Morningside Fall (43 page)

“OK, got it,” he said. “I’m going to try and boost it. You just ride along, do what you have to.”

Wren nodded and sat down on the ground, next to the wall of a building. Finn knelt next to him, and together they went into a realm none of the others could see.

The first thing Wren noticed was how dense it all was. Like a mass of wires crushed together. Connections to connections to connections, and none with any meaning to him. Processes flashed like lightning, gone in a blink, with only an after-image remaining. It wasn’t long before Wren was completely overwhelmed.

But as hopeless as it felt, at least he knew the machine’s purpose. And he knew Asher was in it. And he knew Asher. So that was where he started, looking for the things that reminded him of his brother.

Wren realized he didn’t even have words for what he was doing. He couldn’t reduce the thoughts or the impressions to anything he could describe. But it was something like how a scent could trigger a vivid memory, or a particular color could summon a flavor on the tongue. A fleeting impression was enough to trigger a stream of interactions, and Wren found himself falling deeper into the void of the machine.

He floated, lost for a time, flailing, grasping. And then Wren realized how hard he was searching, and he took a breath, and he stopped trying. Moments later, or maybe minutes, it was impossible to tell, as he let his mind rove where it would, something caught his attention. Something that seemed out of place. And he stretched out and touched it through the ether.

And he was answered.

Asher. There was something of him still within the machine. And he sensed Wren. And he laughed. A cold, mocking laugh.

And a voice came into Wren’s mind.

“You’re too late, Spinner. So, so very late,” Asher said.

“You don’t have to do this, Asher,” Wren said. “You can stop. Call off the Weir.”

“Why would I? I’m enjoying it.”

“Stop it, or I will.”

“Oh, Spinner. I wanted to love you, you know. I really did. But you’re impossible to love. You think you’re special, but you’re not.”

“I’ve fought you before, Asher. I’ve defeated you before.”

“Not this time.”

Wren knew better than to waste much time talking to Asher. And now that he knew Asher was here, Wren bent his whole will towards forcing his brother out of the machine. Out of the Weir’s minds. Back to wherever he’d come from. Anger grew, and Wren invited it. Fed it. All that Asher had done, and all that he’d caused, Wren remembered it, focused on it, and used it to drive him.

And then he unleashed himself within the machine.

And Asher laughed again.

“Even now you don’t understand, do you? Underdown’s toy was a beginning. The first baby step, ten thousand miles ago. I know it seems impressive to you, but it’s nothing to me now. And
you
shouldn’t be here.”

A sudden pressure came into Wren’s head then, and a searing pain that felt like it was right in the middle of his brain. But he grappled with his brother and pushed him back. Asher was too big – too strong now. He’d changed since Wren had last dealt with him. Wren didn’t know how he was controlling the Weir now, but Wren knew the machine still connected to them somehow. He changed tactics.

He tried to Awaken the Weir through the machine. It was a terrible strain, but he visualized how he had helped Mama, and Painter, and Kit. Wren focused on Kit. She’d been the easiest, because she’d been fighting it on her own. Like Chapel. Wren searched the machine for that same sensation, that feeling of struggle. And when he found one, he touched it, and it sprang free. Quickly he searched for another, and then another.

“Oh, clever. But see how slowly you think, little brother. Already I perceive your mind.”

Wren had no way of knowing what effect it was having, but it had disrupted Asher, and so he kept trying it. And he noticed that once those connections were severed, Asher didn’t seem to have any way to repair them.

“Fine,” Asher said. “I was done with it anyway.”

A blinding white light entered Wren’s mind. Not one seen with his eyes, but no less powerful and painful to his senses. Something was happening. The machine was collapsing. And Wren felt himself thrown violently backwards. He cried out, and all was dark.

“What happened?” Cass screamed. “What happened to him?”

She was cradling Wren in her arms. Finn was holding his head like he was in severe pain.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “It was like… I don’t know, like feedback or something. The connection broke itself. And it hurt.”

Cass put her ear to Wren’s chest. He was still breathing; his heartbeat was still strong. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn’t something she could fix right now. It might be something she could never fix, and that thought terrified her. She held him close.

The sounds of the battle were intensifying, and it was clear that many others had thought to retreat to the governor’s compound. A crowd was gathering, and it wasn’t just frightened citizens. Some guards were there as well. One of the guards on the wall fired a warning shot, but that only made the crowd more frightened and angry, and some started pulling on the gates.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Sky said.

“Where else is there to go?” Finn asked.

“They can’t have surrounded the whole city,” Wick said.

“The train,” Cass said.

“What?” Gamble said.

“There’s a train. To Greenstone. It runs under the Strand.”

“Do you know where it is?”

Cass shook her head. “They wouldn’t let us use it.”

“It’s underground?” Wick said. “Where? Where does it come out?”

“I don’t know.”

“In the city? Close to it? Far away?” he asked.

“Close, I think. I’m not really sure.”

Wick’s eyes went unfocused, but his face was intense. Searching. “How big a train?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Big, small?”

“Small. Just a few passengers. Like an old shuttle.”

He was silent for a few more moments.

“People of Morningside,” the Voice boomed. Cass couldn’t comprehend how it was possible that she could hear him from so far away. And then she realized that his voice was coming from every system in the city. The compound’s public address system, the exterior alarm of the building next to them, everything with an output was broadcasting his voice. “The very heart of your city is corrupt. And so shall you fall from within.”

The echoing voice had stunned the heaving crowd across the street into silence. And then they started screaming, and fleeing away from the gate. The guards reacted, and some turned to face inwards, and Cass felt a shock of realization.

Painter. Painter had used the tunnel that ran from the compound out under the wall. And he had revealed it to the Weir.

She didn’t have to see what was going on inside the compound to know the truth. The Weir were inside its walls. The city had fallen.

“Got it,” Wick said. “It’s a run, but we can make it.”

“Lil? Gamble,” Gamble said. “City’s compromised, we’ve got Weir inside the governor’s compound. We gotta evac… Yeah, we’ll ping you a route now.”

The team got to their feet and started moving out, with Wick in the lead. They kept a steady, aggressive pace, and Cass had to struggle to keep up, with her unconscious son in her arms. Mouse offered to carry him for her, but she refused. Wick led them to a smaller gate, more of a reinforced door, really, on the north-western side.

As they approached it, Lil and her warriors were coming from the opposite direction, along with several Awakened, and a few of the people who had fought with them at the gate. Kit was with them, and when they met, she and Wick embraced without hesitation.

Chapel too appeared, sword in hand, shoulders and face spattered with the red-black dew of war.

“What’s the plan?” Lil said.

“There’s a tunnel,” Cass said. “We’re going to try to make it.”

“Abandon the city?” Kit asked.

Cass nodded. “It’s already lost. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Lead on,” Lil said.

Mouse popped the door, and Wick, Able, and Finn swung out to make sure it was clear. Once they were certain, they motioned everyone else to follow. Able hung back as a rear guard until everyone was through, and then closed the door behind him. Wick set a hard pace, and the terrible sounds of the Weir and their attack pursued them as they went. They’d made it about a third of a mile before the first of the Weir spotted them.

It was quickly dispatched, but after that, it became clear that their plan was blown. Two Weir showed up soon after, followed by a group of three. And though they never faced a major attack, it was only a matter of time.

Gamble told Wick to find them a place to button up, and he did so in a low one-story building, about a half mile from the tunnel. It was solid, mostly concrete, with only two entrances and a window. Gamble’s team shared ammo out as much as they could, but they were all low. Everyone packed in. This would be their last stand.

“Gamble,” Cass said. “Whatever happens, I don’t want Asher to get my son. I can’t let him take my son.”

“I understand,” Gamble said. “Wick can take you to the tunnel. We’ll do our best to hold them here as long as we can.”

“No,” Cass said, “I’m not leaving these people behind. I want you to take Wren to Greenstone.”

“Nope. Out of the question, Cass,” she said. “These people won’t last long without us. Take your son. None of us will blame you.”

“I can lead them,” Cass said, looking at the other Awakened gathered with them. “And we may be able to cross the Strand without you.”

“If you survive the night.” She looked over Cass’s shoulder. “Wick, take Able, get Miss Cass and Wren to the tunnel. Make sure they get to Greenstone.”

“Wait, what now?” Wick said.

“No, Gamble,” Cass said.

“It’s an order, Wick.”

“Alright, check.”

“Gamble–” Cass said.

“Cass, Wren needs his mother. Only you can be that. Go.”

“If we’re gonna do it, we gotta go now,” Wick said.

“I will aid you,” Chapel said from behind Cass. “Come.” He took her arm and pulled her towards the back entrance.

And somehow again, Cass found herself following Wick. There was sporadic gunfire behind them, but they didn’t come into contact with any Weir themselves. In about six minutes, they reached the station. The train, of course, wasn’t there. It belonged to the Bonefolder, back in Greenstone, and she controlled it jealously. But she couldn’t do much to control the tunnel.

“You can take it from here,” Wick said. “Straight on down the tunnel,” Wick said.

“What about you?” Cass said.

“I can’t leave my brother back there. Able can take you.”

You’re my brother, too,
Able signed.

Wick reached behind Able’s neck and pulled the man’s forehead to his own in a show of affection. Able patted his face before they separated.

“Go on. Godspeed.”

Wick turned and started back towards where the others were holed up. Cass felt like her heart was about to break. She was Wren’s mother, and she loved him more than she loved herself. But deep in her heart, she knew that she would rather die fighting alongside those people back there than live with herself knowing she’d left them behind.

“I will take the child,” Chapel said.

Somehow he had perceived her thoughts.

“Wick, wait,” she called.

It was the most terrible decision Cass had ever made, and her heart seemed to tear within her chest as she handed Wren’s unconscious form over to the blindfolded old man. But he had cared for her son before, when she had been unable. And though Cass did not know Chapel well, she knew she could trust his word. Chapel laid him on his shoulder. Cass kissed Wren on the forehead as he lay there, as if he’d been asleep, and she was kissing him goodnight. He had once been forced to say goodbye to her. Now it was her turn to bear that pain.

“Bye, baby,” she said.

She took Three’s pistol from its holster on her thigh, and handed it to Chapel.

He shook his head. “I have no need.”

“It’s for Wren. I want him to have it.”

He nodded, then, and took it and tucked it away inside his coat.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” she said.

“Go,” Chapel said.

Cass brushed Wren’s hair with her fingers, and kissed him one last time. And then she turned back, and she and Able together caught up with Wick.

When he first woke, Wren couldn’t tell he had opened his eyes. But he could tell he was lying on a hard surface, with something squishy under his head, and he blinked his eyes several times. His next thought was that he had gone blind. He called out. “Mama!”

A hand pressed into his shoulder, firm, with strong fingers. Not his mother.

“Shhh, child,” Chapel said. “She is not here, but you are safe.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Away.”

“What happened, Chapel? Where are we?”

Chapel explained in his patient way, gentle in truth, but hiding nothing. Wren wept then, deeply and bitterly, and Chapel comforted him, not with words, but with his presence.

After a time they resumed their journey. He rode on Chapel’s back through the long darkness, sometimes sleeping, sometimes wakeful, and often unable to distinguish the two. His sorrow was heavier than any he had known. And now he understood something of Painter’s agony. The uncertainty of the loss. Unable to grieve fully because weak hope continued to cling whether bidden or no.

But it was indeed a weak hope, too frail to support the belief that Wren would see his mother again. And so he felt trapped between the two thoughts: that his mother was dead, or that she was alive but never to be seen again. He had grieved for her once in his lifetime. It was even harder the second time.

And all those others. Gamble, and Sky, and Able; Wick, Finn, Mouse, and Swoop. Swoop alone among them could be mourned.

And Painter. Wren had no words to describe the pain that thoughts of Painter caused. He too was dead, in a way. Wren didn’t understand it exactly, but he knew that somehow Asher had reached Painter, had changed him. Or that Painter had allowed himself to be changed, which was even more tragic.

And then there was Asher. He’d had his vengeance on Morningside. It was probably too much to hope that Asher believed Wren to be dead. How long would it be before he came to claim his little brother? Or would he be content to have destroyed everything that Wren had loved?

Wren lost all sense of time during that journey. He still had his pack with him, which had a little food and some water. Enough to get them through, though Chapel never ate. When they finally reached the end, dawn was breaking over the city.

And together they walked towards Greenstone, the last known survivors of the once great city in the east.