Morningside Fall(48)

They slipped into his room in a smooth motion. Cass remained by the partially opened door, keeping watch. Neither of them turned on a light; Wren’s little blue night light still glowed by the foot of his bed.

“Be quick,” she said.

Wren went straight to the table across from his bed and slid open the drawer. It was there, where he always kept it, partially hidden under some clutter. His knife. The one Three had made for him. Mama had kept Three’s pistol, kept it packed away in her room – but it was this knife that reminded Wren the most of the man. He took it out, rolled it over in his hand. Felt the weight, the balance, ran his thumb along the cool, simple lines. The blade was supremely economical. Efficient. Like everything Three had been pressed down into something Wren could hold. It hurt him to remember, but the pain was welcome, familiar. Simple, and real. Somehow things had become so complicated.

“OK, Mama,” he said, returning to her side. “I’m ready now.”

She nodded, and just as quickly as they’d come, they crossed the hall back to her room. Wren risked looking around that time, and just as they were passing through the doorway, his heart nearly stopped with dread. For a split second, he thought he saw a shadow at the end of the hall. Back in his mama’s room, he gripped his knife a little tighter.

“Painter, let’s go.”

Painter appeared from the bathroom, mostly clean now, and looking much more in control. He just nodded and formed up next to them.

“Stay close to me,” Cass said. “And quiet.”

Wren held his breath while she eased the door open again. But whatever he’d seen mustn’t have been there now, because Mama slipped out into the hallway and pulled him along behind her. He was thankful that they were headed the opposite direction from the shadow. Wren was afraid to look back behind them, but he was more afraid not to, so he risked a peek. Nothing was following.

Cass led them around a corner and down a set of stairs to a lower level.

“What about the cuh-cuh-curfew?” Painter whispered.

“It’s alright,” Wren said. “They won’t stop us.”

“No, Painter’s right,” Cass answered. “We can’t let anyone see us. If Connor was in on it, there’s no telling which of the guard might be on his side. And we don’t want anyone to know where we are, or where we’re going, anyway. We’ll have to be careful.” She paused, and then added half to herself, “And maybe lucky.”

They moved through a darkened hallway to a side entrance.

“Wren, door,” Cass whispered. He didn’t really respond, just flipped the lock. She eased it open. Checked for any guards – or anyone else, really. Then she pulled the door closed again, and turned back to them both. “We’re going to move quickly, but keep your eyes open. We’ll try to avoid patrols, but if we get spotted, just keep your heads down and keep moving. Stay with me, alright? Stay right with me.”

Wren nodded, and then Painter did too. And with that, Cass pushed the door open once more, and the three of them moved out into the cool night air. For the first time, Wren felt that it was a far more dangerous thing to be trapped inside the wall than outside.





TEN


Cass kept the boys behind her at a corner, pressed against the outer wall of a darkened shop, waiting for the patrol to move further down the road. She counted three guardsmen, though from the way they were positioned, she got the feeling there were actually four of them out there. Or maybe she was truly feeling the fourth; those signals she was still learning to read. Yes, there. Trailing the others by a good thirty yards, holding himself to the far side of the street while they followed the center. Walking clean-up.



Cass waited until the guards had disappeared from view before she signaled the others to move forward. Wren clung close, a hand on her lower back, silently and fluidly adapting to her movement. They smoothly crossed the open stretch of ground and threaded their way through a narrow alley on the other side, turning right where it intersected in a T with another alley. At this rate, they’d make their destination in five, maybe seven more minutes. It hadn’t been the most direct route by any means, but so far it’d been the right one. They stopped again at the mouth of the alley, pausing to assess. If the guard was running four-man patrols, they probably wouldn’t be so close together. But now wasn’t the time to risk probably.

Cass glanced over her shoulder at Wren. His eyes were bright in the dim light, and focused. He still had his hand on her lower back; just enough pressure to be sure he was there, without pushing or hindering her movement. If he was feeling any fear, he was doing a masterful job of hiding it.