by Jay Posey
“What’s wrong?”
“Do we have to have different rooms?”
Cass felt her heart turn in her chest.
“No, baby,” she said, kneeling to his height and drawing him close. “No, we can stay together. We can always stay together.”
Her eyes welled. She squeezed tight, continued to hold him as he stood with his arms at his sides, empty sleeves limp and dangling. For a long moment, he just let her hug him.
“Mama?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“You’re squishing me.”
She smiled at that. Wiped her eyes quickly before letting go.
“Sorry.”
“That’s OK.”
Cass helped her son pull his arms into the sleeves of his overshirt. He lost a sleeve in the process and the two worked together to fish it out, and to pull the inner sleeve back down his arm.
“Go ahead and get your coat on, then hop up on the bed,” she said. “I’ll help you with your boots.”
As Wren wrangled himself into his new coat, Cass changed out of the shirt she’d slept in and into clean clothes that almost felt new. Slipping into the less-worn garments energized her, as if she were putting on armor for the journey ahead. She slid her feet into thick socks made for hiking, and then sank them into her boots, and buckled them up. She stood and felt strong.
Wren was already up on the bed again and Cass helped him put on his new boots. Boots without holes. Boots that fit. He dropped off the edge of the bed to his feet, and they stood together, ready to travel. Scavengers though they were, Cass couldn’t help feeling rich. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had everything they’d needed, and some to spare. Looking at the packs by the door, the ones Three had so painstakingly gathered and organized, she realized that for the first time since she’d left RushRuin, she actually felt prepared.
Cass took Wren’s hand, and moved to the door. She swung it open and jumped a little when she saw Jackson standing there. She’d completely forgotten he was waiting.
“All set?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Let me just get your gear.”
Jackson pushed in and wrestled all three packs onto his shoulders, refusing any of Cass’s attempts to help. He didn’t seem to have much trouble with Wren’s pack, or her own, but it took him nearly a full minute to pull Three’s pack off the ground, and position it securely on his back. It was only as the three made their way up the twisting staircase that she realized this was a show of strength on his part. She didn’t understand it, but she said nothing.
They moved up past the Commons, all the way to the flat, concrete entrance where the Gate stood. Still, there was no sign of Three. Jackson trudged to the gate and, red-faced and sweating, slung the packs to the ground just in front of the looming steel plate.
“Is Three meeting us here?” asked Cass.
“I’d guess so. He didn’t really say.”
Jackson moved over to the hand-crank, and paused to check the time.
“Should be good,” he said to no one in particular. And then he began to crank. The early purple light of dawn spilled in beneath the gate, splashing across the floor and sweeping over their feet, carrying with it a rolling wave of morning air, sharp with the scent of cold frost. In its midst, a shadow stretched.
And as the Gate rose to height, Cass recognized the figure standing beyond: Three.
“Ready to move?” he asked, with typical grim nonchalance.
“Did you spend the night out there?” Cass asked, in disbelief, knowing full well the answer to her own question. Which was good, because he ignored it anyway.
“We’re going to have to keep a pretty good pace. Sooner we get started, the better we’ll do.”
“Then let’s go.”
Cass swung her pack up onto her back, and clipped the harness around her waist. It fit her well, and though she was surprised at the weight, once it was in place, it was so well-balanced she hardly noticed it. Wren’s was much lighter. She didn’t even try to lift Three’s.
Three strode in, and hoisted his pack without any apparent strain. As he buckled in, he spoke to Jackson, though he didn’t look at him.
“I’d feel better if you came with us, kid. Hate to leave you behind.”
Jackson shuffled towards the three, but lingered several feet away.
“I’d probably just slow you down,” he replied. “Besides, I gotta be here to work the gate for anyone else who might show up, yeah?”
He smiled unconvincingly. If he didn’t believe it himself, Cass couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just come along.
“Please, Jackson?” Wren said. “Please come with us.”
“We’d be happy to have you,” Cass added. “Really.”
Jackson blushed at that. Dropped his gaze to Wren, and ruffled his hair. Shook his head. He shifted on his feet. Still nervous.
“I can’t. But come back any time.”
He glanced up at Cass as he said the last bit, then quickly away. Sheepish. It clicked for Cass.
Oh, she thought. A crush.
“Go on,” Three said to Jackson. “Say something, kid. I doubt you’ll get another chance, and I don’t want you chasing after us once we leave.”
Cass glanced over at Three. He was straight-faced except for the slight downward turn of one corner of his mouth; a tiny expression Cass had learned to read as something of a suppressed smile. She guessed he’d figured it out a while ago.
Jackson just looked up at her again, and smiled awkwardly. He shrugged, uncertain of what to say, looked away, out through the gate into the city beyond. Cass walked over to him, took his jaw in her hand, and swiveled his face towards hers.
“Thanks, Jackson. For everything. You’re a true hero.”
Before he could respond, she kissed him quickly but firmly on the mouth. He stared at her, stunned, when she backed off. She could still feel his gaze as she joined Three and Wren. Something like amusement washed over Three’s face.
Cass took Wren’s hand in hers and waited.
“Say bye, baby.”
Wren waved.
“Bye, Jackson.”
“Goodbye, little one.”
“We gotta move. Last chance, kid.”
Cass glanced behind her, saw Jackson shake his head. He was beaming.
“Alright then. Stay safe.”
“You too, Three. See you around, yeah?”
“Never can tell.”
Three turned and held out his hand, letting Cass and Wren lead the way out. They headed out into the open, and Cass felt a hitch in her chest. Some mix of exhilaration and fear. Not quite equal parts, but she couldn’t tell which she felt more strongly.
“Hey, pim me when you get to Morningside, yeah?” Jackson called from behind. “Let me know you made it.”
“Sure,” Three answered back over his shoulder. “I’ll have Cass do it.”
Cass didn’t turn around then. She just shook her head. When they had walked maybe a hundred feet, Three slid in next to her, leaned close. Spoke in low tones.
“Doubt you’ll ever see him again. But that kiss is gonna last him a looong time.”
He nudged her with an elbow, and then moved away a pace or two.
“Is he going to be alright?”
“Hope so.”
Cass noticed something behind those few words Three was willing to say on the matter. His usual stony gaze was shadowed by a slightly furrowed brow.
“You think it was a mistake to leave him behind?”
“Yeah.”
He let it hang in the air, as if that was all he was going to say. But just before she pressed him further, he added, “Might’ve been a bigger one to force him along, though.”
“He seems pretty sharp. If he survived that long with all the…” she trailed off, unsure of the diplomatic way to say it, “trouble… he was having, I’m sure he’ll be fine. I don’t think we need to worry about him.”
“I’m not.”
�
�Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
Three clenched his jaw, grimaced slightly. Frustrated with her, or himself, she couldn’t tell.
“Biggest footprints a man leaves behind are the people whose lives he crosses, intentional or not. And there’s no way to cover those tracks… I just hope he keeps his head down, at least for a while.”
With that said, Three lengthened his stride and was soon several paces ahead of Cass and her son. End of conversation. Cass shoved the implications of his words to the back of her mind and focused on keeping pace, the thought of pursuit too heavy to pick up so soon.
Before long, they’d fallen into Three’s natural broken rhythm, and begun their twisting but steady journey towards Greenstone under his ever-watchful eye. It was late afternoon on the third day of the journey when trouble came.
Seventeen
The sprawling city shell changed in small but perceptible ways as they followed their wandering south-easterly path. Fuzzy as she was from the Somalin doses Three insisted she take, Cass nevertheless felt that her awareness of her surroundings was growing sharper from the time she’d spent with Three. Wherever they went, he seemed utterly in the Now; never reflecting on what came before, or thinking of what might be ahead. Just fiercely, aggressively, rooted in the instant.
Cass worked to cultivate a similar mindset, to push the inconsequential past from her thoughts, to chase the imaginary, unknowable future from her daydreams. And over the course of the past few days, she’d noticed details in the world around her that had escaped her before. Some were of little value, such as the subtle changes in architecture, or shifts in the concentration of the residual signals that still haunted the abandoned buildings. Others were more important, like the widening of streets that offered less concealment, or the decrease in functioning tech that signaled the likely presence of scavengers, whether past or present. Even as the winds and temperature blurred the lines between late autumn and early winter, Cass felt more alive, more in tune, than she had at any time before.
And so it was, though Three had said nothing, that Cass knew from the shift in his demeanor that danger was near. They’d been making good time up to that point, but he’d slowed the pace, taken to narrower alleyways. They were moving forward, but in lines far less straight.
“What’s going on?”
Three waved vaguely towards an alley as his eyes roved the wide road ahead. Cass caught the barest glimpse of three figures moving along parallel to them.
“Bad guys?”
“They were headed the opposite way when we passed ’em the first time.”
Cass hadn’t even seen them before, but the fact that Three had, came as less of a surprise than it once would have.
“And there were four of ’em.”
She felt the icy pinprick of fear stab at her heart. She couldn’t boost off Trivex, and worse, Three had dosed her with Somalin, a tranquilizer, to slow her burn rate. She felt like she was moving at half speed: a poor quality if it came to a fight.
“What do we do?”
“Keep your eyes open. And keep moving.”
He led them out of one alley, then down a corridor formed by one sagging high-rise leaning into another. Pace slow, but deliberate, like an icebreaker through a frozen sea. He seemed to be looking everywhere and nowhere all at once, eyes taking in everything without focusing on any one thing in particular. Cass pulled Wren close to her side, kept a hand on his shoulder. He’d gone quiet, sensing the danger even before she’d spoken to Three.
Ahead, Three halted, held out a hand behind him to stop them as well. His head swept slowly back and forth. Cass strained to hear any warning sound, but there was nothing, save for the soft sighing of the late-autumn breeze through the twisted steel branches bending above them.
Cass felt Wren pull away from her, and looked down to see her son creeping carefully to Three. He placed a hand on Three’s elbow, and Three bent down so the boy could whisper in his ear. Three glanced up to windows on their right as he nodded, then pushed Wren gently but firmly back towards his mother. Wren clung close to Cass then, his head pressed against her hip, making himself as small as possible. Cass cursed herself silently for her helplessness. Worse, for the danger her helplessness presented for Three. She longed for quint, not because her body craved it, but because she wanted desperately to stand at his shoulder, strong and capable, not behind him, like some creature to be protected, or pitied.
“You might as well come on down from there, brother,” Three called suddenly, in a booming voice that echoed within their confines. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
After a few seconds, something shifted in one of the windows, and Cass realized it was a man standing up out of the shadows.
“You can call your friends, too.”
The man disappeared from view. In front of her, Three slipped his pack off and set it on the ground, then stepped a few paces away from it. Cass felt the air go electric. The familiar feeling she’d learned to trust as a sign of imminent danger. The sign she’d used as the signal to boost.
“Three…” she said, without knowing why. Ahead of her, he seemed simultaneously relaxed and coiled as a steel spring. Stance wider, one foot slightly ahead of the other.
The man from the window emerged from the building, and as he did so, the other three swung into view from the end of the alley behind them. From the looks of it, the man from the window was the pack leader. He was round but solidly built, greasy hair in a ring around his head where he wasn’t balding. A coil of leather hung at his waist, some kind of whip, she guessed. He smiled as he approached, but not in friendliness. It was the smile of a predator who’d cornered its prey. A gap showed where one of his front teeth should’ve been.
“Out for a bit of walks, are we? On our way to a visit?”
Three moved closer to Cass and Wren, blocking them from the leader’s view.
“Just passing through.”
The other three men continued to close in, casual.
“Ones don’t ‘pass through’ without paying the toll.”
“Didn’t realize there was one, or I would have. I’ve got some food. Couple of batteries. What’s the price?”
“Treats.”
The three men were close now, and Three pushed Cass and Wren around to his side, shielding them as much as possible from the group. Cass noticed the leader lick his lips, his eyes roving around her waist, searching her out hungrily, burning with naked lust. Her stomach turned in revulsion. If she’d been able to boost, she would’ve forked the eyeballs out of his skull.
“Not for sale. And it’s probably best if you all just move on, and let us do the same.”
The other three men flanked their leader, formed a semi-circle with Three at its center.
“Not for sale, because we ain’t payin’,” said one of the pack, a gangly redhead with a patchy beard. “That one’s ours now. You can move on, or you can die.”
“Gonna have us a good time either way,” added another, this one with a strip of stained cloth tied around his face as a mask. “Before and after.”
“That’s not gonna work,” Three answered. Steady, controlled. But Cass could hear the fire. Four of them. Three was good, but no way he’d handle them. She unclipped her backpack.
“Hey, come on fellas,” she said. “I’m sure we can work something out here.”
The pack looked to her as if her words were an unwelcome intrusion on some black business deal. The leader seemed almost amused. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead of words, a strange crackling hiss spilled out from the leader’s throat. Blood burbled at the corners of his lips. Three was in motion.
As the leader staggered backwards, clutching his throat, Three was already upon the redhead. The redhead was doubled over, his head caught in Three’s vice-grip hands, being used as a human shield to prevent the other two from closing the distance. Three jerked the redhead in one direction, then violently back the other, twisting as he did.
There was a sickening snap, and the redhead ragdolled into the gurgling leader. Three didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and his expression had not changed.
The masked man was next in line, and Three met him halfway, stomping the man’s shin just above the ankle. It rolled and snapped, as Three twisted and connected with a perfectly placed hammer-fist just at the hinge of the masked man’s jaw. Cass saw his eyes rolling back before he’d finished falling.
The fourth and final man seemed frozen in place, his hand drawn back with some sort of jagged club, and his eyes wide with fear. Three took one long stride and then buried his boot sole-first into the man’s hip socket, folding him like a jackknife. The man fell backwards but still Three closed, grabbing the man’s head at the top of his skull between his hands. Three drove downward with all his weight as the man impacted the ground, and Cass heard the cascade of pops as some unknown number of the man’s vertebrae shattered. The man slumped awkwardly forward, his jaw slack.
The pack leader had just gained a knee by the time Three turned back to him. He stretched out a hand in a silent plea for mercy, but Three had none to give. Three drew up to his full height and then plummeted his fist and all the power of his body into the leader’s temple, his knuckle so expertly placed that Cass knew the man would never again wake. The leader’s skull bounced dully off the concrete, and all was still.
It was over in six, maybe seven seconds. Cass was no stranger to violence, but the scene she had just witnessed was like nothing she’d seen before. The warmth drained from her body, and suddenly, the safety she’d felt with Three melted away. She had killed before, out of necessity, but she was no killer. But he had just violently disassembled four men with his bare hands. Just as casual as he was now, lifting his pack and rebuckling his harness. Same practiced fluidity, same apparent ease. Same load on his conscience. Zero.
“Come on,” he said, lightly grabbing Cass under an elbow. “We gotta move.”
His touch repulsed her, and she reflexively pulled away. He blinked at her, not understanding.
“You hurt?”
“You killed them… all…” Her voice sounded far away. He quickly scanned the four bodies.