They trudged on, walking along the motorway. They used the southbound carriageway where there were fewer obstructions. To their right, on the northbound road, the three lanes were clogged with cars jammed front to back against each other. The biggest traffic jam in the world.
Sometimes they came across huge pile-ups, like some modern art sculpted out of twisted metal and shattered glass.
Sometimes they saw the remains of mangled skeletons.
Will tried keeping his head down, did his best to concentrate on the pitted tarmac beneath his feet. But it seemed whenever he inadvertently glanced up, he would find a grinning skull staring back at him, or a suitcase lying open, its contents scattered everywhere.
They were tired after their encounter with the man and his family at the Rotunda. Even
