This had to be it.

He’d been stuck here for — how long? Days? Weeks? Months? Time had lost all meaning in these tunnels. He’d been here so long that he’d all but forgotten why he had been sent down here in the first place.

The only thing keeping him going was the thought of her. He knew that she’d be there waiting for him. She had promised. It was the one memory from his past life that he remembered. She would be there. She had to be there. Otherwise all this was meaningless.

He was the last survivor. He knew that much. None of the others had lasted. Some had died, some had succumbed to madness, others had simply disappeared, never to be seen again. He was alone. That knowledge made him all the more determined to succeed, to get out of this hell-hole.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been running, but he was breathless. He drew the pistol from its holster — he wasn’t even sure if it still worked — and sat down with his back against the wall. The uneven rock wall was uncomfortable and dug into his back, but he didn’t care. He just needed to rest for a little while. He felt the end was near, but he needed to be on top of his game for any last-minute challenges Fate might have in store for him.

He closed his eyes. Unconsciousness took him quickly, and his head slumped to the side. Visions swirled in his mind’s eye. Past blended with present and with future, confused images flashing into his subconscious for a moment, then vanishing.

“Guilty.”

The word echoed through his brain. It was the word that had sent him here. The word that no-one ever wanted to hear. The word that struck fear into the hearts of everyone.

What was he guilty of?

“Guilty.”

How had this happened?

“Guilty.”

Why had it–

He awoke with a start, his eyes flicking open. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but down here it didn’t matter. All he had to do was press onward. The end had to be near. She would be waiting for him. She would be there. She had to be.

He stood unsteadily, bracing himself on the wall as he pulled himself up. He was hungry and thirsty, and his supplies were getting low. He holstered the pistol and started walking again for a few paces, before breaking into a light jog. His boots clip-clopped on the hard floor and echoed around the tunnel. They pinched his feet, but he had to keep going forward.

As he jogged, the never-changing scenery of the tunnel’s walls either side of him, his mind wandered. Fragments of lost memories remained just out of reach, tantalising him with promises of truths perhaps best forgotten. But still her face was there, urging him onwards, pushing him forwards.

“Guilty.”

The word that had haunted his dreams while he slept was pounding at the boundaries of repressed memories now. He knew that behind the walls his mind had put up, there was a torrent of pain and suffering. He didn’t want to let it out. But every time—

“Guilty.”

Thump.

Cracks were appearing.

“No,” he said out loud to himself. “Please.”

“Guilty.”

Thump.

A flash. A vision. A room. Dark, with small shafts of light beaming in through the dirty window.

“Guilty.”

Thump.

He was sitting in a chair. In front of him, there they were. Those who decided his fate, whether he liked it or not.

“Guilty.”

Thump.

The walls were coming down. He couldn’t stop them. He kept running, but the memories were seeping out. The horror.

“You stand accused of forbidden knowledge,” said the voice. His blood chilled, and shivers ran down his spine. “How do you plead?”

He was speechless. He couldn’t respond. Whatever he said would damn him. He had no control of this. The voices were coming in thick and fast now, flooding his brain — so much noise — and he couldn’t stop them.

“Guilty,” most of them were saying. “Guilty.”

They had already made up their minds. There was nothing he could do that would make a difference.

“Guilty,” he said. The voices stopped for a moment. Everything seemed to be frozen in time.

The memory faded. He was still running. He grit his teeth and tried to concentrate as best he could, willing the walls within his mind to push themselves back into place.

“Guilty,” the voice still continued, softer this time.

He tripped on a loose stone and fell to the ground, skidding along the floor a short way. It hurt.

He lay on the floor and closed his eyes to concentrate fully. He had to control this.

Be still, he said to his troubled mind. Be silent.

The angry sea of images threatening to break into his mind’s eye swelled and roared for a moment before calming, settling and quietening. He was in control. It was all right. He was safe, for now.

He couldn’t think about the past. He couldn’t. How he had discovered this ability, this curse. It was too much. The memories threatened to swell and overcome again, but he pushed them down forcefully, and they stayed quietened.

Focus, he said to himself. Calmness. That is what will get me through this.

Opening his eyes, he got to his feet and started walking. He did not break into a run this time, he simply walked, his back straight and upright, staring straight ahead. This was different. This was focus. He felt centred, at peace. But it was taking all his concentration and effort to remain that way. He didn’t know if he’d be able to hold it. But he had to try.

Minutes flowed into hours as he walked. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, always straight ahead, never deviating from its course. When would it end?

He pushed the thought out of his mind and continued to walk. He had to stay absolutely focused, otherwise he would fail, and he would never get out of here.

Suddenly, a voice. He couldn’t tell if it was in his mind or if he was actually hearing it. But it sounded like her.

“You’re going to make it,” she said. “I know you will. I’m waiting for you. Just a little further.”

A door opened. Brilliant white light flooded into the tunnel from the other side. A silhouette stepped into it. A familiar silhouette. A comforting one.

He came ever closer, not breaking his focus for a moment. He had to take his time, to maintain his control, otherwise it would simply slip away from him. He was going to make it.

As he came closer to the blinding light, he saw her face. She was crying, but she was smiling. She extended her hand to him.

He kept walking. Closer now. It was definitely her. She had kept her word.

He reached out.

He took her hand.

And it was over.

The atmosphere in the room was solemn. Silence hung in the air, making it feel cloying, oppressive.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Not after what she’d done.

At least she’d admitted it, he thought to himself. But not without him putting her in a position where she had no choice but to admit it.

He hadn’t expected things to go this way. He used to think that no challenge was insurmountable, that they’d always be able to make it through, together.

But not this time. Not after what she’d done.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and all he could see was the face of the one who had caused this whole mess. Of course, he didn’t know what the Stranger looked like in real life, so the “face” he saw was obscured by shadow and mist. But he knew who it represented.

He felt himself gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, so he opened his eyes again to try and banish the unwanted intruder into his thoughts.

She gazed at him, her face a picture of abject misery. She really hadn’t meant things to happen this way. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but she knew from the beginning that what she’d been getting into carried that risk. And still she’d done it — why? For the thrill? No, that wasn’t it; it was more a sense of ennui, dissatisfaction, of being stuck in a rut.

She hadn’t felt comfortable raising the subject, so she’d simply started plotting behind his back. Before she realised that every little plan she made without his knowledge was just going to cut deeper, she was in too far. There was no going back.

She didn’t regret doing what she did — the alternative was just sinking into a black mire of mutual resentment and depression, and she knew that he knew this too; he just didn’t want to admit it, or didn’t know how to tackle it. He’d never been good at that sort of thing.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice cracking a little from the pair of them having been sat silently for so long. “I really am.”

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it like she always used to. Still he didn’t look at her. He seemed to be staring into the middle distance.

His eyes were filling with tears. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear the thought that this was it, that it was over. He wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t. He loved her, even after everything that had happened. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn her way and say it. It was too late. Too late.

She put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him towards her. He resisted a little to begin with, but then allowed himself to be pulled in. He buried his head in her shoulder and felt something snap inside his mind. He started to cry, big gulping sobs that he couldn’t control. He’d never felt so utterly wretched in all his life, and here he was, baring his soul and showing himself completely helpless and vulnerable to this woman who had just an hour earlier crushed his dreams for the future.

She held him close, not saying a word as the waves of emotion rocked his whole body. Tears fell from her eyes, but she was silent. She needed to be strong. If she were to give in to this pitiful display before her, then she’d never be able to move on — and neither would he.

His sobs subsided, and she gently pushed him away, trying to get him to look at her. Still he wouldn’t make eye contact. His body was limp, deflated, like all the fight had gone from him.

“You know this is for the best, right?” she said.

Gazing at the wall a few metres to her left, he simply nodded after a short pause. He closed his eyes, and the Stranger was there again, mocking him. I won, the cloudy vision seemed to say. I won.

He felt his mouth tighten as he struggled to hold back the pent-up emotions and once again failed, exploding into tears with a wailing sob that broke his companion’s heart.

He slumped forward off the seat and onto his knees on the floor. He bent over until his head was on the carpet. Down here it felt safe, for some reason. He didn’t want to get up. Everything above the floor was scary and upsetting. The world was out to get him, and he couldn’t cope any more. He just couldn’t take it.

He clenched his fist and slammed it as hard as he could into the floor. The impact boomed and rattled the room. Searing pain shot through his hand and he instantly regretted his outburst of aggression.

She just watched. There was nothing more she could do right now.

She stood.

She walked.

She left.

She didn’t look back. He didn’t even notice she’d gone to begin with. Down on the floor, in his own private little world, he was safe, but the face of the Stranger was threatening to invade. He crawled over to the seat and rested his head on the soft cushion, still warm from where she’d been sitting. The question as to where she had gone entered his mind, then was blown out again as quickly as it had come.

He slammed his fist into the cushion, imagining he was throwing a devastating punch at the face of the Stranger. Another. And another. And another. He roared with rage, yelling obscenities with each strike. It wasn’t making him feel any better. Inside, he knew what he was doing was useless; impotent. But it didn’t matter.

She was gone. And he knew she wasn’t coming back.

“Hey.”

The voice startled him, though it was gentle in its tone. He looked up to see the source of the monosyllabic greeting, and there she was. He wasn’t sure quite how long he’d been sitting on this bench staring at his feet, but it must have been some time, as the daylight streaming in from outside the concourse momentarily dazzled him.

“Hey,” she said again, smiling. She was a pretty young woman, with coppery, curly ginger hair that fell around her shoulders, and a few girlish freckles still evident around her nose. He regarded her with curiosity, but his cheeks quickly flushed, causing him to reflexively turn back to the safety of contemplating his shoes.

She sat down next to him, bending forward to try and meet his floorward gaze.

“Hey!” she said again, a little more forcefully. “Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but it was completely dry. He closed it, swallowed and tried again.

“Nervous,” he croaked, still not looking up.

“Yeah,” she said. “I got that. I’m nervous too. I think everyone here is.”

He raised his head and turned to face his companion.

“You hide it well,” he said in a meek voice, cracking a half-hearted smile and inwardly wishing the ground would swallow him up just in case she found his comment in some way offensive.

“And you don’t,” she giggled. “I’m just teasing. Everyone deals with nerves differently. Me, I just need to talk to someone, to get the thoughts racing around my head out in the open, you know?”

He knew. He wished he could be as easygoing as she evidently was. But talking to people — especially strangers — made him even more nervous, so he found it difficult to imagine how striking up a conversation could possibly help.

“Yeah,” he said, turning back to his shoes. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it,” she said gently. “We’re all in the same situation here. Far from home, not sure what to expect, far from our friends… so we just have to make the best of it.”

“Right,” he said, not sure whether he was supposed to offer any more information at this point.

“I’ll go first, then,” she said, releasing her hand’s grip on his shoulder. “I’m Jennifer. You can call me Jenn. I’m here because by some freak of nature I managed to ace my schoolwork despite hating almost every minute of it. They thought I’d be a good candidate, so here I am.”

He waited, trying to determine whether or not she’d finished talking. After a few seconds of expectant silence, he realised that it was his turn to say something.

“D-David,” he said, pausing. “I test well. I have the ‘right kind of brain’, apparently, whatever that means.”

“It means that you’re a good candidate too,” said Jenn, placing her hand on his shoulder again. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He sat up and raised his head to look at her, cracking a more genuine smile this time.

“No,” he said. “No, I guess it wasn’t.”

She smiled at him and he felt warm inside. It was nice. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since the last time he saw his sister, but that was–

“You looked lonely,” she said, interrupting his train of thought.

“What?”

“You looked lonely,” she repeated. “I’m lonely too. You might not believe that given the way I’ve been acting, but I am. I was lonely back home and I so desperately don’t want to be lonely here. I don’t… I just…”

She looked upset. The sudden shift in her demeanour took him off guard somewhat, and he’d obviously let his surprise show in his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. It looked like her eyes were glistening slightly with tears, but he couldn’t be sure. “Just met you and here I am blabbering on. You must think I’m a right schizo. I’m sorry if I–”

“Would you like to be friends, Jenn?” he interjected. It was the most assertive thing he had ever done in his life, and inwardly he felt immensely proud of himself. He braced himself for rejection, swallowing deeply as he regarded her expression of surprise, somewhat akin to a startled animal just before it bolts. After a second or two that felt like hours, her expression softened and she smiled that warm smile again.

“Of course I would,” she said. “You know, you don’t have to actually ask.”

“I know,” he said. “But I thought I’d be polite.”

She giggled and suddenly hugged him. The embrace took him by surprise, but he didn’t struggle. He was just getting comfortable when she released him again.

“I think we’re going to be good friends, David,” she said. “Very good friends indeed.”

At that moment, all the fear and trepidation he had been feeling melted away. Although neither of them knew exactly what the future held for them — no-one who joined the Project did — he knew now that he didn’t have to face it alone, and he felt safe in that knowledge.

“Come on,” she said, standing and offering her hand. “Let’s go get started.”

He looked up at her quizzically for a moment, then smiled, took her hand and stood. The pair of them began to walk hand-in-hand towards the bright light of the day.

The image froze, then quickly faded to black.

“Wonderful,” said the observer.