I leave the trailer. It's a decision that I agonise over for almost twenty minutes, and I know that it's one I might end up sorely regretting. But I can move faster without it, and if me and Lisa are to travel to this island then we'll be able to find food and water on the route. After what I've been through to get here and get this food and water it seems like a waste to only take back what I can carry in the backpack, but I know that time is a commodity that's far more important right now. Not only is there the birth to think about, but the onset of winter as well. The quicker we get to Holme the better.
As I set off back up the road my mind is whirling. Suddenly the world is alive again, there is society again. A small and distant society, but a real one. After two months holed up in the farmhouse with Lisa I'd started to feel like the whole world was dead, like we were the only two survivors left on the face of the planet.
I'm nervous and excited and impossibly happy all at once. It's a feeling I haven't felt in so long; one that belongs in the old world, before the meteors fell. The kind of fluttery, eager sensation I felt when starting a new job, or on my first day of school all those many, many years ago.
I make good time back up the road. The day is cool, crisp, the sun barely managing to shoulder its way through the clouds. I can almost smell winter on the breeze.
I wonder what Lisa will say when I tell her? Will she believe me? And what will happen to us when there are other humans around? Will we still be as close as we are now? When the baby comes, who will look after it?
I catch myself, and wipe those thoughts away. I've learned already not to think too far ahead. To be happy to be alive and well from moment to moment. I pour all my energy into walking, eager to see and hold and talk to Lisa again.
The road is flat for the most part, maybe a little downhill. I pass by the dead craters I saw on my way out, but this time they don't worry me quite so much. I can't help but flash back to the giant, malformed thing I saw in the crater in the middle of town, but then every step I take is a step away from that, a step closer to Lisa.
After an hour or two I come to a part of the road where the rusting hulks of cars form a kind of stationary traffic jam. I remember coming through this on the way out, only three or four hours after I left the farmhouse. I pause to rest, leaning against the bonnet of one of the cars to regain my breath.
For a moment it is peaceful, almost silent. And then that silence explodes.