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It's moving in sort of slow motion,' Tommy was saying. 'Looks oily or something. Does it look oily to you?"

'Oily?' Barry tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He looked at the monitor Tommy was indicating and shook his head. 'Green and fuzzy maybe,' he said dubiously.

'The movement,' Tommy persisted. It's not moving like water moves. Is it?'

Chloe tried to suck air through the plug of gluey slime filling her nose and throat and clogging her windpipe. She couldn't breathe. She needed a breath. One breath. One chance to save herself from this hell. She tried to swallow the lump, but all she did was pull in more of the flabby slobber that was sliding down into her. Still she cramped and ached and shuddered and still the blood pumped out of her. So much blood. How could there be so much blood? She was dying in this blood-filled coffin and nobody cared.

'I CARE BITCH!' the demon gibbered and roared. Chloe had almost forgotten him.’ I WANT YOU DEAD! I WANT YOU HEREWITH ME!

AFRAID! CROUCHING IN THE DARK! FOR EVER AND EVER

FEAR WITHOUT END!'

Chloe made one last effort to breathe: one last effort to tear the covering from her eyes: one last effort to open the hatch. She failed.

'AMEN!' the demon cackled. And then the redness became blackness and there was nothing.

'If it's movement we're talking about,' Barry said. 'Chloe's not moving like Chloe moves. Is she?' Any second now, he thought. Fooled you, Ghostbuster. Big yuks, har-de-har. Chuckle and be a good sport. Not much chance of that, children.

He glanced at the bank of video-recording machines, all whirring away taping the output from each of the CCTV cameras. He was beginning to regret not using the money to upgrade to computer-disc recording. The sensory-deprivation tank looked like a bad joke and a worse investment.

'Is she all right do you think?' Meg looked and sounded convincingly worried.

'Why shouldn't she be?' Barry said. 'My theory is that she's asleep.'

Ralph put a finger on the mic control. 'Why don't you shout in her ear?'

Barry yawned. 'That would do wonders for the test run wouldn't it.' He yawned again. He was a bit tired himself. It must be watching her sleep.

Must be catching.

'I heard this voice,' Tommy was saying. 'It was telling me to wake up. Then I saw an alarm clock and bacon and eggs. He was sending me an image of breakfast, right?'

Barry said, 'One of the pictures in the sequence is a plate of food.' He knew it. They were jerking him around again. 'How did you know that?'

'I'm psychic,' Tommy said.

'I'm serious,' Barry said. 'How did you know that?' He had to restrain himself from grabbing the boy by the front of his sweatshirt. Jokes. Jokes.

He wasn't in the mood for bloody jokes. 'How did you know that?' he demanded.

I didn't know that.' Tommy took a step backwards in mock alarm. 'What's wrong now, for God's sake? I didn't know that.'

Ralph said, "The test isn't working anyway.' He still had his finger resting on the mic button. 'If she's asleep,' he nodded at the monitor with the close-up of Chloe's face, there's no way of telling from that.' The green, fuzzy image could have been a still photo. 'I mean you should either restart it or call it off all together'

'Makes sense,' Tommy said.

Barry slapped Ralph's hand off the control console.! don't know what you lot are up to,' he said, 'but this is my lab OK. And in my lab you'll do as /

say'

'No offence,' Ralph said frowning, 'but don't you think that sounds a touch paranoid?'

'Yeah, what's up Doc?' Tommy said in a not very good Bugs Bunny voice.

'I'm waiting for the custard pie,' Barry said.

'Pudding?' Ralph asked.

'Metaphor'

Tommy pushed the hair from his forehead in his best Hugh Grant style. 'You're waiting for the metaphorical sweet trolley.'

'You know what I mean.'

'I haven't the first idea,' Tommy protested. 'Do you know what he's talking about, Meg?'

He turned for support to where Meg had been standing. 'Meg?' But she had left the control and monitoring suite and was at the