run," he called back.

I wrinkled my noise; there were exhaust pipes leading outside but I could still smell it. "And I'm sure it's loads better for the environment, too," I said dryly.

He didn't miss a beat. "Do you drive, Lara? Or fly in planes? What impact do you think that has on the environment?"

Sam was listening from the edge of the floor, hugging her fire extinguisher with one hand and holding her camera with the other. "Yeah, that's totally on the same scale as a diamond mine," she yelled. I was glad she was getting all of this on film, Macca would be furious.

Beside me, the conveyer belt started to move. Through the glass control room, I could see Sean's gun on the far side of the belt. Sean wasn't even running after me, he was just waiting patiently for the belt to deliver him the weapon. The control room prevented me from just running across to it. It was a shorter distance to run along the belt toward Sean, but I didn't want to risk it. I might be able to best him again, but I didn't like my chances, especially with the gun trundling toward him.

I would just have to run the long way around the belt and somehow avoid all the machines over it. I didn't know exactly what each of them was for, but I was sure they were supposed to pulverise or separate or do other violent things to whatever was on the belt.

As the first machine approached I timed the jump and just made it, running across the top of it and jumping back down to the belt on the other side. As I successfully avoided the second, I noticed something glinting on the floor beside it and jumped down to the concrete, thinking it was probably the Slave Stone.

When I crouched down there, though, I realised it was the other gun. I looked up and back towards Sean to make sure he couldn't see me, and then picked it up off the floor. Releasing the magazine to check it, I just confirmed what I already knew – it was empty. Despite that, I tucked it in my holster.

The Slave Stone was only a short distance away from the gun. It lay on the floor under the conveyer belt, radiating that awful aura. God knows what would have happened if Sam hadn't been there to 'direct' me not to listen to Diane. It was chilling. Poor Old Johnson was stuck somewhere in limbo like I'd been, unable to act for himself. At least we had some idea how to break him out of it, now.

I couldn't let Diane charge another stone, though. These things shouldn't exist. I crawled across the floor and scooped it up with the fabric of my daypack before climbing back onto the conveyer belt.

I'd lost ground when I'd jumped down to the floor, but I was still moving much faster than the belt was and at the rate I was travelling I was going to make it around to the gun before it was delivered to Sean. He quickly realised that and gave up just waiting. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he climbed up onto the belt running against it toward the gun.

Before I managed to reach it, the gun was carried inside the hood of the last machine between Sean and I. I had no idea what the machine actually did – and neither did Sean, by the look of it – but I knew both Sam and I were dead if the gun made it out the other side. Hoping there wasn't blades or rollers or something else awful waiting for me, I ducked down and let myself be carried into the machine. I reached out in the darkness, feeling around the textured rubber until my fingers brushed against cool steel. I stretched further and wrapped them around the barrel of the loaded gun.

As I did, I felt several firm jets of water spray me, moving rapidly as they did so. It reminded me of a car wash. For the brief millisecond I opened my eyes, I could see Sean's legs jump out of the way at the mouth of them machine. There was no way I could crawl fast enough to go back the way I'd come. I wouldn't be able to shoot Sean from this angle, either, and especially not with water in my eyes. He'd be ready to disable me when I emerged, though.

I held the loaded gun in my hand. It was useless to me if I was dazed or unconscious. Under my arm, I felt the bird spirit flutter against my ribs. It was under the holster.

I drew the empty gun and held one in either hand – I couldn't open my eyes from the water to check, but the guns felt identical. Of course they were, I thought, the one I'd been using was his spare. I couldn't tell them apart unless I checked, and he probably wouldn't be able to, either. At least, I hoped he wouldn't. I tucked the loaded gun in the back of my belt under my t-shirt, and held the empty gun in my hands. God, I hoped this would work.

Just as I'd predicted, as I emerged from the machine and scrambled to stand, Sean's foot connected with the side of my head. He wasn't holding back and, stunned, I took a step backwards to try and prevent myself from being knocked over. It was the edge of the belt and my feet just dropped out from underneath me.

I feel very solidly against the ground, winded. I lay supine on the concrete, staring up at the walkways above the factory floor spinning above me until I was finally able to draw a breath.

"Lara!" Sam shrieked rushing up to the glass of the control panel. She hadn't seen me switch the guns, either. By her expression, I knew Sean retrieved the one I'd been holding as I fell. She looked around her, and I saw her climb up onto the belt to try to come to my rescue.

As I was watching her, Sean stepped in front of my line of sight just a little too far away for me to kick his legs out. He had the gun pointed at my head.

I panicked, but as all my senses returned I felt metal jutting into my lower back.

"You don't really want to kill me," I told him.

He shrugged. "Nope," he said, and again I was surprised by how pleasant he sounded. "But when you run a billion dollar corporation you often have to do lots of things you don't really want to do." He shifted his weight. "Diane wants you alive for strategic purposes. I had my own ideas, but I don't think things are going to quite work out the way I planned," he said. "If I let you live, I have a feeling it will come back to bite me. My sister can just find some other less dangerous celebrity to be her cheerleader."

He didn't even say anything else, he just squeezed the trigger. I flinched.

The gun clicked harmlessly. Sean swore, checking the chamber. Just him taking his eyes off me for a fraction of a second was long enough for me to roll over and draw the loaded gun from my belt, holding it at him as I stood up. My head was still spinning, but I tried to ignore it.

His jaw fell. "Fuck!" he said, and leapt toward me, hoping to catch me off guard by attacking me quickly.

He didn't, and I pulled the trigger, too. My gun actually fired and the impact caused him to stagger. He didn't fall though, not straight away. Instead, he half-stood, clutching weakly at where I'd shot him. There was blood seeping into his white shirt between his fingers, but I didn't think it was the blood loss that was going to be an issue for him. He was struggling to breathe. He pressed the hole firmly. "Fuck you," he said, wheezing. "And fuck my fucking sister for this shit. I have children."

"Then I hope they never find out what sort of man you were," I said as he collapsed.