The great bell at St Paul’s Old Cathedral chimed Silas’ deadline. They all stood, ready, waiting, and unknowing, backs to the wall and looking out at the vast interior of the still empty building.

“Maybe we were wrong,” Audrey said under her breath. “Oh no, what if we’re in the wrong place.”

“We’re not,” Jessa said.

“But how do you know?”

“I just do.”

Audrey frowned.

“Hey, are you guys there?” Rachel’s voice suddenly came back to life. “Please be there. Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Rachel, we hear you!” Jessa responded into the walkie-talkie.

“It’s happening,” the words rushed out of her mouth, breathless, agitated. “It’s on the news.”

“What can you see?” asked Hugo.

“I… Uh… I don’t…”

“Rachel, what is it?” Jessa urged.

“They’re like… I don’t know… they’re floating.”

“What? Who is?”

“The children. There’s a news camera, and the children are just… floating by. I—I don’t know.”

“How many?” Jessa demanded.

“Two. There’s two on the screen right now. Oh shit, three. Another one just kind of… rose up and joined them. People are trying to grab them but they’re too high. What the fuck is happening? What the fuck…” Rachel let out a long breath. “Sorry. Sorry. What can you see where you are?”

“Nothing,” Hugo replied. “This place is empty.”

“Oh no, are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“He’ll be here,” said Jessa.

Rachel turned up the volume on the television.

“Can you hear this? People are going insane.”

“It just sounds like noise from here.”

“That’s basically all it is,” Rachel muttered. “Oh geez… there’s this woman pushing through the crowd, trying to pull her daughter down. I can’t take it…”

“I think we need to get out of here,” Audrey paced back and forth. “I know they’re locked, but maybe we can break through these doors from the inside.”

“No,” said Jessa.

“Jess, nothing’s happening here! He said midnight! But it’s now past midnight and he’s not here!”

“He will be! Right, Dr Mortlock?”

“I would like to think you’re right, Jessa,” she replied.

“Jessa, try and remember the vision you had,” Hugo said gently. “Did anything about it suggest that he would be here tonight? Or just that he has been here?”

“It’s going to be here! I know it is!”

“Let’s try getting outside, just in case,” Matt nodded to the group, and he, Audrey and Hugo ran to the doors to investigate the locks.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Jessa stared at them. Nobody responded.

“I think there’s a toolbox in here somewhere, I probably have a blowtorch or something,” Hugo said, rummaging in the backpack. “Maybe we can bust off the locks.”

“Wait, listen,” said Flynn.

In the distance was the sound of a crowd. The quivering mumble of countless thousands; irate and irrational.

“There’s more,” Rachel said quietly into their earpieces. “Moving quicker now, I think. I’m looking at the satellite map. It looks like the whole crowd is moving in your direction.”

Hugo glanced at Jessa.

“See?” she said. “They’re coming here.”

The distant rumble grew closer and into a roar, like an ocean wave approaching the shore. Growing, rushing, and unstoppable. Minutes flew by in seconds, and Rachel’s map updates and stunted descriptions of televised horrors cast imagery and fear in their minds. They had seen it all coming. But, physically trapped inside the final destination of their foreseen fate, they couldn’t see a thing.

“There’s loads more now—the crowd is crushing onto Fleet Street.”

“Rachel says they’re on Fleet Street,” Hugo relayed to the group.

“That’s a straight road to here,” Audrey said.

“What does it look like, Rachel? What can you see?”

“They’re still just… floating. Close together. Above the crowd. And occasionally one of the kids who’s in the crowd on the ground just kind of lifts up and floats along with them. How is he doing this?” Her question was rhetorical. They had no answer.

All they could do was wait and listen to the sea of chaos rolling toward them and the pittering sound of helicopter blades chugging in circles above. In a matter of moments, the sound grew exponentially as the huge wooden doors at the front of St Paul’s creaked open, ripping the locks apart with an unimaginable and unseen force. The crowd poured in before Jessa and the others had time to even think. They were pushed back into a corner under the force of a thousand people rushing into the building. They grabbed at each other to try and stay together.

“We need to get closer!” Hugo shouted over the deafening roar of fear and confusion. “The detonator will be out of range!”

He snatched Audrey’s hand. She held Jessa’s. Jessa grabbed Flynn. Matt and Felicia brought up the rear, trying to protect the teenagers from the crush. Together they snaked through the tightness of the crowd that flooded into St Paul’s. They made it to the centre of the main atrium, where the density of the crowd forced them to stop. With nowhere else to turn, the only direction for Jessa to look was up.

That’s when she saw them.

Some as young as six, some perhaps as old as sixteen, but all there, dead-faced and staring. Silas’ chosen hovered above the crowd that reached and pawed upwards in unsuccessful rescue. They floated, horizontal, face-down, their toes pointed to the earth, their mouths wordless and still.

Directly above Jessa’s face was the face of another, about her age. Her long hair fell in a cascade around her skull. Looking up among the mass of limp hair, Jessa stared into the girl’s eyes. They looked down upon her, open but unseeing.

The chosen lay in the air above the crowd, positioned uniformly apart from one another and just high enough that nobody could reach them.

Their mouths began to move. The crowd silenced to hear it.

“We mark the path for his mighty resurrection.”

The sea of spectators looked upward. Helpless, fearing, and pathetic. Sobs rang out from the mouths of the bystanders.

Jessa threw her gaze to the balcony.

“Where is he?” she said under her breath.

As if in response, shadows emerged from the back of the balcony. First, the two large men stepped out and looked down onto the crowd below. Next, another familiar face came into view. Cecily Graves. Her eyes moved quickly over the sea of onlookers and the floating chosen. She held her head proudly.

And then, there he was. Silas Lynch stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, and the screams rose. Angry, chaotic, echoing, questioning. Some people closest to the balcony corner rushed to find the entrance to the stairwell up, only to be blocked by a force keeping them out. Still they tried, desperately throwing themselves at the invisible wall.

The face-down chosen continued the chant that spoke unconsciously from their mouths.

“Detonator! Do it now!” Audrey shook at Hugo’s arm frantically, and he reached into his pocket for the device. He activated the detonator and held his thumb atop it. Under the chanting canopy of the chosen and surrounded by human walls of riotous noise, he pressed the red button.