My mind was totally focused on survival, and that meant counting down the signposts to Bluehaven, avoiding accidents, and most of all ensuring we didn’t get caught. Despite the shock and the adrenaline I felt amazingly calm, almost robotic, my decisions clear and deliberate, my steering accurate, my control complete. Kris, like Feela, had accepted his fate as passenger now, and I was hardly aware he was there behind me. As soon as I stopped, however, I turned to see him as alive as ever. “What have you stopped for?” he asked. “Got to check on Feela,” I replied. “Why?” said Kris. “We stopped less than an hour ago.” “She’s been in that box all day,” I replied. “She hasn’t eaten and she hasn’t been to the toilet.” “If we keep going, we’ll be there in two hours,” said Kris impatiently. I ignored him, climbed off, and began opening the box. Kris looked around anxiously. We were in a wayside beside some fields of sweetcorn with no houses or people in sight, but there was always the danger of a stray speed camera, even here—except I’d already checked that out.
