Contagion (Toxic City, #3)(55)

“You really think you can do that?” Sparky asked.

“It's all we have,” Jenna said quietly. She was looking at Lucy-Anne, smiling and nodding.

“But dream a nuclear explosion not happening?”

“What else would you do?” Jenna asked, not unkindly.

“Get the bomb onto a boat. Float it down the Thames. Into the North Sea, or something.”

“In…” Jenna glanced at her watch. “…less than two hours?”

Sparky frowned. He had no answer.

“It's the only idea,” Jack said. They all looked to him, Reaper included.

“Getting pretty bloody desperate here, mate,” Sparky said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we are,” Jack said. “That's why Lucy-Anne's right.” He looked around at all of them, and he had tears in his eyes. Sparky, feisty and hard, but with a good heart. Jenna, resourceful and kind. And Lucy-Anne, who might well have lost more than all of them, and who now might be dying.

“Nomad,” Jack said, pushing hard into her mind to make sure she heard. She raised her head.

Lucy-Anne tensed, trying to lift herself up, and Jack thought that perhaps she already knew. But hopefully that would not matter.

Hopefully.

Jack closed his eyes and flipped, and when he opened them again his friends were all but frozen where they stood, sat or lay.

“Jack,” Nomad said. She had flipped as well, just as he'd hoped.

“I won't let anyone else die for me,” he said. He didn't say what else he was thinking; not yet.

“And I'll do anything I can to help you and Lucy-Anne.”

Jack moved across to Lucy-Anne, careful not to touch anyone else in case he hurt them. Haru exuded cold even now. And Reaper was in his way, raised a couple of inches from his seat. In that last moment before Jack had flipped out, Reaper had perhaps seen that he was scheming, and he had gone to stand and try to have some part in Jack's plans. But he would not.

Jack paused before his father and stared at him. Like this, his features again resembled those of the man he had once loved, and still did. The memory of his father was rich and strong, because Jack had strived to keep such memories close for those two long, lonely years between Doomsday and now. And he only wished he could find it in his heart to feel forgiveness and grant his father another chance. That should be how this all ended; with redemption and hope.

But he could not.

He resisted the temptation to nudge Reaper aside and knelt carefully by Lucy-Anne.

“I think I know,” Nomad said.

“And you'll not try to stop me?”

“Of course not. It means you and Lucy-Anne get out.” Her expression did not change, and there was no way he could read what she was really thinking. But even flipped out, he did not have time for a long discussion.

And I'll help too, Andrew said. He emerged from shadows at the back of the club and drifted forward. Jack was surprised, but only for a moment. He'd been wondering where the ghost had gone, but had already guessed that he would not have abandoned his sister.

“She'll be all right,” Jack said. “You need to get her out of London, to a hospital, and they'll be able to fix her.”

“Probably,” Andrew said. “But shouldn't I be helping you?”

“Nomad and I will be fine,” Jack said. For a second he thought that Andrew could see the truth. But the ghost said nothing.

“I'll have to tell them,” Jack said. “When I flip back and get ready to leave.”

“We could just go,” Nomad said.

“No.” Jack shook his head but did not bother trying to explain. Nomad was showing how far from being human she had drifted. He didn't know how he would tell his friends what he was doing, but he supposed the words would come when they were needed.

Jack touched Lucy-Anne's forehead, so gently, and looked at her terrible wounds before closing his eyes. They'll fix her, he thought, but he could not be sure. Perhaps he was trying to feel better about not being able to fix her himself.

Still touching her feverish skin, Jack dropped into his vast universe of possibility. The red star of contagion still pulsed, signalling that he should approach, touch, and spread its news. He turned his back on it and steered away, paranoid that it could sense his true intentions. It felt like a sentient thing watching his actions. Maybe it was him ascribing intelligence to it, but he could not be certain enough to relax his caution. It won't let me leave it alone, he thought, a strange idea that haunted him for every moment he was here.

He travelled, dipping closer to the points of light and then away again, searching, seeking the talent that would echo Lucy-Anne's. But he could not find it. Hers was a naturally occurring ability, not one initiated by the external influence of Evolve. Perhaps her own universe was far different from his own.

And so Jack tried something else. Concentrating all his attention on one point, and always conscious of the feel of Lucy-Anne beneath his hand, he started to form a star.

Skeins of light surged across his vision. Heat and cold vied for supremacy, and such were their extremes that he could not discern a difference. Stronger swathes of light drifted in, and a swirling shape began to form before him. He was in a dream, and the shape took on the outline of a rapidly condensing star. Creation took place. Jack was its witness.