Jay Posey - Three

“When this one shuts, it’ll take a minute,” said the old watchman, shutting the door before anyone could reply, and sealing the trio in complete darkness. Somewhere in the wall, gears ground, and a deep metallic thunk sounded; a heavy lock sliding into place.

Seconds became minutes. Still they sat. Trapped. Betrayed. Three reached for his pistol, not knowing what else to do.

Then, a hiss. A crack of ebbing light around the outer door. Three felt around, found a handle, pushed it down and outward, and the door swung open.

The dead city stretched out before them, as the last, dying rays of the sun deepened to red and purple.

“Stay with me,” Three said.

And he pushed out from the safety of the Wall, into the fast-approaching night.

“We can’t—” Cass panted, “What’re you doing? We can’t go out there! Not now!”

Three whipped back, stared hard into the airlock where Cass and Wren huddled together. He spoke calmly, in low tones, but an animal ferocity lurked behind the words.

“Inside those walls, there’s nowhere left for you. Out here, with me, you have a chance.”

He watched her shift, glance around the inside of the airlock, look to Wren. He was right, and he knew she knew it. They couldn’t afford to debate.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Now.”

Three turned, started on his way. “If you want to see the sunrise,” he called over his shoulder, “stay with me.”

He didn’t bother to look back. She and the kid would catch up. Or, if not, they wouldn’t be his problem anymore. He shook his head at that. They weren’t even his problem now, or wouldn’t be if he hadn’t inserted himself into whatever trouble they were in. He’d killed two men for them already, though, and he was past trying to figure out which side of the law they were on. They were on his side now, or he was on theirs. Whatever side it was, he had to believe it was the right one.

Footsteps hurried up behind, and Three couldn’t decide if he was glad to hear them. He’d have to wait and see, figure it out later, once he could tell for sure whether or not this was the thing that was going to get him killed.

The trio pressed on in silence, through the battered asphalt streets and concrete alleyways, gray labyrinthine walls pockmarked by uncounted years of neglect and decay. The day’s final rays of sunlight filtered low through the crumbling architecture, highlighting the particles that swirled in the approaching evening’s breeze, dust of the bygone: man’s only truly lasting legacy to the world. Three moved with a steady, urgent pace, one that Cass and Wren fought to keep. As long as they kept it, though, he didn’t care how much they struggled.

As the last glimpse of the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Three halted at an intersection, eyes searching north, then south, then north again. They had to be close. But close wouldn’t count once the sky was dark. His mind raced, trying to remember the details, while his eyes scoured their surroundings for any sign of what he was looking for.

“What is it?” he heard Cass say, her voice floating somewhere distant, background to his thoughts. “Why are we stopping?”

Three glanced up, found the maglev line, rusted and sagging, running back towards the enclave. North, he decided. Better to pick one and hope than to stand idle, indecisive.

He moved on again, northward, as the sky deepened its blue above them, and burned fiery orange at the horizon. Fifty meters. A hundred. Two hundred. Still no sign. He’d guessed wrong. They couldn’t make it now, not before…

There. Through an alley, he saw it. He checked the sky. Fifteen, twenty minutes. Maybe less.

“Come on.”

Three broke into a jog, heedless of the distance he was opening between himself and the others. He found the entrance to a small concrete building; short, squat, with its heavy steel door hanging rusted on it hinges. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cass huffing down the alleyway to catch up, Wren bouncing along piggyback, arms tight around her neck. Three set to work, alternately knocking rust from the hinges, and shoving inward on the door.

“What is this place?” Cass asked, lowering Wren to the ground. Her breathing surprised Three with its steadiness, its relative ease. They’d covered a lot of ground, for someone of her stature. He wondered how long she’d been carrying the boy, chastised himself for not noticing earlier. Only one set of footsteps instead of two. Should’ve caught that; heard it.

He didn’t bother to answer her. She’d see soon enough, and every second he spent explaining was another second lost. He knocked another layer of rust off the bottommost hinge, and threw himself into the door. It shrieked in the gathering dusk, the scream of disused metal, and bent inward an inch, perhaps two. Again, Three rammed his shoulder into the rusting steel. Again, an inch, no more. He turned, put his back against it, strained, teeth-gritting, felt the frozen hinges crack, but hold. He closed his eyes, willed the door to open, to no avail.

Then, next to him, firm, strong, warm against his shoulder — Cass. Her shoulder buried into the door, feet planted. Together now. Her strength surprised him. The door shrieked again: four inches, now eight. Cool, damp air flowed out from the heavy darkness within. Three and Cass reset themselves, readied for a final shove. Wren joined in, tiny hands spread on the door, hip-level to Three. Together, they forced the door open to nearly a foot. As the screeching echoes died away, a new call answered: shrill, distant, electric.

Cass spun, faced Three. He saw fright there, complete and constricting horror. She seized his arm, nails biting into his biceps even through his coat. They were too late. The Weir were abroad. Hunting.

A second digital scream sounded, still distant, but unmistakably closer. And a third, calling in answer. Three had brought the woman and her boy out here to protect them. And that was what he meant to do. He pried Cass from him, gripped her forearms in his fists.

“Listen,” he said, looking hard into her wet, vacantly staring brown eyes. There was no recognition there. “Hey! Hey!”

Cass’s eyes cleared, fixed on his.

“You can still make it. You and the boy. Get in there.”

He pushed her towards the opening, and then caught Wren by the shoulder, and shoved him to her.

“Go on, boy. You’ll fit.”

Wren stared wide-eyed at Three, at the darkness yawning from the doorway, at his shaken, trembling mother.

“Mama…?”

Another shriek, echoing down the alleyways, closer; much too close this time.

“Go, Wren, go, now baby,” Cass said, pushing Wren into the gap in the door. “I’m right behind you.”

Wren slipped in without effort, tiny frame instantly swallowed by the black void waiting inside. Cass followed, though not as easily, wedging herself in, struggling through. The entryway was narrow enough without the frozen gate blocking the way, and Three watched as Cass curved herself around the door with shuffling side steps. Finally, she was in. She disappeared momentarily, then peeked her head back around the door.

Three remained in place, just holding out his hand to her.

“Take this.”

Cass looked down at the chemlight laid across his palm. Her eyes darted back to his, understanding. She shook her head vigorously, but he cut her off, twisting the top of the light, igniting it, thrusting it towards her.

“Take it! Follow the stairs all the way; all the way to the bottom,” Three spoke rapidly now, directing, commanding. “Once you’re there—”

Back down the alley, a pair of electronic shrieks called, responded. Fifty meters away, or maybe twenty. The way sound bounced through the cement corridors made it hard to know for certain. Three saw Cass start to slip again.