They crossed the bridge and passed through Parliament Square, keeping their ears and eyes open.
Walking progressively northward, Jack wondered whether Lucy-Anne had already come this way. He thought of their time together and tried to come to terms with what it had all meant. They'd gone through the usual boyfriend and girlfriend moments; kissing and cuddling in front of a movie, drinking cider when Emily was in bed, progressing on to awkward fumblings and gasped moments of shared pleasure. But the physical side had always felt somehow false and forced, and it was the times when he talked Lucy-Anne through her fury, doubt, and despair that seemed most important to Jack now. Doomsday had left her with nothing and no-one, and more than anything, he had been there to help her through that. And it had been a natural process. He did not feel even a tiny bit used, and he was certain that Lucy-Anne had welcomed every moment of their unusual relationship. She was a beautiful girl, but his fondest memories of her were when she smiled an honest and happy smile, rather than when she lay half-naked on his sofa.
If only he'd realised that she'd been so close to snapping.
I'm so bloody grown-up, he thought without much humour. He looked at Sparky and Jenna, saw their shared smiles and the way they sought physical contact, and his envy was a very gentle thing.
Morning passed into afternoon, and in a side street they found a grocers that didn't smell too bad. The central aisle display of fresh fruit and vegetables was now home to shrivelled black things, like something excavated rather than grown. But there were shelves of tinned foods that had not been touched, and though the labels were faded after two years of dampness, they found some tinned fruit still fit to eat. It tasted sweet, and good.
“Shit,” Sparky said.
“What?” Jack was immediately alert, but his friend was still sitting down.
“The door.”
Jack looked, and at first he saw nothing. Then he made out the faint, curled gleam of a thin wire, nestled by the door jamb. They must have tripped it on the way in.
Sparky was already looking around the shop. “There,” he said.
“Old security camera.”
“Everything in this place is covered in dust apart from that camera's lens.”
“Reaper?” Jenna said.
Jack stood and browsed the shelves, trying to appear calm. “Doubt it,” he said. “He's leader of the bloody Superiors. Bet he's got people who can do a lot more than a trip-wire and a camera.”
“We should go,” Sparky said. “Quickly.” As they fled the shop, Jack saw Sparky giving the camera the finger.
They ran along the street, disturbing a pack of dogs that were worrying something newly-dead just inside a house's front door. Luckily most of the dogs ran into the house, not out at them, and Jack kicked out at the one mutt that came too close. Its jaws snapped on thin air, but it did not follow.
They tried to lose themselves, hoping that they would shake off any potential pursuers. But then they heard the sounds of motors in the distance, and they paused at a street corner, panting.
“We can't be caught!” Jack said.
“We have to hide.” Jenna was pointing at doors both open and closed.
“They might have the whole area wired.”
“Well, we can't just stand here arsing about!” Sparky said. “Come on!”
They ran along another street, climbing over a huge wreck where a lorry and several cars had crashed and burned. Jack was aware of a charred skull staring at him through one smashed windscreen, but then something flashed overhead that distracted his attention. A helicopter, its sudden appearance explosive in the street, engine sound dwindling rapidly as it headed away…and then started to turn.