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He ran out of food and struggled to keep going on an empty belly.

He stopped for the night in some bushes behind a pub, and ventured out after closing time to rummage through their bins for something to calm the insistent gnawing in his stomach.

He found half a roll and swallowed it down without tasting it.

Then he filled up an empty water bottle from an outside tap intended for dogs and crawled into a nearby ditch to spend the night.

Despite what his life had become, he didn’t regret escaping; he’d rather starve to death than spend another second back at Tyler’s Mind-Fuck Tower.

He set off again at dawn, feeling light-headed from hunger.

He was making slow progress now that he was running on empty, and his belly rumbled incessantly.

All he could think about was food. He stopped at a food van in a lay-by, enticed by the delicious smell of sausages and onions.

Maybe someone would drop something, or he could beg for leftovers.

He had no money, but he was prepared to give a blow job in return for something to eat – if he could find anyone who wanted such a service from a lank-haired, unwashed vagrant .

There was a queue for the food; it was clearly a well-known pitstop as lorry AVs kept swinging in and out again. He hung around for a while, the smell of the food making his belly cramp until he thought he’d pass out. The woman serving gave him a disapproving glare.

“If you’re not buying, piss off,” she snapped. “We don’t want any trouble.”

He wondered how many escaped indies came down this road on their way to the coast. There were probably bounty hunters hanging around as well, so he shouldn’t linger.

“Sorry,” he said pathetically, slinking away.

He had walked to the edge of the lay-by when a lorry pulled up beside him, and a man leaned out of the driver’s window.

“I saw you back there – you hungry?” he asked, holding up a hot dog covered in tomato ketchup. “I bought this for you.”

The lorry driver was middle-aged, with short grey hair and a beer belly. It crossed Alex’s mind that he could be a bounty hunter, so he hesitated.

“Here.” The driver leaned out of the window and handed him the hot dog. Alex couldn’t resist – he took it and crammed it into his mouth. “Where are you going?” the man asked in a soft, lilting Welsh accent.

“The coast,” Alex mumbled between bites.

“Well, the coast is a big place – anywhere specific?”

“I don’t really care.” Alex finished the hot dog and wiped ketchup off his chin with the back of his hand and licked it, so as not to waste a single drop. The relentless gnawing in his stomach subsided a fraction as the food hit, and he felt it warming him inside, but he was still hungry.

The man gazed at him thoughtfully. “I’m going that way. Want a lift?”

Alex chewed on his lip, torn between wanting to accept and worrying it was a trap.

“My name’s Barnabas Bates,” the man said, “but my friends call me Barney. Here’s my ID.” He waved a nanocard displaying the name BB Trucking and Haulage . “Come on, you look like shit. Get in and rest your feet for a bit.” The man jerked his head at the passenger door.

Alex took his life in his hands and decided to take him up on the offer.

Climbing into the rig, he sat down beside what he hoped was his guardian angel and not someone out to make a fast buck by selling him to the nearest bounty hunter when they reached the coast. “My name’s…

John,” Alex said, deciding he couldn’t reuse Ben Smith in the circumstances. “John Brown.”

“Sure it is,” Barney said with a grin. “Here. Have mine as well.” He handed Alex another hot dog.

Alex took it gratefully. Now the edge had been taken off his hunger, he was able to eat more slowly and actually taste this one. It was divine; he could see why this was such a popular pitstop for lorry drivers.

“Take a kip if you want, Johnny,” Barney said. “You look knackered.”

He started the engine, and Alex knew it was his last chance to scramble out of the cab and get away, but he was too tired.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes, and the rocking motion of the lorry, combined with his own exhaustion, sent him immediately to sleep.

He woke up with a start a few hours later to find that it was dark, and the lorry was stationary in an AV park. “Where are we?” he asked anxiously.

“Near Swanage,” Barney replied.

“So far?” Alex looked around for a sign or some clue as to where they were, to make sure Barney wasn’t lying to him, but there wasn’t one.

“Well, you were asleep, and you didn’t seem to care where on the coast I took you, so I brought you here.”

“Where is here?” Alex felt a chill of foreboding as he looked around the shadowy AV park.

“It’s a place I use – off the beaten track, but cheap. They serve decent grub, and there’s a shower you can use; no offence, son, but you need a good wash.”

Alex stared out into the night uncertainly.

“Don’t worry – I’m not a bounty hunter. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?” Barney gave him a shrewd look. “You’re an escaped IS, aren’t you?”

“Are you going to turn me in?” Alex asked anxiously.

Barney shook his head. “Nah. You’re safe with me.

Relax. My son used to ride with me, back in the day.

I’ve still got some of his clothes. I got them out while you were sleeping.

There’s also soap, a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant – everything you need.

” He handed Alex a bag. “You might as well trust me, Johnny; you’ve got nobody else. ”

That was certainly true. Alex took the bag and jumped out of the lorry, deciding to go along with this for now. He followed Barney across the AV park to a shower block.

“Okay – you go in and get clean, and I’ll be waiting for you over in the café.” Barney jerked his head at a squat building nearby. “This place has the best fish and chips in England – I’ll order you some. See you in a bit.”

“I can’t pay you,” Alex blurted.

“Yeah, I kind of worked that out, son.” Barney rolled his eyes.

“I mean… I could pay you with something else.” Alex gestured at Barney’s crotch. “If you wanted that. Um, I mean, if that’s why you’re helping me,” he added, feeling very bad at this.

Barney looked furious.

Alex took a step back.

Barney held up his hands, making a visible effort to calm down.

“Look, Johnny, I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been leading that you think that’s why I’m helping you, but I don’t want any of that.

Now, take a shower, get cleaned up, and come join me for fish and chips – then we can talk properly. ”

Alex nodded and went into the bathroom. It was basic, but clean, and it felt so good to peel off his damp, dirty clothes and step under the warm water.

He soaped himself all over, washing off days of dirt, then relaxed under the warm spray.

He could have stood there for hours, allowing the water to pound into his tired shoulders, but eventually he stepped out and dried himself.

It felt wonderful to shave, brush his teeth, and feel clean again.

His hair had grown out of the style Lorenzo preferred for it and had started to curl, and his cheeks were sunken where he’d lost weight, but he looked surprisingly good, considering.

He pulled on the red-checked lumberjack shirt and faded blue jeans Barney had given him.

Barney’s son was clearly bigger than him, but he didn’t care – he was just glad to be wearing clean, dry clothes.

He pulled the belt tight around his waist to keep the jeans up and shouldered himself into the thick woollen jacket Barney had provided, wondering why he was being so kind.

He mulled over Barney’s anger at his clumsy offer of a blow job.

Had he become so jaded that he expected everyone to have an ulterior motive?

His stint as George Tyler’s whore had made him believe that sex was a currency in everyday use and his only value in the world.

He hoped he was wrong, and that Barney Bates was genuinely a Good Samaritan.

He liked the man. He liked the way he called him Johnny even though he’d introduced himself as John, and how roughly kind he was.

He rammed the old black peaked cap he’d found in the bundle of clothes onto his head.

Packing up his old clothes, he put them in the bag, unsure if Barney was loaning him the new garments or if he’d have to return them, and then he went to the café.

It was a clean, homespun kind of place – nothing fancy.

There was a pool table in the corner and a big screen behind the bar area.

“I ordered you a Coke,” Barney said, beckoning him over. “Food should be here soon.” He looked Alex up and down as he took his seat. “Well, don’t you scrub up well. What were you before you ran away – a model?” He grinned and took a sip of his drink.

“More like a rent boy,” Alex said, pulling the cap down over his eyes, hoping his looks didn’t render him too conspicuous.

“Yeah, well, I figured.” Barney shrugged. “Fucking IS system. Fucking hate it. Legalised slavery is all it is.”

A waitress brought over two plates piled high with food and set them down in front of them.

“Best fish and chips in the country. Tuck in, son,” Barney told him.

Alex took a bite and then looked up, smiling.

“See – I told ya,” Barney said with a laugh. “Good stuff, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex agreed, because nothing he’d eaten in his life before had tasted this good.

He devoured the meal – the two hot dogs he’d eaten earlier were now a distant memory, and he was starving again.

He finished the food and then pushed away the plate with a sigh.

“You’re right – best fish and chips in the country,” he said happily .

Barney was only halfway through his meal; he looked up with a grin.

“Thank you for the clothes. I wasn’t sure…” Alex gestured at the bag filled with his old stuff.