“Dandy,” Sparky said.
Jack nodded. He felt the weight of responsibility upon him—it would be down to him to talk to Reaper, persuade him of their cause, convince him not to simply abandon them, or worse. But having his friends with him meant the world.
Changing, he needed them now more than ever.
He wondered what his mother and Emily were doing right now. He tried to imagine them safe and sound, perhaps locked in the same room in Camp H. They would support each other, and Emily would likely be lively and chirpy, singing songs and insisting that her mother sing along.
All the while, though, a different image played behind that one. The more he tried to ignore it—the metal bed, dissection equipment, gutters running with blood—the clearer it became.
He searched for a star that might show him his family, but found none.
“Damn it,” Jack said, shaking his head and fighting the tears. But the more he fought, the more insistent they became. “Damn it!”
“Jack?” Jenna said.
“We don't have much time,” he said. “Fleeter. Hey. How soon?”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Almost there.”
“Almost where?” Sparky asked.
“Almost…” she said, trailing off, walking on.
Jack's friends comforted him, but neither asked what he had seen or sensed to bring on his tears. He wished they had. He wanted to tell them that it was nothing but a normal, very human fear for his loved ones.
Fleeter paused with her hand held up and then vanished with a clap! that echoed from surrounding buildings, leaving them abandoned and alone.
Jack started pacing, but Jenna urged him to remain calm, convincing both Jack and Sparky that the woman would be back. “Why lead us all this way just to disappear?” she asked.
“Trap?” Sparky suggested.
Jack tried to search around them, sense out danger, but his heart was too hurried. He could not concentrate. And when Fleeter appeared before them again, he slumped against Sparky and sighed with relief.
“Choppers,” she said. “Come on.”
“What did you do to them?” Jack asked.
“Slowed them down.” Fleeter grinned. “Punctures. They'll be going home tonight to see their loved ones, don't you worry, Jack.” Loaded with sarcasm the words might have been, still they came as a relief. Jack had seen far too many people die already, and he would do everything he could from now on to prevent any more.
They passed an old indoor market, grand architecture crumbled and ignored long before Doomsday, and Jack became more alert. Something about the way Fleeter moved told him that something was going to happen soon. She looked back more often, smiling uncertainly.
“Fleeter, please tell me that—” he began, but then she was gone again.
“Damn it!” he shouted. Pigeons took flight from atop the market building, and somewhere in the far distance a scream sounded, rising high and then quickly cut off. Jack's wasn't the only drama being played out in London this evening. But it was probably the most important.
“She'll be back,” Jenna said.
“You think?” Sparky said. “Spooks the shit out of me, that one.”
“She's brought us this far,” Jenna said.
“How far? She's dumped us outside this old place, and what the hell happens now? D'you know where we are?”
“Not really,” Jenna admitted quietly.
“Jack?” Sparky asked.
“Well…”
“You could do a Superman to find out, I suppose,” Sparky said. He was becoming agitated, stepping from foot to foot. “But what good's any of that done us so far? Huh?”
Jack's mind was spinning. He searched inside for something to help, some way to move them forward, but his confusion blurred everything. He felt more useless than ever.
“I'll go on my own,” he said. “You two leave. I've dragged you here, too far, too dangerous. And really, it's—”