Contagion (Toxic City)(41)

“Jack, no,” Lucy-Anne said. “I'll not lose you as well.”

“Then dream me safe,” he said, smiling. He hugged Lucy-Anne, and as she hugged him back, she stiffened.

“What?” Jack asked.

“Andrew,” she said. “He's here.”

“Jack!” Jenna called from the restaurant outside. “Everyone! Someone's here.”

Lucy-Anne pulled away and rushed through the swing doors, and Rhali stirred at the raised voices.

“What's happening?” she asked.

“I think a ghost's come to visit,” Jack said. Fleeter went first, then he helped Rhali to her feet and supported her through into the restaurant.

Just inside the front doorway stood someone who was barely there.

“Lucy-Anne,” the ghost breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “I can stop the bomb. But I need your friends’ help.”





“How did you find me again?” Lucy-Anne asked.

“How could I not?” The remnant of Andrew stood close to the restaurant window as if avoiding shadows. Sunlight barely touched him. She could see that he was trying to be his old self for her—the cheeky smile, the way he pretended to lean against the wall—but everything was subsumed beneath his ethereal sadness.

“What will happen to you?”

“I've already gone,” Andrew said. “You have to accept that, and understand it. I'm only here as an echo.”

“But you are real. If you weren't, how could you be helping us? How could you have helped this man you've hidden away?”

Andrew shrugged, and for a moment he really was his old self, so much so that Lucy-Anne laughed. “Weird times,” he said.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

The others were bustling. Andrew's appearance was a shock, but now they were filled with a new sense of urgency and purpose. Jack's frustration at not being able to help had been palpable, and his insistence that he would do alone what Fleeter said was impossible together had been a sign of his desperation. Now, there was another way.

Lucy-Anne only hoped the man was still where Andrew had left him.

“Come with us?” Lucy-Anne asked.

“I'll be watching you,” he said.

“My guardian angel.”

“I wish.” Andrew lifted a weightless hand and moved it close to her face, but not close enough to touch. She guessed he did that for her; to not feel his presence might be too much. But she could see from his eyes that he also did it for himself.

Andrew could no longer feel, and much about his sister must remain a memory.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. The tears came, quiet but forceful. Andrew watched, helpless, able only to soothe her with hushed words. He whispered of their parents and how proud they would be of Lucy-Anne for carrying on, and being strong. He sang a song they'd made up when they were both young, nonsense lyrics about a frog and a toad walking a long road. It made Lucy-Anne laugh, and cry some more. She felt far too young to suffer from painful nostalgia, but Doomsday had made everyone grow old. That was one of its unspoken effects—it had made everyone involved, and the country as a whole, age.

“Ready,” Sparky said. He stood behind Lucy-Anne and placed his hand on her shoulder, and she closed her eyes and pretended the contact was from Andrew. When she turned around and opened her eyes, Sparky was staring wide-eyed at Andrew, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Whoa,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lucy-Anne said. “And yes. Ready. All of us together.”

Sparky leaned in and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, and as she pushed him away she was surprised at the sound of her own laughter.

They were preparing to leave the restaurant, possessed of a newfound urgency. Even Rhali seemed more lively and alert, and Jack had to shove his guilt over her to the back of his mind. He should be supporting her, listening to her story and helping her overcome whatever had happened to her in the Choppers’ custody. Instead, he was rushing her back across London.

But individual needs were meaningless in the face of the catastrophe hanging over them. Millions had already died in London, and for Jack that made any more needless deaths all the more painful.

Lucy-Anne stood close to the front of the restaurant where the ghost of her brother cast no shadow. Sparky and Jenna gathered whatever drinks they could find, and knives for weapons.

Fleeter paced. Losing her constant smile suited her, because Jack no longer felt mocked. But he could still not trust her. That could only come with time they didn't have.