Ellie heard their stories as they walked. Four of the survivors were an entire family, the Coopers – Mum, Dad, big brother, little sister – who’d climbed up into their loft conversion, bolted the door and huddled in silence all through the night while the creatures had moved through their house below.

Josh Pidcock, a thirtyish man who lived alone, had been playing computer games in his box room when the power went, and looked out of the window to see the creatures in his garden. When he heard them breaking in he’d bolted the bedroom door and hidden in a corner under blankets; one of the things had smashed the window and crept around the room, stopping only inches away from him before apparently losing interest and crawling back outside. He, too, had managed to remain silent, which had no doubt saved him: Ellie guessed his visitor had been afraid it was wasting its time and missing out on the fun to be had elsewhere.

An elderly couple, John and Victoria Kennard, had surrounded themselves with several Tilley lamps in their kitchen, and sat in barely controlled terror – John Kennard had been convinced his heart was finally about to fail – while a dozen creatures swarmed down their hallway and gathered at the kitchen door, held back only by the light. They hadn’t tried to break the lamps, although they could have easily enough, only crouched there for nearly an hour before crawling away. “Maybe we were too old and stringy for ’em,” Victoria Kennard said. For all Ellie knew, she was right.

By the time they reached the war memorial, Ellie felt exhausted; there was something uniquely draining about seeing the village she’d made her home so desolate and empty. The blue sky and bright winter sun, after all the storm and snow, only underlined the emptiness. “Quick break?” she said.

Milly nodded. She looked just as weary, and the survivors were in no better shape. She looked up the High Street towards the Assemblies of God building, took a step forward and stopped. “No,” she said, and went back to the memorial and sat on one of its concentric steps.

Following her gaze, Ellie saw the Assemblies church was in the same state as the other buildings they’d passed, down to the charcoal sign above the door. Not that Milly could have had any illusions, since last night, about religious symbols having any power over the creatures, but even so Ellie could only imagine the gut punch it must have dealt her. The Trinity that underpinned Milly’s life were her faith, her work and – for all she ragged him – Noel: one was almost certainly gone, the other teetering. At least she still had her work, though she wouldn’t have much to treat except shock and hypothermia. Madeleine had been lucky; Ellie doubted anyone else the creatures had got hold of last night would have escaped.