There it was. Perhaps she'd known since first stepping onto the bridge, and had been unwilling to look. But now she could see the remains of the great London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel that used to carry more than a million people annually, giving them a stunning view of London. Motionless now, the Eye was a sad echo of great, past times.
She fisted her hands, doing her best not to look away. It did not look familiar. That was a blessing, at least. In her dream, the Eye had been a mass of tumbled metal and shattered pods, but in reality it was surprisingly intact, bearing a scar towards the top where several pods had fallen away and some of the structure was bent and charred with fire.
“It's not what I saw,” she whispered.
“What is it?” Rook asked.
“The Eye.” She suddenly had no wish to tell him about her dream of the woman and the explosion. It felt private.
“Where it all began,” he said. But he sounded uninterested, and a moment later she heard his footsteps retreating across the bridge.
Lucy-Anne looked the other way along the river, northeast towards St. Paul's. She kept her eyes wide open until they started to sting. There was no flash, no mushroom cloud consuming London. She listened to Rook retreating across the bridge behind her, knew that he would wait, and no one else appeared.
For now, Nomad remained locked away in that strange dream.
A rook landed on the parapet close to her. She took a good look at the bird, breathing softly and feeling a strong sense of purpose. She was more settled than she had been since first undertaking their journey into London, because now she knew where she was going, and why.
“Come on, then,” she said to the bird. She turned to follow Rook and the bird took off, dipping low across the bridge and plucking a morsel from the gutter.
Rook was waiting at the end of the bridge, crouched low to the parapet and looking around. As she approached Lucy-Anne became more cautious, but there was no danger in his stance.
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“A museum.”
“Right. Cool.”
“We need to see someone.” He stood from his crouch, and suddenly seemed taller than he had before, darker. I have no idea who he is, Lucy-Anne thought, and for the first time since fleeing her friends at the hotel she was truly afraid for herself. There was no one else around. Rook could do whatever he wanted to her, here and now, and if she fought back, he had his birds to fight for him. She had dreamed of them attacking her. Not all dreams come true!
“Who do we need to see?”
“Oh, her name doesn't matter. Come on.”
“My brother! Andrew! You said we'd be going north to find him, and—”
“North is a big place,” Rook said. “And if you think what you've seen so far is dangerous, and awful…well, get ready to have your eyes opened.”
Unsettled by this strange boy, and with her brief madness now diluting to allow true fear to settle, Lucy-Anne followed.
Rook led them inside the London Transport Museum, looking casual but alert, and he held an entrance door open long enough for a dozen rooks to drift in past him. They moved silent as shadows, echoing his caution.
The huge building was quiet and cavernous. Rook surprised Lucy-Anne by taking her hand and guiding her across a wide walkway, glancing back and putting a finger to his lips when she tapped him on the shoulder. His grin troubled her. Not because it was frightening, but because it was…
It was beautiful. Her heart skipped a little. She was confused. But in truth, perhaps someone like Rook was what she had always wanted. Jack was sweet and sad and would always be one of her best friends. But he was not dangerous.
Lucy-Anne's rebellious nature had only grown deeper after Doomsday, and Rook seemed to embody everything she had wished for.
A rook landed on the boy's shoulder. He tilted his head and listened to its call.
“She's still here,” he said. “Come on. Slowly. Stop when I tell you. Last time I came, she'd found a machine gun somewhere.”
Lucy-Anne, still full of questions, merely listened to what Rook said and let him lead her.