London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(3)

Breaking News: A suspected gas attack in Central London has left hundreds dead or injured. Hospitals have been put on Major Incident alert. UK Threat Level raised to Critical. Homeland Security Threat Level raised to Severe/Red. More soon.

—CNN, 11:58 a.m. EST, July 28, 2019

Jenna answered the front door, looking excited and scared.

“Come on!” she said. “Sparky's already here.”

“How did he get here so quickly?” Lucy-Anne asked.

“I went to his place on my bike. Don't worry, I didn't use the phone.” Jenna turned and disappeared back into her house.

“I bet she bloody did,” Lucy-Anne said as she stepped over the threshold. “Bet she called him.”

Jack shook his head and followed his girlfriend inside. They were all careful, but sometimes she was ready to take caution too far. They always went under the assumption that the authorities listened to all telephone communication, but if any eavesdropper heard a girl calling a boy and saying, Come over, I have a nice surprise, it was doubtful they'd press the panic buttons.

He immediately noticed the strange atmosphere inside the house. There was nothing definable, nothing he could put his finger on, but the place had an air of…change.

A shadow filled the doorway to the kitchen, and the thunderous voice that followed was familiar to them both. “Hey, you bastards, finished playing with each other long enough to join us?”

“Hey, Sparky,” Jack said, smiling. They'd become friends through circumstance, brought together because of their beliefs and suspicions, but Sparky was a boy Jack would have got on with anyway, even if Doomsday hasn't happened and London was still there. Sure, he had a wildness about him. Sometimes he acted as if he had a fault-line running along his spine. One day he'd blow. Sparky's brother had blown long before Doomsday, taking to drugs, stealing cars, and running with a gang in the suburbs of London. But Jack was confident that Sparky would keep it together. If he ever did quake, it would be on the shoulders of someone that deserved it.

“Sparky,” Lucy-Anne said, “I never play.” Her false-seriousness made them all laugh, but something about Sparky's mirth sounded different.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

His friend stepped into the hallway. He was sweating, short blond hair pasted to his forehead. His eyes were wide and wild, and Jack thought he'd never seen the boy this worked up. “Something you've got to see for yourselves.”

Jenna appeared behind him in the kitchen doorway, short and slight, and wearing her beautiful long dark hair in its usual twisted mess on the back of her head. “You guys coming, or what?”

“Where are your parents?” Lucy-Anne asked.

“They went out. Come on!” Jenna turned and went back into the big kitchen-diner at the rear of the house. Sparky pressed himself against the wall and gestured for them to follow, bowing slightly.

As Jack walked past his big friend they swapped glances, and Sparky's eyes were alight.

There was an old woman sitting in a chair at Jenna's kitchen table. A pot of tea, several used cups, and crumbed plates cluttered the table's surface. The woman looked up and smiled. There was nothing particularly outlandish about the way she was dressed. She had grey, unkempt hair, heavy boots which looked as though they'd suit Lucy-Anne better, old clothes that had seen better days. But a vivid red scar above one eye gave her a wild look. And her smile hid a deep sadness.

“Hello,” the woman said. “My name's Rosemary, and I'm from London.”

Jack shook his head and backed against the wall. No one comes out of London, he thought. They shoot the things that try. They burn them!

Rosemary's smile grew. “Don't believe everything you see in the media. But then, you're the last people I need to say that to.”

“Did you…read my mind?” Jack asked.

“No, not me,” Rosemary said, “although I know a young woman back in the city who can do just that.”

“Isn't it wonderful?” Jenna asked. She stared at Jack and Lucy-Anne, as if expecting her enthusiasm to wash over them as well.

“Bloody miracle, is what it is,” Sparky said.

“How did you get out?” Jack asked.

Rosemary took a glass from the kitchen table and sipped at the water it contained. She closed her eyes and sighed; the sweetest thing ever. “Tunnels. There's a whole network under London, and not all of them are guarded.”