Tight spaces had never been high on Holiday’s list of favourite things. Not because of claustrophobia or anything easily understood and defensible like that. He was simply too big for such spaces.

He grunted as he tried to adjust the position of his shoulders. Brick scraped his skin through his shirt. He’d had a jacket at the start of this mess. It had been sacrificed to a questionable disaster-made “lake”. In addition to being large, Holiday was heavier than the average person.

It wasn’t fat. He often wished it was. Fat could be shed with diet and exercise. What he had was too much height and too-broad shoulders.

At last, he gave up on the hiding place and decided to go back out in the open. He’d take his chances trying to work out a plan to find the others while staying on the move.

It had been a good idea, to hide somewhere while he thought. It wasn’t the first good idea that had been vetoed by his size.

He stalked the edges of the streets, gaze darting about in search of armed conflict.

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