Morningside Fall (13 page)

“Mister Sun,” Painter said. “It’s me, Painter.”

The old man squinted slightly and recognition came. He stood up from the doorframe, and his demeanor instantly changed.

“Governor Wren, Lady Cass,” he said, taking a few steps towards them. “Come in, come in.” He motioned for them to come in out of the entryway. “What brings you to Mister Sun’s at so late an hour?”

Cass had chosen to come to Mister Sun’s not because she trusted him, necessarily, but rather because she knew his was a place they could lie low – while they tried to figure out what was going on, and what they had to do next. As long as they weren’t followed, it was unlikely anyone would think to look for them there. And he certainly didn’t seem like the type that anyone would involve in secret plots. But she hadn’t really had a chance to think through just how much she could tell him.

“Mister Sun,” she said. “We need your help.”

“Of course, anything. What is the trouble?”

“We’re not sure,” Cass answered. “But I don’t think the compound’s safe for us right now.”

Mister Sun moved to a table near the back corner of the main room and directed the others to join him. As they approached, Cass saw him lay something across the table; the device he’d been concealing behind himself when they entered. It was a three-barreled weapon, a little over a foot in length and not particularly elegant. She didn’t recognize it exactly, but it didn’t take much to imagine the kind of damage it could deliver. Probably meant for crowd control. She’d never seen Mister Sun brandish a weapon before, but judging from the practiced familiarity he showed with it, she knew it was far from his first time.

Mister Sun started pulling chairs off the table, and Painter joined in.

“Breach in security?” Mister Sun asked. He flipped the last chair over and directed the others to sit.

“Not exactly,” Cass replied.

He slid the weapon back off the table, carefully keeping it pointed in a safe direction without even seeming to think about it, and held it at his side while he gazed at her. Cass held steady, not wanting to say any more than she absolutely had to. After a moment, he seemed to understand all he needed to.

“My house is yours, Lady. I’ll bring tea.” Mister Sun bowed slightly and turned towards the back room, and then paused and turned back. “Or perhaps something stronger?”

“I could use ssss-something… fuh-fuh-ffff,” Painter said, struggling mightily. “For my nnnerves.”

Mister Sun nodded and then disappeared into the back room. A moment later a few smaller lights around the table blinked softly on, and the overheads switched off. It left their immediate area lit with dim warmth, while the rest of the room returned to darkness. Cass’s first reaction was to scan the room again to see if someone else had come in, but then realized Mister Sun must’ve adjusted the lighting from the back room. Smart. From the street, the tea house would likely look all dark again and avoid attracting any unwanted attention at this hour. It also had a settling effect that seemed to put them all more at ease.

Cass surveyed the boys, Wren on her left, Painter on her right. Painter had his elbows on the table, face in his hands, massaging his temples. She got the sense that his entire world was coming apart and that he was doing everything he could just to keep it together right now. Wren was sitting forward in his chair, hands in his lap, eyes fixed on her. Calm, but serious.
What do we do now, Mama?
She had no idea.

Mister Sun reappeared with a tray that held a stainless-steel pot, an oddly shaped bottle, and three of his trademark handleless mugs. Ever the master servant, he laid everything out with a quiet efficiency that somehow seemed to leave their privacy completely intact.

“Thanks, Mister Sun,” Wren said in a quiet voice.

He bowed slightly, and then indicated the pot and the bottle. “Both are special blends, and both should calm. I’ll leave you to decide. But I think perhaps Master Wren should drink only from the pot.”

“Thank you,” Cass added. “Thanks for helping us.”

Mister Sun inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Wren asked. Cass grimaced. She hadn’t really noticed that there were only three mugs until Wren mentioned it. Now she wished she’d taken the opportunity while Mister Sun was away to tell the others not to involve him any more than they already had.

Fortunately, Mister Sun shook his head graciously. “I have no wish to impose, Master Wren.”

Just then, three dull impacts sounded on the front door, startling everyone. For a moment, they were all frozen. Cass’s mind raced. Had someone seen them enter the tea house after all?

Mister Sun motioned to Cass and Wren, put a finger to his lips, and then pointed towards the back room. Cass nodded and helped Wren out of his chair, grabbed her pack off the floor, and then together they slipped silently out of the main room. Cass pushed Wren ahead of her, but kept next to the door herself. Pressed against the wall, she slid low and peeked out. Mister Sun was saying something to Painter, who was still seated at the table, but it was too quiet for her to hear. Painter nodded, and Mister Sun started making his way towards the front door. Cass noticed he had his gun in hand again, carefully hidden behind his back.

Boom boom boom
– three more heavy blows on the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Mister Sun called. Just as he was reaching the entrance, Painter quickly grabbed one of the mugs from off the table and put it on the floor next to his chair. The door slid partially open. From that distance, Cass couldn’t see who was there.

“Yes, my friend?” Mister Sun said.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, Mister Sun,” said the voice on the other side of the door. It was a man, but that was about all Cass could tell. “But we’re looking for someone.”

“And someone you’ve found. Well done.”

“Is there anyone else here with you tonight, sir?”

Cass immediately started thinking through the options. There was a back entrance that led out to the alley behind the tea house, but surely they’d be covering that. She knew there were rooms upstairs, but she’d never been up there. No way to know what their escape options would be from that direction. Most likely, nothing subtle.

“Yes,” Mister Sun answered.

“Could you identify them for us?”

“I’m always at your service, my friend.”

There was a long pause, until it was clear that was all Mister Sun intended to say. “Who else is in there, Mister Sun?” the voice asked, sounding irritated.

“My associate Mister Painter and I were just enjoying a drink together.”

“I’d like to verify that, if you don’t mind.”

Mister Sun stepped back from the door, but didn’t open it further. Cass ducked back behind the wall. A chair scraped the floor in the main room. Painter standing, maybe.

And then…

“Alright, just had to make sure. We had a request come down the chain to check in on him. Sorry for the interruption.”

“Glad to be of service, my friend. Good night. Stay safe.”

“You too, Mister Sun. Night.”

Cass heard the door slide shut again, but didn’t move until Mister Sun poked his head into the back room.

“Strange,” he said. “It was the guard.”

“Because of befff-fore,” Painter said from the other room. “The one in th… the alley. Said she’d come by. I f-f-forgot.”

“Right. It’s alright, Painter.” Cass chided herself for having forgotten it too. It wasn’t exactly a minor detail. “Thanks yet again, Mister Sun.”

They returned to the main room and took their seats again. Painter retrieved his mug from the floor and promptly filled it almost to the brim with the cloudy milky-white liquid from the bottle. Cass poured tea from the pot into both her and Wren’s mugs.

“If you have all you need,” Mister Sun said, “I will retire to my room.”

“Actually, Mister Sun,” Cass replied, “why don’t you pull up a chair?”

Painter was starting to feel quite a bit more relaxed and just a little pleasantly warm. It’d been, what, an hour, an hour and a half maybe? Whatever it was, they’d spent about two and a half mug’s worth, anyway, bringing Mister Sun up to speed and discussing their options. Or rather, Cass and Wren had done so. Painter had mostly been drinking and listening. Talking wasn’t really his thing, and he wasn’t sure he had much to offer anyway. Everything still seemed so surreal and horrible. He didn’t even want to think about it. But there really wasn’t anything else he
could
think about. He truly hadn’t meant to kill those men. It’d just been so easy. So terribly, terribly easy.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Cass said. Painter realized he’d tuned out and had no idea how much of the conversation he’d missed.

“What about Able?” Wren asked. Cass shook her head and bit her lower lip. There was something really attractive about the way she did that. It wasn’t the first time Painter had noticed it, but it seemed like maybe it was the first time he had noticed that he’d noticed. Or maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d thought. Or maybe both.

“Too risky,” she said. “If they really do have a trace on, we don’t know who else might be running it. Unless you think you could slip it?”

Wren considered it, but then shook his head. “I don’t think so, Mama. I don’t know what to look for. And what if looking for it is the thing that sets it off?”

Cass sipped her tea and shook her head slightly. “And there’s no telling what their backup plan is if that alarm gets raised.”

“It might be raised already,” Mister Sun said. He seemed more serious than usual. And he wasn’t calling them all
my friend
, which somehow seemed odd. “They might already be looking for you.”

“True,” Cass said. “I really don’t see any other way. I’ll just have to risk it.”

“Mama, I don’t want you to go,” Wren said. He looked really tired. And with good reason. It was after midnight.

“I know, baby, but I don’t think we have any other options. Once I get outside the wall, I should be able to find at least one of them pretty quickly. If not Able, maybe Swoop or Gamble.”

“I’ll do it,” Painter said. It seemed to catch everyone off guard, even himself a little bit. Maybe it was because he hadn’t said anything in a while. Or maybe they weren’t sure if he was serious. So he said it again. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Painter,” Cass said, and she sounded like she really meant it. “But I can’t let you go back out there.”

“You don’t have to l-l-l-
let
me,” Painter said. “I don’t think I need your permmm-mission.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s really dangerous out there. With the curfew, and people on edge already. Never know when a jumpy guard might just start shooting. And if someone catches me out there, they won’t try to arrest me.”

“They might, Mama.”

Cass glanced at Wren and for a moment seemed to be considering what he’d said. But she shook her head again. “I can’t ask that of you, Painter. You’ve already done so much.”

“You didn’t ask,” Painter said. For some reason the more he heard her tell him why he couldn’t, the more he wanted to prove Cass wrong. Maybe she thought Painter couldn’t because he’d been so scared on their way here. Or maybe his stutter made her think he was incapable. But he’d bailed them out in the alley with nothing but words.
Words.
His weakness. Imagine what he could do with his
strength.
Actually he didn’t have to imagine it. He’d already shown that too, without even meaning to.

“I’ll go, I w-w-want to,” Painter said. It wasn’t a discussion anymore. “What sh-sh-shhh, what should I say?”

They all stared at him for a moment. Cass seemed to still be trying to figure out how to dissuade him. Wren piped up.

“I think you should find Finn,” Wren said. “If they really do have a trace, he’d know what to do about it.”

“OK,” Painter said, standing. He felt slightly light-headed and not even a little scared. Looking back on it, he wasn’t sure why he’d been so afraid on the way over. Rattled from everything that had happened maybe. He felt calmer now, more sure of himself. Purposeful. It’d been a long time since he’d felt that.

“How will you get outside?” Cass asked. A hitch. Painter hadn’t even thought about that.

“Climb down?” he offered. But even standing here feeling brave, he knew that wasn’t really an option. The gates would be locked up tight, so those were out.

“He could use the tunnel,” Wren said, and his mother looked at him sharply – as if he’d just blurted out a shameful family secret. He held her gaze, shrugged slightly.

“What t-t, what tunnel?”

Cass continued to look at Wren, but Painter could see now that she wasn’t upset. She was thinking it through. Finally she said, “There’s a tunnel, by the compound. It runs under the wall.”

“It’s secret,” Wren added.

“Back to the… compound?” Painter asked. He lowered himself back into his chair. Sneaking from Mister Sun’s to the wall didn’t seem like such a stretch, but going all the way back to the governor’s compound was a different story. Not to mention getting back
inside.

“Yeah,” Cass said. “It’s alright, Painter. We’ll figure something else out.”

Painter felt deflated. In theory it had been a challenge, almost an adventure. But now all of the realities started flooding into his mind, all of the tedious particulars of what it would entail. Travel back to the governor’s compound. Get back inside. Find the secret tunnel. And then what? Even if he didn’t get caught on the streets, how was he even supposed to find any of those people outside the wall? And what would they do when they saw Painter skulking around looking for them? Shoot him dead before he ever even saw them, most likely.

Who was he kidding? He was just a kid, a useless dishwasher who’d had too much to drink. But then something else started to bubble up in his mind. Thoughts of the thugs that had beaten him up nights ago. And thoughts of what people like them had done to his friend, Luck. And thoughts of his sister.

And where alcohol-induced bravery had burned away, anger filled the void. These people had taken nearly all he had. No way Painter was going to sit around while they took the rest. He stood up again.

“How do I find the tunnel?” he asked.

There was silence for a moment. And then Cass laid it all out for him; where the entrance was, how to access it, where it led, and how to find his way back again. And as they talked it through, other hasty plans came together. It began to seem possible again. And by the end, it almost seemed inevitable.

They escorted him to the door, everyone giving him final words of caution, and thanks, and encouragement. Then Mister Sun was opening the door just wide enough for Painter to slip out, and the night air was cold – and full of a crackling energy that almost felt alive. The door slid shut behind him, and he drew a deep breath.

To think. Him. Painter. A messenger. He almost laughed as he stepped out into the street.