“Yes,” Andrew said. “Completely. But if you can stop the bomb, perhaps you amongst all of them can redeem yourself, a little.”
“That's what I want,” the man said. “I lost an uncle and three cousins to Doomsday. All dead, not…changed. Not like you. And when we heard that madman Miller had triggered the countdown, I was one of the first to volunteer to come in. Deactivate it.”
Andrew moved towards the man, passing the creature and sensing the startling intelligence its appearance seemed to belie. The man cringed back a little, but not too far. He seemed used to the strangeness that London now harboured. Though he had never seen anything like Andrew. “So what happened?” Andrew asked.
“We were attacked. The Superiors. Only three of us got away, and we hid, discussed what to do. And we decided…between us…to carry on.” He touched his jacket. “Tried to dress more normally. There was no talking to them! No reasoning! They attacked us, but did they know what we were coming to do? Do you think they even had a clue?”
“So what happened to the other two?” Andrew asked, ignoring the question. He knew about Superiors. They would have attacked the Choppers without pause, and without mercy. Killing those who might, this time, save them.
“We split up. I lost touch with them this morning.” The man took a phone from his pocket.
“Let me hear,” Andrew said. The man did something to the device and then hesitantly held it out. Andrew closed his eyes and listened.
The hollow, low moan of eternity. Andrew had heard it when he died, and the sound haunted him now, as if mocking his unnatural state and assuring him that, soon, he would be where he belonged. There was a sickening sense of scope to that noise, as if it was the underlying note to an infinite universe, nothing to echo from, its travel never-ending. If Andrew had possessed a body he would have shuddered.
“They're both dead,” he said, opening his eyes.
“And…you?” the man asked.
Andrew simply stared at him.
The creature scuttled forward and Andrew turned, insubstantial hands held out. “No! He's important,” he said. “You came down from the north because of the bomb, and he might be able to stop it.”
The thing darted closer, mandibles gaping, wet mouth already working as if chewing at flesh. The man gasped and pressed back against a wall, and Andrew stepped in front of the creature.
It skidded to a stop, scarring the road.
“He's important,” Andrew said again, quieter. He urged the man along the pavement, backing away from the creature. He could not tell whether it heard him at all, and if so whether it understood.
“Which way?” the man whispered.
“Whichever way looks best,” Andrew said. “But slowly. Don't give it the opportunity of a fast hunt. Might like that.”
“Oh, great. Great.” The man whispered. “And now I'm listening to a ghost.”
The creature watched them go. Andrew smiled. He'd experienced a frisson of fear, and it had been good to feel human again. But the fear had not been for himself.
After a few minutes they passed a multi-storey car park, and the man stepped inside. He paused between ranks of forgotten vehicles, hands on his knees, leaning over as if about to be sick.
“You need to stay with me,” Andrew said.
“A dead guy. You're coming with me to the museum?”
“No. You're coming with me away from it.”
“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “No, no, I have to go where the bomb is.”
“Go there alone and you'll die,” Andrew said. “You think the thing that almost ate you was strange? Wait until you reach the museum. There are scores of them there. They've come down from the north, and none of them can do anything to prevent what's going to happen.”
“But I can!” the man shouted. “So they'll let me pass, let me in!”
“Like the Superiors did?” Andrew shook his head. “They're different now. Moved on. Evolved. Just because you and they want the same thing, don't assume they won't eat you.”
The man closed his eyes and grabbed his hair in despair.