Friday, 13 February 2009 - 9:21 am


Things were strange after the bridge. The river took more than just a car: it also stole the gear that had been in it. Thorpe, Sax and Dillon had all had packs in the back, and even Nugget had been carrying a small bag.

It’s not the stuff that matters, though I don’t know what personal stuff might have been in those packs. Sax seems to have the photos he took from Alecia’s apartment, and Thorpe still has his ring on the chain around his neck. Dillon doesn’t seem upset about losing anything, and Nugget doesn’t talk at all.

It’s the loss of the food and water that has really made a difference. We’ve had to detour southwards along the riverfront, looking for new packs and supplies. Somehow, we also need to find a way across to the other side – I’m determined that we won’t be put off, even if the bridge did try to kill us.


When we settled down for the night, I checked on Ben’s injuries. The poor guy had been holding onto Thorpe and then had all of us jumping on him so that he didn’t slip away too. He kept telling me that he was okay; I had to threaten to get the doctor to look at him before he’d let me make sure.

I think he was telling the truth. I didn’t get the chance to check thoroughly – it was dark and Ben was very distracting. I’d never dared to hug him before, because I didn’t want to hurt him, but we did a lot more than that last night. Hurt was the last thing on our minds, lips or bodies.

Here he comes with breakfast. I can’t stop smiling.