The Headman went limp, and then violently ragdolled forward, straight at Heavy. But Heavy leapt sideways and dropped to a knee, and got two shots off before Sky could reacquire him.
“Sky?” Gamble called.
“Go, Gamble, move!”
“Moving.”
The other two guards rushed over to the fallen Headman, and Coilgun B knelt beside him, checked for a pulse. From the looks of it, Kit had hit him with the stunrod and then tossed or kicked his body at Heavy. Heavy was still on one knee, at least. Kit was gone, somewhere down that alley. No way to tell from where Sky was whether she’d been hit or not. Judging from the fact that no one was chasing after her though, he had a pretty good guess.
“Sky, Finn,” Finn said. “Precious cargo is away. We need to roll out, brother.”
“Alright, check,” Sky answered. He gave one last look at Heavy, still in his sights. It’d be so easy. But now it’d just be revenge. Heavy stood slowly and advanced cautiously into the alley, weapon still shouldered. “Sky moving.”
Wren was trembling, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, or the nerves, or a combination of the two. He felt it mostly in his chest, and no matter how hard he squeezed his arms into his sides, his ribcage just kept on vibrating like he had some kind of machine stuck inside. He pulled the hood up on his coat. It made it a little harder to see what was going on around him, but maybe that was OK. Wren was just focused on keeping near Mama anyway. And Wick. His job was to stay with Wick.
He hoped Kit was OK. He’d heard the shots, of course. But everything had happened so fast after that, and no one had mentioned anything, and he wasn’t supposed to talk or ask any questions. He’d always liked her, even though Wren didn’t know her very well. She’d been one of the first he’d Awakened, even before Mez, and she’d been the easiest to help. And now Mez was dead, and Luck, and now maybe Kit too. It seemed especially cruel, to him; like life had been twice stolen from them. The hollow promise of a second chance, snatched away.
The heavy quiet still seemed eerie, like the silence that falls after some background noise everyone had grown accustomed to suddenly goes away. And everything they did seemed too loud in it. Their footsteps, the jangle of their gear, even their breathing. Wren found himself breathing through his mouth, just to try to keep quiet.
The air was cold enough that he could just see his breath every once in a while, if he was looking for it, and there was enough light to see. For the most part, though, Wick was leading them through back alleys and narrow passages where the street lamps were fewer and the shadows were darker. If Wren had ever been down any of these paths, he certainly didn’t recognize them now. He wasn’t even sure which direction they were headed, except he assumed they were getting steadily closer to the wall. Wren also realized he had no idea how long it’d been since they’d left the Tea House. It seemed like they’d been walking a long time, way longer than it should’ve taken. But he remembered traveling with Three, and how sometimes when you were scared and tired, a few minutes could seem like an hour. And right now, Wren was a little scared, and really, really tired.
He bumped into Cass without even realizing he’d lost focus. Apparently they were stopping. A few steps ahead, Wick was crouched low, whispering something that Wren couldn’t make out. Wick turned around and motioned for them all to get low. Straight ahead looked like a brick wall, so they were either at an intersection of alleys, or a dead end. They waited in silence for several minutes, or what seemed like it anyway. Wren heard Gamble whisper, and then a few moments later Wick did too. Talking to each other, probably. It was strange, the way they communicated. Wick had called it their secure channel, but Wren didn’t know how it worked. It wasn’t like pimming, exactly, and somehow it didn’t feel the same. It sounded funny; tinny, with static. Low signal, low profile. Maybe it was something they had developed to avoid attracting the Weir when they were out beyond the wall.
Gamble and Wick took turns, whispering back and forth a few times, and then Gamble came up from the back of the line and crouched down next to Wick. Wren couldn’t help but wonder if something had gone wrong. They hadn’t seen any patrols, or really anyone for that matter, since they’d left Mister Sun’s. Whether that was because Wick was such a good pathfinder, or because Finn and Sky were out there somewhere helping guide them around, Wren wasn’t sure. But this was the first time they’d stopped in one place for this long. Wren’s legs were starting to go to sleep.
Finally, Wick moved forward and disappeared around a corner, but Gamble turned to face them and held up a hand, signaling for them to wait. She seemed to be listening intently for something. After another minute or two, she nodded.
“Alright, check,” she whispered. “Wren first.”
Wren didn’t like the sound of that. Gamble pointed at him, and then motioned for him to join her. He walked to her bent double, and his legs were all tingly from the long wait. When he got to her, she put a hand on his shoulder and her lips right next to his ear.
“We’re going to cross one at a time,” Gamble whispered. “Wick’s waiting around the corner. I want you to go first, OK?”
“OK.”
“Here, look.” She leaned Wren out a little so he could see around the corner. They were in a small T-intersection, and beyond it there was a wide stretch of open ground ending at the wall. Almost there. Gamble let him stand up straight again and then said, “Just run straight across. Wick’s waiting right on the other side, OK?”
“OK. You want me to run?” he asked.
“Yep, the quicker the better.”
Wren nodded.
“OK, Wick,” she whispered, “Wren’s coming across. Let me know when it’s safe.”
She smiled at him while they waited, but Wren wondered what she meant by when it’s safe. Did that mean it wasn’t safe now? Or were they just double-checking to make sure it was clear? He was still thinking that when she said, “OK, go, Wren!”
And the next thing he knew he was running, running out of the alley, and running across that wide stretch, and once he was in the open, it seemed a whole lot wider than it had before. And he knew he should just look straight ahead, but Wren couldn’t help it. He glanced to the side, just for a second.
Just for a second.
Maybe there was a crack in the concrete, or maybe the surface wasn’t as level as it looked. Maybe he was just too tired. Wren hardly had time to notice he had tripped before he felt his palms skid and his chin slam into the ground. The impact left him stunned and disoriented. There was a funny taste in his mouth, and Wren’s hands felt like he was holding fire. Everything was completely dark. Why couldn’t he see? And there was a funny drumming in his ears. It took him a few seconds before he realized what it was.
Footsteps.
Someone was running towards him. Wren was just lifting his head when he felt hands grabbing at his coat. Someone was picking him up. Running with him. He almost called out, but then he could see again, and Wren realized that his coat had gotten twisted and he’d been looking into his hood. And then they were at the base of the wall, and he was on his feet and someone was in front of him.
“Are you OK?” he whispered. “Wren, are you OK?”
It was Wick. Wick had come to get him.
Wren nodded. “I fell,” he said.
Wick smiled. “I saw.”
“I’m sorry, Wick.”
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Wick said, and then, “It’s OK, buddy. No harm done. Except maybe your chin there.” Wren touched his chin and it stung. His fingers came away wet.
Wick said, “We’ll get Mouse to take a look at you when we see him. You still got your teeth?”