“What do you think?” Cass asked.
She watched his face as Wren studied them for a moment. She waited for the sound of the next impact. But it never came.
“Alright, this is starting to give me the jibblies,” Sky said.
“What now?” Cass asked.
“They stopped,” said Gamble.
Cass took Wren off her leg and stood up to take a look.
“I can’t see, Mama.”
She picked him up and held him as they looked down over the wall together. The Weir were in a loose crowd, as if they’d begun to scatter and then abruptly stopped. Now they were just standing there, looking up at the wall. No. Looking up at Wren. And then one made the strangest sound.
“Spshhhh. Naaaah.”
Like a burst of thin hissing static, followed by wave of white noise, somewhere between a violent exhalation and a whispered howl. Cass had never heard anything like it before.
“Spshhhh. Naaaah.”
The same as before. Exactly the same, as far as Cass could tell.
“Spshhhh. Naaaah.”
They came in an even rhythm, almost like a chant. Some of the other Weir began shuffling together, gradually closing in around the one making the sound, like a dark pool spreading in reverse. Their eyes remained fixed on Wren. An evil shiver ran down Cass’s spine.
“That one’s begging for it,” Sky said, sighting in. “Ace?”
“Hold on,” Gamble answered. She looked at Cass.
“What do you think, baby?” Cass asked.
“Something’s not right, Mama.”
“Can you wake any of them?”
Wren surveyed the group below, and then shook his head with a sad look. Too far gone. Gamble gave a sharp nod in Sky’s direction. A half-second later his rifle hummed quick and low, and the chanting Weir fell violently backwards.
The other Weir didn’t even react. Some just stood around aimlessly, but those that were moving continued to gather together, closer and closer. A little over half of them, maybe twenty-five, slowly pressed together.
“Spshhhh. Naaaah.”
A new one took up the call now. And then another. Then a third. Sky’s rifle hummed once and quickly again, and two of them fell. Still no effect.
“Looks like some of ’em are busted,” Wick said. “Look at that one just turning circles.”
Sure enough, one Weir, separated from the others, was turning a slow circle; turn thirty degrees, stop, thirty degrees, stop, thirty degrees, stop. It really did look like a system glitch.
“Is it just me, or are some of them missing?” Finn asked.
Now that he mentioned it, the crowd did seem smaller. Cass was just about to say so when Able tore past her and she heard Swoop draw his sword. She turned.
“Mama!”
The Weir were on the wall. On top of the wall. Rushing towards them. Cass dropped Wren to his feet, pulled him behind her, and the team switched on in an instant. Able and Swoop were already there, intercepting the first two. Gamble, Mouse, Wick, and Finn all snapped weapons up as they collapsed in a protective ring around Cass and Wren. Sky swung his rifle around, ready to drop any that got past Able and Swoop. To Cass’s surprise, she heard Sky’s weapon hum. One Weir fell further down the wall, a perfectly placed shot right between Swoop and Able.
It was over in almost the time it’d taken her to process it. Only three of them, quickly dispatched.
“How did they get up?” Gamble shouted. She leapt on top of the parapet and started leaning out, scanning back and forth, checking the wall. “How did they get up here?” Sky instinctively grabbed her by the belt with his left hand, still keeping his weapon shouldered, up and ready, with his right.
“Mouse,” Cass called. Mouse came quickly to her side, his weapon down but shouldered in case any other targets presented.
“Yes, ma’am?” he asked.
“Take Wren back to the compound, please. Wick, Finn, you too.”
“But, Mama–” Wren started to protest, but Cass wasn’t having it.
“No buts, Wren. You shouldn’t have been here in the first place.” She pushed Wren towards Mouse. The big man drew Wren in close, protectively. “Straight to the compound,” she added. “Lock it up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mouse said. He slung his weapon, and gathered Wren up. “Wick, Finn, let’s move it out.” Only then did the two brothers roll fluidly out of formation and take up defensive positions on either side of Mouse.
“Don’t worry, Cass, we’ll get him there, no sweat,” Wick said as he moved by.
“I know,” she said. The three men departed swiftly with her son, and for a moment Cass felt an almost overwhelming desire to go with them. But Gamble let out a startled cry, and Cass knew she had to stay.
“Look at this!” Gamble said. “Sky, let go, I’m not gonna fall. You gotta see this.”
Sky lowered his weapon and leaned out over the wall as best he could. He didn’t take his hand off his wife. “Yep. Jibblies.”
Cass climbed cautiously up on the parapet next to Gamble and followed the other woman’s arm to where she was pointing with her jittergun, about thirty yards further down the wall. At first, Cass couldn’t tell what she was seeing. It looked almost like an enormously thick rope dangling the wrong way, from the ground up and not quite long enough to reach the top. Then her eyes picked up an arm here, a leg there. With horror it all clicked in her mind. Some number of the Weir had piled on top of one another, clinging together to form something like a pillar of flesh; a grotesque circus act, or twisted sculpture of the dead. It might have been comical if it hadn’t been so horrifying. Another Weir was climbing, using its claws and mindlessly shredding its companions as it made its way up.
“Cut it down,” Cass said.
Gamble didn’t even reply. She just pulled Sky’s hand free and jogged down the length of the parapet. By the time she made it to the Weir-pillar, the climbing Weir had nearly reached the top. Cass heard the jittergun buzz as Gamble opened up with it. The climbing Weir fell back and plummeted to the ground, followed closely by its collapsing companions; their bodies thumped, dull and wet far below.
“I sure hope I wake up in a couple minutes and find out this was all a bad dream,” Sky said. After a moment, he added, “Real bad.”
Gamble’s gun ripped the air in two more short bursts, and then it was quiet. It was only then Cass realized the Weir had stopped making their eerie call. She turned back to where the crowd had once been and found all but one had disappeared. The last of the three chanters now stood alone, utterly still and staring. Staring at Cass. As if it had been waiting for her attention.
“Spshhhh. Naaaah.”
Sky’s rifle hummed again, and the Weir collapsed in a pile.
“I’m about done with that,” he said. Cass couldn’t help but agree. But she knew that sound would haunt her for a long time to come.
About halfway between Cass and Gamble, Able and Swoop were working together to dump the dead Weir over the wall, outside the city. They’d take care of it in the morning, if the bodies were still there. More than likely, other Weir would come and reclaim them, as was their way. Gamble, walking back along the top of the parapet, stopped and crouched by them for a moment and exchanged a few words.
“I sure wish she’d get away from that edge,” said Sky.
“I think she does it just to make you nervous,” Cass replied.
“She does. And it does.”
Gamble hopped down off the parapet and returned to Cass and Sky. She slid in next to her husband, and wrapped an arm around his waist, looking softer. He kissed the top of her head in such a casual motion it almost looked like reflex.