Morningside Fall(77)

Cass immediately averted her own eyes, realizing almost too late that if she could see it, it could most certainly see her. She heard it squawk once, a burst of static. A few moments later, it made the same noise again. The second time didn’t sound as full.

“Ace?” Sky whispered.

“Wait.”

Cass held herself as still as possible, eyes closed, feeling that even the natural sway of her body might be too much movement to be safe. The Weir squawked a third time, but it was distant. Cass realized she was holding her breath.

“Alright, let’s move,” Gamble whispered.

Cass opened her eyes to see Wick already pushing forward, instantly responsive to Gamble’s commands. As they moved, she glanced back in the Weir’s direction, but there was no sign of it. They marched on in silence, following closely the edges and contours of the broken buildings that surrounded them. Wick never let them stray far from cover, never committed them too fully to any one path or direction. The cries, croaks, and calls from the Weir grew more frequent. On more than one occasion Wick quickly redirected them down a side street or narrow alley, though his reasons weren’t always clear. Even so, no one questioned his decisions.

The wind picked up as they continued on, stirring up swirls and eddies of concrete dust. Had they not been keeping pace and loaded down with packs, the chill might have been cutting. Cass looked down at Wren, hoping to gauge his feelings, but his face was hidden in the deep hood of his coat. Painter lagged slightly behind them, his eyes downcast and his face grim. Cass hoped Wren was warm enough, but didn’t want to risk asking. He kept near her, steadily matching her pace without falter or complaint. These still, quiet hours of the night were her time, the time she felt most alive and aware. But she knew her son must have been fighting with every step just to keep his eyes open.

Watching him, it was hard to remember he was only eight. Though in another sense, it was equally hard to believe he was already eight. Still so small for his age, and yet in bearing years ahead. At times he was just her little boy; quick to call when frightened, eager to be held. But other times deeply brooding and withdrawn. Her son was fast becoming more and more of an enigma to her. And Cass couldn’t help but think of her other son, how he had changed, who he had become. Her mind revolted at the concept that Wren could ever be anything like Asher. Yet fear remained. If Wren started down that path, would she notice in time to try and stop him? Would she even be capable of stopping him?

A sudden motion from Wick snapped Cass back into the moment. He gestured for them to stop, and then waved them into a narrow alley they’d just passed. The team moved as if the whole thing had been planned.

Sky rolled in first, keeping to the right and covering the left with his weapon. He hesitated a second or two while Finn caught up, and Finn moved to the left wall, mirroring Sky’s movements, to cover the opposite side of the alley. Together they flowed down the narrow route and stopped just shy of where it intersected with another. Both went to a knee, weapons trained on the corners.

Gamble quickly shepherded Painter, Wren, and Cass in and had them move to one side, about halfway down. They stopped maybe seven yards back from Sky and Finn’s position, and then she motioned for them to crouch down. Once they were set, Gamble turned around to face the alley entrance and placed herself behind them, using her own body to shield them from anything that might try to follow them in. Wick came last, sliding in at the mouth of the alley, partially concealed, but positioned to maintain watch.

They all held as still as possible. After two, maybe three minutes, Wick looked back over his shoulder and held up three fingers, and then waved an open hand at about forty-five degrees, towards the right of the alley entrance. Gamble nodded, and then ducked her head and whispered into her hand. The group held position for another minute or so, and then Wick gave another hand signal – a fist with thumb and pinky extended. Cass had no idea what it meant, but Gamble whispered into her hand again, and a moment later there was the hint of a shuffle from the other end of the alley.

Cass looked back and saw Sky moving towards them in a low crouch. Finn slid smoothly over into the spot where Sky had just been, keeping his weapon up to cover the intersecting alley. Sky continued past Cass, scooted up behind Wick, and patted him on the shoulder. As soon as he did, Wick swiveled fluidly and swept back down the alley towards Finn. Wick looked intense, though he managed a quick wink at Cass, and lightly touched the top of Wren’s head, as he passed them. When he took up Finn’s original position, the two of them carried on a brief conversation that was some mix of whispered words and indecipherable hand signals.