Helen pulled herself up. Small cuts on her face and arms were her only visible wounds, but a sudden wince of pain warned her of possible broken ribs. She looked around and saw Amber slumped over one of the armchairs. Was she unconscious or dead, Helen wondered? Not that she cared, for her, Amber should have died in the crash. Only the data stick in Amber’s pocket was of importance. Helen searched wildly to try and find the small device.
When she couldn’t locate it, she splashed about in the ankle-high water that was rising all the time. She turned suddenly at the sound of someone’s slow approach. It was Harding, who was also visibly wounded. His hand pressed tightly to his left side, and blood oozed through his fingers. She looked at him for a moment, tears in her eyes, upset that her bel
