“Well, well, well, who’s this then?” I hear him say as he crouches down and pets Jack. Then he looks up and sees Ryan and me approaching. “Well, howdy,” he says, straightening up and extending one of his grubby hands.

I take it and shake. Ryan, cautiously, does the same.

“I’m Brooke,” I say. “Who are you?”

“Craig,” he replies, squinting against the sunshine. “Craig Merryweather. Your friends here told me you’ve traveled all the way from Quebec.”

I nod. “And you? Where are you from?”

He shrugs. “Here and there. But mostly here.” He grins, showing off a row of rotten teeth.

Bree looks up at me. “Did you find something for dinner?” she asks. “I’m hungry.”

I look at Ryan, trying to judge whether to reveal our find or not in front of the stranger. He gives me a slight nod, as if to say he thinks it’s safe.

“We did,” I say. “There’s a shack up there with supplies in it.”

Craig suddenly lets out one of his croaking laughs. “That’s my shack!” he cries, slapping his knee like I’ve just said the punch line of a joke. “But you can all come along. Stay the night. Get some rest.” He eyes the collar round my neck. “Looks like you’ve been through the wars.”

I catch Ryan’s eye, silently asking him whether we ought to go or not. But really, we have no other choice. We’re too exposed here and we have nothing to eat. We can eat and sleep in the bunker. Plus, there’s more of us than him. He’s far too outnumbered to try anything.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”

*

Everyone takes it in turns to eat a pickle out of a jar. Then we use the medical supplies to patch ourselves up. I hadn’t realized how badly wounded I was by the whip. There’s a huge gash across my chest and another across my back. Molly cleans them both and sews them up, but I’m probably going to have scars. The adrenaline must have stopped me from feeling any pain. I’m also covered in bruises from the car crash. I look like a state.

“How did you guys all meet then?” Craig asks as he offers around some canned peaches for dessert.

“It’s a long story,” I say, scooping one up with my fingers and plopping it in my mouth. It’s sweet and sticky, and so delicious.

“It’s nice you’ve got each other,” Craig replies. “I’ve been alone for years.”

I feel sorry for him. At least on Catskills Mountain we had trees around, and animals. The desert is completely barren. It’s the sort of landscape that could drive you mad.

“Why did you settle here?” I ask.