No matter how bad things had looked first thing, in the cold light of day they looked immeasurably worse. Apart from the two warehouses and the vast stores of equipment and supplies they’d contained, several streets full of houses had also been lost. Where yesterday there’d stood comfortable homes where people had begun reclaiming their lives, now there were just rows of blackened ruins. Burnt rafters left open to the elements. Charred walls with shattered windows and gaping black holes where their doors used to be. The dark skies over Yaxley were heavy with chugging clouds filled with noxious smoke.
‘What he can’t have, that fucker just destroys,’ Ed said, and he kicked a chair across the floor of the village hall. The detritus from yesterday’s Christmas dinner hadn’t yet been cleaned up
