Silo

by Jay J Falconer

  “With all due respect, sir, maybe the plan needs to change?”

  “Go on. Explain."

  “If the worst thing that happens is we get out of here alive, but lose all the prisoners in the process, is that really such a bad thing?”

  “It would set us back a bit.”

  “At least we’d still be on this side of grass,” Dice said, craning his neck up at the concrete ceiling. “So to speak.”

  Fletcher nodded, but didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know about you, boss, but the last place I’d ever expect to buy it would be in a place like this,” Dice said, pointing at the corridor ahead. “Not down here. Not at the hands of those things.”

  “Or their teeth.”

  “Exactly, sir. We need—” Dice said, stopping in mid-sentence when he heard what sounded like a thousand drums beating out of rhythm from each other.

  “What the hell is that?” Fletcher asked.

  Before Dice could respond, the hallway ahead filled with Scabs running in a sprint.

  “Fall back!” Fletcher said, grabbing Dice and yanking him back.

  Dice moved behind Fletcher and spun in reverse, just as his boss raised his rifle at the stampede headed their way.

  Fletcher fired his weapon in short bursts, each round appearing to hit its mark, spraying tissue and blood across the walls and floor.

  Dice was about to stop and join the fight, but his boss turned to him and said, “Go. Now. I’ll cover you.”

  “But sir—”

  Fletcher began fast walking in reverse, as he released the spent magazine from his rifle. He snatched a replacement from his tactical vest and jammed it into the lower receiver, then pulled the charging bolt back and let it snap forward. He swung his head around again, making eye contact. “That’s an order, Dice. Double-time it. Hurry.”

  That’s when Dice remembered the whistle. He kept his feet moving backwards as Fletcher’s shooting continued. Dice snatched the chain from his chest and brought the whistle to his mouth.

  He pulled the instructions from his pocket and opened the fold, but couldn’t seem to focus his eyes. Everything on the list was a jumbled mess.

  “Ah, fuck it,” he said, unleashing his mouth to blow with abandon. He tried short bursts and long blasts, then mixed them together, but the Scabs didn’t stop.

  Fletcher kept firing too, but the horde never slowed, despite all the head shots.

  Dice tugged on the back of Fletcher’s shirt. “We gotta run. Now.”

  * * *

  Stipple got to his feet after hearing the rattle of gunfire, followed by a slew of whistles. He knew the commands well, but whoever was blowing wasn’t issuing any of them.

  “Damn it, all they had to do was follow instructions.”

  He marched forward, figuring the pair of dumbasses had confused his army. Now he’d have to intervene and somehow control the situation.

  Just as he made it to the middle of the corridor, an explosion rocked the walls and floor.

  The compression wave slammed into him, making him stumble sideways. His shoulder crashed into the wall, then he bounced off the cement and dropped to the floor on his knees.

  It took a few moments to shake off the pain. When he brought his head up, he saw a fireball filling the hallway at the far end, its flames billowing ahead in a tumble.

  “Oh shit,” he yelled, turning and running in a sprint.

  CHAPTER 3

  Summer Lane ran ahead of her Security Chief, Krista Carr, as they tore down a corridor in the silo. Eight strides later, they made a turn into the video room.

  Liz was a few steps behind them, her legs carrying her at a slower pace.

  “What do you have?” Krista asked the man sitting in front of a metal desk with three video monitors perched on it, all of them filled with black.

  He pointed at the middle screen and answered with a charge in his lungs. “Scabs.”

  “Are you sure?” Krista asked, leaning in and fiddling with the power button.

  “Affirmative, main entrance. Only caught a glimpse before the feeds went dark.”

  “How many?” Summer asked, not willing to wait for Krista to ask the next question.

  “At least six, but could be more.”

  Wicks arrived with the prisoner, Doc Lipton, who was still in the guard’s clutch.

  Wicks shoved Lipton forward, making the scientist stumble to keep himself upright.

  “Let me guess, more technical difficulties?” Lipton said after his legs came to a halt. He stared at the empty video monitors. “Gee, there’s a shock.”

  “Screens just blanked out,” the tech said. “But I counted at least six in the main entrance.”

  “Six what?” Lipton asked.

  “Scabs, I think.”

  “Did you actually see them or is that a guess?” Krista asked.

  “A little of both, ma’am. Only saw them for a split second.”

  “Helena will be pleased,” Lipton said in a snide tone, almost as if he wasn’t surprised. “Or terrified, depending on which motivational factors you prefer to believe.”

  Before anyone could respond, the screen on the left changed from all black to a blurry brown, as if someone were trying to sharpen the signal on a distant object.

  “What the hell?” the tech asked.

  Lipton raised an eyebrow. “Looks like the surprises just keep coming.”

  “Wait a minute,” Krista said, pointing as the sharpness of the image improved. The outline of a figure appeared in more detail. “Is that a mask?”

  “And a coat?” Lipton added, the tip of his finger tracing an outline on the monitor’s glass.

  Summer leaned forward, her chin just short of resting on the video tech’s shoulder. She watched the figure move along the wall in a methodical scoot-and-hold manner, carrying something in his arms. Three steps later, the camera found a more revealing focus, giving her a better view of the figure’s tall silhouette.

  When the intruder moved again, she saw a flash of metal hanging from its sides. Plus, she could now see others in the hallway. Five, to be exact.

  A wave of understanding crashed into Summer’s brain just as Krista said, “Nomad?”

  “Gee, ya think?” Lipton said.

  Summer couldn’t believe her eyes. “What’s he doing here? With a bunch of Scabs, no less? God, I hate those things.”

  “Actually, they appear to be girls. Scab girls,” the tech said, playing with the control stick in front of him. The video feed changed to show a crystal-clear image as it swung around and zoomed in, showing a close-up of one of the Scabs standing near Nomad. Her skin was weathered and full of wrinkles, sagging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Actually, not girls. Women,” Liz added, her chest pumping hard for air when she arrived.

  “Well, maybe some of them,” Summer said, pointing to the younger Scab that Nomad held in his arms. “Looks like she’s hurt.”

  “Or it’s some kind of trick,” Wicks added.

  Summer turned to the video tech. “Can you pull back all the way? I want to see exactly what they’re doing.”

  “How the hell did he find us?” Krista asked while the tech adjusted the control stick again.

  Lipton laughed. “Really? I would think the answer is obvious. But then again, none of you are the kind of people who actually stop and think. Why should I be surprised?”

  “Shut up, you asshole,” Summer told him.

  “Helena must have led them here,” Wicks said, looking at Summer and then at Krista.

  “How?” Krista answered. “We checked her for tracking devices.”

  “Plus, she doesn’t exactly wear a lot of clothes. Not a lot a hiding places, if you know what I mean,” Wicks said.

  “Yeah, and I’m sure you checked all those places, too, didn’t you?” Summer asked him.

  “What about the other two?” Liz asked. “Horton and what’s-his-name.”

  “You mean me?” Lipton said, laughing after he finishe
d his retort.

  Krista shook her head, looking at Liz. “Same. We checked them all.”

  “Then Nomad must have followed you, somehow,” Liz said to Krista.

  “On foot? Not a chance,” Krista replied, her tone confident and firm. “Not the way I drive.”

  “She does have bit of a lead foot,” Summer said, turning her eyes back to the video feed. “If there was ever a need for seatbelts—”

  Nomad stopped his advance, then moved to the middle of the hallway, bringing his mask-covered face into the center of the video feed.

  That’s when he raised his arms, presenting the Scab girl as some kind of offering.

  Krista turned to Wicks. “Assemble a team. I want him and his little harem secured on the double.”

  “I’ll go too. See if I can help that girl,” Liz added.

  “What about Lipton?” Wicks asked Krista.

  “I’ll watch him.”

  “You know that really isn’t necessary,” Lipton said. “I’m on your side, remember?”

  “Nice try, dickhead. The last thing I need is for your sorry ass to be running around here unattended,” Krista replied, before turning her eyes to Wicks. “Load heavy. Nomad’s a tricky one.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “If those Scabs even flinch, burn ‘em. You’re cleared for weapons hot.”

  Wicks brought his feet together and puffed out his chest. “You got it, boss.” He turned and marched into the hallway, disappearing to the right.

  * * *

  Boyd Craven continued his trek through The Factory and past the observation window for the Maturation Control Pod, then turned and walked the remaining steps needed to arrive in the lab controlled by his second in command, Dr. Wilma Rice.

  “Any news?” Craven asked her, adjusting his eye patch.

  She stood from her chair and met him in the middle of the room, wearing her traditional thigh-length lab coat. “Nothing yet. But I expect the runner to arrive soon.”

  Craven nodded, noticing her hair was up and in a tight knot, plus she’d forgotten to put on makeup. Not the most attractive look, but he really didn’t give a shit. “Let’s hope so; otherwise, all our planning was for naught. There just isn’t time to adjust again.”

  Wilma tightened her eyes, sounding confident as usual. “Stipple has them ready.”

  “I don’t doubt that. It’s Fletcher and his crew who are the monkeys in the wrench here.”

  She laughed, looking as though she had a witty comeback prepared, but then her expression vanished and was replaced with her normal I-just-sucked-on-a-lemon-look. “Stipple will adjust to whatever presents itself, sir. Just like we all do.”

  Craven slapped her on the back. “That’s what I like to hear, Rice. It means I picked the right people for the right job.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  He was about to ask her about her latest tweaks to the Genesis Fluid, but he stopped when she furrowed her brow and let her mouth hang open a bit. “Is there something else, Rice?”

  “About the runner, sir.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know. I know. Things would be so much easier if we simply used a radio for comms.”

  “That and it would save a lot of time and mitigate risk. Just in case—”

  “—he gets delayed or captured. Yes. Yes. We’ve been down this road before, Rice. You know the rules as well as I do. No networks and no broadcasts. That’s how breeches happen.”

  “Yes, it’s a risk, but there are so few people left out there—”

  “Whether there’s one asshole or ten million of them, we can’t take the chance. You know how these things work. More so with Frost and Edison.”

  “Or those who replaced them.”

  “Exactly. Maybe even more so.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “It means when there’s a different rhino in the room, you never know if the situation is worse or better.”

  She blinked and didn’t respond.

  “Let me put it another way. It’s always best to dance with the woman you brought to the party.”

  Again, she only blinked and didn’t answer.

  “Okay, I see I’m getting nowhere,” Craven said, pacing the floor to the end of the room and back. “Look, we knew how Edison and Frost would react in most situations. That’s what experience and investigation has taught us. It’s no different than in science. Observation and study leads to theory and conclusions, allowing us to know the future with some level of certainty.”

  Her eyes brightened and she nodded.

  Craven continued, “However, when the experiment evolves into something new—something with an entirely new set of protocols—we must take extra care in what we base our assumptions on. It’s how false results happen.”

  “Okay, I see your point.”

  Craven smiled. “Regardless of the analogy, if we give in to our temptation and return to the old ways of doing things, we will succumb to the same kind of thinking that doomed society to begin with.”

  “Well, sir, we might have had a little something to do with that.”

  “Whether we helped it along or not is for the historians to decide. All we need to be concerned about now is how we move forward. Other than the technology in the lab, we run this old school. Understood?”

  “Of course, sir. It’s not my place to second guess.”

  “It’s not that, Rice. It’s just once we make a decision and implement protocols, we need to stick with them. Otherwise, chaos happens.”

  “Right on all counts, as usual, boss.”

  Craven held his response for a moment, hoping she was done with her version of a mutinous diatribe.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d used a string of questions to cover her apprehension regarding how things were implemented.

  Even so, he wasn’t about to call her on it. Not yet. Not until they checked off the remaining items on the to-do list. “Is the next batch almost ready?”

  “Another hour and eleven minutes. Give or take thirty seconds.”

  “Any issues I need to know about?”

  “None, sir. All proceeding according to specs. I’m just about to prep the next cycle, if you care to assist.”

  “It’s all yours. I have every confidence in you,” Craven said, turning for the door. He looked back when more words came to his tongue. “If my predictions are correct, this will be the last batch we need. Nice work, Wilma.”

  She smiled, adding a bit of beauty to her otherwise plain-Jane looks. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Wicks led his security team down the corridor as they approached the twin vault doors protecting the entrance to the silo. He stopped and turned to Liz, who was following a few steps behind, pushing a four-wheeled gurney with medical equipment lying on top of it. “I need you to hold here, ma’am.”

  “No, that girl needs medical attention.”

  “Not until we secure the area. It’s too dangerous.”

  Liz shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

  “It’s not open for discussion, Doc. My job is to keep you safe and detain that man.”

  “You’re not the one in charge here.”

  “I’m afraid I am, Doc,” Wicks said, making eye contact with one of his team. The guard knew what he wanted, slinging his weapon and stepping forward to grab Liz by the arms and spin her around, sending the gurney rolling against the wall in a clank.

  Liz fought his grip, swinging her arms and twisting her shoulders. “Let go of me this instant.”

  Wicks held up a hand, trying to calm her fury. “Please, Doc. Let us handle this. It’s in the best interest of everyone concerned. Once we secure the area, you can do your thing.”

  “Hey, stop it. Let go of her,” a voice shrieked from the far end of the hallway.

  Wicks turned.

  It was Summer, who then broke into a sprint. When she arrived a few seconds later, she sidestepped the gurney, her face flushing with
anger. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Just trying to do my job,” Wicks replied.

  “Let go of her, immediately,” Summer said to the guard with his hands wrapped around Liz’s elbows.

  The guard ignored the request as Liz continued to resist.

  “I said, let go of her.”

  The guard didn’t respond, nor did he release his grasp on Liz.

  Summer brought her eyes to Wicks. “Do it now, or I will have you and your men relieved of duty. Permanently. Is that clear?”

  Wicks held for a moment, looking at Liz, then at Summer.

  Summer pinched her lips and shook her head. “I’m serious, Wicks. Do it now or I’ll have you banished from this facility.”

  “My commander gave me explicit orders to handle this and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Well, I’m telling you to un-handle it and stand down.”

  “Me too,” Liz added. “We’re in charge here, not you.”

  Wicks wasn’t sure what do to, not without a clear chain of command.

  “Last chance, Wicks,” Summer snapped after putting her hands on her hips. “You of all people know what I’m capable of.”

  Wicks looked at his men, each one returning his gaze in kind. He got the sense they were all thinking the same thing—none of this would have ever happened back in the day.

  He knew he was fucked either way. That’s when he decided to step back and disengage, for the good of his men and their standing in the silo. “As you wish, ma’am.” He gave his man a hand signal and the guard followed it, releasing Liz.

  “That’s better,” Summer said. “From here on out, we do this without all the manhandling, is that clear?”

  “Yes, boss,” Wicks said, waiting for further orders.

  Summer gave him a nudge. “Go. Do what you need to do, Wicks, but I don’t want any of the prisoners harmed. No matter what happens.”

  “Roger that,” Wicks said, turning to his men, wishing he had never gotten physical with Summer in the hallway. She was never going to let that incident go. “On me.”

  Wicks went to the guard posted at the inner door. “Open up.”

  The man worked the controls for the massive steel door, swinging it open on a set of oversized hinges.