Tim Lebbon - London Eye

“They might be coming up!” Rosemary said, pointing down the stairwell.

“That's why I'm giving you a machine gun.” He pushed the weapon at her and she took it. The tall man stepped past her and drew a pistol from a holster beneath his jacket.

Someone shouted from far away, someone else responded, and an object bounced through the door.

“Stun grenade!” Scryer said. “Cover your ears, open your mouths!” She kicked out at the grenade. It skittered across the landing, slipping beneath the stair railing and falling down the stairwell. Seconds later it exploded.

Jack had never heard anything so loud. The blast wave punched his head, his ears, his eyes, and for a moment afterwards all he could hear was his heartbeat, muffled and fast with the fear pumping through him. Then, with a whine, the sounds from around him came in again, shouting and shooting and someone calling his name over and over again. He opened his eyes and Sparky was there, not more than a hand's breadth from his face but his voice coming from miles away. Behind him Emily was sitting on a stair, slowly unravelling the carry strap of her camera, looking into the lens, checking every setting methodically as though their survival depended on it.

That brought Jack around, more than Sparky shouting into his face and slapping his cheeks. Emily was in shock, and he had to look after her. He crawled to his sister, grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly past the half-open door. Scryer was still there shooting into the corridor beyond, and Puppeteer watched them go.

There was so much that Jack did not understand. One minute the Superiors were treating him and his friends as less deserving than animals, now they were fighting Choppers to give them a chance at escape. He was certain it was not simply a case of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” It had something to do with their father, and the person called Reaper, and from what Rosemary had said back in that room…

They were one and the same.

Rosemary was already heading down towards the third floor. She carried the machine gun like a baby, and Jack had serious doubts about whether she'd even be able to use it. But the most he'd ever fired was an air rifle when he was younger, and his head was still ringing from the stun grenade.

They passed Gordon, and they could not help stepping in his blood.

“Faster!” Sparky shouted. “Have to go faster!”

Gunfire, shouting, the stink of violence, Emily coming along behind him, seemingly back to reality now but still frighteningly blank-faced; Sparky and Jenna behind her; the tang of Gordon's blood on his tongue; a scream from above, androgynous in its pain…and they passed the third floor access door without pause.

Rosemary was setting a fast pace for an older lady, and Jack could not help being impressed. But her fear was obvious, and it transferred easily to him.

There was an explosion above them, and the stairwell sang with shrapnel. Something cold touched Jack's ear. Dust stung his face. He kept running, step after step, holding Emily's hand with the grim certainty that her survival depended upon it.

“Grenade!” someone shouted, and he heard the metallic clash of something bouncing from the stair railings.

Emily screeched and fell into him. He had no chance, tripping forward with his arms outstretched to break his fall. He struck Rosemary's back and she fell as well, striking the landing and twisting, rolling, and Jack was down with her, Emily clasping onto his back.

Clang…clang…the grenade still fell, and though he had no idea where it would explode, moving felt better than lying still.

Rosemary had found her feet and was starting down the staircase to the second floor, and Jack and Emily were following, when the explosion came. It did not seem as loud as the first, but it blew him against the wall, snatching Emily's hand from his and spinning the world around his head. He was being struck from all sides, battered and thumped and cut; falling, or being hit by debris, he was not sure. When he gasped in a huge breath it was laden with dust and smoke. He opened his eyes, saw nothing, and for a few seconds he was terrified that he had been struck blind. But then someone wiped a hand across his face and Jack saw the blood.

“Jack?” Emily said, leaning over him, crying. He smiled and she cried even harder, and he thought, Do I really look that bad? More blood ran into his eyes and this time he wiped it away himself.

His head hurt. Everything hurt.

There was more shooting from up above, but it seemed to be receding.

Someone was shouting-Sparky-and the words faded in as if he was rushing in from a great distance.

“…outside and meet you behind the hotel, find somewhere to hide?”

“Okay!” Rosemary called from much closer.

Jack sat up, and used the wall for support as he found his feet. Looking up, he realised how lucky he was to be alive. The whole flight of stairs they had just come down had collapsed, sending a shower of concrete, tiles and reinforcement rods tumbling below. On the landing above the gap, Sparky and Jenna were already peering cautiously through the door onto the third floor. Jack wanted to say something, but with a quick glance back at him, Jenna was through and gone. She looked terrified, and there was blood on her neck.

“Can you walk?” Rosemary asked him.

“Of course.”

“Don't worry, dear,” she said to Emily, “it looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“Can you fix it?” the girl asked.

“Soon.”

This time it was Emily leading Jack. They went down to the second floor landing, then had to climb carefully over the ruins of the fallen flight to head for the first floor.

“Where are the Superiors?” Jack asked.

“Still fighting, somewhere,” Rosemary said. “But they're farther away. Must have pushed the Choppers back.”

“So this is a normal day for you, I suppose?”

Rosemary surprised and delighted him by laughing. “This is the first time I've ever been shot at, would you believe? And I've never in my life fired a gun.”

They passed the first floor door, and with every step Jack was feeling stronger. He used a handkerchief handed him by Emily to dab at the blood running down his forehead, and he even managed a smile when she briefly aimed the camera his way. Glad that survived , he thought, chuckling at how ridiculous that was. Glad we survived!

Jack tried to think tactics, but his mind was not working very well. Blown up, shot at, he was confused and disorientated. He could not recall what the street outside the hotel looked like, and for a few seconds he had trouble remembering whether it was even day or night. Then he remembered Gordon being shot-the blood splashing the air behind him, the way he'd fallen like a chunk of meat in an abattoir-and the present punched back at him.

“Won't they know we're in the stairwell?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Rosemary said. She paused between first and ground floors, and for a terrible moment Jack thought she was going to hand him the gun. She shook her head. “It's all we can do. We can't afford to get trapped-”

The door a flight below them crashed open. It rebounded from the wall, and Jack heard the squeal as the mechanical door closer pulled it slowly shut again.

Silently, Rosemary signalled, Up!

They climbed back to the first floor landing. The door out of sight below them opened again, slower, and this time they heard footfalls as at least two people entered the stairwell, boots grinding on grit.

“Clear!” a voice whispered.

Jack opened the door, hoping against hope that the hinges on this one were better oiled. He glanced at the corridor beyond, then went through, pulling Emily after him. Rosemary followed, and he waited until she chose which way to go.