‘You going to tell your boy?’

Vernon nodded. ‘I have to.’

Kelly said, ‘Alright. That’s it then. I suppose I’ll see you in a week.’

‘Yeah. I’ll see you.’

‘You look a git without your shirt on.’

‘Shut up,’ Vernon said, and almost laughed for the first time in days.

Still huddled over, he hurried back to his car. When he got in he turned and saw his friend still staring out the window, hands still clenched. Vernon supposed he was praying. Thought he should probably join him. Instead he pulled out from the kerb and headed home.

TWENTY-SIX

CALEB MOORE

He stood waiting with the other prisoners, his forearm in a cast, his chest bandaged. They were all gathered in the pre-dawn dark at the side of the road and a few of those in the front had been given a large sign to hold. Painted across it in large red letters were the words Prisoners On The Run!!! People were supposed to honk as they drove past. At least that was the tradition. Last year the families in those cars had been waving, small children smiling in the back—a sad mockery of the life taken from these men. Or forfeited.

He scuffed the gravel with his boot. The governor was in his car talking on his walkie-talkie. The car in front of his had two men in it, one with his walkie-talkie up. The policeman had been earlier and surveyed them all, drinking from his thermos, and got back in his car and sped off. Caleb wondered where Eve was, the woman who’d saved him.

They were waiting for sun-up. Once the sun crested the hills surrounding Newbury they would begin their run. They called it a run. More of a walk, really. He was lucky he was still allowed to go after what had happened yesterday. His gut was still sore but he didn’t let on. He looked at the charcoal sky. The stars clouded, difficult to see. In all his years locked up he had rarely seen them, had been looking forward to their simplicity, the certainty they’d always be there, and these mongrel clouds had stolen them. He had to stop thinking that way. He had done this. Their lack was his.

‘Wish they’d hurry up,’ one of the other cattle said beside him, his arms folded over his chest. Was it Daryl? Caleb hadn’t bothered to get to know him.

‘Yeah, well, they’re waiting for the sun,’ Caleb said.

‘I need to get moving, ward off this cold.’ His teeth were chattering. He stared at Caleb, imploring.

‘It’s not that bad.’

They stood, these confined men now temporarily released upon the world, until at last a hint of orange oozed over the horizon. The governor got out of his car. He rubbed his arms. ‘Sun’s up,’ he said, nodding his head.

Caleb turned. ‘It’s not really.’

‘It is.’

Caleb looked again. ‘Not really.’

‘We’re leaving.’