Not like you. And when we heard that madman Miller had triggered the countdown, I was one of the first to volunteer to come in. Deactivate it.”
Andrew moved towards the man, passing the creature and sensing the startling intelligence its appearance seemed to belie. The man cringed back a little, but not too far. He seemed used to the strangeness that London now harboured. Though he had never seen anything like Andrew. “So what happened?” Andrew asked.
“We were attacked. The Superiors. Only three of us got away, and we hid, discussed what to do. And we decided…between us…to carry on.” He touched his jacket. “Tried to dress more normally. There was no talking to them! No reasoning! They attacked us, but did they know what we were coming to do? Do you think they even had a clue?”
“So what happened to the other two?” Andrew asked, ignoring the question. He knew about Superiors. They would have attacked the Choppers without pause, and without mercy. Killing those who might, this time, save them.
“We split up. I lost touch with them this morning.” The man took a phone from his pocket.
“Let me hear,” Andrew said. The man did something to the device and then hesitantly held it out. Andrew closed his eyes and listened.
The hollow, low moan of eternity. Andrew had heard it when he died, and the sound haunted him now, as if mocking his unnatural state and assuring him that, soon, he would be where he belonged. There was a sickening sense of scope to that noise, as if it was the underlying note to an infinite universe, nothing to echo from, its travel never-ending. If Andrew had possessed a body he would have shuddered.
“They’re both dead,” he said, opening his eyes.
“And…you?” the man asked.
Andrew simply stared at him.
The creature scuttled forward and Andrew turned, insubstantial hands held out. “No! He’s important,” he said. “You came down from the north because of the bomb, and he might be able to stop it.”
The thing darted closer, mandibles gaping, wet mouth already working as if chewing at flesh. The man gasped and pressed back against a wall, and Andrew stepped in front of the creature.
It skidded to a stop, scarring the road.
“He’s important,” Andrew said again, quieter. He urged the man along the pavement, backing away from the creature. He could not tell whether it heard him at all, and if so whether it understood.
“Which way?” the man whispered.
“Whichever way looks best,” Andrew said. “But slowly. Don’t give it the opportunity of a fast hunt. Might like that.”
“Oh, great. Great.” The man whispered. “And now I’m listening to a ghost.”
The creature watched them go. Andrew smiled. He’d experienced a frisson of fear, and it had been good to feel human again. But the fear had not been for himself.
After a few minutes they passed a multi-storey car park, and the man stepped inside. He paused between ranks of forgotten vehicles, hands on his knees, leaning over as if about to be sick.
“You need to stay with me,” Andrew said.
“A dead guy. You’re coming with me to the museum?”
“No. You’re coming with me away from it.”
“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “No, no, I have to go where the bomb is.”
“Go there alone and you’ll die,” Andrew said. “You think the thing that almost ate you was strange? Wait until you reach the museum. There are scores of them there. They’ve come down from the north, and none of them can do anything to prevent what’s going to happen.”
“But
“Like the Superiors did?” Andrew shook his head. “They’re different now. Moved on. Evolved. Just because you and they want the same thing, don’t assume they won’t eat you.”
The man closed his eyes and grabbed his hair in despair.
“But I’ve got an idea,” Andrew said.
“We don’t have time for ideas!”
“We’ll have time for this one.” He circled the man, trying to exude confidence, calmness. “What’s your name?”
“Hayden.”
“Hayden…that Range Rover. See it? Wait in there and I’ll bring people who will help.”
“What people?”
Andrew thought of his sweet sister. “Special people. Now hide yourself away and stay safe. Right now you might be the most important person in London.”
“I’ve got to try,” Jack said. “I’ve got to try!”
“We’ll keep watch,” Sparky said, and he and Jenna slipped from the kitchen and out into the restaurant area. Jack guessed they’d like some time on their own. Rhali stayed with him in the kitchen, but her eyelids were drooping, and she fell quickly asleep.
“What do you think you can do?” Lucy-Anne asked.
“I know so much of what I can do already,” he said. “But there has to be something more. Something that can help us. All I have to do is…” He pretend-grabbed something from the air and clasped his fist shut, staring at it, knuckles white with pressure.
“Not your fault if you can’t,” Fleeter said.
“Maybe not,” Jack said. “But I’ve got to look for something. I feel the weight.”
“Of responsibility,” Lucy-Anne said. “Yeah. I think we all feel something of that.”
Jack smiled at his friend and then at Fleeter, pleased that the girl smiled back. She was changing, slowly. The problem was they no longer had time for slow.
“Won’t be long,” Jack said to all of them, and then he sat in a corner between units and closed his eyes.
He fell into his universe. He was a shooting star, a fleeting spark of hope. Infinity was nothing because he had infinite speed, and he moved from one talent to the next. At first he touched abilities he was already familiar with—a shout like Reaper’s, Rhali’s sense of movement, Fleeter’s flexing of time and movement. He gathered them to him and let them go again, comforted by their familiarity. Then he moved on to other stars, reaching out with hopeful fingers.
He could pass through walls, manipulating the quirks and quarks of quantum mechanics. Drawing oxygen from water would become easy. He could read minds, and another talent presented itself that would filter out the terrifying static and interference of another person’s thoughts, allowing him to home in on one specific idea. It was chilling and thrilling, but he passed it by.
Amazing, but none of this was of use to him.
The great red star of contagion throbbed and glowed right across his universe, pregnant with possibility.
He searched for anything that might help, skimming from one star to the next, understanding the amazing gifts they might grant him but knowing that none of them would be of use. In his desperation he moved faster, and soon his mind was aflood with new talents he had yet to use. Some of them he did not truly understand, because they were more obtuse. Beyond the normal bounds of human behaviour.
Talk could not consume nuclear fire. A mind sensitive to thoughts or heat, movement or deviousness, could not cast aside the sun-hot flash that would soon bloom across London. Angry and scared, Jack opened his eyes and burst from his inner world. He found that he’d been panting hard and sweating, and Lucy-Anne was kneeling beside him looking concerned. He took the bottle of water she offered and drank deep, seeing stars.
“It’s hopeless, isn’t it?” she asked.
Jack did not answer. He looked at Fleeter, waiting to catch her eye. When she looked at him at last, he spoke.
“You and me,” he said. “We’re the only hope.”
Fleeter shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes!” he said. “We flip, go to the bomb. Move it somehow. Carry it, drag it, whatever. Get it on a boat, sail
