After Charlie had slept wedged between two burnt-out cars, on a bed of gravel and broken bottles, he didn"t think he"d ever have a worse night"s sleep. He was wrong. His body raged in rebellion when he woke up. The morning sun struck his eyes, and for a moment he was paralysed. He stretched his legs and tried not to cry out. The sodden sleeping bag clung to his legs, weighing his body down. He tried to shuffle out of it, and with each twist his bladder threatened to make a bad situation worse. There was movement to his left as his brother made his way back.
“Scouted a mile down the mountain, you can just about make out the camp. Looks like them,” he said, bemused by Charlie"s struggle. “Need a hand?”
“No.”
“You sure? Looks like the sleeping bag might be winning.”
With an agonising heav
