Jay Posey - Three

“Opportunity’s her game.”

“The ones you left unconscious?” said Three.

“One was Tyke’s friend, I’d guess. About the same age, had a backpack. When it all went down, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open. The other, not sure. Servorganic arms at least. Not sure if he was Tyke’s hired man, or Bonefolder’s.”

“Big guy? Fake greenman outfit?” jCharles asked.

“That’s the one.”

“Unconscious, or dead?”

“Not sure, but I’d have to guess unconscious. I dropped him pretty hard, but I didn’t stop to check.”

jCharles flicked a look to Three.

“Problem?” Three said.

“Bonefolder’s nephew. She lets him handle the easy jobs. Might’ve been kinder to put him down.”

“Mama?”

The quiet voice captured the chaos, stole the energy from the room.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Wren stood next to the couch, looking tiny, lost. Verge of tears.

“I don’t think I can leave again.”

Cass crossed to him, sat on the couch, pulled him close.

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

The others held still, just observed, afraid to disturb the delicate balance of the moment. Wren just shook his head.

“Are you tired?”

“No,” he answered, quietly.

“Did you take a nap while I was gone?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should lie down for a—”

“No!” he barked, with the sharpest tone Cass had ever heard from him. She slid back involuntarily. “I don’t wanna lie down, I don’t wanna a nap! I wanna stay here! I don’t want to leave!”

And then he broke into sobs, deep, soul-shaking sobs, and Cass wrapped her arms around him, and he stood there with his arms at his sides, just weeping. Cass saw Mol, realized she’d come from the kitchen, hovering. Wanting to help, not wanting to interfere. Cass caught her eye and motioned to the back room, and Mol nodded.

Cass gently lifted Wren up, and laid his head on her shoulder as he let it all out, weeks of terror and confusion and exhaustion. She took him to the back room and as she was closing the door, she saw Mol there, watching them the whole way, a sad look in her eye. Compassion. Longing. Cass motioned to her, for her to join them. At first, Mol refused, but jCharles nudged her, and she finally relented; joined the mother and child in the room. They sat on the bed together, Cass on one side, Mol on the other, with Wren tucked between. And they let him cry and cry, and would let him continue until he had no more tears to give.

The kid had stopped squalling almost an hour ago, and Three was anxious to get moving. They were losing daylight by the minute, and he feared that once the Bonefolder got word she had neither the woman nor the child, a plan B was bound to come knocking.

“Hey.” jCharles was sitting in his oversized chair drinking a cold beverage of questionably high chemical properties.

“Yeah?”

“We got you all loaded up?”

“Yeah.”

jCharles took a pull, let it settle in his mouth. He swallowed, and then exhaled, mouth open, a vaporous sigh.

“So. Where do we go?”

“You know.”

jCharles shook his head. “There’s got to be something else. Something we’ve missed.”

“ Wanting to have missed something doesn’t mean you have. Bad options aren’t so ‘bad’, when they’re ‘only’.”

“I’ll go with you to the steam tunnels…” said jCharles, trailing off.

“You’ve done too much already, Twitch. The Bonefolder’s gonna come looking for you, and you can’t say I’m not to blame for this one.”

jCharles made a dismissive noise and waved his hand. “Bonefolder’s got her friends and turf, but there’s a reason she doesn’t do business downstairs. You don’t worry about ol’ jCharles.”

“She won’t come after you for this?”

“She might have some power. But me? Me, I have influence. ”

“This is serious, Twitch, I need to know.”

jCharles sat forward, suddenly serious. “She moves on me, the networks she uses to run all her gigs suddenly disappear. In fact, just planning a move on me would guarantee I know about it ahead of time. So, no. No, she’ll sit over in her little palace sipping her little drink, and she’ll go looking for some other way to keep those books balanced.

“But don’t you let her people catch you in town. She snags you and whisks you off, no way I’ll be able to track you down before she’s done with her work.”

“Well, I appreciate it, Twitch. You’re a good man. And a better friend.”

“Don’t make it a goodbye.”

“’Fraid it’s gotta be.”

jCharles stood, and the men embraced awkwardly, but sincerely.

“I can come as far as the steam tunnels. Maybe even a little further out.”

jCharles was grim, but there was a paleness at the corners of his lips, extra clicks in his words that signaled a dry mouth. Even the bravest men feel fear.

“No, Twitch. Stay here, with Mol. Stay here, and you love her with all you got.”

jCharles nodded. And then, there seemed to be no more words. Three gave a little nod. Turned to his loaded pack. Checked his harness, his pistol, his blade. Everything was ready to go. Whenever it was time.

“Mol’s gonna want you to get one last good meal in, you know.”

“I know.”

“Hurt her feelings if you don’t let her.”

“I know.”

Three glanced out through the window, but couldn’t get a good gauge on the sun, because of the random buildings stacked in the way.

“Hey, what time you got?”

jCharles accessed the global. “14:31 GST.”

“Sundown?”

“18:02.”

About that time, the door to the back room open, and Wren stepped out, with Mol close behind, her delicate hands on his shoulders. He looked a little embarrassed, as children often do after a good cry. Mol nudged him forward.

“Twitch, Wren had something he’d like to ask you.”

Wren took a timid step forward, and Three saw now he had a book in his hand. The one Mol had been reading to him earlier.

“Mr jCharles, sir. Would you be interested in trading this book, for this?” He stretched out his other hand. Three recognized the sphere that filled that tiny palm. The mil-spec strobe he’d picked up back at the Vault.

jCharles bent over, and made a good show of examining both pieces, as if comparing quality. He stood, and thought. Took a swig on his beverage. Cass came out of the back room as the appraisal continued. Then at last, he bent low again.

“I’m sorry, young master Wren. Can’t do it.”

Wren was obviously disappointed, but he took it like a professional. “OK, thank you for considering it.”

Wren moved to put the book back on the shelf, even in the right location, but jCharles interrupted him.

“I said I wasn’t interested in trading, young sir. You can’t trade for a gift.”

Wren turned back, obviously hopeful, but not quite understanding.

“You go ahead and take it, sweetheart,” Mol said. “It’s yours. We want you to have it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Without reservation, Wren wrapped himself around Mol’s waist, nerve-rig and all, and squeezed, and smiled. “Oh, thank you so much.”

And to everyone’s great surprise, he rushed right over to jCharles and hugged his leg just as ferociously. “Thank you so much, Mr jCharles.”

“Easy kid, you break my leg off, I might just take it back.”

Mol kissed Wren on the head as she passed him, and made her way to the kitchen. Whatever it was she’d prepared smelled delicious, and was apparently moments away from completion.

“You guys can stay for another twenty minutes, right? If you eat fast?”

Three surveyed the scene. Wren, so hopeful, Cass trying to look ambivalent, but clearly hoping for a good last meal. jCharles with his head inclined that one way he did it to let you know you weren’t really being given a choice.