He sat in the passenger seat of the small silver car. It was nothing grand, in fact it was quite a plain and dull vehicle, but that only worked to help him remain incognito. He pulled out a 10 pack of Richmond Menthols and removed one of the remaining seven cigarettes from the carton. Placing the butt between his teeth, he pulled a red lighter from his hoodie's pocket and flicked the edge. A small red flame rose into the air and he leaned forwards so that the lighter's flame engulfed the cigarette's end. He then took a deep puff before blowing out the smoke into the air. Then, he wound down the window and leaned out, waving his hand to get the smoke out the vehicle. His eyes had black bags beneath them, a combination of his stress following Amy's death two nights ago and his complete lack of sleep. He felt the weight of his heavily packed rucksack in his lap, satisfied that he had everything he would possibly need - a change of clothes, survival gear and enough food to last him a month, considering he rationed it appropriately. "Does anyone have a plan?" Damien asked, lowering his beige hood to his side.