Then very slowly, he pushed the door back open, just wide enough for his pack to fit through. He leaned in and glanced around the edge of the door. Mama was back on her side again, facing the wall. Wren eased down and carefully caught hold of the top of his pack. Lifted it as slowly as he could. The sound of the material sliding up off the floor seemed far louder than it should have. Wren held his breath.
“You need something, baby?”
Wren froze. Then glanced up. Mama was looking over her shoulder again, right at him.
“Just forgot something in my pack,” he said. It sounded weak coming out of his mouth, but it was the best he could come up with. She continued looking at him for the span of a long breath. And then nodded, and laid her head back down on the pillow.
Wren pulled his pack through and closed the door quietly. It hadn’t gone quite as planned, but at least she hadn’t seemed to notice he was taking his coat too.
It was deathly quiet in the hallway. As he slipped his coat on, the rustle seemed to echo. He didn’t want to risk zipping it up, and he decided just to carry his pack by the handle on top, at least until he got out into the entryway. Wren crept down the hall as softly as he was able. He tried not to walk too quickly, but every step he got farther away from his room felt like the one that was going to get him caught, and he couldn’t help but pick up the pace. The turn towards the entrance was just ahead on the left. Once he made that turn, he’d almost be home free.
As he came around the corner, though, Wren was surprised to see another figure at the far end of the hallway. He tried to jerk back before the other person saw him, but it was too late. His sudden motion must have drawn attention. Wren hovered at the corner of the hall, trying to figure out what to do, what to say. Careful footsteps were headed his way. Just going to get something to eat, he’d say.
“Wren?” the person whispered. “Wren, it’s mmm-me.”
Painter. Wren peeked back around the corner to find him standing about halfway down the hall, hunched over like he was trying to hide a little. Painter had his coat on too, and his pack was on the floor. Wren eased all the way around the corner.
“What’re you doing?” Painter asked, still whispering.
“Just… I was going to get something to eat.”
Painter’s eyes flicked to the pack in Wren’s hand and then back. “Outside?”
“No,” Wren said, “I just…” His words ran out. He set his pack down. Painter came closer and knelt down in front of him.
“I’m g-g-glad you’re up,” Painter said. “I wanted to say goodbye. To you, I mmmm-mean.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“Back to Morningside.” Wren stared back at Painter, not sure what to say. “D-d-don’t try to talk me out of it, my mmm, my mind’s made up.”
“Why?”
“For Snow, Wren. I need to fffind my sister.”
Wren nodded, but he couldn’t decide whether this was good news or bad. He’d anticipated having to set out on his own. He’d tried to prepare himself for it. But the idea of having someone go with him made the whole thing seem so much more possible. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t know what complications it might raise. If he and Painter were both missing, how long would it be before the others came looking for them?
“You’ve always buh… been great to me, Wren. Whatever happens, I hope it all g-goes well with you.”
Wren still hadn’t figured out what to say. Should he just let Painter leave, and then sneak out behind him? Painter nodded and got to his feet.
“See you again ssss-sometime,” Painter said. “I hope.”
“OK,” Wren said.
Painter nodded again and smiled a little. He turned and walked back down the hall with careful steps. As he passed his pack, he snagged the straps and slung it up onto his back. He was just about to the end of the hall when Wren finally made his choice.
“Painter,” he whispered as loudly as he could, “Wait.” Painter stopped and turned partially around to look at him. He picked up his own pack and walked quickly down the hall. “I’m going back too.”
Painter actually flinched at the words. Maybe he’d been expecting Wren to try to convince him not to leave, or just to say a better goodbye.
“No, Wren,” Painter said. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t l-l-let you do that.”
“You’re not letting me do anything, Painter. I have to go back. Because of Asher.”
“What are you tuh, talking about?”
“It’s my dad’s machine. I have to get back to it.”
Painter’s expression changed at the mention of the machine, and Wren couldn’t blame him. The memories of that machine, that room, were still too fresh and far too vivid for Wren’s liking. He could only imagine how Painter must’ve felt.
“Your mmmm-mom is going to freak out.”
“That’s why I have to go alone,” Wren said. “Or with you.” Painter shook his head slowly. Wren felt something rising up within him, born of frustration. “I’m going, no matter what. I know the way. You can come too, or you can go on your own. But don’t get in my way. There’s too much at stake.” His voice came out louder than he meant for it to, but it seemed to have the effect he wanted. Painter stopped shaking his head.
“They’re gonna come after us,” he said.
“I know.”
“Your mom will k-k-kuh… she’ll kill me.”
“I won’t let her.”
Painter looked at Wren for a long moment, and then finally nodded. “OK.”
They both shouldered their packs, and Wren led the way cautiously towards the front entry. It was darker there. The lights were off, and the morning light was weak and pale through the high grated windows. Wren didn’t know how Painter had been planning to get out on his own, but he felt pretty sure that he’d be able to unlock the door and gates himself. Hopefully there weren’t any alarms on any of them. They crept through the front room.
“You boys are up early,” came a voice from one corner behind them. They froze in place. Swoop. Wren turned around slowly, and saw him sitting there, propped against the far wall. “Goin’ somewhere?”
Wren’s mind went completely blank, and all the bravery he thought he had leaked right out. It seemed like the kind of time that a brain might go into overdrive and come up with a good excuse, or even a bad one. But in this case, Wren couldn’t think of a single thing, couldn’t even think of thinking. He just stared.
“We’re g-g-going back,” Painter said. “And you can’t do anything to ssss, to stop us.” Wren was surprised at the edge in Painter’s voice. He actually sounded like he meant it.
Swoop chuckled. “That’s probably not true.” He got to his feet. He seemed bigger than usual. “Today’s not the day, buddy. We’ll get back to Morningside eventually.”
“We’re going now,” Painter said. Swoop’s expression changed. He’d seemed amused before. Not so much now.
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I am.”
Swoop just stared Painter down with that look of his, the one that kind of made you feel like you were lucky that he was still allowing you to live. And then his eyes slid over to Wren, like Painter wasn’t even part of the conversation anymore. Or even in the room.
“What’s going on?”
Painter had already blown any chance they had of convincing Swoop they weren’t really planning to go anywhere further than the gate. And there was no way Wren could come up with a lie that Swoop would believe. So Wren sighed and did the thing he didn’t want to do. He told the truth.