I hadn't seen people in days.

And yet here they were, bent over, gray, sagging under the weight of solitude.

There were maybe a thousand of us, the leftovers, huddled in a conference room in the Sears Tower. Some were injured ; many had been left behind at the hospital. Others were homeless, or insane, or were simply lost in the fray when the evacuation happened. There were far too many children.

A man stood at the microphone in front of the room; he was one of the crazy ones.

"We're dead!" he screamed, "the bomb hit, and we're in hell. Damned! Damned!"

Two cops wrestled the mic away from him; they tried to give everyone with ideas a chance to speak, but their primary interest was protecting the peace . We were like victims of a plane crash stranded on an island; the strong were taking over.

Most of the guards were police and firemen who, during the evacuation, had stayed behind to make sure others got out. They were heroes, and yet they were also the people I feared most: they had the weapons.

The de facto leader was a minor public official named Moira. She had short locks of black hair and a permanently pursed lip, and wore a sensible pant suit while everyone else wore pajamas. She was the only one with a calm, clear head. I didn't know how. As the reality set in, I was beginning to lose my cool. Maybe we were in Hell, after all. Maybe the crazy guy was right.

Stolen novel; please report.

"We're dividing you up into squads. Report to a guard and let them know if you have special skills - doctors to the front. Everyone else who is able, we'll assign you a job. Scavengers for food and medicine will be the most valuable. Other than that, the objective is to survive. We don't have time or resources to speculate on where we are. Any questions?"

The crowd immediately began berating her with questions: who was she to tell them what to do? How did the Sears Tower have electricity, while the rest of the city was in total blackout? What would we do when food ran out? And for God’s sake, where were we? Were we really hit with a bomb, and if so, how did we survive?

Moira ignored their questions, only assuring them that we had enough food and water to last for the immediate future. The crazy man began accosting Moira, screaming that she was a devil, that she was leading them astray. One of Moira’s cops slapped him across the face and dragged him from the room.

The room was silent. Moira looked at us expectantly, daring anyone to speak up.

But the room was silent. It was clear the police were hers and hers alone.

And then, a flash of light, streaming through the windows of the conference room. A woman screamed. People flooded the windows, pushing over each other to see.

Outside the window, another city loomed, almost close enough to reach.

In the distance, I recognized the looming clock tower of Big Ben, glowing like an alien eye.

London had entered the Void.