London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(60)

“I dreamed about your birds,” she said.

The boy shrugged as he walked.

“You don't seem surprised.”

“Why should I?”

She tried to think of a reason, but none came. “I'm looking for my brother,” she said instead, and the boy's face grew more stern.

“You'll die,” he whispered. “In the streets, in the ruins, you'll die. If the Choppers don't get you, there are other things that will. North of here…wild places.”

“And you expect me to—”

“I can help you,” the boy said.

“What? Help me look for Andrew?”

He nodded. He paused several feet from Lucy-Anne, looking her up and down with a frankness she found unsettling. There was something birdlike about the way his dark eyes shifted, his hands clawed at the air, and his hair almost looked barbed.

“Why would you do that?” she asked.

“My name's Rook,” the boy said, “and I've met you in my dreams.”





The six terrorists who attacked London yesterday have been killed in a shoot-out with a military unit in the West End. Communications into and out of London are down. The biological agent used by the terrorists has not yet been identified, but the whole of the London basin is affected, and travel to and from the city is strictly prohibited. Please help the emergency services and the military to contain this disaster by following these simple guidelines: Anyone trying to enter or approach London will be arrested. Any aircraft attempting to overfly London will be shot down. There follows a list of numbers for concerned relatives…

—UK All-Channel Bulletin,

9:00 a.m. GMT onwards, July 29, 2019

At seventeen, Jack should have taken Sparky aside at the first opportunity to ask him how it was, was she hot, and to give him all the details. But that would have been in normal times, and these times were far from normal. There was a quietness to Sparky the next morning, and while Jenna helped Ruben and Rosemary prepare the best breakfast they could from old tinned foods, Jack sat beside his friend on the sofa.

“Okay, mate?”

“Yeah.”

“Hope today's a bit better than yesterday.”

“Well…” Sparky began, then he smiled. “Yesterday was mixed.”

“What's up?”

Sparky sighed. He scratched at his arm where his brother's name was tattooed, then leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “We've got no control over any of this, you know? We follow Rosemary from one mess to the next. We lose Lucy-Anne, and can't do anything to try and help or find her, and how bloody frustrating is that?”

“We all feel the same. But Rosemary's right, there's no way of even guessing where she is.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, tapped his foot. He'd dreamed about Lucy-Anne, but today he could not remember his dreams.

“And last night, Jack. My first time. Incredible. And…I should be telling Steve about it, you know? I should tell him, and he should laugh and be pleased, and it should be a secret from Mum and Dad because that's just the way it is with brothers…” He trailed off, blinking slowly.

“You just told me,” Jack said.

Sparky looked at him with tears in his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Shithead.”

“Ha!” Sparky stood and stretched, leaned sideways so that he could see through the hallway and into the kitchen, then turned back to Jack. “Mate,” he whispered, “she was hot!”

Emily came down a few minutes later, and they all sat around the kitchen table and ate baked beans, hot dog sausages, and tinned peaches. For what it was, Jack enjoyed it immensely.

He tried not to catch Jenna's eyes, embarrassed, but he felt her glancing at him all through breakfast. When he finally stood to tidy up, he took an empty tin from her hand and she held on tight. He looked at her, and realised what a fool he'd been. She looked so anxious and tense, that when he smiled and winked she seemed to deflate.

“Thank you!” she said as she let go of the tin, but Jack knew the real thanks was for something else entirely. Yeah, he'd certainly been a fool. He'd known that Jenna had liked him, just not how much.

“Ruben will be leaving us soon,” Rosemary said. “He's not one for sneaking along dangerous streets and scrambling through tunnels.”

“I'd only get stuck,” he said, tapping his not inconsiderable stomach.