London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(8)

Emily skipped on ahead, her rucksack bouncing on her back. She held her digital camera in one hand, fully charged the previous evening, strap wrapped around her wrist three times. Mum had bought it for her, and she'd treasured it ever since. Jack had lost count of the number of DVDs Emily had filled with random still and moving images, all of them seemingly meaningless but meaning the world to her.

They reached the edge of the village, and as they passed by the dilapidated old scout hut Jack felt nothing. He'd grown up in Tall Stennington, had many good times there—making mud pies at the village pond with his cousin when he was six; playing baseball on the green as his parents sat outside the pub; seen his first naked breast at twelve when Billy White smuggled him into his older sister's bedroom closet—but the bad far outweighed the good. Crossing the field towards the woods, he felt as if he was truly leaving his childhood behind.

“Don't run, you'll trip!” he called to Emily, and he laughed at the foolishness of his statement. They were heading for London, the Toxic City, where millions had died and the government claimed that monsters now lived. And he was worried about a grazed knee.

“What's wrong?” Emily called back.

Jack could only laugh and splutter some more.

“You sound like a hyena.”

He ran after his sister, yapping and barking. She squealed and hurried on, and they were both sprinting as they entered the shadow of the woods, keen to leave the past in the cleansing sunlight.

They took a circuitous route around the edge of the woods, following a path popular with dog walkers and strolling lovers. Jack sometimes walked this way with Lucy-Anne, and a few times they'd gone deeper into the woods, spread a blanket and messed around. But recently there had always been a reason for their messing to end; wood ants on her naked legs, a noise from the bushes, a feeling that they were being watched. And not all the reasons had come from her. Jack tried to put it down to being scared, but it wasn't that, not really. He felt as if he had turned from Lucy-Anne's lover into her best friend, but he was not certain she thought that way. One day they'd have to talk about things, but she was such a strange girl; sometimes she scared him.

And sometimes, he knew, he just thought about things too damn much.

Clothes, water, food. He mentally flipped through the contents of his backpack. Washing stuff, money, knife. The beginning of the Exclusion Zone was thirty miles away, but they'd be able to get public transport for more than half that distance. Medicine, bandages, antibiotics. Beyond that, they'd walk. Rosemary said she knew where they were going. They'd have to trust her.

When they came close to the burned-down mansion, they paused. Emily had been here a few times, but usually Jack didn't like bringing her to Camp Truth, afraid that the responsibility of keeping the place secret would weigh too heavily on her young shoulders.

Sparky came crashing through the undergrowth. He was red in the face, sweating, and he carried a small rucksack over one shoulder, barely big enough to hold a spare tee shirt and jeans.

“Rosemary's still there,” Sparky said.

“Never thought she wouldn't be,” Jack replied. “The others here yet?”

“Jenna's just gone down to talk to her. Lucy-Anne's checking the drops on the way in.”

Jack watched Emily dash off between the trees towards the ruined house, happy now he knew Jenna was already down in Camp Truth.

“You okay?” he asked his friend.

“’Spose,” Sparky said.

“We'll be all right.”

“Yeah. Feels like we're doing something at last.”

They stood silently for a moment, neither catching the other's eye, each finding something interesting to look at in the woods.

“We could disappear,” Jack said quietly. “Have you and your parents…? You know.”

“Made peace? Nah. Sod ‘em. They never forgave Stephen, even after Doomsday.”

“Perhaps they think he doesn't need forgiving if he's dead.”

Sparky's face dropped, innocent and honest. “That's just stupid.”

Jack nodded. “You'll be fine.”

“Thanks, mate. And yeah, I need this. I really do. Otherwise I've got you lot, and the Capri, and…”

“It's not inevitable.”

“That I'd end up doing what Steve did? Drink, drugs, nicking cars? Nah, not inevitable.” But he looked away between the trees, and Jack wondered how close Sparky had already come.