Exodus Code by John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman

and, of course, Anwen decided at that moment to stir. Gwen listened as her whimpers began.
    She found the database. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her adrenalin spiking. God, she missed this rush.
    Anwen burst into ful -scale crying.
    From the monitor, Gwen heard the bedroom door creak open. Anwen’s crib rattled, her screams increasing. Gwen heard the footsteps on the floor. She heard Anwen’s blankets rustle.
    Gwen stopped typing, her hands frozen in mid-air. What if it wasn’t Rhys?
22
    ‘WHERE’S YOUR MUM then, luv?’
    Gwen exhaled, not knowing what she would have done if the voice in the monitor hadn’t belonged to Rhys.
    Three patients’ records popped on the screen one after another, two women and one man. She clicked on the man and scanned the A & E
    admission notes. Drunk and disorderly, he’d cracked his head open outside a pub.
    Anwen’s cries settled back to whimpers. Gwen could hear Rhys picking her up from her crib. ‘Is your mum asleep, pet?’
    She heard the nursery door open and footsteps going down the hal .
    Gwen clicked on the other two admission charts, scanned their notes too.
    ‘What are the chances of that?’ said Gwen. Frantical y, she emailed the charts to her phone.
    ‘Gwen Cooper!’
    Gwen jumped. ‘Shit.’ The static on the baby monitor crackled loudly, the anger in Rhys’s voice palpable. ‘Get back here. How could you leave Anwen by her bloody self?’
    Gwen grabbed the monitor and was about to answer that she was in contact every second, but then remembered it wasn’t a radio, a realisation that reinforced how much she missed her old life. How much she missed Torchwood.
    She listened to Rhys’s footsteps as he bounded down the stairs. She could not have him come outside and find her here. He’d take away the only things she had left that made her feel needed. Although, real y, what could he do? He could lock her up in the attic like some wayward wife. He could take away her daughter. He wouldn’t dare. Gwen’s anger knotted in her gut.
    ‘Gwen! Where are you?’
    She was about to shut off the computer, when the screen fil ed with static.
    What the hel ? Staring at the static, she ran her fingertips across the tracking pad, but the static remained. She tried to shut down the computer. The static remained. And then as if she’d stepped inside the noise, Gwen could see nothing but grey noise and static around her.
    Yet a part of her knew she was staring at a computer screen inside a shel of an SUV in Wales. It was as if she was watching herself watching herself.
    She shivered.
    Somewhere ahead of her, Gwen could hear a low hum. Wait. Not a hum, a growl.
    Gwen tore her eyes away from the static on the screen. She felt sick. She could hear the growling getting louder. What was it? Leaving the static screaming on the screen, Gwen crawled to the side of the SUV and stared out at the darkness. The windows in the SUV had been broken out ages ago.
    This time she heard the low growl behind her.
    Inside the SUV.
    She whipped round, ready to attack, and found herself facing the most beautiful animal she’d ever seen. Its skin was crushed velvet, its eyes like polished stones – so black they shimmered blue. The puma went down on its front paws, holding Gwen’s gaze.
    Gwen could see herself in the puma’s eyes, then it was no longer her face but the computer screen displaying a faint outline of an image, a geometric design of some sort. She stretched her hand out towards the puma; the air around its head felt dry and hot. It opened its mouth wide and took Gwen’s hand inside.
    ‘Bloody hel , Gwen. Where are you?’
    Gwen’s eyes flew open. She was alone in the SUV. When was the last time I ate or slept, she wondered. She looked down at her hand. It was wet and sticky and there were tiny tears of blood on her knuckles.
    Behind her an image throbbed against the static on the computer screen.
    She tried not to stare at it again. In a panic, she sent a screen shot to her