The Day the Screens Went Blank by Danny Wallace (e book reader pdf .TXT) 📕

We are still on our way. We are still doing something.

‘Shall I put some music on again?’ asks Mum, and we all shout, ‘Yeah!’ as Dad turns left on to a bigger road. He’s guessing now because we had to give Uncle Tony’s map to Terry so he could find his way there.

The sky suddenly seems wider and full of clouds and it’s like we’re properly on our way to Grandma’s at long last.

And we all loudly sing along to George Ezra and let the wind whip through the windows.

And we pass big fields.

And we wave at cows.

And we sing loudly.

There’s something about the hum of the road and the smell of the grass that seems to make us all feel much lighter somehow.

And then suddenly Dad says, ‘I don’t believe it!’ and turns the radio off.

He pulls quickly into a lay-by at the side of the road and we all get out of the car.

‘Look,’ says Mum. ‘Stella, look!’

There are trucks coming this way. Lots of trucks. And minicabs. And people on motorbikes and in Land Rovers with little trailers rattling behind them. We know instinctively: this is because of us. Mum grabs my hand and squeezes it. They must be on their way to Angry Woods Farm to collect the food and take it to people who need it!

They whiz past and Dad can’t help himself. He puts his arm in the air and pretends to be pulling an airhorn – like a big kid! – and then the trucks all start honking as they pass!

The people on bikes wave and Teddy is laughing hard now, so hard, and it makes us all so happy. Dad can’t stop doing it.

Hoooonk!

Hoooooooonk!

Dad can’t stop smiling and shaking his head. He’s sitting back in his seat; that’s also what I notice. Yesterday morning, when we started out, it was like he couldn’t get close enough to the steering wheel. I didn’t realize his shoulders could go as low as they are now.

Mum has her window right down and is stretching her arm out to enjoy the sun.

Teddy is holding my hand and smiling. He loved all the trucks. He kept calling them ‘Stella’s Trucks’. He has been beaming at me like I am an absolute god, and it makes me laugh.

Mum looks at Dad and says, ‘How long until we’re there, do you think?’

‘Well, we’re behind by a long way,’ he says. ‘But I think if we just keep going at this sort of speed we’ll be there tonight.’

Mum does half a smile. Do you know the type I mean? It sort of says, ‘That’s good news’ but at the same time it doesn’t.

I noticed one last night too when we did the fire. When we were out of the house. On the open road. Under the stars. Free. It’s like the smile of someone who’s happy, but maybe knows it won’t last.

Some way up ahead, there is someone walking down the side of the road. He or she is wearing a red rain jacket even though it’s not raining, and they’re carrying a sign. When they hear us, they turn round and hold it up.

We have to get much closer before I can read it, but it says GOING THAT WAY!

I think it means they’re going the same way we’re going.

‘No,’ says Dad before Mum can say anything. ‘We’re not picking up a hitchhiker.’

But now we can see it’s a kindly and very old lady with a cloud of white hair. She’s wearing shorts and hiking boots and carrying a stick and she looks lost out here.

‘But if we’re going the same way…’ says Mum.

‘Nope!’ says Dad, and we cruise past the lady.

‘Dad!’ I say. ‘We all have to help each other! She might be on her way to see someone, just like we are! And she’s like a million years old!’

‘We can’t,’ says Dad. ‘We’ve been held up enough already. Look, it’s time to just get there now.’

‘But, Dad!’ I say because I really feel strongly about this. ‘What about all the people who’ve helped us?’

‘Eh?’

‘What about the lady in the library with the books? Or the guy who pulled us out of the mud? What about Uncle Tony letting us stay over in his caravan and giving us petrol? What about Terry the Trucker man? Did the people on motorbikes and in minicabs teach us nothing? We are all in this together, Dad!’

Dad shuts his eyes for a split second.

Then he hits the brakes and we squeal to a halt dramatically.

I turn and wave at the lady, who waves her stick back.

Turns out I made a mistake because this is one really annoying hitchhiker.

‘NO, that’s not how you get there. You MISSED the turning, which I was VERY clear about,’ yells Ellie, sitting right between me and Teddy and really squeezing us against the windows. ‘Also, what on earth has happened to your car and WHAT is that smell?’

‘That’s Daddy,’ says Teddy, and Dad blushes.

‘Well, shall I turn round?’ says Dad, in his best, most patient voice. ‘Or is there another way to get there, Ellie? Only we’ve been driving quite a long time and I’m a bit worried because we don’t have a huge amount of petrol.’

We’ve been going AGES.

‘That’s not my fault,’ says Ellie, sharply. ‘This is your car. You missed the turning.’

I think Ellie thinks we must be some kind of taxi company or something. She has that loud confidence that I’ve noticed very posh people have where they think everyone must work for them in some capacity.

Ellie instructed us to take her to her house, which is apparently called Blackberry Manor and appears to be deep in some woods. She told us that she’d been given a lift into town, but had been late by ‘just a few hours’ for the taxi that was supposed to take her back. So he’d left. The way she told the