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.