“But if I had your powers, we'd have insurance!”
“No, Jenna! They were never mine to own, and they're surely not mine to give.”
He loved Jenna. She was a pure, kind, intelligent girl. Her desire for him to pass on his contagion was, he knew, largely for the reasons she had stated. But he was also aware of how his friends viewed him with a mixture of fear and awe, and there was an element of desire in Jenna's pleading as well. She wanted to be Wonder Woman to his Superman, and he supposed it was only natural.
“It's selfish, Jack,” she said softly.
“No!” The others glanced back, but looked away again. Perhaps they could hear his conversation with Jenna, perhaps not. He didn't care. “It's the opposite of that. I have a weight on me that I can't shake off, ever. And if by some tiny miracle we do what we're trying to do and stop the explosion, and get out of London, what about me then? Have you thought about that?”
Jenna opened her mouth to speak, but then paused, and thought. Jack's normal life was over. He would be exposed—an oddity, a freak, someone to be examined or pointed at in the street—or he would living forever in hiding.
“And it's more than that,” he said. “Too much to tell you. But no, Jenna, much as I love you and however much you ask, I can't curse you like that.”
She did not respond. Jack was glad.
Andrew joined them again half a mile from the museum. He emerged from shadows and Lucy-Anne's heart fluttered, stealing her breath. Every time she saw him, grief hit home one more time.
“There are lots around the museum, and some inside,” he said. “But they know they can't go inside. One tried, and the others killed her. There are traps everywhere, and the bomb's sealed in a tank. They're here to stop it, but they don't know how.”
“We do,” Lucy-Anne said. For the first time since his return, she saw a flicker of what might have been emotion cross his face. He seemed briefly happy, and she thought it was happiness for her. He wanted his sister to survive.
“But it's impossible to get close,” Andrew said. He looked at Jack. “For all of you together, at least.”
“Jack, maybe you could do what Fleeter does and carry Hayden inside,” Lucy-Anne said.
Jack shook his head. “It's far too risky. When I carried Rhali out at Camp H we had a clear route, no distractions. And even then I hurt her. Here, I don't know the way, and there are dangers all over. One wrong move and I could kill him. And what about the booby traps?”
They all turned to look at Hayden. The Chopper looked at the friends, and they could all see in his expression that he felt excluded and alone. But he also understood that with these people—the kids who had grown up too fast, the boy with amazing powers, the ghost—lay his only hope.
“I didn't design the security, but I know the guys who did. They were briefed that once the bomb was armed and initiated, no one should be able to get close. So there are security measures, some linked to small explosive devices or toxic gas, a couple linked to Big Bindy itself.”
“What sort of measures?” Jack asked.
“Trip wires.”
“Easy,” Sparky said. “We go slow.”
“Infrared, air movement and body heat detectors, and lasers.”
“Right. Not so easy.”
“And some of them trigger the bomb?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, in case all the others fail or are breached. Open the tank it's planted in and it blows. And the trigger mechanism in the bomb is contained in a vacuum chamber—expose it to the air, it blows.”
“Basically, fart anywhere south of the river and the bomb blows,” Sparky said.
“I've been there,” Andrew said. “Nomad is there also.”
“Well if she can get in…!” Jenna said, staring pointedly at Jack.