He could sense the bomb inside, a terrible weight. And he knew the time was close.
“Lucy-Anne dreamt of Nomad and the bomb,” Jack said. “I have to do the same.” He closed his eyes and started breathing deeply, falling into his universe and then passing through an unknown place into Nomad's stranger, cooler mind.
And he dreamt of Lucy-Anne.
“Shit,” Sparky said. “Maybe they are going to machine-gun us after all.”
They were halfway across the Exclusion Zone, and facing them was a wall of lights. They could see the movement even from here, hear the engines. Several helicopters buzzed overhead, but they couldn't tell whether they were military.
But they had already seen groups of people ahead of them disappearing into the bustle at the edge of the zone, and there was no gunfire. They had little choice. Lucy-Anne knew that Jack could not dream the bomb back forever.
“Time?” she asked through her damaged mouth.
Sparky glanced at his watch and kept staring for a while, as if trying to make sense of something. “It's almost midnight,” he said.
“He'll do it,” Jenna said. “For as long as he can, he'll do it.”
Lucy-Anne had an arm around each of their shoulders, three friends so close. If only their fourth was not missing. She felt as though she'd left a limb behind, and several times crossing the bombed and burned Exclusion Zone she experienced a mad compulsion to rush back into London to be with Jack. She knew where he was. She might even get there in time.
“Almost there,” Sparky said. “But don't these people know what's happening?”
“Maybe it won't reach this far,” Jenna said.
“Yeah, but it's still close.”
“Lots have left already,” Breezer said. “I'm hoping this is the last of them. Others might have gone in different directions, but everyone my people were able to contact were told to come this way. There are some who refused to leave London. And probably many more we don't know about, deep down in the tunnels, hidden away.”
“And those things from the north,” Sparky said.
“Yes. And them. I've seen some…but not many. It could be many of them don't want to leave London.”
“We can hope,” Jenna said. “The thought of them out in the countryside…”
“I suspect they'll be as scared as we are,” Breezer said, betraying his own fear at leaving the toxic city that had been home for two years.
“Let's go,” Lucy-Anne said, wincing at the pain. It was her way of saying, Shut up and let's get the hell out of here.
As they approached the outer edge of the zone, the buzz of frantic activity was obvious. There was surprisingly little military, and those who were there seemed as panicked as everyone else. People rushed to and fro, calling names, searching for loved ones among the slow trickle of people emerging from the darkness of the Exclusion Zone. Cars and other vehicles were moving in only one direction—away. And those few still remaining sat with engines running, ready to leave as soon as possible.
These were the people of Britain come to rescue survivors they had been told were all dead. Until very recently this area would have been occupied only by Choppers, but now most of them were gone—obeying or against orders, Lucy-Anne did not know—fleeing the bomb that mad bastard Miller had triggered. Instead of waiting here until the last minute, helping the survivors get out, holding back the hundreds or thousands of people who had flooded towards London when the truth had emerged…they had turned tail and fled. Lucy-Anne had not thought she could ever hate the Choppers any more, but she did right then.
And though she loved these people who had come to help, she was also afraid that another tragedy was imminent.