They walked back through the forest towards their village of Tall Stennington, and on the way they checked the places where truth came to find them.
There were thirteen drops—a number not chosen intentionally, but which the four gang members were pleased with—where unknown people would leave them information about London. They checked them all: a hollow fence post, the space between two half-moon shaped stones, another hole in a fallen tree trunk. And it was only at the thirteenth that they found something.
Lucy-Anne dug the tin from beneath a crab apple tree's roots, lifted the small lid, and squealed in delight when she pulled something out. “It's from Jenna!” she said. She fumbled with the white, flower-painted envelope.
“What does it say?” Jack glanced around to make sure they were alone, always fearful that one day this would be a trap, and there would be soldiers waiting for them. He and his friends would fight to the last, but they could not win, and they'd find themselves taken where all the disappeared went. Into the Toxic City itself, some said. Into the heart of dead London.
“Lucy-Anne?”
“Okay, okay.” She unfolded the paper and read the note. “It says, ‘My house. I have a nice surprise.’”
Jack's eyes grew so wide that Lucy-Anne uttered a short, quiet giggle.
“We should go,” he said. ‘A nice surprise’ was the code the four of them had agreed upon for something earth-shattering.
And as they ran across the open field separating Tall Stennington from the forest, the moon began to emerge from the darkening sky.
Breaking News: A suspected gas attack in Central London has left hundreds dead or injured. Hospitals have been put on Major Incident alert. UK Threat Level raised to Critical. Homeland Security Threat Level raised to Severe/Red. More soon.
—CNN, 11:58 a.m. EST, July 28, 2019
Jenna answered the front door, looking excited and scared.
“Come on!” she said. “Sparky's already here.”
“How did he get here so quickly?” Lucy-Anne asked.
“I went to his place on my bike. Don't worry, I didn't use the phone.” Jenna turned and disappeared back into her house.
“I bet she bloody did,” Lucy-Anne said as she stepped over the threshold. “Bet she called him.”
Jack shook his head and followed his girlfriend inside. They were all careful, but sometimes she was ready to take caution too far. They always went under the assumption that the authorities listened to all telephone communication, but if any eavesdropper heard a girl calling a boy and saying, Come over, I have a nice surprise, it was doubtful they'd press the panic buttons.
He immediately noticed the strange atmosphere inside the house. There was nothing definable, nothing he could put his finger on, but the place had an air of…change.
A shadow filled the doorway to the kitchen, and the thunderous voice that followed was familiar to them both. “Hey, you bastards, finished playing with each other long enough to join us?”
“Hey, Sparky,” Jack said, smiling. They'd become friends through circumstance, brought together because of their beliefs and suspicions, but Sparky was a boy Jack would have got on with anyway, even if Doomsday hasn't happened and London was still there. Sure, he had a wildness about him. Sometimes he acted as if he had a fault-line running along his spine. One day he'd blow. Sparky's brother had blown long before Doomsday, taking to drugs, stealing cars, and running with a gang in the suburbs of London. But Jack was confident that Sparky would keep it together. If he ever did quake, it would be on the shoulders of someone that deserved it.
“Sparky,” Lucy-Anne said, “I never play.” Her false-seriousness made them all laugh, but something about Sparky's mirth sounded different.
“What is it?” Jack asked.