Chapter One:

Easter 2002

Sam was slightly drunk. Okay, maybe more than slightly. But still, he knew what was going on. He knew what he'd seen. Even his blurred, beer-goggled eyes could tell him that what he'd seen was more than a drunken apparition.

The question was, what could he do about it?

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. One minute he'd seen Des throw a petrol bomb into Monroe's office, and then there'd been darkness, the next moment he felt himself turn back towards the balcony doors that led back into where four people he worked with were waiting for him. Well, Di was anyway. She was the resident mother in the station, she was there to clean up and drag him home. Sam knew she wouldn't make it home. He knew he wouldn't make it home.

As he stepped inside everything sped up and then quickly slowed down again. He saw eyes turn on him, he opened his mouth to speak.

What could he say though?

Kate, Di, Ben and Paul were all just looking at him, blank expressions on their faces. Couldn't they see the fear in his eyes?

He knew he'd never be able to get the words out in time. he knew he wouldn't even be able to move. So, there he stayed, rooted to the spot in the balcony doorway, his back to the wind and his face to the death.

He could almost hear the fire spreading through the station, thw whoosh of heat and danger that meant an explosion was coming, and even before it came he could hear the screams of death. He'd heard this kind of death before, the kind that is slow and agonizing, a pain that comes with watching life slip away before your eyes. Other's lives. Your own life.

Sam prayed silently, as the ground beneath his feet began to feel hot, that this death would be fast and painless. He didn't need that kind of ache again...


In a small house in Knowsley, Anne Harker suddenly held her breath.

A cold shiver ran up her spine, almost as if someone had walked over her grave. But it was more than that, much more than that.

Glancing arund the room, to see if her husband Robert had left a window or the door open, Anne's eyes stopped on a picture on the mantlepiece of her youngest son on his 10th birthday. She'd always loved that photo.

She smiled slowly, knowing perfectly well what was putting her off.

Her baby boy, even at 30, hadn't returned home for the memorial. At first Anne hadn't liked it, but then she'd realised what it was. He'd moved on. He'd learnt to accept what had happened. He'd grown into the man she had always known he would become.

Her little Sam, he was a man now, a respectable policeman in London and he was perfectly fine.

Anne chided herself. For a split second she'd thought otherwise.

She glanced at the kitchen window, realising it was indeed open. Just an inch.

She laughed aloud.


Des could only watch, could only avert hsi eyes as the top floor of the station burst into flames. The glass exploded, raining down on him. He didn't shield himself from the glass. He needed it to cut him. He needed that kind of pain.

There then came the flames through the windows and door, billowing around and then suddenly being sucked back in. The noise followed, as if it felt it had been left behind. So loud, like an angry roar. It was so loud Des could hear nothing else, not even his own screams of anguish and hate as he crunched his fists into balls and swore loudly at himself.

'You, you killed them all.' He yelled at himself.

He could feel his short nails digging into his palms, but he didn't remove them. Let them bleed. Let them hurt.

'Let me die.' He begged silently to the sky. Des wasn't a religious man, but if God were real he'd let him die. But Des didn't die and once the noise stopped there was a cruel and mockign silence.

Des rose to his feet. He needed to get inside. He needed to find someone alive. He needed to redeem himself. If he didn't, he didn't know what he'd do next...


Sam was still standing. He couldn't believe he was still standing.

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see what was aroudn him.

He knew it was destruction, death, and that orange flicker. The light of the flames lit up his eyelids.

He couldn't hear anything, there was just silence. That horrible silence. Not even screams of agony, moans of pain, just deathly silence.

Maybe he was dead too? Maybe this was the entryway to heaven?

But then, it felt hot. Maybe this was hell?

Sam realised it was likely hell. He'd never been a good Christian. He didn't believe a single thing the 'good book' said. He never had. But hsi mother was so in love with her faith, Sam couldn't hurt her by denying it, so he'd played along.

All of a sudden Sam's thoughts were interupted as noise suddenly burst into his ears. It exploded around him, as if someone had just flicked on the radio. There were screams, there were cheers, there were sirens, there were people begging. Sam froze. He'd heard this before.

He squeezed his eyes tighter. Let the devil play his games, he wouldn't face this again.

Somethign hit him in the back of the head, and elbow by the feel of it, and Sam's eyes flickered open automatically. Before he could close them again he'd seen it all. The colours. The purple, the blue, the green, and all the red. It was blurry, so very blurry. He couldn't make out faces, bodies, even where he was. He didn't need to, he already knew.

He snapped hsi eyes shut again.

"Hey kid." A voice growled in his ear.

He opened his eyes and galnced at the blurry, unfamiliar surroundings. That voice was familiar.

It spoke again, the same sentence, except this time it seemed further away.

The tan-coloured image around him faded and everything was black again.

Cold black. Safe black.

Sam hoped it would stay black forever.

He couldn't face the world anymore. He didn't want to face the world anymore.

The voice spoke again and Sam finally realised who it was. It was Des.

'Oh god, he's come to finish me off.' Sam thought to himself. He stopped. Who was this man speaking in his head? Sam didn't think such unkind things about people.

He sighed. It was true then. He must still be alive.

'I don't want to be alive.' He screamed in his head. 'I want to die; i want to die like everyone else. I want...' He stopped when he heard sobbing.

An oh-s-familar sobbing. He realised who it was and his heart shattered like glass. Cass was there, and she was crying. He'd made her cry. It was the one thing he'd promised himself he would never do.

'I want to be alive.' He started to tell himself then, as he struggled to open his eyes and see her. Tell her it woul be okay. 'I want to live; i want to live like everyone else. I don't want Cass to cry again. Especially not for me. i want to live.'