“Good. Turn here,” I instruct. “Toward the bridge.”
“You mean what’s left of the bridge?” the driver says with a snicker. I glare at him, seeing only my own reflection in his dented helmet. I wish he didn’t have to wear the mask so that I could strike him. His laugh grates on every nerve, sending tingling sensations up my spine and down to the tips of my fingers and toes. This isn’t funny. There’s nothing amusing about the destruction and loss of life we are responsible for. Not we … me! I am responsible for the carnage before my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Drop a few bombs on key sites in London. That was all that I was directed to do. So what if a few buildings would be damaged; the point was to come in demanding the Queen of England hand over her crown. I had no idea what the targets were, just that my mother insisted on taking out specific ones. My fingers graze my eye patch, reminding me that I had no choice. I never have.
The Crawler turns south on Bridge Street, toward the ruins of the Palace of Westminster. Ahead, Westminster Bridge juts into the murky Thames water before severing off in broken fragments. As the military vehicles advance, a faint ping ricochets from the roof of my tank. I tilt my ear toward the steel ceiling. Again another ping rings off the top.
“Stop!” I shout, tipping my view toward the bulletproof window. The Steam Crawler comes to a halt, blocking the way of the other tanks. Another quiet ping pierces the night air.
“What is that?” I ask, sliding my door open. I stand on the frame of the Crawler, scanning the rubble scattered throughout the street.
Big Ben looms over the ruins, illuminated by a nearly full moon peeking through fragmented clouds. Remarkably, the tower remains relatively unscathed. Both hands point toward midnight, frozen in time, a reminder of when the first bombs fell on the sleeping residents of London, plummeting them into a nightmare and facing demons that I brought to the once-bustling town. My stomach lurches, but I clench my teeth, refusing to give in to the guilt festering within me. I did what I was commanded to do. I followed orders. Had I known the biological weapons lab was the Bloodred Queen’s intended target, perhaps I wouldn’t have dropped the bombs.
My targets. The ones my mother designated to be destroyed. I have only the briefest moment to wonder if my mother knew what would happen if she destroyed the weapons lab, and if so, why she would send me. Something whirs past my head, startling me from my thoughts.
The face of the clock is pocked with holes, but otherwise is intact. I squint, focusing on the subtle movement from the bell’s keep. A blond girl lifts a slingshot and aims. She leans against the frame of the belfry, teetering on the edge.
“Bella!” I grumble beneath my breath. I inhale, taking in the night air, and remind myself of the Professor’s words. How very few girls have survived. That the human race depends on their existence.
What a grim outcome.
The Professor is right, though. Other than the girl my men found earlier, Bella, and the girl with the heart-shaped face with Pete, there are no girls left, at least none that I know of. I breathe in the sour smell wafting from the Thames and shudder. After all this girl and Pete have put me through, it grinds every nerve fiber in my being to be nice, but I dig deep, recalling the kindness the help at Lohr Castle once showed me when I was just a boy not much older than Bella is now.
“Bella,” I shout again, this time echoing the tone of those who truly loved me. “Let’s be reasonable. Come down from there so we can talk.”
Bella releases the elastic with a snap, and I duck as a steel ball skips across the top of the Crawler, barely missing my head. Gritting my teeth, I remind myself to keep my temper intact. I need her to trust me.
The soldiers direct their weapons to the bell tower.
“Fire at—” an officer yells.
“No! Hold your fire!” I shout, still ducking from Bella’s aim. “Hold your fire!”
Taking cover behind the vehicle, I wait for another shot from the belfry, but none comes. “Let’s be sensible, Bella. You’re completely surrounded. You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away,” I reason, struggling with words. Reaching back in my memories to rediscover some soothing word said to me, something to convince this little girl she needs me as much as I need her. “How about you put your weapon down so no one gets hurt? Perhaps we can negotiate an agreeable outcome.”
Bella pulls another steel shot from her pouch and places it in the pocket of the slingshot. “The only agreeable outcome is a hole in your skull,” she shouts. “It’s just you and me, Hook. I’m done running from you. You wanted me, now you have me.” She pulls back on her slingshot, aiming right at me.
“It’s not you I’m after!” I holler, hoping she believes my pretense.