London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(43)

He turned around and looked up to the half-landing between floors 4 and 5. Sparky and Jenna were huddled there, pressed back against the wall, and Sparky's faced was dusted with plaster from where bullets had taken chunks from the masonry inches above his head. His eyes were wide with shock, but Jack could see that he was still alert.

Scryer crawled over the dead soldier, peered briefly into the fourth floor corridor, then ducked back into the stairwell. “More coming.” A burst of gunfire confirmed her statement.

“Why are they doing this?” Rosemary hissed. She was looking down at Gordon, angry rather than shocked, and Jack wondered just how many people she had seen killed. If they got away from this he would ask her. If they got away, there were many things he had to ask.

“Us,” Puppeteer said. He seemed to be agonising over something, staring at Jack and Emily and blinking rapidly. Then he bent down, snatched up the dead soldier's machine gun and offered it to Rosemary. “Take them down. We'll distract the Choppers. They probably don't even know you're here, so—”

Scryer fired into the corridor, ducking back and forth from behind the wall to loose two rounds each time.

“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.