Prologue
May, 2055
Hetti’s breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At her sides, tanned fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make her faster. Behind her, she could hear the same metallic dragging sound that had been following her since she turned into Shoreditch. Rain smeared her face as more sweat dripped from her matted hair.
‘Please God, let me live.’ she cried aloud, throwing herself forward with even greater abandon. Her lungs and heart were pumping, but the air didn’t seem to be enough as she sprinted forward, panic trembling in her exhausted limbs.
The sound was the worst part. It was almost as if heavy, metallic feet were dragging along the tarred pavement. It was after her but Hetti couldn’t understand why or what she had done to make someone that angry.
She crossed the road onto a small side street off Pedley Avenue. A largely residential area, with a row of flats and houses on each side of her. Hetti ran to the end of the residential road, still with the metallic sound following her. When she came to the end of Pedley Avenue she turned left and thought she would end up near a busier road or at least near a pub that was open late but instead she was struck by a sense of dread when she realised she was facing a dead end and the metallic sound as coming closer.
When the dragging and scraping sound finally stopped, Hetti was too frightened to turn around and face it.
Its breathing didn’t sound like that of a normal person. Hetti couldn’t describe it but there was something unnatural about it. Its breath was raspy, just like the breath of a smoker and sounded painful. Hetti knew she had turn around and that when she did it would be the last time her friends saw her. She stood, trembling with the weight of that realisation, the rasp of its breath and the metallic clink of its movement right behind her. She screwed her eyes tight shut and saw him for the last time: the windswept tousle of chestnut curls, the smiling eyes.
It gave her just enough courage to turn around.
