Morningside Fall by Jay Posey

their combined strength overpowered Painter’s, and he dropped to his knees, his fury giving way to bitter anguish. Able held on to him as he shook with soul-deep sobs.
    “Snow,” Painter said, “Snow, Snow, Snow.”
    Cass knelt next to him, and put her hand on his head, consoling him. Wren couldn’t stop his own tears, and no one seemed to mind. Gradually Able released his hold. Painter slumped further forward until his face was almost on the floor, his hands slack in front of him. Cass gently pulled him over until his head was on her lap, and there she held him like a child.
    Able remained crouched next to them, ever watchful, but all the fight seemed to have gone out of Painter. Mouse motioned for Able’s attention, and when Able looked up, Mouse said, “If you’ve got this under control, I’m gonna get cleaned up.”
    Wren noticed the cuts across Mouse’s arms, and chest, and face. Bright blood ran freely from a cut along his cheekbone.
    How bad? Able signed.
    Mouse shook his head. “Stings a little, but they’re not deep. He wasn’t trying to hurt anybody.”
    Able nodded, and Mouse disappeared. Painter’s loud weeping eventually dwindled to an exhausted sort of despair, and he sat up with his hands in his lap.
    “Sorry about… the, the, the, sorry about the chair,” he said quietly. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and stared at the floor.
    “It’s nothing to worry about, OK?” Cass answered.
    “Can I be a-a-alone for a few minutes?” he asked. “I woh-woh- won’t go crazy.”
    “Sure, Painter. Whatever you need.”
    “Th-th-thanks.”
    Cass motioned to Wren and together with Able they left the room and returned to the front of the clinic.
    “What do you think?” Cass asked in a low voice.
    Keep him here for a couple of days, Able signed.
    Wren collapsed into a chair in the corner by the door, exhausted and overwhelmed. Cass and Able carried on a quiet conversation, whispering and signing, but Wren didn’t care to try to follow any of it. The scene that had just played out before him had been more terrible than he had imagined it would be. Death was nothing new to him, unfortunately, and he had seen the many different ways loss could affect the grieving. But Painter’s unrestrained fury had surprised him. Since his Awakening, Painter had never been anything but softly spoken, humble, and kind. To see him tormented so fully broke Wren’s heart.
    “Do you think I should take him some water?” Wren asked across the room.
    Cass stopped her conversation and looked over her shoulder at him. She smiled gently and then nodded. “Sure, baby. That’d be very thoughtful. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
    Wren rummaged around and found several empty steel drinking canisters in a cabinet. He took one and filled it with water from a nearby tap. The water ran cold and clear, drawing from a reservoir deep within the ground. Mouse had once explained how the compound’s system worked, but all Wren remembered clearly was that it was a combination of natural water collected mostly from rainfall and water recycled from other sources. The fact that Mouse had stressed how many times the water was filtered and sterilized made Wren uneasy about what exactly “other sources” might have meant.
    With the canister full, Wren walked carefully back to the other room, quiet so he didn’t disrupt Painter, listening carefully to see if he’d started crying again. As Wren got close to the room, though, he heard Painter muttering. He leaned closer, straining to make out the words.
    “I swear,” Painter said. “I swear I will find them, Snow. I will find them and I will drain every last drop of blood from their veins for you. I swear it.”
    The words sent a shock of cold racing through Wren’s body, like ice water through his veins. He stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Painter shifted in the room and sounded like he was standing up. Afraid of being caught in the hall, Wren crept slowly backwards,