The guard turned and saw Wren. It was Lane, one of the guards who’d been on duty when the attack happened, and one of the nicer people in the guard. If he was still posted, that must’ve meant they’d called everyone in. It also explained why Lane wasn’t his usual cheerful self.
“Governor,” Lane said. “No one told me anything about these two.”
“I know, Lane. But it’s alright.”
“Does your mother–” Lane caught himself. “Did you clear it?”
“Yeah, it’s OK,” Wren replied. “You’re not going to get in trouble.”
“Well, do me a favor and tell that to Connor, huh?”
Wren smiled. “I will.”
“Alright,” Lane said. He authorized the gate unlock, opened it, and nodded to Luck and Painter as they entered. “Sorry for giving you boys a hard time, but orders are orders. And it’s been a long night.”
“Hey, it’s your job,” Luck said with a shrug and his quick smile. “We won’t break anything while we’re here, promise.”
Lane said, “Yeah, see to it you don’t. Best to keep a low profile today.” Lane closed the gate behind them and relocked it.
“Thanks, Lane,” Wren said.
“Yep.”
Wren led the two away from the gate. “You guys want to go back over to the side yard?”
“Actually,” Luck said. “You mind if we go in? Sun’s starting to get to me.”
“Um, I guess so. We should probably go around the side though.”
“Yeah, what’s going on with all that? People seem pretty buttoned up today.”
Wren shrugged.
“Old people stuff?” Luck asked.
“Yeah,” Wren answered. He adjusted course and took his companions away from the main entrance, around the eastern edge of the building. They passed the two guards on patrol again, who gave them a quick once-over. Wren kept his head down. He asked, “How’re you guys doing?”
“Can’t complain,” Luck said.
“You can al-al-always complain,” Painter said.
“Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve gotta hang out with you, so that’s like the worst,” Luck replied. He swatted Painter on the arm. “And for some reason I’m having trouble with the ladies lately.”
“Not just l-l-l,” Painter said, the “L” sticking in his mouth. He shook his head once, quickly. “Lately.”
The three walked to a short set of stairs leading down to one of the main building’s lesser used entrances, and Wren tried the door. Locked.
“See what I mean?” Luck said. “Buttoned up.”
“Just a sec,” Wren said. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he really didn’t feel like going back around to the front. And these days, it hardly took him a second. He stretched out through the digital, and in the next moment the lock chirped and he pulled the door open. “Don’t tell my mom.”
They entered a hallway, one level below the main floor of the building. It was cool, and quiet, and minimally lit. It always seemed to Wren that the place had been built to hold far more people than were allowed in it now.
They found a room off the hall with some plush chairs and made themselves at home. Luck flopped into a chair in the middle of the room and threw his feet onto a low table. Wren sat across from him, perched forward in his chair so his feet could still touch the floor. Painter didn’t sit, but instead walked slowly about the room, looking around aimlessly.
“How about you, Painter?” Wren asked. “How’s everything with you?”
Painter shrugged. “Alright, I g-guess.”
“Just alright?” Luck said. “I wish my life was as alright as yours. Any time you wanna trade jobs, P, you just let me know.”
“Mister Sun is real n-n-n-nice. But you know what it’s like.”
“I’m sure I don’t,” Luck said.
Painter frowned a little and went quiet. There was an awkward silence, and Wren wasn’t sure why, or how to fix it. Painter and Luck were both good friends, but they were also a good bit older than Wren, and he was never sure exactly how to behave around them.
“So, what’s up with you, Wren?” Luck said. “Err, I mean, Mister Governor, sir.” He took his feet off the table and bowed forward when he said it, before flopping back again.
“I don’t know. Just the usual, I guess.”
“Just the usual, Painter,” Luck said, looking over at Painter who was now examining some fixture near one corner of the room. He turned back to Wren. “So, that’s like what? Running the city, keeping the guard in check, bringing people back from the dead… you know, just the usual.” Luck said it with a smile and his kind of teasing affection. “Speaking of which, how come you don’t have to be in that meeting, anyway?”
“My mom said I could skip it,” Wren answered. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be important.”
“Aren’t they all immm-imm… -portant?” Painter said from across the room.
Wren shrugged. “I’m sure the Council thinks so. But most of the time they just talk a lot and hardly ever do anything. I don’t know how important something can be if all you ever do is talk about it.”
“That’s one of the reasons you make a good governor, Wren,” Luck said. “You’re a man of action.”
Wren felt embarrassed at the description, but he could tell Luck actually meant it. “I’d like to be,” Wren said. “One day.”
“No reason to wait,” said Luck.
Painter finally wandered over and took a seat next to Luck. He seemed restless, more on edge than usual. Like he had somewhere else to be, and was running late. One of his legs bounced with nervous energy.
“Have you heard from your sister?” Wren asked Painter.
Painter’s attention snapped to Wren, and after a moment he shook his head. “Not since the fuh, fuh, the first time.”
Painter had a younger sister named Snow. Wren had never met or even seen her, but from what he could gather, she and Painter had been very close before he had been taken. After his Awakening, he’d sought her out, expecting a happy reunion. It hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.
“I’m sure she’ll come around, man,” Luck said. “Just needs time to adjust. We all do.”
Painter shrugged and shook his head again. “Wouldn’t think it’d tuh-take that long.”
“Yeah. But every day we’ve got’s a gift as far as I’m concerned. You can’t let the regulars get you down.”
“Easy to sss — to say.”
“Have you guys been having trouble?” Wren asked. “In the city, I mean.”
Luck glanced over at Painter. Painter just looked at the floor.
“Just the usual,” Luck said, with his quick grin again.
“What happened?” said Wren.
“Nothing really. Just, you know, like I said. Everybody needs time to adjust. Maybe some quarters more than others.”
“It isn’t fair,” Painter said. “We’re citizens just as muh-muh-much as anyone.”
“Yeah,” Luck answered. “But you gotta admit, we’re not just people anymore.”
“We’re better.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. Different, for sure.”
Wren felt overwhelmingly selfish. Yes, he’d had a frightening night, but it hadn’t been the first time he’d been exposed to danger. He hadn’t been harmed, not really. And here his friends were, facing threats every day for something out of their control. They’d done nothing to deserve being taken by the Weir. And they’d never asked to be brought back by Wren. Twice victims. There might not be anything Wren could really do to make it right for Painter and Luck and others like them, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try.
“Hey, I’m sorry to do this guys,” Wren said, getting up out of his chair. “But I’ve got a meeting to go to.”
“How’d somebody get inside the perimeter?” Arom asked. “Then inside the compound? His hall? His room?” He stomped around the room in a rage. “Do you all realize how many separate, total failures had to happen for some stranger to end up even in the same building as him?”