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He kept going because he didn’t know what else to do. The run slowed to a walk after several minutes because there was no point expending anymore energy than he had to, no chance at all of catching up. Even taking account of the terrified confusion of the world today, Roy would be miles away by now. Steven’s mood darkened still further when he thought about the route he’d foolishly explained to the bastard before he’d stolen the car. Not far from here – by car, that was, not by foot – was the junction where the M6, M6 Toll and M42 branched off from each other. Which road would Roy take? He could theoretically choose any one of the three, so which did Steven take? He thought about it for longer than he needed to before realising it didn’t matter. f**k it. I’ll probably never get to the
