Hayden traipsed through the grass. His legs had lost their strength, and the rucksack of weapons and supplies over his shoulder made his body feel like it was going to cave in. Cold sweat stung his lips, and the smell of rot completely engulfed them in this barren woodland. But that emptiness was also a problem. The complete silence was a problem. The smell of rot accompanied by … nothingness. There was something deeply unsettling about it. “Warrington to Holyhead used to take us a good two hours in the van,” Gary said. “And that was goin’ the easy route. Right down the motorway. Even with a car, it ain’t gonna be possible for us to go down the—” “How long?” Sarah asked. Gary moved his fingers through his short hair. “Forty hours. Or so. Two solid days walk without any rest. Talkin’… a week if we bear in mind sleep and—” “A week,”
