London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(32)

Before Doomsday, she had been a nurse. She did not like stealing someone else's home.

Jack thought they would all have trouble falling asleep. After eating food cold from tins, Rosemary showed them to separate rooms. Lucy-Anne, Jenna, and Sparky took one, while Jack and Emily had another, bickering briefly about who should have the top bunk.

“It's dangerous,” Jack said, and Emily laughed and climbed the ladder.

But when the time for sleep came, Jack closed his eyes and suffered none of the anxieties he feared. He had worried that being here at last, in the Toxic City, would keep them all awake. But he soon heard Sparky mumbling in his sleep and Emily's gentle breathing above him, and before dropping off himself he realised that the dangers of this place extended far beyond the ruins of the Exclusion Zone. London was perilous, but a world where such lies could be told, and such wonders hidden away, was deadly through and through.

For the past two years, none of them had ever been safe.

Breakfast was more cold food from tin cans, but baked beans had never tasted so good. Jack wondered how the Irregulars stayed healthy without anything fresh: no vegetables, fruit, or meat. But he kept having to remind himself that they were not normal people. She's moved on, he thought, watching Rosemary opening several large plastic bottles of water. She's evolved, all of a sudden. Her hands moved smoothly, confidently, the patterns they made almost poetic. What must it be like to have such power? He could barely imagine.

“I'm taking you to a man called Gordon,” she said. “He's a friend, but not as…accepting of his new gift as I am.”

“What's his gift?” Jack asked.

“He can trace bloodlines,” she said. “One drip of blood, and he can sense it all across the city.”

“You mean he can smell our families?” Sparky asked.

“It's much more than smell, dear,” Rosemary said, smiling. She held up her hands. “Just as this is a lot more than touch.”

“You're superheroes. Like Batman.” Emily chewed on stale breadsticks, and her seriousness made them laugh. All except Rosemary. Jack noticed that she looked pained rather than amused, and he wondered just how accepting she really was.

“Yeah!” Jenna said. “Shouldn't you call yourself ‘Healer,’ or something? And your friend Gordon, he should be ‘Sniffer’!”

“I prefer the name my parents gave me,” Rosemary said.

“Still…” Jenna said, glancing around and catching Jack's eye. He saw the twinkle of amusement there, looked away quickly, and Lucy-Anne was staring right at him. He smiled but her expression did not change. Even when he leaned sideways in his chair, her eyes did not waver. Yet again, she was seeing something very far away.

“So where does Sniffer live?” Sparky asked.

“Gordon is one of the few I know who stays in the same place. It's a hotel, the London Court, and he has the top floor.”

“All of it?”

“All of it. Why not? Apparently, Paul McCartney stayed there a few years ago, hired the whole top floor of the hotel for his entourage. Gordon quite likes that idea, so he's done it as well. Except he hasn't had to pay.”

“And he feels safe staying in the same place?” Jack asked. “Safe from the Choppers?”

“Of course,” Rosemary smiled. “He can smell trouble a mile away.”

“Hah!” Sparky laughed. “Sniffer!”

“Please don't call him that to his face,” Rosemary said, suddenly serious. “He knows what he can do, but…he doesn't like doing it.”

“Why not?” Emily asked. “That seems daft. If you can do something special, you should.”

“Well, dear, he finds it quite frightening.”

Emily looked at Jack and blinked, and he could almost hear the cogs turning in her mind. How awful to have something that scares you so much.

“But he'll help?” he asked.

“Oh, I'm sure. He wants things to change as much as any of us.”

They gathered some food and drink together and shared it around their rucksacks, then waited in the hallway behind the front door while Rosemary checked that the coast was clear. She'd told them that they would be staying to the side streets, alleys, and residential roads, as Chopper patrols concentrated more on the old shopping districts.

“It's quiet,” she said, clicking the door shut again. “I'll go first, you follow in a close line.”