I couldn't remember the last time I had done so much consecutive talking.

  I told Nathan everything which happened to me, and he listened, and only asked clarifying questions.

  We had stayed outside the supermarket for a good while, before the cold had dipped enough for Nathan to suggest going to where he was camped out.

  To get to the camping spot, we first needed to cross over the huge Memorial Park. I had suggested hanging out at the playground on account of there being plenty of enclosed spaces where we could get warm – I knew the spot well, because I remembered coming to the park with Dad and Gary when I was very little.

  Nathan mentioned it wasn't a good idea to hang around the Memorial Park on account of all the other homeless Piper Pass holding teenagers that stayed there overnight.

  It had taken us nearly twenty minutes at a brisk walking pace to cross the huge Memorial Park field.

  My heightened senses confirmed what Nathan had said, because I picked up at least two dozen teenagers huddled under the playground jungle gym structures and shivering in the cold. I wondered if I would know any of them if I saw their faces.

  "Wouldn't it be safer for you to stay with other people at night?" I asked.

  "Nah," said Nathan, "People steal and get into fights a lot. I don't want to get my tent stolen."

  Throughout everything I had been through I had thought I was getting the bad end of the stick.

  Nathan's not got the Pied Piper Task Force or Sub-Divisioners or local Mice crime lords coming after him, I thought.

  Even so, the idea of not having any power at all, and sleeping rough out in the cold, seemed a far scarier proposition.

  Nathan approached the edge of the Memorial Park field, which bordered a large spiked fence. He moved through the thick brambly bushes, and I followed.

  There was a gap in the fence which Nathan slipped through. I had a much harder time slipping through on account of my size, but I managed.

  Conversation between us had stopped in favour of Nathan concentrating on securing his footing in the darkness.

  "I could make a light?" I suggested.

  "No, no, better to keep it dark," said Nathan, "I know where I'm going."

  After ten more minutes of slow progress up a very thick stretch of nettles and brambles, we reached a strip of what appeared to be pine trees. Beyond the trees were the back gardens of working-class homes. Nathan, muttering to himself due to the sweaty frustration of getting caught up in so much annoying foliage, at last reached his camping spot.

  With my heightened night-vision, I could see it was a simple, small, blue camping tent big enough for two people at best.

  Nathan crouched, unzipped the tent, and crawled his way inside. I followed him in and, once I was inside, he zipped up the tent. It wasn't much warmer inside the tent besides the icy chill of the wet wind no longer being a bother.

  Nathan groped in the dark, and after a small clicking noise, a dim torch lit up the inside of the tent.

  There wasn't much else inside the tent besides empty food wrappers and drink containers, and a sleeping bag that was much too thin for the kind of cold Nathan was having to endure each night.

  "Take your shoes off, mate," said Nathan.

  I did as he asked, taking my shoes off and setting mine next to his boots.

  After a bit more manoeuvring, Nathan settled in one corner of the tent and me in the other.

  I decided to use the power to increase my body heat output to become like a human-sized radiator.

  "Sorry," said Nathan, "Where did we get to?"

  "After Sweet-Face handed me and Clang our butts," I said, "I spent the last few hours in Bramble and Emulsion-Man's hideout regrowing my arms."

  Nathan nodded.

  "Right, right," he said.

  And then he said, "So what are you going to do now?"

  I sucked in a breath, held it, and then exhaled as if I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.

  "Any ideas?" I said.

  "Well," said Nathan, "What do you want?"

  "To be at home in my bed with a mug of hot chocolate," I said.

  "Okay," said Nathan, "So let's say you get that. If, like you said, your Intuition has told you that Stowchester is going to be destroyed by Chellam using their Mousetraps, then you being at home with your family drinking hot chocolate is going to be a problem, isn't it?"

  "Why does it have to be my problem?" I said.

  "I never said it did," said Nathan, "You're the one who put that responsibility on yourself."

  "I can't just sit by and let the whole of Stowchester get destroyed," I said.

  "Why can't you?" said Nathan, "You could go home to your family, and if they'll listen to you then you can take them away from Stowchester – then none of it is your problem."

  "Do you know if my family's okay?" I said.

  "No – Sorry," said Nathan, "I'm barely in touch with mine as it is."

  "What's up with that?" I said.

  Nathan sighed, "My Mum's got anxiety problems. The news told her that anyone within the MICE age bracket, even Piper Pass holders, are dangerous. It's not personal to me, she just loses any sense of rationality when stuff like this happens."

  "What about your Dad?" I said.

  "He tried arguing with Mum to let me stay," said Nathan, "But it was causing World War Three for Dad and my sister so I decided it was easier and safer for my family if I just moved out until things settle down. I've got my phone so I meet up with Dad once a week and he gives me money and food and stuff to get by."

  Nathan sat back. He had stopped shivering.

  "Is it warm in here?" he said.

  "It's me," I said, "I'm using the power to make my body heat up."

  "Ah," said Nathan, "It's finally cosy in here for a change."

  "If you have the power you could warm yourself up on your own," I said.

  Nathan shook his head, and grinned.

  "Mate," he said, "What do you think is easier? Dealing with being cold, or using the Mice power and opening the Pandora's Box of problems that it causes?"

  "Assuming you have the power," I said.

  "Yeah," said Nathan, "Assuming I have it, which I doubt I even do."

  I considered Nathan's question.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "So what if you catch a cold?" I said, "What if you end up starving? Or some psycho junkie finds your tent and decides to stab you?"

  "Then I'd be dead, wouldn't I?" said Nathan.

  "Yes," I said, "So why not use the power?"

  "Because sod the power," said Nathan, "I never asked for it. I don't want it. Don't need it. And, you know what it really is that I don't like about this power now I think about it? The implication that I'm somehow less without it."

  "What do you mean?" I said.

  "I mean," said Nathan, "Like, the power begs the question of becoming more than I already am. Than I ever could be on my own. But that's just it, isn't it? The more I let the power in, the less of me there would be overall."

  "Isn't that a selfish way to think?" I said, "If you have the means to help people, shouldn't you?"

  "Ah-hah," said Nathan, "But now we're talking about two different things, aren't we? First we were talking about how I felt about freezing my butt off in this tent. Now we're talking about helping others."

  "Why not use the power to help yourself and others?" I said.

  "It's not my power to use," said Nathan, "Do you even know where it comes from?"

  "The Golden Sky, about eighteen years ago," I said.

  "Yeah, but why did The Golden Sky happen? Why are teenagers all over the world getting this power? What's it all for? how is it all going to end?" said Nathan.

  "I don't know," I said, "But not knowing the purpose behind something doesn't make it inherently bad. It just means we don't understand it yet."

  "Sure," said Nathan, "But you can also know a thing by how it behaves. Have you seen a single good thing come about because of the power?"

  I thought I might struggle to answer this question, but three things came readily to mind.

  "I've used the power to save people's lives," I said, "I saved two people from dying today, even."

  "And why were those people's lives in danger?" said Nathan.

  "In that instance," I said, "Because Sweet-Face and his gang were causing people to panic, and it almost led to those kids getting hit by a train."

  "Because…" said Nathan.

  "Because," I said, "Marbelle had stolen one of his Mousetraps, and he wanted it back."

  "See how that works?" said Nathan, "It's one person with the power causing trouble with someone else with the power. Now it's started, it's going to keep going until one or both of them are killed."

  "But the cats out of the bag," I said, "People do have powers, and if those of us who are willing to do the right thing and protect others decide not to get involved, then aren't we to blame if people get hurt?"

  "Maybe," said Nathan.

  "That's all?" I said, "Just 'maybe'?"

  "I'll admit that you're right about good people with the power stepping in to save the day," said Nathan, "But I saw someone say in a movie once, 'The path to Hell is paved with good intentions.'"

  "You know," I said, "If it weren't for me Joanne – the mother in Fauncherton Green – she would have died."

  "But you told me that the reason she was hurt in the first place was because a Pied Piper helicopter, which you and your friend commandeered, was attacked and then crashed into the building where Joanne was?" said Nathan.

  "So you're saying I'm to blame for her getting hurt?" I said.

  "Not quite," said Nathan, "I'm just saying that if you go back a few steps the reason you had to hijack the helicopter in the first place is because the Pied Pipers were, and are, after you and your friends."

  "Yeah," I said, "But if you use that logic, the reason I've been fighting to survive for the last month or so, is because I didn't decide to go on the run with you when you asked."

  Nathan shook his head.

  "No, Burgess," he said, "You've made some really stupid decisions to get you to this point. No offense."

  "Go on," I said.

  Nathan seemed to have been waiting for this go ahead. He raised a finger to count.

  "One – agreeing to go along with the Pied Piper's Return evacuation."

  "Two – letting that lady – what was her name again?"

  "-Abigail–"

  "-right, Abigail – letting her schmooze you into agreeing to go to the private research facility."

  "Three–" Nathan began to say, but I cut him off.

  "--saving those Pied Piper officers that me, Sophie, and Walter had rendered deaf and blind."

  "What?" said Nathan, "No. Not at all. That was by far the best choice you made during that whole fiasco."

  I sniggered, "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that."

  "Really?" said Nathan, "Because, seriously, I think that's the bravest and most commendable thing you've done – though you telling Robert Hoffman and his PUNCH program to sod off, and saving Joanne's life are up there too."

  "I've thought about it a lot," I said, "I'm really not sure saving those Pied Piper officers was the right thing to do."

  "Okay," said Nathan, and I could see he was getting heated in our conversation, "Do you remember why you decided to save them?"

  "Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I left them there in the dark to die," I said.

  Nathan's intent gaze bloomed into one of joy.

  "Exactly," he said, "You saved them because it was the right thing to do."

  "But it wasn't," I said, "Not really. Because if any of those men get their sight and hearing back, then they'll go right back to killing people again."

  "You don't know that for certain," said Nathan, "Maybe you saving them might make them think twice about their actions."

  "Yeah right," I scoffed.

  "Odds are they would just go back to killing," said Nathan, "But, in that specific situation, they were no longer a threat. You had beat them. They were at your mercy. And you decided to show them mercy that, being fair, they probably didn't deserve. But you showing them mercy shows way more about who you are."

  "Does it matter?" I mumbled.

  "Of course it matters!" Nathan exclaimed, "If the world had more people in it that showed some damn empathy, we would all be much better for it. You saved those men, I'm guessing, not because they deserved it, but because you imagined yourself in their shoes."

  "If I did the things they did I wouldn't want to be saved," I said.

  "I don't know," said Nathan, "I like to believe that people can choose to be good, even when they've done bad things."

  "Why?" I mumbled, feeling strangely raw and tired.

  "Because," said Nathan, "If we just go around believing that people can't change. That they are simply born bad, or have done so many bad things that there's no chance for them to change for the better – I don't know about you, but I think that's a very awful world to live in."

  I stretched and leaned to one side.

  "Okay," I said, "But when those Pied Piper officers go and kill an innocent person, then I'll be to blame for that, right?"

  Nathan seemed to have an answer ready to mind, but then he hesitated, and thought about what he intended to say next.

  Finally, he said, "I think if you had killed them outright when you, Sophie, and Walter had attacked them – if those officers weren't rendered deaf and blind and instead just dropped dead. You would have been very justified in killing them. But, because they were helpless, and you then had the choice to show them mercy – that's the difference."

  "So next time I should make sure I kill my enemies before there's an opportunity to show them mercy?" I said, sarcastically.

  Nathan laughed a little, but he was intent on staying on his train of thought.

  "I'm just saying in that particular situation you did the right thing," said Nathan, "But back then you were just trying to survive. You're at a crossroads right now, Burgess. Because if you decide to keep using this Mice Power, then all the chaos and problems you've faced already are going to pale in comparison to what will follow. You'll be like a single snowflake that causes an avalanche."

  "And what?" I said, "The alternative is to stop here. Quit using the power. Become normal again? You know I can't go back to that. My family's in danger because Soak's figured out who I am – and even then Chellam would probably go after my family anyway. I can't let my family pay for my dumb decisions. And I can't turn my back on Snap and Clang – not after what we've been through together."

  "You understand, right?" I said.

  "No," said Nathan, "If you were to put the decision in my hands, I would tell you to undo everything you've already done to yourself with this power, and to never use it again. Even if that means you not being able to stop Chellam coming after Stowchester and your family."

  "How can you be so certain about this?" I said.

  "Because I don't know if you're prepared to do what it takes if you choose to take the path of the hero," said Nathan.

  He could see I wasn't yet understanding what he meant.

  Nathan sat forward, and in a low voice he said, "I know you, Burgess. I like to think I know you better than anyone else in this world. When I look at you – even this new version of you – I don't know if you have what it takes. Let's put it in general terms. Let's say there's a guy, who has the power, and he's not willing to sit on the side-lines and let the chips fall as they may. If this guy wasn't completely – and I mean completely, totally, fully committed to becoming the absolute best hero imaginable – then this guy would fail before he even started. Because this guy would need to be so powerful, and so in control of himself – both his internal philosophy and his capabilities – that he would be able to put all the others who stepped out of line back in their place."

  "Are you that guy, Burgess? Because if you're not, you have to do yourself and everyone else a favour and stop trying to be someone you're not."

  I took in every word of what Nathan was saying. He had solidified the vague questions I had been asking myself in different ways over and over again.

  Could I be that person? I asked myself.

  "If I did that," I choked out in a barely audible whisper, "Then it would require everything. Endless training. Endless dedication. My life wouldn't be my own anymore."

  "Exactly," said Nathan, "I'm sorry to tell you, but the Burgess I know wouldn't have a snowball's chance in Hell trying to live up to such an impossible responsibility."

  In the silence which followed, I noticed the rain outside had picked up, and the beginnings of a storm, with thunder and lightning brewing, had started.

  I felt Nathan's reassuring hand at my shoulder.

  "It's okay," he whispered, "You've done enough. Sacrificed enough. Nobody, especially me, would think any less of you for putting a stop to things here."

  A soundless flash filled the sky outside, and moments later thunder rumbled in like the beginning of an orchestral symphony.

  My head had been lowered, and I realised that some small part of myself that had been horribly afraid was suddenly at peace.

  I lifted my gaze, and looked Nathan in the eyes.

  "That's just it," I said, "It's not about what others think of me — or me at all. You’re right - the only way forward is if I become an archetype of ceaseless dedication.”

  Nathan looked suddenly more tired than he already was, and I felt the weight of his disappointment in me.

  For a while we both sat in silence, letting the intervals of thunder and lightning fill the conversational void. The wind had picked up and had started to shake the tent.