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1989
           I watched Judith playing in the back garden today. How am I supposed to give my little girl to them? They tell me it is for the greater good, but what of her?
           22 June 1989
           I leave with Judith today. My darling wife, Samantha, is supportive as ever, a true part of the Ministry. I don't want to be worthy.
    The entries were all short and Harrison lit another cigarette.
    25 June 1989
           I was supposed to meet them at the station, but I couldn't do it. I took Judith and I ran. She should be safe with the new family and they'll raise her as their own. As for me?… I can never let them find me.
    Harrison paged through to later entries, studying the drawings and symbols with interest. Whoever the suicide had been it was clear he was some kind of religious nut, a cult member of some kind. The drawings showed constellations and sketches of icons Harrison had never seen. About half way through he came across the first drawing that didn't seem religious. He started to read.

           01 June 2008
           The time is coming again and the Ministry are calling to me. I'd hoped they would forgot, but I can feel them tugging at me stronger everyday. Why? They don't need me... Or do they?
           01 June 2008 I dreamed about them last night. Something is wrong. I fear 'they' are free. I can't live with the fact that I am to blame. I should have given them Judith. I betrayed the Ministry and I may have damned the world to eternal darkness. I dreamed of a family, happy and joyful until 'they' came. They fed on the children first. I awoke to the scream of the father and his dying word…Maria.
           What have I condemned us to?
           The book fell from Harrison's fingers and landed in the foot well. He stared down at the open notepad, his mind spinning at the words he'd just read. It couldn't be a coincidence...
            Could it?

Six

           Megan did her usual trick of waking up five minutes before the alarm. Many a time she'd thought about throwing the clock away, but she knew what happened when you tempted fate. If she got rid of the timepiece she'd sleep in, it was sod's law. Better to have it than miss the best part of the day.
           She jumped out of bed and started sorting through the clothes scattered across the floor, sniffing at trousers and blouses and choosing the freshest on offer. Unlike most young women, Megan didn't show any inclination towards wasting time on personal primping. Clothes were a necessity for her, not a fashion statement. She pulled on a pair of Khaki cargo pants over the briefs she'd slept in and slipped a beige t-shirt over her head without worrying about a bra.
           Megan crossed to the en-suite and picked up a toothbrush, the bristles worn and splayed outwards. She inspected it for a moment and then dropped it back into the sink, opting instead for the quicker option of gargling with mouth wash.
           Downstairs she flopped into the tattered armchair and slipped her feet into the heavy duty work boots, the laces having been removed on the day of purchase. As she stood back up the phone began to ring from beneath the coating of study notes and paperwork that littered the room.
            The Megan Grant filing system.
    She found the cordless phone, pulled the aerial out with her teeth and then pressed the phone to the side of her head.

           "Hello, City Morgue," Megan quipped. "You stab 'em and we bag 'em."
            No answer.
           "Hello?" Megan frowned. "Is that you Peter?"
           "Megan," the reply came from far away and was followed by a burst of static.
           "Hello?" Megan asked again, but still received no answer. "Fucking perv." She hung up and threw the phone down on the sofa.
           She stood and stared at the phone as if it was some diseased body part. The call had upset her, made her angry. She looked