“You don’t have to protect me,” Cass said. “I can fight.”
“I know you can, but with all due respect, we’ve got a way we operate. Best if we don’t throw something unpredictable in that mix.”
Cass hated the idea of being treated like some kind of helpless citizen. But Gamble was right. Cass wasn’t one of them. What she thought was helping might actually throw them off. This was no time or place to let pride get in the way.
“We need to run as low profile as possible,” Gamble continued. “No pimming, no active broadcast, keep everything locked down while we’re out here.”
“What about your secure channel?” Wren asked. Gamble looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Is that OK?”
“It’s real low frequency so we can use it, but we try to keep it limited.”
“That’s why it sounds funny,” Wren said.
“Finn can tell you all about it later,” Gamble said with a quick nod and a wink. Her way of gently but clearly ending any further discussion. “We’ve still got a couple of hours until sunrise, but we need to put some distance between us and the city. I’m not trying to scare you, but I want you to understand there’s some danger out there. We’re going to do everything we can to keep us all out of trouble. But there’s a whole lot of trouble between us and our destination. It’ll be helpful if you guys keep your eyes and ears open too. Stay focused, stay with us. Questions?”
Cass looked at Wren and Painter, who both shook their heads.
“We’re good to go,” Cass said. Gamble nodded.
“Wick,” she said. “You got an ETA on the others?”
“Should’ve been here before us.”
“That’s what I thought. Finn, any word?”
“Negative. Want me to ping him?”
“I’ll do it… Swoop, Gamble. What’s your location?” She waited several seconds. “Swoop, this is Gamble.” Another long pause. In the distance, a Weir gave a call. A few seconds later, another answered. Gamble and Finn traded looks.
“Swoop?” she asked. After a moment, Gamble’s expression changed slightly, but Cass couldn’t read it. “You guys need support? One for yes, two for no.”
“What’s going on?” Cass asked Sky.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “He’s clicking at us. Something’s close enough to him he doesn’t want to risk talking.”
“Weir?”
“Hope so. Otherwise they’re not out of the city yet.”
“Alright, check,” Gamble said. “We’re going to move to alternate. Can you make the alternate…? Check. See you there.”
Gamble adjusted the shoulder straps on the oversized pack she was carrying. “We’re going to have to link up with them at the alternate. I’m guessing we’ve got some Weir wandering around between us and them… Wick?” She nodded his direction.
“Yep.”
They set out again, the pace slightly faster than the one they’d maintained earlier. As they proceeded, Cass noticed a steady degradation of their surroundings. More collapsed buildings, more exposed beams and rods, more brokenness. Soon it was clear they were completely beyond the borders of any power Morningside had ever projected.
They’d walked another twenty minutes or so before they saw the first Weir. Finn spotted it, off to their left. He made a soft hissing sound, shouldered his weapon, and then extended it slightly to point at the Weir. The group stopped. Cass followed his line and caught a glimpse of the Weir just as it was passing behind the shell of a two-story building between them. She felt Wren press against her leg, and she instinctively dropped her arm around his shoulders.
About thirty seconds later, the Weir emerged from behind the building. It was a fair distance from them, maybe fifty or sixty yards away. Finn and Sky both tracked it as it prowled around the abandoned structure, crouched low enough that it sometimes placed its hands on the ground in an almost crawl. It stopped every so often, swiveling its head slowly from side to side, almost as a man would if listening for a particular sound, or trying to identify a peculiar scent. It sat back on its haunches and slowly started turning its glowing eyes in their direction.
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.