King’s Cross train station, London
T he woman under the hood sneaked among the people like a cat. Left and right people were killing each other. Cults predicted the end of days — as if it hadn’t come yet. And thieves stole from every store around her.
She paced, making sure she didn’t grab anyone’s attention. It would have made more sense if she hadn’t worn this hoodie, but she couldn’t come without it. She had to hide her face. She couldn’t show it to anyone. Trouble would occur instantly.
She snaked her way into the train station. The trains had stopped running. None of the drivers were alive. She slithered and tiptoed and hid behind columns, knowing her destination.
The phone in her pocket vibrated. She was thankful for that. Most phones were said to stop working in a few hours. But she wouldn’t reply. Not yet. She had nothing to say to the caller.
Not yet. Not unless she reached her destination.
And here it was.
She stood, looking at the rows of lockers, wondering which one it was. The area wasn’t empty. A few worrisome people stood there. Vagabonds, she thought. Outlaws.
She approached slowly, looking at each locker, wondering if one of them would scream at her and tell her: open me up. How was she supposed to find the specific one she came for?
But she’d made it so far. Not only to the locker, but survived this long in the end of the world.
Her phone vibrated again.
She decided to pick up this time, though she had no answers, but she needed to report back.
“Hello,” Mr. Jay’s gruff voice said.
“Yes,” she said from under the hood.
“Found it?”
“I arrived, but don’t know which locker it is.”
“Blow them all up.”
“That’d be impossible with all the thugs here,” she said. “And what if the explosion burns the note.”
“Damn it,” Mr. Jay said. “We need that note. What if the Pillar told Alice something crucial? Who he really is, for instance?”
“It will be of importance, but will not tell us where the Six Keys are, because the Pillar didn’t know.”
“At least it would tell us why he did all of this.”
“I don’t see how this a priority,” she said. “But I followed your instructions.”
“Good,” he said. “Now don’t waste my time and go find that note in the Tiger Lily pot.”
“I will.”
“How is your face by the way?”
“I am uglier than I have ever been,” she fought the tears rolling down her cheeks. “How I wish I’ve killed the Pillar with my own hands.”
“Don’t worry. You survived, that’s what matters,” Mr. Jay said. “And Margaret, I will fix your face when we win this war.”