We've been travelling for at least twenty hours now, there have been four stops. With no windows in the back of the van, there is no opportunity to see the outside world in-between. According to one of the guards (Of whom I still do not trust), there has been so much destruction, to stop once more would be a very big risk.

Several hours ago I overheard a sat-nav in the front of the van revealing that New York City was only seventy miles away – this journey has taken much longer than expected.

We sit and mourn for the time being. We remember those who have died, both friends and family. We try to take in all that has happened: the beginning, the arena, the (what Ben calls) Roods. There is no definite chance we will make it to the City but we can only hope.

Alice has caught a cold during our journey – we are taking care of her as much as possible but cannot afford to give her as much water as she would like. We need to ration.

Alice is getting worse; every now and then she passes out and is cold as ice. Luckily there was a blanket in one of the trunks – we pray for her health.

We've just been told that New York City is only an hour away, TOLAF isn't expected to start for another four hours.

It is with great regret that I write that Alice has just passed away. We lost her while she slept.

Blaine is mourning once more, the others try to stay strong – New York City is minutes away.

No one in the van can explain Alice's passing, we can only guess it was some sort of side effect from the spreading virus.

We have wrapped Alice's body up in the blanket - R.I.P. Alice x.