The wind was now gone, the cold was replaced by a warmthness of air, and the creepy Twin Peaks ish woodland sounds were substituted for the gentle lapping of waves against coast.

We were on Zoe’s famous 1999 beach.

We were alone (apart from whatever ocean life might’ve been out there), as it was now nighttime.

Zoe had used her ingenuity, and it looked like we were now safe because of it.

“We’ll be able to jump back to where we were before, right,” she asked. “Back to 2042?”

“So long as we don’t disturb anything here. But I doubt there’s any chance of that, so we’re golden.”

We sat down in two of the deck chairs that had been left behind on the sand, and stared out at the dark, moonlight-dappled ocean.

A few minutes later, I decided it was time to check the case.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You think that the syringe isn’t in there, and it’s been taken.

Of course, I was in such a paranoid state, that thought crossed my mind.

But don’t worry – it was in there.

(And boy, was I relieved…)