Oh God, Nard did want to blow everybody up. He just wanted to make damn sure that Ven, Kay and I were right at the heart of the blast.

Nobody moves.

‘As I’m sure you are aware,’ Ven says to the guard, ‘that is a bomb – and I think it’s safe to say that it’s set to go off as soon as The Leader comes on stage.’

Outside the crowd are applauding someone.

‘Which must be soon. You’d better stop waving that gun about, because this young man,’ he points to me, ‘is the only one in here who can disable it – and he’s not going to like it if you hurt his girlfriend.’

Efwurd. Ven wants me to disable the bomb.

The guard stares at him. His eyes flick from Ven to me and back to Ven. ‘Then I won’t hurt her,’ he says, ‘for now.’ He doesn’t move the gun.

‘Blake . . .’ Ven says.

I’m regretting ever having mentioned my theoretical understanding of bombs. ‘I think it would be better if you did it,’ I say.

He shakes his head. ‘Unfortunately, Blake, I know so efwurding much about almost everything that there just wasn’t room for a few things. This is one of them. You’re up.’

King hell, it’s all on me. I crouch down and take a look at the device. Out of the corner of my eye I see the guard turn and look at the door.

‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you,’ Ven says to him.

‘Doesn’t matter how fast you run now, if this goes off you’ll be dead. Or we’ll shoot you as soon as your back’s turned anyway.’

I’m afraid to even touch the bomb, but I reason that Kay brought it all the way here without it exploding.

When I get it open, I’m relieved to be able to identify most of the components. The design is fairly simple. If I can just disconnect the timing device then we should be okay.

‘I need a knife.’

‘I don’t have any knife,’ Kay says.

‘Nor me,’ Ven says.

The guard clears his throat. ‘I’ve got one.’

‘Then you’d better give it to me.’ I put out a hand.

‘You get it,’ he says. ‘Top pocket.’

He doesn’t want to put down his gun. I reach inside his breast pocket and pull out a flick knife. Now, I just have to cut the connection to the timer. I pull up the wire and position the knife. I touch the blade to the wire.

Wait.

I need to be sure I’m doing the right thing.

Outside, the opening chords of the Leadership anthem blare out.

‘Blake . . .’ Ven says. We both know that the music means The Leader must be seconds from appearing on stage.

Sweat gathers under my arms. I imagine Nard’s smirking face. He wouldn’t have made it this easy. There’s bound to be a trap. I take another look. I think I’m right. It looks like he’s wired it up so that cutting off the timer will trip the explosive. So first I need to break that connection. But there are two possible wires . . . Which one is it? What do I do? Sweet efwurd, we’re all going to die.

I tilt the device towards me so that the guard can’t see. I don’t know which wire to cut. There’s no way of knowing. Either one could be a secondary trigger. The anthem rises to a crescendo. If I don’t decide soon, we’ll all be dead anyway.

Red. I’m going red. My hand moves in front of me and . . . I cut the yellow wire.

I wince.

Nothing happens.

Quickly, I cut the connection to the timer, too.

The flashing stops. I’ve done it. I’ve disabled it. But I don’t look up and I keep fiddling with the wires. The moment I stop, the guard is going to shoot Kay. Without moving my head, I use my peripheral vision. The guard’s gun has drooped. Kay’s knees bend very slightly. If she’s moving, maybe she’s got a plan.

I sigh loudly to keep the guard’s attention on me. I keep prodding at the device.

From outside we clearly hear the announcer say, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please give a very enthusiastic welcome to the cause of our celebrations . . . It’s The Leader!’

‘What colour does that wire look to you?’ I ask the guard. ‘Is that blue or green?’

Kay sinks lower.

The guard leans for a better look. ‘Blue. It’s blue. Come on,’ he says in a thick voice. ‘They’re introducing The Lead—’

He doesn’t finish because Kay snatches up one of the guards’ guns from the floor and shoots him in the head.

Blood splatters across my face.

The crowd are going crazy.

‘Blake—’

‘It’s done, Ven. It was done two minutes ago. I just couldn’t let the guard know that.’

I turn to Kay. She’s staring at the messy remains of the guard.

‘Well done,’ I say. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m okay.’ She drags her eyes away from the guard. ‘Well done for you. Doing that bomb.’

‘Yes, you’re both efwurding heroes,’ Ven says. ‘Of course it might have been simpler if any one of us had been ready with our guns when he came back from the dead.’

It’s true. We’re a disgrace. I wipe the blood from my face with my sleeve and exhale slowly. The last ten minutes are a terrible blur.

The smooth tones of The Leader penetrate my fug.

‘. . . celebration of our nation and of our achievement.’

‘It’s him,’ Kay says.

‘Get to the window,’ Ven snaps.

We rush back across the office.

I pick up my gun and run to the left-hand window, but my view of The Leader is obscured by a lighting tower. This isn’t how it was supposed to be; this is not the floor that we planned to shoot from. I dash to the next window. It’s the same problem.

Then it happens. The Leadership logo displayed on the big screen at the back of the stage changes to an image of The Leader’s angry, jerking body at the Academy. The Leader’s voice coming over the speakers is replaced with Ven’s, saying, ‘Our Leader is a man who encourages the use of starvation and electric shocks to control our children.’

‘It’s starting,’ Kay says.

‘Efwurd, there’s no clear shot in here! Next door,’ Ven says.

We run out of the room and down the corridor. I’m aware of the complete silence of the audience while Ven’s voice runs on.

‘Our Leader sends teenagers to work in factories with conditions like these . . .’

As we run across the room towards the windows I see the screen change to footage of the factory, featuring the twisted and melted face of one woman and the missing limbs of another. There’s an audible gasp from the crowd.

I can see The Leader now. He seems bewildered by what’s happening; he continues to speak into the microphone, even though all the crowd can hear is Ven’s speech.

I reach to open the window. Where’s the catch? Where’s the efwurding catch?

A man scuttles on to the stage and starts fiddling with the microphone, but he can do nothing to bring back The Leader’s voice. The Leader has now turned around and is watching the brutal images on the screen.

These windows are computer controlled. There is no catch.

‘We can tell the Leadership that we will not tolerate child abuse and enforced slavery. We can tell them that we demand to be heard.’

Ven is effing and blinding at the next window along.

One of The Leader’s assistants runs on stage and rips down the fabric screen. The image of an emaciated Academy child disappears.

‘Break it!’ Kay says, and she slams the butt of her gun into the glass. It holds.

Ven’s voice continues. We must all rise up and take back our country. Factory workers – down your tools. Learning Community students – refuse to be indoctrinated. Academy Specials – break out of your prison. We must say no to a government that hurts our children and attempts to control our minds. Fight for your freedom . . .’

I grab a chair and slam the legs into the window. It cracks.

As I pull back, I catch a glimpse of the motionless crowd. How are they going to respond to Ven’s call to arms? They don’t seem angry. They just look stunned.

I hurl the chair forward again.

The glass shatters.

Kay and Ven are still hammering at their window with their guns.

Ven’s commentary is lost to a high-pitched squeal of feedback. Someone somewhere has succeeded in stopping the broadcast. As I lift my gun, the insider at the media centre flashes into my head and I wonder if he is already dead.

I take my aim.

The squeal cuts out.

I fire.