Contents
Copyright
Series Reading Order
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
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Books in the Frozen World Series
More From Mission Critical Publishing
About the Authors
SILO
Normad’s Revenge
Book 3
Frozen World Series
Published April 27, 2020
by Mission Critical Publishing, LLC
Written by: Jay J. Falconer
Co-Authored by: ML Banner
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or business establishments or organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Mission Critical Publishing LLC
All Rights Reserved Worldwide. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from Mission Critical Publishing LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, publicity mentions, book/author recommendations, or announcements.
Suggested Reading Order for the Series
This series is a serial and part of the Frozen World collection of stories.
Each book is an immediate continuation of the earlier story and involves many characters, which are introduced and explored in each successive work. We strongly suggest reading the books in order, starting with this book.
Here are the books in the series:
Silo: Summer’s End (Frozen World Book 1)
Silo: Hope’s Return (Frozen World Book 2)
Silo: Nomad’s Revenge (Frozen World Book 3)
Thank you for reading,
Jay J. Falconer
M. L. Banner
Co-Founders
Mission Critical Publishing, LLC
CHAPTER 1
Stanley Fletcher held back as Commander Stipple blew his whistle in sharp blasts, sending the Scabs ahead of him tearing into the entrance of the old Titan II missile silo.
Fletcher grabbed Stipple by the elbow, spinning him around. “Remember, I need some alive. Don’t fail me.”
“No worries. I’ve got it covered,” the man replied, pulling free with a twist of his arm. He took a step back toward the threshold, while the horde of Scabs behind him continued its advance, scrambling around a ninety-degree corner.
The cannibals and their collective motion reminded Fletcher of an invasion of army ants, with fists raised and mouths drooling as they searched for their next kill. The sea of skin looked like a shimmering blanket of ugliness, rippling under the inevitable control of rage.
Fletcher shook his head, knowing that somewhere inside the residents of Edison’s wonderland were hunkered down and praying they could withstand the wave of teeth coming at them.
Soft targets always thought that way—that somehow their dreamworld, their nirvana, would magically rise up and protect them when the shit hit the fan. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, not when the weak and unarmed were the easiest prey. Cannon fodder was a better term, betting their lives on nothing more than hope.
Only those with the wherewithal to get prepared and stay that way would survive in a world ruled by force. Well, that and keeping their options open. As in maintaining the high ground and fortifying a defensible position. This underground complex was neither of those.
“On me,” Commander Stipple said to Dice and Fletcher, giving them a momentary head nod before following the last of his hunger gang into the silo.
Fletcher half-expected the commander to once again use the whistle hanging from his neck to bring him forward, much like the man had done to unleash his battalion of cannibals.
It was fortunate for Stipple that he didn’t decide to use that shrieking noisemaker on him. Not here. Not now. Not within the walls of this hardened Air Force facility. Such a screech would have been enough for Fletcher to raise his weapon and unleash a hail of 7.62 rounds at Craven’s right-hand man.
In truth, Fletcher knew it would happen eventually, both the annoying whistle and his lethal response. But he also knew this wasn’t the right time to take action. Not when he was on the verge of completing one of the greatest leadership coups ever—at least in his mind.
Fletcher moved ahead, with the stock of his rifle pressed into a firing position against the soft of his shoulder. He sharpened his focus, knowing that every foot plant mattered. So did his position relative to everyone else.
Situational awareness is key in any threatening situation. More so when you are in proximity to hundreds of Scabs, whether they are running loose or contained.
Once Fletcher was through the last bulkhead protecting the entrance, he spun to survey the damage caused by the C-4. The silo’s inner vault door hung in twisted clumps of metal, its massive hinges holding on in what he could only describe as a desperate attempt to remain attached.
The results of his demolition team were impressive, planting the charges with precision. Even so, one fact seemed clear—if his men hadn’t used the sheer amount of bricks they did, the heavy steel would have withstood the detonation and kept this silo free from this incursion.
Fletcher pushed ahead, passing through the cloud of spent explosives, its distinctive odor still lingering in the air. But that wasn’t all he smelled. There was something else. Something ripe.
Dice must have noticed it too, turning his head away when he came near, wearing a pinched look on his mug. “Talk about some seriously nasty swamp ass.”
“You got that right, brother. Stipple’s gonna have to hose them down when this is over.”
“Or run them over.”
“That’ll work, too,” Fletcher replied, seeing the Scabs pound their fists on the walls down the corridor. None of this was how he would have ordered the attack to proceed, but it wasn’t his place to question. Stipple knew his cannibal force better than anyone. After all, he trained them.
Perhaps their non-stealth approach was designed to drive Edison’s people in one direction, corralling them into a central area of the facility. It would certainly make Fletcher’s job easier and more efficient, versus havin
g to perform a methodical search using a skeleton crew—of humans, that is.
“Holy shit, look at this place,” Dice said in a charged whisper. “Must have taken them years to pour all the concrete.”
“Soon to be red-colored concrete,” Fletcher quipped, listening for screams ahead. So far there hadn’t been any, but he knew the carnage would soon start, once the Scabs found their blood-filled targets.
Even so, Fletcher found the facility equally as impressive as Dice—its stout construction obvious. From what he could tell, the Air Force and its engineers had designed everything for a singular purpose—strength. Oh, and longevity. Okay, that was two things, but it didn’t matter. The silo was remarkable.
If this first visit to a bunker like this had been under different circumstances, he might have stopped and taken photos. Hundreds of them, documenting their remarkable achievement.
Fletcher scoffed after another few moments of reflection, figuring the old military brass had never planned for an invasion like this. Certainly not by a band of genetically engineered meat-eaters, hell-bent on killing everything that moved and doing so in a snarl of drool.
After two more turns and a climb down a wall-mounted ladder, Fletcher stopped on the deck plating below.
Dice was right behind him, finishing his trek down the same eleven rungs. “Where the hell are they?”
“Good question. I thought we’d have our first kill by now.”
“I’m getting one of my weird feelings again, boss.”
“Roger that. Starting to wonder myself.”
“Did they evacuate?”
“Not sure,” Fletcher said.
“If they did, they left the lights on.”
“And the ventilation system.”
“You and I might do that, but not Edison’s crew.”
“No, they’re all about saving energy and everything else,” Fletcher said, taking a moment to think it through.
“God-damned tree huggers.”
Fletcher agreed with Dice and his assessment about the doves Edison had taken in as his own. All of it predictable. All of it expected, given who and what Edison was. “No, they’re here somewhere, Dice. Just need to find them.”
“Must have had some advance warning to pull back,” Dice said, his eyes scanning the walls and ceilings.
“And dig in,” Fletcher added, noticing the overhead recess and how it had been packed with cable runs and piping. “Don’t see any cameras, though.”
“None outside in the stairwell either.”
Fletcher held for a moment, letting his mind ponder the situation. “Maybe our cloaked friend had something to do with it?”
“Nomad?”
Fletcher nodded but didn’t respond.
“You think he tipped them off, boss?”
“It’s possible.”
“We did water down his fuel,” Dice said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Some kind of payback?”
“It would explain a few things,” Fletcher said, holding for a moment. He shook his head. “But how could he have communicated with them so quickly?”
“Maybe he was in cahoots the whole time?”
“With Edison?”
“Why not? Anything’s possible, right?”
“Nah, that’s not Nomad’s style. He’s just as vested in this outcome as we are.”
“But what if we’re wrong?”
“Won’t matter. What’s coming can’t be stopped, no matter how hard they’ve hunkered down.”
“Maybe we should call down our Demo Team from the surface as reinforcements?”
“Negative. Let’s hold them back. They did their job.”
“Now it’s our turn,” Dice said, his tone firm and resolute.
Fletcher gave him a head nod, appreciating the support. “Never ask your men to do something you are not prepared to do yourself.”
“You’re right, boss. As usual. Plus, it’s probably wise for them to keep an eye on Stipple’s men up there, too. Not sure what that’s all about. Why keep one Scab on the surface, then assign three guards?”
“I wondered that myself. Especially that leash.”
“I’m sure Craven has his reasons.”
“It’s almost as if he doesn’t trust this op. Or Stipple.”
“Or us,” Dice said.
“Good point. If I were him, I’d want to hold back a squad in reserve, just in case this mission doesn’t go as planned.”
“Or we don’t.”
“Or the Scabs down in this hole. I’m sure his men are just as wary as we are.”
“True.”
“We may appear to be one happy invasion force right now, but all it takes is a single mistake and lines are drawn. That’s how massacres happen.”
“Agreed. In essence, this entire complex is a fatal funnel, with poor sightlines and a complete lack of egress options.”
“Never a good thing,” Fletcher said. “Even so, this is what we signed up for when we hatched this plan.”
“I’ve got your back, sir.”
Fletcher tapped Dice on the back with an open hand. “Keep moving. Stipple will find them.”
Dice moved ahead, sweeping his rifle from left to right and back again, same as Fletcher. “Seriously then, Fletch, if it wasn’t Nomad, then how did they know? Motion sensors?”
Fletched shrugged. “Must be well hidden because I haven’t seen dick.”
“Me either.”
Before they made it to the next corner, two whistles were heard from somewhere ahead. The sounds were muffled but sharp.
“Must have found something,” Fletcher snapped, breaking into a sprint.
Dice followed next to him, running in a clatter of boots.
When Fletcher and Dice caught up to Stipple, they found him bent low on one knee, gasping for air with a hand on his chest.
“You all right?” Fletcher asked, wondering if the man was going to drop dead before his next breath.
“Just a little chest pain, that’s all,” Stipple said, his face devoid of color.
“Your heart?”
“Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Been dealing with this all my life. It’ll pass. It always does.”
“We heard your whistles, so we double-timed it,” Dice said.
Stipple pointed ahead, down the hallway. “They’re on the scent.”
“We should get moving, then,” Fletcher said, nodding at Dice to get his feet in gear.
Stipple took the whistle from his neck and held it out to Fletcher. “Here, I need a minute.”
Fletcher pushed the chain back toward the man. “Not a chance. I’m not the one who trained those meat eaters.”
“Trust me, they’ll never know. Not once there’re on the scent.”
Dice held out his palm. “I’ll do it.”
Stipple looked at Fletcher and raised an eyebrow.
“Fine,” Fletcher said, nodding at Dice.
Dice snatched the chain and slung it around his neck.
Stipple unbuttoned his shirt pocket and retrieved a slip of paper. It was white and folded in half. He held it out to Dice.
Dice took it from him. “What’s this?”
“Instructions. Just be consistent with your blows and space them out. They need to hear the breaks properly. Cadence is just as important as volume.”
Dice opened the paper and looked at the handwritten list, holding for a few beats. “Seems easy enough.”
Stipple pointed at the whistle. “Just wipe it off when you’re done. I want it back.”
“Sure.”
“Let’s move,” Fletcher said, tugging on Dice. “Before we lose them.”
“I’ll be a minute or two behind, just need to catch my breath,” Stipple said, giving them a halfhearted wave with his hand.
CHAPTER 2
“Where’d they go?” Dice asked, working his feet forward with Fletcher a pace or two behind him. He could hear a rumble ahead and a mishmash of other sounds. Some of them were clunks
and others were snarls.
“We should split up, cover more ground,” Fletcher said.
“Ah...sure, boss. Whatever you say, if you think that’s wise.”
Fletcher grabbed Dice from behind, stopping his feet and twisting him around. “All right, out with it. You’ve obviously got something to say.”
Dice drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Well, sir, ah, it’s just that I’m the only one with a whistle around here.”
Fletcher nodded, holding for a moment before he answered. “If they’re truly as micro-focused on the hunt as Stipple said, they’ll never know we’re here.”
“That’s a big if, sir.”
“You think he’s lying to us?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him. I’m not sure I buy the whole bad heart thing. Seems awfully convenient. Plus all that crap going on up on the surface.”
“Kind of hard to fake that ghostly look.”
“Maybe, but we really don’t know the guy from dick,” Dice said, wanting to drive his point home without being too obvious. “Do we really want to put our lives on the line, based solely on some statement Stipple made? He does work for Craven, after all.”
“You mean put your life on the line, while on point.”
“Well, sir, technically, it’s both of us. With all of them ahead of us, we only get once chance to be wrong. Tight quarters and all.”
“Noted,” Fletcher said.
“I’m starting to think the only smart ones in this whole mission are the guys Stipple left on the surface.”
“And the Scab.”
“The rest of us are just guessing here.”
“You think this is some kind of trap.”
“Starting to feel like it, sir.”
“That would mean Craven and Edison’s people are working together.”
Dice shrugged, not wanting to offend his boss by sounding too pushy. Or too knowledgeable. “Well, in the end, what do we really know? It’s not like we trust anyone, anyways. Why start now?”
“Okay, assuming any of this is true, what do you suggest?”
“Could always fall back and find a more defensible position. Let the Scabs do their thing, then reassess as needed.”
“What about keeping a few of Edison’s crew alive? That was the plan.”
Silo Page 1
