She scrabbled at the handle of the door to the nearest taxi. The grip was so cold it frost-burnt her shaking hand. As she quickly climbed in and closed the door behind her, the contrasting warm air was almost unbearable at first. Her eyes watered, and the exposed skin on her face and hands felt like it had been scalded. She was going to need warmer clothing, and fast.

The cab driver was Indian. Most of them were. She’d learned from the Indian kids at school that many of the refugees working in the railway yards took second jobs at night, driving cabs mainly, or cleaning or doing whatever they could to scratch together a few newbies.

‘Good evening, Miss,’ said the driver.

‘I need to get out to the truck stop, the Flying J on Corrington,’ she said through chattering teeth. ‘Out by the power plant.’

The driver, a middle-aged man in a pale blue turban, looked like he was about to ask why a girl of her age would be heading out to Hawthorne at this time of night.

‘Can we get going?’ Sofia asked as she tried to rub some warmth back into her arms. ‘I’m late for my shift in the kitchen. They’ll dock me half a night’s pay if I’m even five minutes late.’ A complete lie, but explanation enough for a man most likely working his second job, a man who’d probably also had more than his fair share of unreasonable bosses.

He put the battered yellow cab into gear and they pulled away from the curb.

‘Were you visiting somebody in the hospital, Miss?’

A conversation was the last thing she wanted. But she had enough of her wits about her to know she shouldn’t draw attention to herself by snapping back unreasonably at his question.

‘Yes, I was sitting with a friend. She broke her arm and they’re putting a metal plate in it tomorrow.’

Again, she was surprised at how easily the lie came. Sofia closed her eyes and folded her arms, leaning her head back as though she wanted to sleep. She was still shivering. The driver took the hint and bothered her no more.

They moved onto Clay Edwards Drive, anticlockwise around the loop that would take them in front of the ER. She pulled the hoodie down over her head as they passed. No one ran out to stop the taxi. Surrendering to inertia as the car completed the long, slow turn, Sofia let her head roll over and loll on one shoulder, allowing her to peer out of the window, into the dark, bleak winter landscape. Snow was no longer falling, but it lay heavily on the ground, creating an eerie atmosphere similar to some accursed realm from a children’s fairytale, in which evil spirits had eaten all the light and warmth of the world.