Jay Posey - Three

Three arranged Gev’s heavy hands over his heart, and then placed his own on top of them. They were cool to the touch, the flesh rough but not yet the rubber-like texture that death so often brought. If Three hadn’t just slain his friend, he could’ve convinced himself that Gev was merely asleep. Three covered Gev’s face, and then wrapped the blanket tightly around the body. He did the same with the remaining blankets, and then heaved Gev’s massive frame up over his shoulders.

He strained to carry the body over to the scrap metal pyre he’d hastily formed, but once there, he laid his friend as carefully as he was able into the V-shape, atop the firebricks. Three stood and regarded the tightly-bound form of his longtime friend. He felt that he should say something meaningful, but discovered he had no words to speak. There seemed to be none worthy of so final a moment. So in silence, Three ignited the firebricks. In seconds, they grew white-hot and soon flames of many colors engulfed Gev’s remains, spreading golden-orange sparks heavenward.

And with the task at hand completed, Three lay down on the cold concrete beside his friend and wept.

Alight knock on the door roused Cass from a depthless sleep. She remained still, drew a long breath, waited for her mind and body to synch. Wren was curled next to her, his breathing even. Undisturbed. The knock came again. She checked her internal clock. Twenty-two minutes to sunrise. No sign of Three.

“Mama, Jackson’s knocking,” Wren whispered. Awake after all.

“Alright, sweetheart.”

Cass sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Tested them, glad to discover she could move without pain. It’d been a long while since she could say that. She padded over to the door barefoot and cracked it open.

“Sorry to wake you, Miss Cass. But, Three’s about ready to get moving.”

“He’s upstairs already?”

“Yeah,” he answered, then paused. “Sorta.”

“Sort of?”

“I haven’t seen him yet. He just asked me to make sure you guys were up and ready to go around now.”

“OK, we’ll be up in a few.”

Jackson nodded, but lingered at the door. He tugged at an earlobe, unconsciously from the looks of it. He was nervous about something.

“Need any help?” he finally asked. “I can carry your gear up, if you like.”

“No, that’s alright. Just need to get dressed.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

Cass sighed to herself. She guessed he was lonely, that he was having mixed emotions about their leaving. Might as well give the kid something, however small.

“OK, give us a minute.”

“’K.”

Cass closed the door and switched on the light. Wren was already sitting up, legs dangling off the side of the bed, blond hair sticking up like a halo. His sea-green eyes shone wet as he squinted against the light.

“How’d you sleep, baby?”

“Good,” he answered. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “This bed is nice. I wish it fit in my backpack.”

“Me too. But when we get to Morningside, we’ll each have our own bed. Own rooms, even.”

She smiled as her son slid to the floor, wishing she believed that they’d make it to Morningside, that there would be an end to their flight, to the pursuit. Wren sidled next to her, wrapped his arms around her leg. He seemed taller than he’d been last night. She dropped a hand on his back, squeezed him against her leg in a one-handed hug.

“Come on, we should get moving.”

Cass helped Wren pull a heavier overshirt on over the top of his thinner long-sleeved shirt. As his head popped through the top, she found him staring her in the eye with a look of serious concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do we have to have different rooms?”

Cass felt her heart turn in her chest.

“No, baby,” she said, kneeling to his height and drawing him close. “No, we can stay together. We can always stay together.”

Her eyes welled. She squeezed tight, continued to hold him as he stood with his arms at his sides, empty sleeves limp and dangling. For a long moment, he just let her hug him.

“Mama?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You’re squishing me.”

She smiled at that. Wiped her eyes quickly before letting go.

“Sorry.”

“That’s OK.”

Cass helped her son pull his arms into the sleeves of his overshirt. He lost a sleeve in the process and the two worked together to fish it out, and to pull the inner sleeve back down his arm.

“Go ahead and get your coat on, then hop up on the bed,” she said. “I’ll help you with your boots.”

As Wren wrangled himself into his new coat, Cass changed out of the shirt she’d slept in and into clean clothes that almost felt new. Slipping into the less-worn garments energized her, as if she were putting on armor for the journey ahead. She slid her feet into thick socks made for hiking, and then sank them into her boots, and buckled them up. She stood and felt strong.

Wren was already up on the bed again and Cass helped him put on his new boots. Boots without holes. Boots that fit. He dropped off the edge of the bed to his feet, and they stood together, ready to travel. Scavengers though they were, Cass couldn’t help feeling rich. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had everything they’d needed, and some to spare. Looking at the packs by the door, the ones Three had so painstakingly gathered and organized, she realized that for the first time since she’d left RushRuin, she actually felt prepared.

Cass took Wren’s hand, and moved to the door. She swung it open and jumped a little when she saw Jackson standing there. She’d completely forgotten he was waiting.

“All set?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Let me just get your gear.”

Jackson pushed in and wrestled all three packs onto his shoulders, refusing any of Cass’s attempts to help. He didn’t seem to have much trouble with Wren’s pack, or her own, but it took him nearly a full minute to pull Three’s pack off the ground, and position it securely on his back. It was only as the three made their way up the twisting staircase that she realized this was a show of strength on his part. She didn’t understand it, but she said nothing.

They moved up past the Commons, all the way to the flat, concrete entrance where the Gate stood. Still, there was no sign of Three. Jackson trudged to the gate and, red-faced and sweating, slung the packs to the ground just in front of the looming steel plate.

“Is Three meeting us here?” asked Cass.

“I’d guess so. He didn’t really say.”

Jackson moved over to the hand-crank, and paused to check the time.

“Should be good,” he said to no one in particular. And then he began to crank. The early purple light of dawn spilled in beneath the gate, splashing across the floor and sweeping over their feet, carrying with it a rolling wave of morning air, sharp with the scent of cold frost. In its midst, a shadow stretched.

And as the Gate rose to height, Cass recognized the figure standing beyond: Three.

“Ready to move?” he asked, with typical grim nonchalance.

“Did you spend the night out there?” Cass asked, in disbelief, knowing full well the answer to her own question. Which was good, because he ignored it anyway.

“We’re going to have to keep a pretty good pace. Sooner we get started, the better we’ll do.”

“Then let’s go.”

Cass swung her pack up onto her back, and clipped the harness around her waist. It fit her well, and though she was surprised at the weight, once it was in place, it was so well-balanced she hardly noticed it. Wren’s was much lighter. She didn’t even try to lift Three’s.

Three strode in, and hoisted his pack without any apparent strain. As he buckled in, he spoke to Jackson, though he didn’t look at him.