In his chair, Miller sat with Shade grasping his head. He'd been made to watch every moment.
Mass murder complete, Reaper looked across at Jack. He smiled. He'd known all along that his son was watching.
Then Reaper let the woman gently lie down and turned to Miller, and as Jack ran for his friends and family, he heard the wretched man screaming again, and his father's laughter.
For the first time in two years, Nomad was as close to a normal woman as she could be.
He's doing his best for the people he loves. He's brave. But Jack will soon realise that his responsibilities have expanded. His is a wider outlook now, and he'll only see that when he stops seeking inward for all those new potentials. That part will soon become as natural as breathing. For me that universe is a wild, violent place filled with chaos and uncertainty…difficult for me to grasp…too filled with pain.
But for Jack it will be beautiful.
She took in a deep breath and felt the pain in her chest, so real and there that it surprised her again with each inhalation. Even stretching her senses out to Jack was starting to hurt. She had reined in everything else she was so used to doing, because it was all starting to pain her more—knowing London through movement and scent, avoiding detection when she so desired, sitting motionless in the river of time while moments passed her by. She concentrated on Jack and one other, because the future of London was with them both.
This is his greatest challenge yet. It will be the making of him, or his undoing. And her purity can only help. The bomb is hidden away so well that…even I…
Nomad sought again, but she felt a warm trickle across her lips and tasted blood. The world swam. She floated in it, and now and then was aware of glances from those few she passed by—deeply knowledgeable from those she had once thought of as monsters; confused, scared, from the rest of London's people.
They see change in me and that frightens them. And so it should.
It certainly frightened Nomad.
Miller. Did you know? Were you aware that Evolve was far from perfect?
The potential for perfection lay in Jack. And in Lucy-Anne, suffering from another dreadful blow and yet still the one who might save them all. Pure and untainted by Evolve, her own unique talent was already growing larger, and larger.
If Jack and Lucy-Anne failed, or let their true aims die beneath human concerns, then London would be finished.
And I will willingly let it go.
Whether Nomad would go with it, or persist like the spirit-man she had met in the north, there was only one way to know.
“I can't leave,” Jack said. Night had fallen. They were close to the bombed wastelands of London's borders now, ready to go down and through the network of tunnels and sewers to the outside. The Irregulars they had rescued had drifted away, back into the ruined city they now called home. Breezer and his people had gone to spread the word about Big Bindy, and Puppeteer had vanished without warning several hours before. Fleeter remained, but at a distance.
With everything that had happened to him, Jack was suddenly scared at the normality beyond London's borders.
“I never thought you would,” his mother said.
“Gotta find Lucy-Anne,” Jenna said.
“Yeah.” Sparky chuckled. “And, you know, we've had such a lot of fun here, why would we leave?”
“Idiot.” Jenna poked him in the ribs, and it turned into a hug.
“You'll make sure they get through safely,” he said to Fleeter.
She nodded, eyes glittering. “Then I'll be back.”
“Of course. Lots more Choppers to kill.” Jack's sarcasm was heavy, but he knew it was the truth. He understood that, now. The Superiors saw this as a game, and the Irregulars and Choppers were their pawns.
But London's future was now shrinking with every second that passed, and Jack had no idea what that might mean for everyone still here.