Jay Posey - Morningside Fall

“Painter…” he said slowly, fearing he knew the answer, and dreading even more the thought of hearing it confirmed as true. “Where did you bury your sister?”

Painter looked at him sharply. “What? What mmm-made you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Wren said. He scooted forward on the bed, so he could put his feet on the floor. “Where did you bury her?”

“Why are you asking mmmmm-me this?” Painter leaned up on an elbow.

“Where is Snow?”

“I t-t-t-told you. Outside. In our sss-secret place.” He said it forcefully as he sat up fully, but his eyes gave him away. Painter wasn’t angered by the question. He was scared by it.

“Oh no, Painter…” Wren said. “Painter, no…” He stood up and took a couple of steps towards the door, though he didn’t really know why. “Please tell me you didn’t leave her out there for the Weir.”

Painter opened his mouth to answer, but after a moment his eyes softened and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Wren felt sick, and he put his hand over his mouth. He backed up and leaned against the door.

“How did you know?” Painter asked, practically whispering.

“I didn’t,” Wren said.

“But you understand, d-d-don’t you?” Painter said, looking back up at him. “If you had a ch-chance, no matter how small… what if you c-c-could bring your friends back? Wouldn’t you try?”

Wren shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to even let the smallest hint of that idea into his head, it seemed so terrible.

“She’s your sister, Painter,” Wren said.

“Exactly,” he said. “My baby sister. I would do anything ffff-for her, Wren. I know it’s a luh, a long shhhh-shot. But what if, Wren? What if? If I could ffff-find her again, you’d bring her back, wouldn’t you?”

Wren stared back at his friend. His poor broken friend, who had lost so much. Who had lost everything. But as terrible as it all seemed, almost too horrible to comprehend, Wren found he couldn’t lie to Painter or to himself.

“I can’t promise that,” he said. He saw Painter’s expression change, and realized Painter thought Wren was just refusing outright. How could he explain that if Snow had been dead for days before she’d been taken, there was no chance that he’d be able to help her find her way back? He didn’t even know if that was completely true himself, no matter how much he suspected it. And Wren remembered all too well what it was like to live a life without hope. “I would try , Painter. But…” Wren trailed off.

“That’s all I c-c-could ask, Wren,” Painter said.

There was a light knock at the door, and Wren jerked away from it, with his heart hammering. Then, muffled through the door, he heard his mama gently call his name.

“My mom,” Wren said.

“You won’t tuh, tell anyone, will you?”

Wren just stood there, the words not really registering with him.

“D-d-don’t tell anyone, OK? Please?”

“I won’t,” Wren answered before he had time to think it through.

“You undersss-, understand, right?”

The knock came again, a little louder this time.

“I have to go,” Wren said. He turned around and opened the door. The light from the hallway dazzled his eyes, and he had to squint against the glare. The lights in the hall weren’t that bright, but his eyes struggled to adjust after sitting in the dark for so long.

“Hey, baby,” Cass said. “Hi, Painter.”

“Hi, Miss Cass,” Painter said. “Everything going OK?”

He wasn’t usually one to make conversation, and Wren couldn’t help but feel that Painter was doing his best to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“For now,” she answered, with a slight smile. Wren could tell something was off from the look on her face. She looked down at him. “Did you sleep?”

Wren shook his head. Her expression changed. He never really could hide anything from his mama.

“Are you OK?” Cass asked.

“Just tired,” he said. “I want to go to bed now.”

“Alright,” she said. She looked back up at Painter. “Thanks for letting him stay with you, Painter. I appreciate it.”

“Ssssh-sure, no problem,” he replied.

“Good night,” said Cass.

“Night,” Painter said.

Wren started across the hall, but Cass stopped him with a light hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at Painter, who was staring out of that dark room at him with those eyes. Wren found it was hard to think of him as a friend just then. “Good night, Painter.”

Wren crossed the hall and went into his own room, followed closely by his mother. She flicked on the light. He went straight to his bed and started taking off his shoes.

“Are you sure you’re OK, Wren?” Cass asked.

He nodded without looking at her. There was nothing he wanted more than to just crawl into his bed and hide his face from the world. He’d never wanted things to be like this.

“Did something happen?”

He shook his head and pulled the covers back.

“Is Painter OK?”

“He’s fine, Mom,” Wren said, and it came out more sharply than he meant for it to. “I really want to go to sleep.” He climbed into his bed and lay on his side, facing the wall, pulled the covers up under his chin. Footsteps approached, and Wren closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at his mama. He knew she’d be able to read him, and he just couldn’t face the conversation. There was no telling how anyone would react if they found out what Painter had done.

He felt Mama sit down on the edge of the bed. She stroked his hair, and then rubbed his back in silence. Wren tried to even out his breathing and pretended to be asleep, hoping that would keep her from trying to talk to him anymore. He just needed some time to think through everything. Maybe it didn’t really matter what Painter had done. Maybe it mattered very much.

“We’ve been here before, baby,” Cass whispered after a few minutes. “We’ll figure this out, too.” She leaned over him and kissed the side of his head gently. Then she got up and switched off the light, and left the room. Wren was certain she thought he was asleep, and that made him wonder all the more exactly what she’d meant.

“Seems risky to me,” Finn said, as Cass rejoined the team. They were still discussing their options, and it didn’t sound like they were any closer to a decision.

“Risky’s all we’ve got, Finn,” Swoop answered.

“Yeah, but there’s no way we could roll up there heavy as we are and think they’re going to let us in without asking questions. And no way I’m going up there unless we’re rolling heavy.”

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Gamble said, “and it seems the best option of few. Question is can we make it work?”

“Why not?” asked Wick.

“Why not what?” said Swoop.

“Why can’t we stay here?”

“This place is an emergency shelter, Wick, not a long-term solution. Every day we’re here, we’re pullin’ on resources they can’t spare. I don’t care how friendly they are, that ain’t good for them or us.”

Wick shrugged. “Ninestory just seems like a stretch to me. Hard people up that way. Not likely to look too kindly on a war party coming up in their midst.”

“Then again,” Mouse said, “if there are people who won’t think twice about a bunch of roughnecks wandering around, it’s probably them.”

“I’m sorry,” Cass interrupted. “Ninestory?”

Gamble nodded. “Midsized enclave. Not the nicest place, but it’s hardened. Figure we could set up for a good couple of weeks there.”

“If we can get in the door,” Finn said.

“You’ve been before?” Cass asked.

“A few of us passed through once,” Sky said.