by Jay Posey
“How did she…?” Vye asked, unable to bring herself to say it.
“She killed herself,” Cass said. She tossed the handle of the girl’s knife on the table. Hondo picked it up, examined it, held it up for the others to see.
“It’s a popper.”
“A what?” Vye said.
“Shatter-blade,” Aron explained. “Got a little charge in there, makes the blade explode in a million pieces and turns your insides to soup. Nasty business. Find ’em on outsiders all the time.” He added the last bit as if it was proof positive his assumptions were right. Awfully convinced.
“Who would do such a thing?” Connor said, almost to himself. He shook his head. “Who could even conceive of such a thing? He’s just a boy!” There was genuine despair in his voice. A rare display of emotion.
“Not to them,” said Vye. Her voice was quiet but certain.
“And that’s what I mean,” Aron said. “Look. In here, to us, we know who Wren is. But out there, he’s just a name. Or… or… or a king. Or a god.”
“Or a devil,” said Hondo. Cass held herself still, refused to react to the almost-familiar words. After a moment, she let her eyes slide casually across Vye to Hondo.
“That’s not what I meant,” Vye said.
“It isn’t what you said, but it’s what you meant,” Hondo replied. “And what do you expect? He brought ghouls to live among us.” Aron and Connor both reacted, and Vye actually gasped aloud. Hondo glanced at her, then turned and addressed Cass directly. “Look, don’t take it the wrong way, Cass. I’m just trying to be honest about how some folk feel.”
Cass waved her hand, casually dismissing any offense. She’d been called worse.
“There are certain segments out there,” Hondo continued, “not me mind you, you know not me, but there are segments who just want things back the way they were.”
Connor said, “Things will never be the way they were–”
“It doesn’t matter, Connor, people will always want it anyway!” Hondo said, voice rising. “I got people out there still talking about going home one day! Home, Connor! What kind of home you think is left out there for anyone to go back to?”
“People are just afraid,” Rae said. “Afraid of change, afraid of uncertainty. And when people are afraid, they drive themselves to do things. Crazy things.”
Aron said, “And that’s why I said we had to keep the gates closed!”
“Didn’t we just agree we weren’t going back there, Aron?” said Hondo.
Things were getting heated again. Cass glanced at North. He was still, expressionless, soaking it all in.
Aron replied, “But back there is the problem, Hondo. Back there is where too much changed, too fast. Look here, bringin’ Wren to the people, makin’ him governor, that was the quick fix. Underdown’s son, heir to the throne. What he would have wanted. That’s easy, people get that. But throwin’ the gates open to the outsiders? And then this business with… you know. I’m sorry, Cass, but it’s true.”
She said, “No one here needs to apologize to me for anything. I know what I am.”
“Again, Aron,” said Rae, “we all appreciate your keen sense of problems, but why don’t you try solving one for a change!”
He said, “We gotta get ’em off the streets. Bring ’em all here, or let me take ’em in at my place, I don’t care. We just need a place for ’em to stay until people get used to the idea.”
North spoke at last. “They’re free people, Aron. Free people. Like you. Like me.”
“No, North, they’re not. Doesn’t matter what we say, doesn’t matter whether you like it or I like it. They’re different.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” said a small voice from the entryway. The whole Council turned, and even Cass felt a jolt. There was Wren, standing near the door. Observing, for who knew how long. Just like his mama. Able hovered by the entrance, at once protective and unobtrusive.
Cass opened her mouth to protest but caught herself, closed it. You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting. You should be playing. You should be having a childhood. Not in front of the Council. In here she was his advisor, not his mother. A war she constantly fought.
Wren approached, and everyone stood as he climbed up in his chair at the head of the table. A formality they insisted on, though Wren had often said it seemed silly. His legs dangled freely above the floor, but his face was grave with understanding well beyond his eight years.
The Council retook their seats.
“How are you, Wren?” Rae asked.
“I’m well, Miss Rae, thank you,” Wren said. His words and tone were kind, respectful, but Cass could tell the answer had been more reflex than response. “It’s the difference that scares people so much. All the changes.”
He said it like a statement, but it was a question. Looking for confirmation.
“Change, uncertainty,” Aron said, nodding. “Like Rae says.”
“But that’s not the whole truth,” Hondo said, leaning forward. “It’s them, too. What they are. What they represent.”
Cass felt anger rising, but checked herself.
“Tell us, Hondo,” North said. He was speaking Cass’s mind, whether he knew it or not. “What do our friends represent?”
Hondo swallowed, licked his lips, glanced around the table for allies. Maybe he’d pushed it too far.
“People think they could go back,” Wren said. The Council seemed surprised to hear him answer for Hondo. “To the way they were.”
Hondo nodded. For a moment, Cass lost herself hearing her son give voice to the nightmare that haunted her daily; the terrifying thought that she might ever… relapse? Revert? Was there even a word for it?
“And some folk blame them for things that happened,” Hondo added after a moment. “I know it’s not fair. It’s not right, and it’s not fair, but that’s how it is.”
“None of this moves us any closer to resolving last night’s attack,” Cass said, reasserting control of the conversation. “Unless you’re suggesting that we’ve reached such a state in Morningside that people would send someone to kill my son?”
Hondo shrugged in a way that suggested it was the only possible explanation.
“What purpose would that possibly serve?” Rae asked.
“It’d be the first step towards getting things back to the way they were, wouldn’t it?” Hondo said. “Think about it. Wren dies by the hand of an outsider, what’s the first thing everyone’s going to want to do?”
“Send them all back outside,” Vye said.
“Whoa, slow down now, slow down,” Aron countered. “Ain’t no reason to go makin’ up conspiracies when it coulda been just like I said. Girl after revenge, on her own, cause of her own reasons.”
“It makes sense, though,” Connor said. “A terrible, terrible kind of sense.”
Rae took over. She said, “Look, in the immediate, it’s irrelevant. Whether she was crazy, or desperate, or a hired assassin, we’re not going to figure that out sitting around this table. The question we’re here to answer right now is – what do we do?”
It was quiet for a moment, as each Council member looked to the others.
“Nothing,” said Wren. Hondo suppressed a condescending smile; Connor smiled what he probably thought was an encouraging smile, but that ended up more condescending than Hondo’s.
“We can’t do nothin’ Wren,” Aron said. “Once people find out–”
“If we don’t do anything, then no one has to know anything happened,” Wren answered.
“I think you’re putting a little too much faith in your guards,” Hondo said.
“Maybe someone will talk,” Wren replied, “But if we don’t make any sudden changes, then who will believe it? It’ll just be like any of the other rumors people talk about every other day of the week.” Wren was sitting up straighter, leaning forward. Confident. And becoming convincing. “You’ve been saying it yourselves all morning. People fear change. So, we don’t change anyt
hing.” He paused for a moment. “Except maybe I’ll sleep in my mom’s room for a while.” He said it with a smile that undercut the seriousness of the moment. Rae chuckled.
“I agree,” North said, “If we don’t respond to the attack, it becomes a non-event.”
“Unless she really was sent by someone,” said Connor.
“Then our inaction will speak more powerfully than anything we could do at this point. We will not be terrorized.”
Aron shook his head. “No. We can’t pretend it was nothin’. It’d be pure foolishness.”
“We need to help people adjust,” Wren said. “We need to help them get used to how things are now. It won’t help anybody if you just lock up the compound.”
“It won’t help anybody if you’re dead either,” Hondo said.
Wren’s gaze dropped to the table and he went quiet.
“Whatever else we decide, we need to identify the girl,” Cass said. “Discreetly. What are our options?”
The other Council members all exchanged looks, waiting for someone else to offer an idea or opinion. Finally Rae sat forward. “I’ve got a few connections by the West Wall. I’ll see what I can find.”
“I doubt it’ll be any use, but I can handle the business district,” Hondo said.
“And I’ll talk to the elders,” said Aron. “Most of us are only good for gossip these days anyway; someone’s bound to know somethin’.”
“Secrecy is crucial,” North said. “We shouldn’t ask so many questions that others begin to wonder.”
“Agreed,” Cass said. “Use your judgment, but err on the side of caution. Let’s see what we can find out, and reconvene in two days.”
The Council members agreed and, after a round of formal goodbyes, began excusing themselves. Cass watched them intently as they departed, looking for any final hints or clues as to what any of them might be hiding. But nothing stood out, nothing out of the ordinary. Or rather, so much out of the ordinary that made it difficult to discern motives.
“Mama,” Wren said. “Are you mad at me?”
The question caught her completely off guard. “What? No, baby, why?”
“Because I came to the meeting anyway.”
“No, of course not. I just thought you didn’t want to come.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” Wren replied.
“You did fine, sweetheart. You made some very good points.”
“Then why do I feel like they don’t want me around?”
Cass’s heart sank to hear those words.
“I don’t know, Wren. But we’ll figure it out, OK?” She said it with what she hoped sounded like certainty, knowing that if they didn’t figure it out soon, neither of them would be likely to survive whatever came next.
THREE
Fletcher had been the first one to spot the man with the blindfold. He was the smart one, always had been. The one who always noticed things, and thought of things, and made good plans; and that’s why he was in charge. And it was lucky for ol’ Blindfold down there that Fletcher was in charge, else the boys would’ve cut him up and fed most of him to Nice and Lady, and probably ate some of the leftovers themselves. Especially Cup. Cup was crazy.
Nice and Lady was their dogs what they got off a crazy old woman who thought they’d be protection and was wrong, and Fletcher had named ’em because he said that they got ’em from a real nice lady, and the boys thought that was pretty funny, so that’s what they named ’em. Right now, Nice and Lady was somewhere with Sloan being real quiet like good dogs. And they was good dogs. Better than some of the boys, but that wa’n’t much of a compliment when you thought about it.
But Fletcher was in charge, because he was the smart one, and so Blindfold was still warm and breathing for now. At least until Fletcher could figure what they was going to do with him. Killing him and letting the dogs eat good was the easy thing, they done that plenty of times, but Fletcher knew the easy thing usually wa’n’t the best thing. And there was something wa’n’t right about this one, because Blindfold, he was dressed weird in a coat too big and had a blindfold on his eyes, and was just kneeling down there in the street like that for an hour or more. That’s how Blindfold was when Fletcher saw him, and that’s how he was right now, and it been an hour or more. So Fletcher knew he just had to figure what to do with him.
“Heya, Fletcher,” Mull whispered. Mull was a good one of the boys, real quick with the jittergun, like magic-trick quick, but he wasn’t real smart.
“Shhh,” Fletcher said.
“Yeah, but – Fletcher. You figure what we gonna do yet? I gotta leak.”
“Well, go on,” Fletcher whispered back. “I ain’t stoppin’ ya. Just do it quiet.”
“Why’s he just sittin’ there like that, Fletcher?”
“Because somethin’ ain’t right with him, Mull.”
“You mean like he’s dead or somethin’?”
“Yeah, Mull, I been sittin’ here lookin’ at a dead man for a hour. Go take your leak before ya wet us both.” Mull grunted and started off to another corner of the roof. “And do it quiet!”
Fletcher took another look around, looking for something he hadn’t seen yet, something Blindfold might be counting on or waiting for. But it all looked like everything else. Broke down buildings and roofs that all fell in and garbage in the street. He looked back down again, down at Blindfold, and he was still just setting there, on his knees all weird, not moving or nothing. Fletcher looked at the sky. Couldn’t be more than another half-hour before the sun go down and the howlies come out, and it’d take a good ten minutes or so to take care of Blindfold and get him packed up and maybe another fifteen to get back inside and locked up. Fletcher looked back at Blindfold again.
Guess they’d have to do the easy way after all.
“Mull,” he whispered across the roof. Mull was zipping up and he looked over, and Fletcher motioned with his hands to get down off the roof and around back to where the boys was waiting. Mull nodded, and they both went down the back where an old ladder was only half hung on, but they climbed down easy because they was both pretty good on their feet.
When they got to the bottom, Creed and Yeager was sitting around leaning against the wall and doing the things they did when they was bored; and Mags he was sleeping; and Cup, well, Cup was just setting there facing the wall – staring at it like he could make it fall down just staring at it – and if anyone could it was probably him. Cup was crazy.
“Hey, Fletcher, what’s the plan?” Creed said, and he stood up and stretched, like he was ready to do some work.
“Where’s Sloan at?” Fletcher asked.
“Around the other building with Nice and Lady.”
“OK. Here’s the plan,” Fletcher said, then noticed Mags was still sleeping. “Wake Mags up.”
Yeager kicked Mags pretty good, and Mags woke up mad and Creed laughed a little.
“Come on, Mags,” Fletcher said, “we gotta do some work.”
“What’s the plan?” Mags asked, sitting up and rubbing his ribs where Yeager’d kicked him.
“Creed, you and Yeager, you’re gonna go round to where Sloan is, and then you boys get Nice and Lady and come up behind him. Then me and Cup and Mull and Mags, we’re gonna come up in front of him.”
“OK,” Creed said. “And then what?”
“Then I’m gonna ask him some questions.”
“OK. And then what?” Creed repeated.
“Well, then I reckon we kill him.”
“OK.”
“OK,” Fletcher said.
“OK,” Creed said, and then he and Yeager went off to find Sloan and the dogs.
“Cup,” Fletcher said. “You get that?”
For a second, Cup didn’t do nothing, then all sudden-like he just sits up and headbutts the wall, and he sits back with a big smile – with blood coming down between his eyes – and then gets up and starts walking. Cup was crazy.
Mags and Mull started following him, but Fletcher caught Mull’s arm and sa
id real low, “Hey, Mull. I’m gonna ask him a couple questions, but if he acts funny, you don’t wait. You just go on and shoot him, alright? I wanna ask him a couple questions, but I won’t be mad if you gotta just shoot him, alright?”
“Alright, Fletcher, I got you,” Mull said, and he patted the jittergun he kept in a holster right at the front where he could reach it real quick.
“Alright,” Fletcher said, and he patted Mull on the shoulder because he was one of the good ones, and you could always count on Mull, even when Cup went crazy.
Fletcher walked out into the street with Mull just behind him and walked up a couple of yards from Blindfold. Cup and Mags was already there, but kind of hanging back, and then when Fletcher was there in the street, Sloan give a little whistle and come out of the alley behind Blindfold with Nice and Lady barking all a-sudden – because they been such good dogs to be so quiet so long – and now they was slobbering and pulling their leashes, and Creed and Yeager was right there behind them, laughing at how the dogs was dragging Sloan up the street. But the dogs they quit when they got close and started pacing back and forth like they was a little confused and a little excited.
“Hey,” Fletcher said, once all the boys was in place. But Blindfold just sat there on his knees with his head down like he was sleeping.
“Hey!” Fletcher said louder. Blindfold didn’t move or nothing.
Then for no reason Cup just let out a holler and threw a brick or something right at Blindfold and it went next to his head so close his hair moved, no fooling. But Blindfold he didn’t move or nothing, not even like it’d been a fly buzzing.
“Knock it off,” Mull said, kind of sharp-like to Cup. Then he leaned in. “I told ya, Fletcher, pretty sure he’s dead.” Fletcher shooed Mull away. He was quick on the trigger, but not so much with the thinking.
“Hey, old man, my friend thinks you’re dead. You ain’t dead, are ya?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Blindfold said, and Mags actually jumped back two steps, and Creed and Yeager both busted out laughing at that. And Nice and Lady kept walking back and forth, back and forth, and Nice whined a little high-pitched whine, and Sloan jerked his leash to shut him up.
