I can’t even believe it. The sound of a key in the lock.
My leg kicks out to pull the sheet up, to try to cover a bit of my nudity before I scar poor Mrs Huang for life.
But my mouth drops open at the first glimpse of that long strawberry-blond hair, the familiar accompaniment of chains jingling up and down his wrists. “Jon!”
He stops dead still, adjusting to the darkness of the room before reeling back at the sight of me. “What the fuck did I just walk in on?”
“Help me! The key’s on the record player. Please. Please, undo me.” Even as I’m speaking, he’s running for the key, dropping onto the bed, working the lock.
His worried eyes meet mine only fleetingly. “Did August do this to you?”
“No. No, he didn’t do anything.”
“Then who did this?” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe me at all.
“I can’t explain.” I pull my bruised wrists together, rubbing them. “Did you bring the van? Tell me you’ve got it.”
“I’ve got it, but—August, talk to me.”
I pull on the first pair of jeans I can find, snatching up any shirt and sweater, running for my shoes. “Keys—give.”
“No. Not until you tell me?—”
“Give me the fucking keys, Jon!”
His face hardens, as well it might. I’ve never once yelled at him like that. But it does the trick. The keys are in my hand with a reluctant jab, and I smash the front door open.
Red hits me from every angle. The whole sky has turned blood-red. There’s dust floating on the air, green. The clouds swoop by too fast in the sky, violet. “What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know.” He’s by my side, staring with the same unsettled worry at the world around us. “I came to check on you when you didn’t answer your phone.”
His look’s accusatory. Hurt. And I don’t have time for this. “I have to go.”
I know exactly what’s wrong with the sky. It’s my world ending. It’s everything August’s sacrificing himself to prevent.
I spot the van a few doors down and sprint for it. I’m in, keys in the ignition, when the door opposite slams. “Jon, out!”
“No.”
“Get out!”
“No.” He shakes his head resolutely. “Whatever’s wrong, I’m coming. Tell me what’s happened.”
Jesus Christ. Now he wants to be my friend?
I start the van, smash down the accelerator, and try to figure out the fastest way across London while on the move. South. There’s only one place I can think of that I might have a chance of finding him. If I’m fast enough. “Look up Imperial College on your map.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t August who did this.”
Christ, I hate his tone. “Fucking do it!”
He taps fingers down on his screen, even if he does it angrily.
“I need the fastest route. Really, the fastest. If there are parks, we drive through them. As directly as possible.”
“The parks all have barriers, you know that.”
“Yeah. They do.” My tears start to overflow, messing up my vision. Gripping the wheel with white knuckles, I swerve unsteadily through the relatively quiet roads of St. John’s Wood.
