Silo

by Jay J Falconer

  Watson shook his head, adding more volume to his voice. “You saw the same thing I did. There’s nothing for us here. We have to go.”

  Nomad tore the passenger-side visor from its windshield mount, tossing it away. “Then you guys find your own ride because I’m going alone. Trust me when I tell you that what’s coming is the last place you want to be. There will be casualties. Lots of them.”

  Watson couldn’t stop his appeal. “And one of them might be you, if you don’t let us help.”

  “This isn’t open for debate. My future is set. So is Fletcher’s, and those of his men. It’s best if you don’t get in my way and that’s exactly what you’d be doing. So no. This is my mission and mine alone.”

  “Look, I get the whole Nomad’s Revenge thing here, but—” Watson started to say before Allison interrupted him.

  “Hey, leave the man be. He’s made up his mind. You offered and he said no. It’s time you and I figure out what we’re going to do, don’t you think?”

  Watson held for a few seconds, running it through his mind. Even though he knew staying behind was the wrong thing to do, he didn’t want to upset Nomad any more than he already had.

  There might be another choice, but he needed to let the air cool a bit. He could feel the tension coursing across his body, and that’s never good with a man like Nomad standing nearby. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

  A thin smile took over Allison’s lips. “Good, because that’s the right move.”

  Nomad pointed at the spare tire mounted to the side of the truck and told Watson, “Eighty-six that, too.”

  “Don’t you think—”

  “Tire. Off. Now. Just lay it in the back. That mounting bracket weighs at least ten pounds, so we lose it.”

  “Oh, okay. Good idea. I guess I was—”

  Nomad turned to Allison. “You—get busy. We don’t have all day.”

  “What’s next?” Allison asked.

  “Rear bumper. Then we lose the taillights. Work your way forward from there. Rip all this shit out with your teeth, if you have to, but get it done.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Nomad brought his attention to Watson and pointed, looking as though he wasn’t aiming in any direction in particular. “Need extra fuel, so go round some up and double-time it.”

  Watson ran the scenario through his head. “As in a fifty-gallon drum?”

  “Jerrycans. Something simple to carry. I want to be out of here in twenty. Not a minute longer.”

  “I’ll go in a second,” Watson said. “But I think you’re forgetting something.”

  Allison threw up his hands and mouthed the words, “What the fuck?”

  Watson mouthed back, “Relax. I got this.”

  Nomad let out an extended sigh as he brought his attention to Watson. “Patience is not my strong suit.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But you need to remember something,” Watson said, pausing to find his nerve. “Not only did we help you back at the cave, we let you live as well.”

  “Jesus, Watson. What the hell are you doing?” Allison asked.

  “He knows what I’m talking about,” Watson replied.

  Nomad took a few seconds before he answered. “Earlier, when my weapon was on the ledge—”

  “Exactly. If we weren’t on your side—if we couldn’t be trusted—then we could have easily taken it and used it on you.”

  “Unless, of course, you’re both cowards.”

  “Look, I get that I’m only a cook, but Allison over there, he’s trained security. I might be a great big pussy, but he’s not. Any normal person would have taken advantage of the state you were in and done something. Right then and there. You were completely vulnerable. An easy mark, I think is how they say it in your world, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Vulnerable? That’s an interesting choice of words. Perhaps I was only testing you? Seeing if you’d take the bait.”

  “Then I’d say we passed, wouldn’t you?”

  Allison spoke before Nomad could answer. “Look, I’m not sure where Watson’s coming from, but it never crossed my mind that you were anything but in charge. And I mean every step of the way. So don’t listen to anything my friend over there is saying. If you want us to stay behind, we will. Done deal.”

  Watson shook his head. “Well, that’s not entirely true.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” Allison shot back a millisecond later.

  Watson couldn’t let it go. “Look, Nomad. We are on your side and if you can’t see that by now, then maybe you should just kill us both.”

  Allison threw up his hands. “Wait. Wait. Wait.”

  Watson continued, ignoring Allison’s plea. “Just go ahead, end the suspense. Because if we stay here with the EOD problems and everything else, we’re dead already.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Allison said. “We’ll stay. Do whatever you want.”

  Watson shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on Nomad’s. “It’s only a matter of time before Fletcher comes back, or the Scabs do. The two of us don’t have a chance by ourselves. So I beg you. Please. Take us with you. We’ll do whatever you want, just don’t let us die like this.”

  “Sorry, can’t do that. You’ll both just slow be down and I can’t afford that.”

  “But what about when you catch up with the others? You’ll need us.”

  “For what?”

  “To corroborate your story.”

  Nomad shook his head. “I’m not following.”

  “Do you really think Krista and Summer are going to believe everything that’s happened? No. They won’t. Krista especially. She doesn’t trust anyone. Not without us to back up your story. Help make them understand.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Whoa, watch out,” Watson said to Nomad as the man drove them down the dirt path at high speed. “Maybe you might be able to see a little better without the mask?”

  “Just getting used to the steering on this beast. Been a while.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to tell you what to do, just wasn’t sure how well you can see through that thing.”

  “My vision is fine.”

  One thing was clear, there wasn’t anything wrong with the man’s reactions, dodging a mini-boulder that had grown up through the soil with a two-step turn of the wheel.

  “I wonder how Allison is doing back there?” Watson asked, not sure if he should keep talking to help pass the time.

  Nomad didn’t answer.

  “He should’ve come with us.”

  “He made his decision. Besides, there are more important things to—” Nomad said, stopping in mid-sentence. He held for a beat, then said, “What the hell is this?”

  Watson brought his eyes forward and saw two people standing in the road, just to the right of center. One was taller and the other one was shorter by a foot or so—both waving their arms. So far, the vehicle hadn’t changed speed. “You’re going to stop, aren’t you? They obviously need help.”

  “No time. Plus it might be an ambush,” Nomad said, his foot never leaving the accelerator. “Grab my swords.”

  Watson was about to lean over and grab the man’s weapons from the rear seat but stopped when the face of the shorter person came into view. It was a female with glasses and black, shoulder-length hair. “Is that Liz?”

  “The doctor?” Nomad said as they zoomed past her on the left.

  Watson glanced at Nomad’s feet, seeing his right shoe now hovering about an inch above the accelerator. He obviously hadn’t committed to the idea of stopping but was thinking about it. “Come on. It’s Liz.”

  “Who’s the guy with the weapon?”

  Watson had only caught a glimpse, but he didn’t want to sound undecided. “That’s Bishop. One of Krista’s guys.”

  “Is he a problem?”

  “I think he’s solid, but I really don’t know him that well.”

  Nomad put his foot on the brake, then turned the steering wheel
hard to the left, bringing the vehicle around in a skid across the dirt.

  He gave the truck some gas, then let it drift forward at a measured crawl, sliding in next to Liz, who was now on the other side of the road. So was Bishop.

  When the truck stopped, Nomad put the transmission into park but left the engine running.

  Watson rolled his window down and leaned out. “How the hell did you get out, Doc?”

  She pointed to the man with her. “Bishop.”

  Watson gave the man a slight head nod. “I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m—”

  “The cook. Yeah, I remember you,” he answered in a terse tone.

  Watson wasn’t sure what that meant, but he decided to ignore it. “Hop in, guys.”

  “Hang on,” Nomad said to Watson in what could only be described as a frustrated tone. “Not so fast.”

  Watson glared at Nomad. “You’re not thinking of leaving them, are you?”

  “What part of ‘no extra weight’ don’t you understand?”

  “Then why did you turn around and stop?”

  “A moment of weakness. It won’t happen again,” he answered, moving his hand to the shifter.

  Watson put his hand out and grabbed Nomad’s wrist, hoping his gesture would stop the man from putting the truck in drive and speeding off. “These are our people. Friends. We can’t just leave them here,” Watson said. “Besides, didn’t Liz save one of yours earlier?”

  “A lot of good that did.”

  “Look, that wasn’t her fault. She did her job. So did the rest of us—well, sort of. That has to count for something?”

  “We can’t afford the weight, Watson.”

  Bishop walked to the front of the truck and appeared to be headed to Nomad’s side of the truck.

  Nomad grabbed one of his swords and hopped out the vehicle. He held up his free hand in a stop gesture, keeping the blade down at his side. “That’s far enough, Bishop.”

  “Easy there, pal, we’re not looking for any trouble.”

  “If you take another step, trouble is exactly what you’ll find.”

  Watson opened his door and got out, taking a position next to Liz. “Wait. Wait. Wait. We’re all on the same side here.”

  “He’s right,” Liz said. “Everyone just take a deep breath.”

  Nomad pointed to the right of Bishop. “You need to step back. Now.”

  Bishop reversed course toward Liz as the doctor and Watson closed ground to his position. The three of them came together by the front right bumper.

  Nomad remained next to the driver side door, his hand still on the sword.

  “Have you been to Nirvana?” Liz asked Watson, her face covered with exaggerated wrinkles.

  Watson almost couldn’t get the words out, his mind showing him flashes of the carnage that littered the hallways. “We saw what Fletcher did.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “The kids, Watson. The kids. They killed them all.”

  “I know, and it breaks my heart.”

  Bishop grabbed Watson’s arm. “What are you doing with Nomad? I thought he was in custody.”

  “Long story. But let’s just say he’s on our side now.”

  “Where’s Wicks?”

  Watson didn’t want Bishop to know the truth about Nomad killing him, even if it was self-defense. It would just turn this situation into one nobody could control. One where someone wouldn’t make it out of here alive. Probably Bishop. “He didn’t make it.”

  “Fletcher?” Bishop asked.

  “Wicks put up a good fight, but in the end, he was no match.”

  Bishop dropped his head and sucked in a breath.

  “That’s why we’re out here, though it took a bit of convincing for Nomad to bring me along.”

  Liz wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Fletcher has to pay, Watson. He can’t get away with this.”

  Watson agreed more than she knew. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to do.”

  The truck’s horn blasted three times in succession. “Let’s go,” Nomad said. “We’re losing precious time.”

  “You need to take us with you,” Liz said.

  Watson shrugged, knowing what she was asking was going to be hard sell. “He’s not going to allow that. Not after we stripped the truck down to damn near nothing for speed. He won’t take on the extra weight. I was lucky he allowed me to go.”

  “Then I’ll talk to him. Make him understand,” Liz said, pushing through Watson and Bishop and cruising around the front of the truck, on her way to Nomad.

  Nomad held up a hand. “Doc, I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t. We need to go. Now. Every minute puts us farther behind.”

  Liz put her arms out. “Just hold on for a second. Hear me out.”

  Nomad didn’t respond.

  “You need our help,” she said upon arrival.

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “Well, that’s not true. Not when it came to your little harem. Or are you forgetting the fact that we did help you with your women?”

  “And I’m eternally grateful,” he said. “But I can’t take on any more weight. It’ll slow me down to the point where I may never catch up. You want them to pay, right?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “Then I can’t take you. It’s as simple as that. I know what I’m doing here, Doc.”

  “You’ll be outnumbered ten to one.”

  “Won’t matter. I have justice on my side.”

  “More like revenge on his side,” Bishop added.

  “Can you blame him?” Watson said. “We’re all thinking the same thing, so give the man a break.”

  “Call it what you want, but they will all pay for what they’ve done,” Nomad said.

  Liz nodded. “That’s all well and good, but tell me, how do you expect to find them?”

  “Won’t be an issue. Tracking is one of my specialties.”

  She pointed at the road ahead. “And by tracking, I’m assuming you mean following their tire tracks in the dirt.”

  “Roger that, ma’am. They’re loaded heavy and unless it rains anytime soon, I figure I’ll catch them up to them soon.”

  “Except you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pavement. You’ll hit that long before you catch up. Then what happens to the tracks?”

  “I’ll adjust. I always do.”

  “That’s not going to work, my friend. You need us.”

  “How do you figure, Doc?”

  “We know where Summer and Krista are going. Fletcher probably does too, assuming he had a chance to interrogate someone before he left.”

  “Count on it,” Bishop said. “Someone talked. They always do.”

  “You really need to think this through,” Liz said. “There are a lot of variables at play here.”

  Nomad shook his head. “There’s only one variable that matters—”

  Watson knew where the masked man was going with his point. “—how soon you catch up.”

  “Which is why I’m not wasting another minute on this, whatever this is.”

  “It’s a negotiation. Try to keep up,” Bishop said in a flippant manner.

  Liz held up a palm to Bishop and shot him a ‘let me handle this’ look. Then she turned to Nomad. “I know where they’re going. I can help you skip all the guesswork.”

  “Where?”

  “Sorry, but if I tell you, you’ll just leave us behind and I can’t allow that.”

  Nomad dropped his head, holding that pose.

  If Watson could have seen the man’s face, he would have bet it was on fire with anger.

  Liz continued. “Take us with you and I’ll help you find them a lot faster than you would otherwise. You’re going to waste a lot of time getting out of your truck and checking the tracks all the time.”

  “Tell me. Now. I’ll go take care of what must be done.”

  Liz put her hands on h
er hips. “No. I’m not going to tell you anything. You either take us with you or you run the risk of never finding them. So what’s it going to be?”

  Nomad didn’t answer, only shaking his head.

  Watson thought about interjecting, but he could see Liz getting ready to deliver more of her argument, so he decided to keep quiet.

  Liz took her hands from her hips and brought her hands together as if she were preparing to pray before Sunday Mass. “Look, you yourself said they loaded heavy, which means they will be traveling a lot slower than you. Even with two more of us, you’ll get there faster than they can travel. Plus, I know a few shortcuts and you won’t have to stop and check signs all the time. So do the right thing and let us come along and help. Bishop is more than capable of helping you fight, and you’ll probably need a doctor at some point. So come on. It’s the right decision. You know it.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Sometime later, Wilma Rice stood in front of the back wall of a work lab in Edison’s silo, staring at a grease board with numbers and notes scribbled across its surface.

  Even though her eyes were aimed where they needed to be, she couldn’t seem to focus her mind, not with her stomach doing flipflops ever since they’d walked through the vault doors unopposed.

  It was bad enough trying to keep her last meal down after what Fletcher had done to Edison’s Nirvana, but she was unprepared for the other sights she’d seen along the way—the smallest of bodies, each with a pose of finality.

  Most people think that with enough time and focus, they can prepare their minds and their hearts for the carnage they are about to witness. However, in truth, that’s almost never the case.

  You simply cannot prepare yourself to withstand the shock when it comes to the death of innocents.

  Children who deserved a chance to live a normal life. To grow up. To excel and experience all that life on this planet is supposed to offer.

  What made it worse was the fact that deep down she knew she was to blame, even if she didn’t have a choice in any of it.

  That’s what she kept telling herself—she didn’t have a choice.

  Yet no matter how hard she had tried to convince herself that she didn’t know what was going to happen, it didn’t change any of the facts. Or her guilt.