regardless of the weather, doing nothing but looking, reading and thinking, but mostly remembering. There were a couple of fields between him and the bench, owned by a farmer who didn't want anyone using them as a short cut. Especially not George, as had been vocally pointed out to him during a particularly unpleasant conference with McGuffrey last August bank holiday. He'd have to walk down towards the village, then, and take the gate to the footpath half-way up the hill, and... He laughed. What did any of that matter now? He twisted his Assegai between the strands of barbed wire and tugged it free. Then, humming as he went, he pushed his way through the hedge and walked across the dark dampearth, ready for a crop that would never now be planted.
By the time he had reached the bench it was two hours since he'd been bitten. His time was running out. He sat down, carefully placed the Assegai by his side and looked out to sea. It was calm. Inland he could already seem plumes of smoke from where fires had taken hold. He thought he heard a scream in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. All he could see was the tranquil blue of the ocean. He concentrated on the sound of waves crashing against rocks. George smiled and closed his eyes.