Zero Point

13

Once on board the coach, I shuffled my way down the aisle behind the queue of people trying to find seats.

I stopped, unable to believe what I saw. Seated unobtrusively, but unmistakeably, near the back was Julia Stephenson, wearing a simple white T-shirt and black leggings.

"Julia!" I pushed through the people in front. She was gazing straight at me.

I threw myself into the seat beside her and hugged her tightly, savouring her warmth, her scent. She planted her lips on mine in a gentle lingering kiss, before she pulled away.

"Julia, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Iraq?"

"I am," she said. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. "David, I can't be here for long."

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly I noticed something warm and wet on my palms. I pulled away from her and looked down. My arms were dripping with blood―Julia's. She was soaked in it.

"Julia?"

"I need to tell you one thing," she said, leaning into me. "Tomorrow, you'll meet a boy carrying the flag of the enemy. But he is not your enemy. He is your friend. Follow him, and he'll guide you to me―in the end."

Then she cupped my face and kissed me again.

"I love you, David."

***

I woke up.

"Julia," I mumbled. "Julia?"

Julia was gone. I was sprawled against the window in a double seat near the back of the coach.

I shook myself awake. It had been a dream. A bloody weird one. It had felt so real, and was fresh in my memory, as if it had actually just happened. But that was impossible.

We were driving down the M4 toward Hereford, home of the SAS―and the SRR. I'd taken the cab to Victoria Station, which is where I'd caught the coach. It would be another couple of hours before I arrived.

I tried dialling Julia's number again. No luck. Anxiety welled in my throat. I felt like running to the airport and flying back to Iraq. But there wouldn't be any point in that. Not yet. Not like this. I needed to be prepared. Of course, it looked like I was now a wanted man, too, which would make leaving the country via civilian airport potentially quite difficult. I sighed, and pulled out my phone.

I turned it on and sent a text to my old Army mate, Michael Wilfred.