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With the bulky roll of polythene sheeting slung over your shoulder, you hurry back to the convoy as quickly as you can. Uncle Jonas greets you with a broad grin and offers to help you stow your find aboard the bus. ‘That’ll come in right useful if we run short o’ water,’ he says, as he slams shut the stowage door. ‘We can use it to rig up a solar still.’
Once everyone is aboard, you start the roadster and lead the convoy in single file onto the southbound carriageway of Interstate 35.
