He trailed off; probably best if she didn’t know just how close they were cutting it.
“We’ll stay ahead of ’em,” he added. “We’ll be alright.”
Without hesitation Three stood and stretched a hand out to Cass, helping her to her feet; action conveying his certainty better than words. He dropped low, and glided out, quickly surveying the area before committing to an exit. Cass gathered their things, prepped Wren.
And once again, they were on the move.
Ten
Cass had traveled through more of the mummified carcass of the world than 99.9% of the remnant populace, but somehow she had never noticed before just how much everything looked the same. Gray or brown, concrete and rust, punctuated by flickering sparks of tech still happily humming with some internal purpose; gaudy, like Christmas lights on a gravestone. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the travel, blurring everything into one dreary, colorless smear, but most likely, she thought, it was some sort of newly acquired way of seeing things. Seeing them as they actually were, in the real world, rather than what they had been, before, as told by their lingering swirl of residual signal. Something learned from Three, perhaps. Or maybe just a fanciful musing from her weary mind.
She glanced at the sky above, framed from her vantage on either side by empty, towering high-rises. A vibrant orange, filtering to a muted purple, boxed in by the ever-present cold and lifeless gray. No, she was the one in the box… the sky was up there, gloriously free. She felt a twinge of envy, though she knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of the heavens. They simply were, as they had always been. Unchanged by the events that unfolded beneath. Cass shook her head with a humorless chuckle, wondering how exhausted she must be to be thinking that way.
They had held up well. By any sane person’s standards, she and Wren had made a heroic effort, a feat of nearly inhuman strength and endurance, to travel so far in their condition. Even at the best of times, running at full strength in Asher’s crew, she’d never traveled this far in the open in a single day. But compared to Three, she felt like they should’ve covered twice the distance. The man was tireless. He walked a few paces ahead of her, steps still even, strong, and sure, even though he had added her backpack on top of his own harness, and was now carrying Wren on his back as well.
Their pace had quickened significantly in the last two hours or so. Three insisted it was because he knew the area was safer than the others they’d passed through, but Cass couldn’t help but feel he was risking more than he would admit. And she understood. In another thirty minutes or so, it wouldn’t matter how much ground they had covered if they weren’t locked safely inside somewhere.
Three disappeared around a corner into yet another narrow, rusting alley, and Cass followed with one trudging step at a time, one foot in front of the other, willing herself onward. Exiting the alleyway, Cass found herself at a wide road. An old maglev line, bowed in the middle, ran overhead. And just across the road sat a squat block of concrete, more like a bunker than a building, with a heavy steel gate implanted in its middle. The Vault.
Three hesitated at the edge of the road, glanced skyward. Cass edged to his side.
“That it?”
Three nodded with a furrowed brow. She noticed the slash across his throat was bleeding again.
“So, shouldn’t we be going in?”
Three nodded again. But he didn’t move. Just stood there, scanning the road, the building, something, everything; Cass wasn’t sure what.
“Sooo… why aren’t we?”
Three shook his head, let Wren slide down off his back.
“Feels wrong.”
He unbuttoned his coat, and eased his pistol out of its holster. Flipped open its cylinder, snapped it shut again with a flick of his wrist. Without looking at her, he pushed Wren gently back against her legs, held the gun out for her to take. Cass dropped a hand on Wren’s shoulder, took the heavy weapon with the other.
“Wait here.”
Cass felt tears come to her eyes as she watched Three glide out across the road and make his silent way to the Vault. She let them fall without knowing or caring why they came. She was spent, depleted of all her body had to give and beyond, with a weariness she felt down through the middle of her bones, deep into her heart. If there was something wrong here, at the Vault, after all they’d done to reach it, she felt she’d just as soon sit down and let the Weir come for them rather than take another step.
“What do you think it is, Mama?”
Wren’s voice sounded small.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
“Maybe he’s just being extra careful.”
“That’s probably it.”
“My feet are sad.”
“Mine too, baby. Mine too.”
Across the street, Three moved from place to place, sometimes within view, sometimes not. Cass wondered what he was looking for, what he was seeing. She felt like she could see it all from where she stood: a concrete bunker, impenetrable save through its one entrance, which was securely blocked by the lowered steel gate. And if he truly had friends inside, it seemed like he could just let them know they were outside. But Three was nothing if not cautious and thorough, and she had to trust there was a good reason they were still in the open with the sun slipping beneath the horizon.
After about five minutes, he motioned for them to join him and quickly. Cass steeled herself, took Wren’s hand, and crossed.
“What now?” she asked when they reached him. She handed him his massive handgun, glad to be rid of the thing.
“The gate.”
“Yeah, why don’t we just get them to open it? I thought you said the gatekeeper’s a friend of yours.”
“Yeah.”
Something in Three’s tone concerned Cass. His demeanor had changed; darker now. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost say he sounded worried.
“I don’t understand.”
Three didn’t say anything. Just pointed to the bottom of the gate, nearest to where they were standing. Meanwhile his eyes were busy scanning around the top.
At first, she didn’t see anything. Concrete. Steel. No way in. The fatigue and frustration were getting to her. Why Three couldn’t just tell her what was wrong, she couldn’t fathom. The man’s aversion to words was quickly becoming his least attractive quality.
Cass opened her mouth to tell him to spell it out for her, but caught herself. She saw it now. A gap, maybe three inches wide, at the base of the gate. It wasn’t sealed, looked more like it had fallen than been lowered. She bit her lip to keep the tears back.
Three turned, put a knee in front of Wren, rested his hand on her son’s shoulder.
“How you feelin’, Mister Wren?”
“Tired,” Wren shrugged.
“How’s your hand? Hurting any?”
Wren held up his bandaged hand. Blood showed through the fabric. He shook his head. Cass knew he was trying to be tough, trying to impress Three.
“I’ve known grown men who would’ve given up a long time ago. You’re a soldier. A real soldier.”
Wren half-smiled at that; embarrassed. Honored. Three was building him up for something, Cass figured.
“Think you could help us out here?”
“I dunno.”
Cass didn’t know why Three was taking so long to get to the point. Maybe he just didn’t feel comfortable asking Wren for help directly. She jumped in.
“Can you get this door opened up for us, sweetheart?” she asked.
Three looked up at her briefly, shook his head.
“That’s a no go. Engines that drive the gate are older than I am. Mechanical, not electronic.”
“What do you want him to do then?”
Three looked back at Wren, then pointed up above the gate, to the left side. About nine feet up, there was a small grate, maybe two feet wide and a foot and a half tall; much too small to be a point of entry for anyone. Except perhaps a child.