Reaper's Legacy: Book Two (Toxic City)(63)

“Emily! Mum!”

“Jack,” a weak, quiet voice said, and Jack's heart broke. His little sister, Emily, locked away like an animal, filthy, weak, terrified, and hopeless, he dashed to her cage and knelt so that they could touch each other's fingers through the grille.

“Oh, Emily,” he said through his tears.

“Son?”

“Mum!” He looked behind him at one of the cages stacked higher, and his mother was there. She looked strong, and proud. “I came for you,” he said. “All of you.” Everyone was stirring now, and he guessed there were a dozen people locked away in there. He didn't understand how they could exist in such conditions, but he was here to set them free, now. And on the way out, he would see Miller.

He gripped the gun tighter in his hand. Then he shoved it in his belt and tried to rationalise his anger. Murder was not in his nature.

“Rosemary?” he asked. His mother's head dipped, and that was all the answer he needed.

“Jack,” Emily said, her voice breaking. He knelt by her again and they entwined fingers through the thick wires. Her tears cleared streaks down her face, and Jack blinked away his own. His little sister was so strong and resourceful, and since Doomsday she had looked after him as much as the other way around. He loved her more than anything or anyone, and he was shaking at how close he had come to losing her.

“Come on,” he said. “I'll get you out, then we're leaving. All of us.”

“And we'll get my camera on the way?” she asked.

“Oh, Emily.” He couldn't believe how brave she was being. But as he stood and readied to release the pathetic prisoners, he thought that the camera might be a very good idea. Things were changing rapidly inside London, but that didn't mean that anything was different on the outside. They would still need proof to expose the truth.

“Everybody back from your cage doors,” he said.

“Jack, what are you doing?” his mother asked.

“Lots has happened, Mum. Dad's outside.”

“Oh,” she breathed. He hated that she sounded so vulnerable.

There was a rustle of clothing and a few tired groans as they shuffled back in their small cages—too small to stand in or lie out straight—and then Jack breathed deeply and closed his eyes. He tasted Nomad's finger, the tang of everything she had given him, and then he zeroed in on a gleaming point in his mind.

“Hurry,” a voice said behind him. It sounded like Fleeter. He hated the idea that she had been watching him all along, and he had not heard the impact of her manifesting behind him. But he knew she was right. There was a balance of power here, and it would only take one Chopper to pick up a gun for chaos to descend.

Then there would be rapid, terrible slaughter.

Jack grunted, and three padlocks crunched apart. He turned slightly and focussed again, sending the concentrated power elsewhere. Four more times, and then he kicked at the bars and sent broken metal tinkling to the floor.

Fleeter helped. She threw cage doors open and looked inside, moving on to the next, and the next. Jack realised that she was searching for someone.

Emily stood and gripped hold of him. She buried her face in his shirt and cried, and then he felt his mother's arms about both of them. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her feel and her smell, and for the briefest moment he was eight again and they were back at home, happy.

“Damn it!” Fleeter said. Jack opened his eyes. She was shoving past people standing uncertainly, finding their feet after incarceration in these tiny cages. One man cried out and slipped to the floor, but Fleeter did not apologise or help him up.

“We've got them,” Jack said. “Come on.” But he already knew that this was something else.

“You go,” Fleeter said.

“There,” Jack's mother said. “They're through there, in the next one. They torture them often.”

Jack looked down into his sister's haunted face, and then the other prisoners, all of them staring towards the dark opening into the next container.

“You go,” Fleeter said again to Jack.

“What's back there?”

She came close to him, and she was more human than he had ever seen her. She reached out and touched his cheek. “Take your family, sweetheart,” she said. “Get out. Run. This is all going to go bad.”

“No,” Jack said. “No, this is the changing point. This is when peace begins.”


“Peace?” Fleeter asked. Her grin returned. “Who wants peace? This is too much fun.” She pulled a pocket torch and went through into the next container. Jack saw the heavier bars of larger cages beyond, and then Fleeter was fiddling with padlocks and locks.

“Son,” his mother said. “There's nothing good back there. You're a brave, good boy. Lead us out.”

“But I can do things, Mum,” he said. “Amazing things.”

“So I see. Then amaze us all away from here. This place is evil.”

Jack led them out. Miller had been moved down the ramp now, and Reaper stood behind his wheelchair, looking for all the world like someone taking a sick friend for a walk. His hands rested on the chair's handles. Miller looked scared, but defiant.

“Where are they?” Reaper asked.

“Here,” Jack said. He jumped down and lifted Emily down to the ground, then held out his hand for his mother.