Tim Lebbon - Contagion

He moved from here to there, acknowledging powers he had already tapped, searching for those that might help him now. He discovered amazing things—the ability to implant false memories; cold breath that could freeze; a touch that could turn any solid into a liquid, and then a gas, without heat—but there was nothing to communicate en masse to everyone left in London. The more he looked, the more hopeless it seemed.

Jack wished everything was the way it had been before coming to London.

He thought of Camp Truth, their place in the woods where he, Lucy-Anne, Sparky, Jenna, and sometimes his sister Emily used to gather, collecting scraps of information about London left to them by similarly minded individuals. They’d sit there for long hours, talk, make plans, and then go home to the respective houses to dream away another night. Sparky would work on the old Ford Capri that reminded him so much of his brother, his parents ghosts of what they had once been. Jenna would try to talk to her father, but he was cold now, changed by whatever had been done to him. Lucy-Anne went from home to home, never settling because dreams of her parents and brother would not let her. And Jack would return home to look after his sister Emily. There was help for orphaned families, but there could not be homes for all of them. Doomsday had made too many. So Jack and Emily lived in the home they had shared with their parents, and it was only since leaving that Jack realised that it had really been Emily looking after him.

He could wish for those simpler times, but he did not really want them. Not now he had found his mother and she had escaped London.

And not with what he had now. A curse, perhaps. But some of the things he could do…

“I can’t,” he said, answering no one in particular. But they all seemed to know what he meant. “I’m looking. But there are limits. It’s still confusing.”

“Maybe we need to be a bit more creative,” Sparky said.

“What do you mean?” Rhali asked.

“Dunno. Lateral thinking.”

“So let’s think laterally while we walk,” Jenna said.

Fifteen minutes later they heard motors and ducked into a pub doorway. Jenna tried the handle—locked—and Jack grasped it, eyelids drooping as he delved inside, and he heard the lock’s tumblers rolling and clicking. He pulled the handle and the door fell open. They tumbled inside. Sparky shut the door gently, then peered through a dusty window as the engines drew closer.

“You picked the lock with your fingers,” Rhali said. “That’s pretty amazing.”

Jack smiled, blew on his nails, polished them on his jacket.

“Four Land Rovers,” Sparky said from the window. They all ducked down and fell motionless. “Choppers. Couple of them are sitting on the Rovers’ roofs. Got rifles. They look…odd.”

“Odd how?” Jack asked. The vehicles passed by without slowing, and Sparky waited until the engines were fading before answering.

“Like they haven’t washed in a while. Dishevelled. You know?”

“Smelly, like you,” Jenna said.

“Yeah,” Sparky replied. He looked troubled.

“Desperate,” Rhali said. Jack realised that she was hunkered down beneath a table, shivering, and he sat beside her. Her eyes were wide and fearful.

“They’ve gone,” he said softly.

“They’re hunting,” she said. “Looking for revenge. You told us what Reaper and the others did to the Choppers at Camp H. Killed them all.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He’d watched the Superior they’d rescued from the cages freezing the Choppers, seen them fall and break apart like fragile statues. No mercy. No humanity.

“So they’re looking for us,” Jenna said.

“Looking for anyone,” Rhali said. She closed her eyes and frowned. “And there are plenty of people around. Lots of movement, through back alleys and beneath the city.”

“Movement where?” Sparky asked, still watching from the window.

“Towards where we’re going,” she said.

Jack stood and went to Sparky. “Clear?”

“Think so. What do you think?”

Jack shrugged. They were all watching him, but it was Jenna who answered.

“Breezer’s calling them to him,” she said.

“Perhaps. Planning an escape, maybe.”

“So he’s doing what you can’t,” Sparky said to Jack. “Communicating with everyone.”

“Perhaps,” Jenna said. “But he doesn’t know how long’s left, like we do. We’ve got to get to him, tell him we should try Miller first. If Breezer just tries an escape, they might all be massacred at the Exclusion Zone.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “Come on. Less than fourteen hours.”

“That’s if what Nomad said was true,” Jenna said. “She spooks the hell out of me.”

“And me,” Jack said. “But I don’t think she had a reason to lie.”

They left the pub and moved along the street, listening for more engines. Choppers were abroad, intent on murder. Just another day in the toxic city.

It took another hour to reach Trafalgar Square, and from there they moved east until they were close to Heron Tower where Breezer had once made his base. They had to hide twice more from roving Choppers, the second time almost getting caught when a large foot patrol approached along a narrow side street. It was only Rhali’s gift that warned them, and they ducked into a Tube entrance with seconds to spare. It was the first time they’d seen a Chopper patrol without vehicles of any kind. There were at least twenty of them, all heavily armed, and it marked another change to their methods.

These soldiers also looked more rag-tag than usual. Jack wondered whether they’d been given their marching orders ahead of the bomb, and had decided to exact revenge on as many Irregulars as they could before leaving London. If so, it was a good sign, because it confirmed that zero hour was still some time away.

Of course, he wouldn’t have put it past Miller to not even tell many of his soldiers that the countdown had been triggered.

They hid along the street from the tall office building, listening for danger. Rhali was alert; Jack waited for something to happen.

“Looks deserted,” Jenna said.

“That’s the way Breezer wants it,” Sparky said.

“Yeah, but…Rhali said there were loads of survivors coming this way. I thought we’d see some sign of that.” Jenna turned to Rhali, who was leaning against Jack. He propped her up. She was growing tired very quickly, her months of abuse at the hands of the Choppers all too apparent.

“The upper floors,” Rhali said, nodding. “There are scores of them. And…below us. In the tunnels and the Tube lines. I think there’s a way into the basement of the building.”

“Right,” Jack said. “Well. Front door, anyone?”

“We’re becoming regular visitors to the place,” Jenna said.

“Yeah,” Sparky agreed. “They should give us season tickets.” His eyes opened wide. “Hope they’ve got some of those great burgers on the go!”

“The dog burgers?” Jenna asked. “Ewww.”

“Dog, cat, rat, don’t care what they were. Tasted divine.”

As they approached the building, a voice called from shadows. “Howdy, Jack. How’s it hanging?” The girl walked from the building’s lobby, leaned against the door and put one hand on her hip. She grinned.

“Fleeter,” Jack said, surprised.

“Come on in. The kettle’s on.”

There were so many questions to ask Breezer—about his plans, how he was calling the Irregulars here, why Fleeter was with him, whether he and Reaper were still in contact. But instead Jack opened their conversation with the bombshell.

“We know how long it is until Big Bindy blows.”

Breezer seemed shocked to see them. He blinked as if he had dust in his eye, frowned, turned and walked back through the doors, leaving Jack and the others out on the staircase. They’d come up a dozen floors and were breathing hard. Sparky was almost carrying Rhali.