Rebecca nodded, although her hand still rested on the iron, eager to work on and get to her family. Seth pressed his point home, appealing to the common sense that had been overtaken by her protective side.
‘So there has to be an end at the railway station, and I’m sure, like every good railway station, there’s a cafeteria somewhere inside. We can stop for an hour and regroup so you’re not too tired to be any use to your family.’
Rebecca grimaced. ‘Cafeteria may be stretching it a little,’ she said grudgingly. ‘More like a kiosk.’
‘Food is food,’ he shrugged, retrieving the tyre iron from the ground and walking further into the gloomy tunnel.
Seth found it first, the subtle shift of air marking the shadowed end of the tunnel. He reached out his hand to rest on the heavy wooden door in
