“Yes. But we don't think they bring outsiders to Camp H.”
“He never told us where he went,” Jenna said, “or who took him, or what they did to him. When he left, he was so full of fight and anger. Every time I kissed him goodnight, there was a real power about him. He had purpose. He came back two weeks later and…” She opened her hand like a quickly blooming flower. “Pff. Gone. Sometimes I can't believe he's still my dad.” The volume of her voice had grown, but the tears came as well, and Jenna shook with anger and grief.
“Then I suppose he can't help me anymore,” Rosemary said sadly.
“Is it true they implant something?” Sparky said. “When they take people and send them back. Something to kill them if they start investigating again?”
Rosemary shrugged slowly. “How can I know that? This is your world out here. I live in London, but that's a whole new world now.”
“You've heard of it though, right?” Jack asked.
“Rumours.”
“And you still came to ask him for help?”
Rosemary stared at him then, and Jack was certain she was trying to convey some message that she did not wish to voice. He stood, let go of Lucy-Anne's hand and walked to the kitchen sink. Outside, the sunset was burning across the ridges of neighbouring houses. Jenna's parents would be back soon.
“I need to know,” Jack said quietly.
“Me too,” Sparky said.
Lucy-Anne stood and ran her hands through her purple hair. “Yeah.”
Jack turned back and looked at Rosemary; an old woman, worn and tired, scarred and grubby, but filled with an astonishing power that the government had gone to brutal measures to conceal.
“We'll come,” he said.
Rosemary nodded slowly and smiled. “The second you were all here together, I knew that would happen.”
“Another power?” Jenna asked. “You're an empath?”
“No, dear,” the old woman laughed. “I'm human.”
They split up, agreeing to meet at Camp Truth at dawn the following morning. Jenna and Sparky were taking Rosemary there to sleep. They said it was probably the safest place of all, but the old woman seemed too tired to be afraid.
She scared Lucy-Anne. There was something…different about her. There was that incredible thing she had done with Jack's leg, yes, but she seemed so very out of place here in the village. She sat at Jenna's table and drank tea, ate toast, talked to them and fended their questions, but to Lucy-Anne it seemed as if she were from another world.
In a way, she supposed that was true.
Jack had been keen to get home to his sister Emily, so Lucy-Anne had walked home alone. She'd stopped in the corner shop and bought a bottle of cheap red wine, joking with the boy behind the counter who flirted with her every time she went in. He was her age but seemed so much younger, and she thought it was because he'd lost no one to Doomsday. He seemed happy and content, and blissfully unaware of what had gone on in his world because so little of it had touched him. Sometimes she thought of inviting him home to see if some of his carefree attitude would rub off on her. But she knew that she'd end up showing him pictures, and talking about those she had lost, so she'd left him with a smile and a sway of her hips.
Sitting in the living room of the big, empty house left to her when her family had vanished in the Toxic City, Lucy-Anne allowed the tears to come. Usually they were driven by grief and sadness, but today there was something else: the terror that soon, all her fears would be realised.
She had never, ever let herself accept the fact that they were dead.
She swigged from the bottle. It was half gone already, and she knew she should pour the rest down the sink. Last thing she wanted tomorrow was a hangover. But she was enjoying the fuzziness in her head, and it seemed to relax her muscles, enabling her to sink into the sofa and lose herself in the music blasting from her stereo.