by Jay Posey
Soon after they’d finished eating, Wren began to nod. Cass acted, and escorted him back to their room, and Painter took the opportunity to excuse himself as well.
There were still things Cass needed to discuss with Lil and with Gamble, but Wren didn’t want to be left alone.
“Can I stay with Painter for a little while?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea, sweetheart,” Cass said. “Painter might like to have some time to himself.” She tried to couch it in terms of what would be good for Painter, but in reality, she didn’t like the idea of leaving Wren alone with him. Not since his disappearing act.
“Just until you come back, I mean.”
“I can stay with you until you fall asleep, if you want.”
“He’s not going to hurt me, Mama,” Wren said. He looked at her with his big sea-green eyes, and they were steady and determined. “And I think it might help him. He talks to me sometimes.”
Cass still didn’t like the idea; Painter hadn’t really seemed himself lately, not since he’d confirmed Snow’s identity. But it was true he’d never shown any signs of doing any of them harm. On the contrary, he’d gone out of his way to aid them, and lost his home for it. And maybe he would open up to Wren. If it helped Painter get a hold of himself, it’d be worth it. Even if not, maybe it’d at least give them some insight into what was going on with him.
“We can ask,” she said. “But it’s his decision.”
Wren nodded. They crossed the hall and Cass knocked lightly, half-hoping Painter would be asleep already, or at least wouldn’t answer the door. But she heard him stir, and then the door cracked open. The room was dark, and he peered out with his glowing eyes.
“Didn’t wake you I hope,” she said.
Painter shook his head. “Not sleepy.”
“Wren was just wondering if you’d like some company for a little bit,” Cass said, wording it so it didn’t sound like she needed him to watch her son. She tried to give Painter every out to say no. “I figured you might want to be alone, though, and Wren understands. But I told him we’d ask, just in case.”
“No, sure,” Painter answered. He opened the door a little wider and stepped back. “It’d be n-n-n, it’d be nice.”
Cass gave it one last shot. “Are you sure? I know you’re exhausted, and it’s not going to hurt our feelings if you say no.”
“It’s no prrr-roblem. Really.”
Cass nodded, hoping her disappointment wasn’t too apparent. She turned to Wren and put her hands on his shoulders, turning him to face her. “Half an hour. Then to bed.”
“How about an hour?” he asked.
Cass sighed. She’d often wished that Wren had been more assertive; now she kind of missed the days when he’d just do whatever she asked without arguing. “Forty-five minutes. I’ll come back and check on you.”
Wren nodded. She bent down and kissed him on top of the head. Wren went into Painter’s room and sat on one of the beds, where Painter’s backpack was.
“Make sure he stays out of trouble,” Cass said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Painter said. Then he asked Wren, “You want the light on?”
“No, that’s OK. Unless you want it.”
Painter turned back and stared at Cass. After a moment, he cocked his head slightly and his eyebrows went up. Cass finally realized he was waiting for her.
“Alright,” Cass said. “I’ll be back in a little bit to get him.”
Painter nodded. Cass lingered a few seconds longer.
“I’m not g-g-going to rrrr-run off with him or anything,” Painter said softly.
Cass felt embarrassed, as if he’d guessed her mind. She gave a little laugh. “No, I know, of course not. I’m just… being a mom, I guess. Have a good time.”
“You too,” Painter said.
“I don’t know about that,” Cass said with a chuckle, and then she waved at Wren, who gave her an emphatic go away already look. “See you in a little bit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Painter repeated, and he closed the door. It clicked shut, automatically locking. It took an effort for Cass to turn away from the door and to start walking back down the hall. He’d be fine. Just being a mom, indeed.
Cass went back to the mess hall and found it mostly deserted. Gamble and her team were still seated at their table – but Swoop was standing and they all looked troubled.
“What’s going on?” Cass asked as she approached.
“Have you been in touch with North?” Gamble asked.
“No, why?”
“Anybody from Morningside?”
“No, not at all. Not since we left. What’s the problem?” Cass asked.
“Can you try to contact him?”
“Is it safe?”
“We’ll see.”
Cass didn’t like the sound of that, but she opened the connection and sent North a quick pim. In a split second, she got the response: refused.
“That’s strange,” she said. She tried again with the same result. Immediate denial.
“Locked out?” Gamble asked.
“Seems like it.”
Gamble nodded, grim-faced.
“Why would that be?”
“I tried to check in with some of my contacts back in Morningside. Same result. I had Finn dig into it. He skimmed some backlogs, found an executive order declaring us persona non grata.”
“What? From who?”
“North.”
Cass was thunderstruck. There had to be some kind of mistake. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Swoop said.
“Why would he target your team?”
“It’s not just us, Cass,” Sky said. “It’s all of us… you, and Wren included.”
Cass shook her head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way he could just issue a decree like that. Not on his own. What grounds would he have?”
Gamble answered, “The murder of Connor.”
Cass’s legs felt hollow, and she slowly lowered herself onto the bench. Her mind raced to put the pieces together. The attempt on Wren’s life. The tension of the Council meetings. The protests. The murder of Luck and Mez and the others. Was North at the center of it all? Or was the entire Council corrupted?
“Can’t we just get Wren to rescind it?” Wick asked. “He’s still governor, isn’t he?”
“How would he do that, Wick?” Finn said, his tone sharp.
“There’s gotta be somebody back there we can contact. Let ’em know what really happened.”
“And who do you think they’re gonna believe? The upright and pristine politician that’s there in the city, bringing them hard news? Or the people from beyond the wall,” Finn said as he flicked his hand at Cass, “that fled in the night with their bloodstained bodyguard?”
Finn’s words stung, but he was right. North was a long-time citizen. No matter what Underdown had done for Morningside and what hopes the people had for his son, Wren would always be an outsider. Cass was forever Other. And the citizens had never been comfortable with the guard; no one liked to be reminded of the bloody cost other people paid to keep them safe.
Was this what North had planned? Get them out of the city, and then assume power for himself? Or had he merely taken advantage of the opportunity? The safest thing is for you to leave Morningside, he’d told them. It just didn’t make sense. None of it did.
“I can’t believe it…” Cass said.
“Believe it or not, it’s what is,” Swoop growled.
“No, I mean I simply cannot believe North would betray us.”
“Sister, at this point it doesn’t matter,” Mouse said. He was calm, his tone of voice controlled, disarming. “However you slice it, our timetable’s changed. Right now, we need to focus on our next steps.”
“Next steps is I go back and burn him down,” Swoop said.
“Sure,” Mouse said. “We could do that, Swoop. And you know I’d be right there with you, dying in a hail of gunfire, if I thou
ght it was the right thing to do. But I don’t think this problem is one we can shoot to fix.”
Swoop took a deep breath. “I didn’t say it’d fix anything,” he said as he sat down. “It’d just make me feel a whole lot better.”
We still need to find a place to set up for a while, Able signed.
“Agreed,” Gamble said. “Let’s talk options.”
The group fell into a frank discussion of what lay ahead, and how best to tackle the immediate problem of finding a place to stay, possibly for a more extended period of time than they’d originally planned. They were a team, and as the conversation continued, Cass found herself slipping gradually out of the exchange. This time, however, she didn’t bristle at how little they asked her opinion.
They were in operational planning mode, and she was content to sit back and observe the unique capabilities that Gamble’s team possessed in action. Everyone had their specialties, and that always colored their approach to problem-solving, but even when tension seemed to be running high, the process never slowed down. Cass had never really seen this side of the team before, and she couldn’t help but be impressed. She let them carry on planning, trusting them in their element.
EIGHTEEN
Wren sat on the bed with his back against the wall, resting an arm resting on Painter’s pack next to him. Across from him, Painter was lying on the other bed on his back, with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, his electric eyes casting the room in a faint and soft blue glow. Wren yawned so wide it made one of his eyes water. He shifted his position, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs in front of himself in an effort to keep from falling asleep.
They’d had a brief conversation after Mama had first left, but it hadn’t been about anything important and it’d felt strained. After that, they’d just been sitting quietly together. Wren kept wanting to ask Painter if he was OK, or about what had happened earlier at the compound, but he just couldn’t seem to find the right words. Or the courage. So they just sat together in silence, while Wren tried to figure out what was keeping him from just getting up and leaving.
“What are we d-d-doing, Wren?” Painter asked. His voice wasn’t loud, but it startled Wren anyway.
“How do you mean?” Wren said.
“Out here. On the rrrr, on the run. With these people. Any of it.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Painter. I really am. I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t think. I didn’t think about what might happen…”
“No, it’s not that,” Painter said. “I mean… it’s juh, just strange. Like the wrong people had to leave.”
“It wasn’t safe for us to stay.”
“Yeah, but it shhhh, it should’ve been. We’re the good guys, right?” he asked.
Wren thought about that for a moment, wondering what Painter was getting at. “I think so. I try to be.”
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Painter said. “I just… I’m OK nnnn-now. I kind of fruh… freaked out.”
“It’s alright,” Wren said. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”
“So have you. And I’m ssss-still sorry,” Painter said. He pulled a hand out from behind his head and ran it over his face, briefly bathing the room in darkness. He returned to his original position. “Are you g-g-glad you got to ssss-see these people again?”
“Yes,” Wren said, though something pricked his heart. It had been a terrible shock, of course, to see the destruction and to find out about Chapel. But death and loss was nothing new to him, and he had already become numbed, somewhat. The grief seemed distant and faded. There was something else though, sharper, harder to understand. Disappointment. “I guess.”
“Not what you were exp… expecting.”
“Not at all.”
“I know what that’s like. To hope for ssss-ssss…” Painter paused, then took a breath. “To hope for something for so long. And then to fff-find out it’s gone forever.”
Wren nodded. “And… it’s different than I thought it’d be. I thought…” he paused too, searching for the words. What had he thought? The memories he’d had of Chapel’s village, and the way people had treated him then. The feeling that Wren had been part of their community. That he belonged, even if just for a little while. That was gone, too. “I guess it was stupid of me to think it could ever be like it had been before.”
“It’s not sss-stupid, Wren,” Painter said. “It’s human.”
Wren wished that made him feel better. Instead, he kept thinking about Lil sitting with that little girl, Thani. He wasn’t jealous, not really. But it bothered Wren for some reason, just the same. Like he’d been replaced. Like maybe all the memories he had of that time had been a lie.
“I just wanted th-th-things to be like before too. You know?” Painter said after a few moments. “I kept thinking maybe if I juh, just did nnn-normal things. Maybe normal things would mmm-make me feel normal again. And maybe… people would treat me like I was nnn-normal.”
He said people but Wren picked up what he’d left unsaid. His sister, Snow.
“But then… when I c-c-came in that room, and I th-thought they were hurting you… I got angry. And…” He paused. And then, “…I felt alive. Alive, Wren.” Painter turned and looked over at Wren then. “That’s tuh, tuh… that’s terrible, isn’t it?”
A sharp electric chill raced down Wren’s spine, and he shivered once, but violently. “No, it’s not terrible,” he said, but even as he said it, Wren felt that maybe it might be something very terrible indeed. Painter continued to look at him for a long moment. Wren sat very still. Then Painter finally returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“Before…” Painter said. “You know, when I was sssss-still a… you know. I only remember bits and puh, pieces. Little shattered memories. But one thing I remember, I had a p-p-p…” he stopped and shook his head, “a purpose.”
Wren got the feeling that Painter was building up to something. Or rather was trying to confess something, without actually having to say it.
“It’s not like I… don’t… I’m not ssss-saying I want to go back or anything. But, you know, sometimes… parts of it… I miss having a purpose.”
Wren didn’t say anything. But he felt something at work in his mind. Something just behind his conscious thought was nagging at him, threatening to find some kind of hidden connection between Painter’s words that Wren couldn’t identify – but even so, he knew he didn’t want to make.
“It’s unbearable, to have no purpose…” Painter said quietly. “And no hope.”
Against his will, something in Wren’s subconscious put the pieces together, and a sudden black thought erupted to the front of his mind.
“Painter…” he said slowly, fearing he knew the answer, and dreading even more the thought of hearing it confirmed as true. “Where did you bury your sister?”
Painter looked at him sharply. “What? What mmm-made you think of that?”
“I don’t know,” Wren said. He scooted forward on the bed, so he could put his feet on the floor. “Where did you bury her?”
“Why are you asking mmmmm-me this?” Painter leaned up on an elbow.
“Where is Snow?”
“I t-t-t-told you. Outside. In our sss-secret place.” He said it forcefully as he sat up fully, but his eyes gave him away. Painter wasn’t angered by the question. He was scared by it.
“Oh no, Painter…” Wren said. “Painter, no…” He stood up and took a couple of steps towards the door, though he didn’t really know why. “Please tell me you didn’t leave her out there for the Weir.”
Painter opened his mouth to answer, but after a moment his eyes softened and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Wren felt sick, and he put his hand over his mouth. He backed up and leaned against the door.
“How did you know?” Painter asked, practically whispering.
“I didn’t,” Wren said.
“But you understand, d-d-don’t you?” Painter said, looking back up at him.
“If you had a ch-chance, no matter how small… what if you c-c-could bring your friends back? Wouldn’t you try?”
Wren shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to even let the smallest hint of that idea into his head, it seemed so terrible.
“She’s your sister, Painter,” Wren said.
“Exactly,” he said. “My baby sister. I would do anything ffff-for her, Wren. I know it’s a luh, a long shhhh-shot. But what if, Wren? What if? If I could ffff-find her again, you’d bring her back, wouldn’t you?”
Wren stared back at his friend. His poor broken friend, who had lost so much. Who had lost everything. But as terrible as it all seemed, almost too horrible to comprehend, Wren found he couldn’t lie to Painter or to himself.
“I can’t promise that,” he said. He saw Painter’s expression change, and realized Painter thought Wren was just refusing outright. How could he explain that if Snow had been dead for days before she’d been taken, there was no chance that he’d be able to help her find her way back? He didn’t even know if that was completely true himself, no matter how much he suspected it. And Wren remembered all too well what it was like to live a life without hope. “I would try, Painter. But…” Wren trailed off.
“That’s all I c-c-could ask, Wren,” Painter said.
There was a light knock at the door, and Wren jerked away from it, with his heart hammering. Then, muffled through the door, he heard his mama gently call his name.
“My mom,” Wren said.
“You won’t tuh, tell anyone, will you?”
Wren just stood there, the words not really registering with him.
“D-d-don’t tell anyone, OK? Please?”
“I won’t,” Wren answered before he had time to think it through.
“You undersss-, understand, right?”
The knock came again, a little louder this time.
“I have to go,” Wren said. He turned around and opened the door. The light from the hallway dazzled his eyes, and he had to squint against the glare. The lights in the hall weren’t that bright, but his eyes struggled to adjust after sitting in the dark for so long.
“Hey, baby,” Cass said. “Hi, Painter.”
