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Tim wheeled in three more chairs, and I rested the backpack on the desk, rummaging through the contents.

“We’ve got protein bars and baked beans,” I said, removing each item. “Tinned peaches, aaand… long-life milk.”

Tim grinned, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. “All we need is cereal, and we’ve got breakfast sorted.”

“Brunch,” I corrected, tossing the tin at him.

He shot his hand out and caught it one-handed, then immediately grimaced.

“Sorry,” I said.

“My fault.” He set the tin down and went to rub his shoulder before thinking better of it.

The four of us lined up our chairs in front of the window and ate together while the blankets kept us warm.

Every few minutes, something new happened outside, and one of us would point or comment.

No more cars had crashed into the existing pile, but another horn honked, followed by a long scream that stopped abruptly. A gunshot cracked the air, reminding me of Jeremy and the single bullet he’d fired.

As time passed, my ponytail no longer dripped like a tap. I removed the tie and slipped it onto my wrist, shaking the strands free to speed up the drying process.

By mid-afternoon, the shouting had stopped, and the screams had died to nothing. No more gunshots.

It should have been a relief, but somehow the silence felt worse.

Luke remained at the window, arms crossed, watching the road.

I sat in my chair beside Varesh while Tim moved to the floor, his back against the wall and one knee pulled up.

The family across the road had come out once during the afternoon to check the road again before the man ushered them back inside.

Tim yawned, and Luke moved to the other end of the window for a different view.

None of us suggested going anywhere.

The four of us gathered at the window again as the light faded, the sky turning the palest orange.

Bodies that had lain motionless only hours ago were up and moving again. The man who’d run into the scuffle at the crash site trudged between the cars, his shirt soaked almost black with dried blood. His right arm hung at an awkward angle as if he’d dislocated his shoulder, and he bumped into a side mirror before continuing on his way.

“Remember him?” I asked.

Tim and Luke stood on either side of me, with Varesh on Tim’s right.

“He nearly took you out,” Tim said.

Varesh sighed. “He thought he was helping.”

“If they’d all stayed out of the way, we would have been back on the road before lunchtime,” Luke said, running his hand over my tangled hair.

Another shuffling figure emerged from behind the moving van, and my breath caught. The blonde boy who’d followed us to the crash site with the crowbar. His features were barely recognisable now, but his hair stood out among the bleakness of the early evening.

“He was so young,” I said. “I hoped he’d got away in time.”

A woman in a bloodstained hoodie crossed over from bitumen to mud, her vacant eyes staring at nothing. Her ponytail had almost come loose, with the tie barely hanging onto the tip. Her foot sank into the soft surface at the edge of the road, and she lifted her knee once, then twice, before she freed herself and changed directions.

“I don’t remember seeing her before,” Tim said.

I leaned my head against Luke’s shoulder. “Me neither.”