Firdy trampled through the long grass, his joints feeling like broken glass. His mind felt shattered too. He had been calling for both the Cat and the Dog, but neither of them had responded. Now, the Cat, the Dog and Simon were all unknown quantities. The Dog would have guarded Simon for hours had he not lost his connection to the animal when the Third withdrew. His plan, to put it simply, was fucked.
The Third would be furious that he had lost the Cat, but that would not compare to how she felt about losing Simon. Things were going badly.
He was losing time. It wouldn't be long before it was light.
Stay on mission, Firdy told himself.
He stumbled down the bank again and returned to the van, relieved that it had not yet drawn out a recovery vehicle or motorway police.
Opening the door and climbing in made him cry out with pain; if he hadn't been alone, he would have bitten it back, but it was a relief to let go. He used his teeth to remove the glove from his good hand and examined the hairy, knobbly knuckles that agonised him. He threw painkillers into his mouth, spilling most of them, swallowing the rest dry, gagging on their bitterness.
His other hand was hurting as much as usual, bearable in comparison to the new aches all over his body. Again, he removed the glove with his teeth. The hand was swollen, sweaty, red. He tried to move the stumpy fingers and two of them twitched.
Useless and disgusting, he thought. In 24 hours it could all be different.
Eyes closed, he listened to the movement of other vehicles and tried to imagine that they took his pain with them. Each time anything larger than a car passed by the van shimmied and he wished that he could be a part of their world, wished he had a home to return to, memories to keep him warm, a friend.
The idea of suicide flowered in his mind. As usual, there was no note nor a lengthy drive to the edge of a cliff. There was the efficient use of whatever was to hand.
The perfect vehicle rocketed by with a rush of noise and a whirl of colour and then it was gone.
If he timed it well, his life could be over in a moment. No more pain. No more loneliness.
No more anything.
The same thing as ever stopped him opening the door. The Third needed him. He still had purpose; at least for one more day. He couldn't give in until he had exhausted the other option and that meant getting Sarah back as quickly as possible.
From what she had said, she wasn't far away. She didn't know it, but she had given him hope. Capturing her would change everything for him. Everything.