Silo

by Jay J Falconer

  Krista fired three shots at Fletcher, hitting him once in the leg.

  Fletcher went down hard in a twist.

  Simms opened fire as well, but not at Fletcher. He was standing over Boone, who was still on his back and writhing in pain from Krista’s elbow strike.

  Simms fired four more rounds as if he were ordering a ham sandwich. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Not a hint of nervousness or guilt. Just four shots from an executioner with a steady hand.

  Liz ran in from the tree line. “Is everyone okay?”

  Summer nodded as she and Krista headed to Fletcher’s position. So, too, did Nomad, all of them converging on the wounded leader.

  Fletcher rolled to his back and looked up, his eyes moving from Summer to Liz to Krista, and to Nomad. “Fuck you people.”

  “No, fuck you,” Nomad said in a gravelly voice before raising his swords over Fletcher’s face with the tips down. He held them at the apex of his reach. “You killed Four, you son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Wait,” Summer said.

  Nomad held his pose.

  “He killed the children,” Liz said, her voice deep with intent.

  “What?” Summer asked.

  “They attacked Nirvana and killed everyone.”

  “She speaks the truth,” Nomad added.

  “Everyone?” Summer asked.

  “Not a shred of mercy,” Liz replied.

  The fury within Summer rose to an all-time high, feeling as though her heart was about to explode.

  She moved her eyes from Liz to Nomad to Fletcher, wanting to do the right thing, but her heart wouldn’t allow it.

  Her lips curled and her chest filled with a tightness she’d never felt before. “Do it, Nomad. Do it now. Kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Gladly,” Nomad said before he brought his arms down, sending the tips of his blades into the man’s eyes.

  Fletcher cried out as Nomad leaned forward and used his strength to ram the rest of the steel through the man’s head, pinning him to the dirt like some kind of biology experiment.

  Summer and her friends stood there in silence as they watched Fletcher cry out in agony, his body twitching and flailing. It took a good minute—maybe two—before the lifeforce ran dry from his chest.

  Nomad pulled his swords free, each now dripping streaks of blood.

  Sergeant Barkley arrived a moment later, limping in next to Summer’s leg as she turned and scanned the clearing. “Where’s Horton?”

  “Looks like he’s down,” Krista said. “Not that it matters at this point. Good riddance, I say. To all of these men who ran with Frost.”

  For a flicker of a second, Summer thought about beating a path to Horton, but after what Krista had just said, she decided to play it cool. She bent down and scratched the dog’s back, then craned her neck up at Krista. “Bullet or blade?”

  Krista tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Good question.”

  “I’m afraid I might’ve caught Horton accidentally with one of my strikes,” Nomad said.

  Summer stared at Nomad, taking in the words he’d just said in his garbled voice. A voice that was filled with unique pauses and mumbles, all of which gave her a sudden sense of déjà vu. She wasn’t sure why.

  Perhaps she’d dreamt about this day—the day when Fletcher and Frost would both be dead at the hands of her team.

  Krista put a hand on Nomad’s arm. “I’m sure it couldn’t be helped.”

  “Collateral damage is part of war,” Summer said, remembering Krista’s teachings during her early days of Seeker training. “All we can do is more forward and protect our own.”

  Liz brushed past Summer. “I’ll go check on Horton.”

  That’s when Simms left Boone’s body and walked to Summer, tossing the gun away on approach.

  Summer couldn’t help herself, wrapping her arms around the boy who’d just taken out the biggest member of Fletcher’s group.

  He reciprocated the hug, their collective strength seemingly holding each other up.

  Watson arrived, too, no longer carrying the tree branch he’d used to flatten Dice. “You think there are any more of them out there?”

  “Possibly,” Krista replied. “We’ll need to do a sweep.”

  Summer let go of Simms and turned to Krista. “If there are, then finish this. No survivors. This ends now. Then bring me Lipton. Dead or alive, I don’t care.”

  “Gladly,” she replied, spinning with her pistol in hand and walking away.

  Nomad followed her, readying his swords in a ping of metal on metal.

  Before Krista and Nomad traveled ten feet, Summer heard a rustle of leaves from the right. Then a swarm of twigs snapped.

  Summer turned toward the crunching.

  So did the rest of her group.

  That’s when the Scab women returned from beyond the trees, their group in a collective sprint, heading straight for Summer and her friends.

  “Stand back,” Krista said moving in front of Nomad with her pistol aimed at the women.

  “Hold on, I got this,” Nomad said, zipping ahead and standing between Krista and the approaching herd.

  Krista angled her weapon lower as Summer caught up to them and moved in behind.

  Summer leaned to the side to gain a clear sightline of what was happening.

  When the Scab women slowed their pace and altered their course, a new revelation slammed into Summer’s brain. “They’re heading to Helena.”

  Nomad didn’t respond, only sending his feet in motion, taking an intercept course to Helena’s position in the dirt.

  Summer couldn’t believe that the masked man hadn’t gone to Helena’s position already. Perhaps he was on hyper-warrior alert, focused only on taking out the threats and defending the humans, not assisting the fallen.

  Then again, he might have been trying to play it cool like Summer had done with the whole ‘Horton being down’ situation.

  Group actions and reactions can sometimes alter a person’s thinking and motivation, leading one to hold firm instead of doing what some might consider the natural thing. At least, that’s what she was telling herself as the new leader of Nirvana, trying to show strength and keep her heart from running the show.

  When Nomad and the Scab women arrived at Helena, they all knelt together and put their hands on the girl, who still wasn’t moving.

  Krista brought her eyes to Summer. “Still can’t get used to that shit. Just doesn’t seem right.”

  “That’s not up to us to decide,” Summer said. “We’ve got a job to do and it needs to get done.”

  “Roger that,” Krista said, turning and setting a course in the direction of Dice, who remained down after getting whacked in the neck by the tree branch. She pulled a knife out and held it low as she walked.

  “Good riddance,” Summer mumbled, knowing the man with the reddest hair she’d ever seen was about to draw his last breath.

  Simms raised an eyebrow at Summer before looking in the direction of Liz for a few moments. Doc was still tending to Horton. Then he brought his eyes back. “What about him?”

  “That’s up to Krista. She’s going to handle security from now on, without any interference from me. She knows what she’s doing. In fact, we all do and it’s time we step up and face our destiny.”

  “Together.”

  “Exactly, like one finely-oiled machine.”

  “Especially during the meet with Blackstone.”

  “You got that right, Simms. I’m sure they’re starting to wonder if we’re ever going to show up.”

  “What do you need me to do, boss?” Watson asked.

  The Seeker inside Summer took over her words, filling her bones with confidence. “Search all the bodies. Take the guns, ammo, and whatever we can use. We don’t leave anything of value behind.”

  Simms spoke next. “We should think about taking their vehicles, too. They’re faster. Must be around here somewhere.”

  “If there’s fuel, then yes. Can’t afford to run out before the Bl
ackstone meet.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Simms said.

  “All right, boys, let’s get to it. As soon as Krista finishes her sweep, we are Oscar Mike.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Watson asked.

  “It’s something Krista taught me. O. M. It means On the Move,” Summer said, pausing for a few beats. “I just hope these people we’re meeting with are on the up and up. Otherwise, there’s going to be a lot more bloodshed today.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Destiny took a deep breath and let it out, then slid out of the vehicle when she saw a cloud of dust filtering into the sky about a mile or so down the road. There was no turning back now. “Looks like they’re here. Let’s do this, people, just like we planned.”

  Sawtooth hopped out of the driver’s seat with an obvious spring in his step. “I get the whole ‘see them coming’ thing, but I still think it would’ve been better to remain on the pavement in town. Not this old farm that Flipside used to own.”

  “Still own it, actually,” Flipside said, scooting out of the rear seat with Shotgun trailing behind. “Just not much need for soybeans anymore.

  “Or large-scale farming for that matter,” Destiny added.

  Sawtooth steadied a rifle into firing position as the visitors approached downrange.

  “I’m starting to get a really bad feeling about this,” Shotgun said, pulling a pistol from a holster on his hip.

  Sawtooth looked at him, his rifle wavering a bit off target. “Now you’re starting to sound like Blender.”

  “At least she was smart enough to skip this voyage to nowhere.”

  Destiny couldn’t stop the words on her tongue from shooting out. “Actually, she wanted to come, but I—”

  Flipside interrupted her statement when he laughed and pointed at the visitors approaching in more than one vehicle. “Wow, you don’t see that every day.”

  “What the hell are those?” Sawtooth asked.

  “Gasifiers,” Destiny said, taking in the trails of smoke from the chimneys she could see. “I read about them once.”

  She adjusted her goggles and then the hood on her windbreaker, trying to stop the increasing wind from chilling her even more.

  Sawtooth flashed his elbows out and back again, keeping his weapon aimed at the newcomers. “Yep, tree-huggers, all right. To hell with fossil fuels. Let’s burn trash instead. Or bodies, for that matter. Gotta love the insanity.”

  “We all have to make do,” Destiny said, appreciating the new group’s resourcefulness.

  “They look slow as hell,” Shotgun said, racking the slide on his pistol.

  “Easy to outrun then, if we have to,” Flipside added.

  “Good point,” Destiny replied as the vehicles with their blacked-out windows swung around to the left, then came back right and pulled in front of them about thirty feet away with their passenger side doors facing her.

  “Sure feels like a skirmish line to me,” Flipside said.

  “Nah, just being careful. Nothing to be alarmed about,” Destiny said, watching their single file formation take shape.

  “Yet,” Flipside added, pausing. “I’d feel a whole lot better about this if we could see inside those trucks.”

  Destiny rolled her head around her neck until it popped, just as the gasifiers came to a stop, pulling in a rush of dust behind them.

  Once the air cleared, the doors on the far sides of the vehicles opened and all at once, a group of people stepped out. One of them was wearing a mask and a full-length coat.

  “Look at this fucking guy,” Sawtooth said. “Who the hell does he think he is? Some kind of wannabe road warrior?”

  “Let’s keep the insults out of the equation, shall we?” Destiny said, figuring the masked man had to be at least six foot five. Maybe taller.

  When he walked to the front of the lead vehicle and came around the hood, Destiny caught sight of the swords hanging from his side. Plus what looked like blood on them and his outfit. Lots of it.

  “That’s not good,” Sawtooth.

  “At least they’re not drawn,” Flipside said.

  “Yet.”

  The masked man continued a few more steps, then stopped with his shoulders square to Destiny and his arms down along his side, as if he were trying to make a statement. Something akin to I’m ready. Go ahead and make your move.

  A young girl with frizzy hair joined the masked man, taking position next to him. She, like Destiny, had protective attire on. No doubt to shield her from the wind as well.

  The sheer amount of hair whipping about made it hard to see her eyes. Or much of her face, for that matter.

  Yet one thing was clear—she wasn’t filling out her clothes with anything resembling an imposing figure. Underweight, obviously. Probably ninety pounds dripping wet, Destiny figured. But the blood on her clothes signaled she was a fighter.

  A second later, the exact opposite of Frizzy Girl emerged. A burly woman, with short-cropped hair and the shoulders of an Olympic swimmer. She came around with a pistol in hand and stood next to the masked man.

  Destiny’s eyes went to the blood on her clothes and hands, then the look in the woman’s eyes.

  A chill rippled across Destiny’s skin and her stomach tightened. Whoever these people were, they’d been through hell. Recently. Probably on the way to this meet. That meant they were determined. Or they were cold-blooded killers—Destiny couldn’t be sure.

  Two more of their men hung back, keeping themselves on the far side of the vehicles. One of them had an assault rifle in his hands. He moved a step to his right, then bent forward and put the barrel on the hood, its sights trained on Destiny.

  Destiny, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, wished she could crawl back inside the truck and hide.

  But she had to lead and lead now, before this meet-and-greet went sideways.

  All it would take was one flinch at the wrong time.

  Especially with all the firepower in sight and the blood smears on the visitors.

  There were so many variables to consider.

  So many heartbeats racing out of control.

  If they somehow managed to accomplish their goals without anyone getting hurt, it would be a miracle.

  Destiny held her hands out to her side and stepped forward, using the slowest step she could muster.

  Flipside and Sawtooth moved with her.

  Shotgun hung back.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Destiny said.

  “No sudden moves,” the burly woman said.

  “Fuck that, how about you people hold still. And identify yourselves,” Sawtooth said, holding the rifle steady. “And what’s with all the blood?”

  “If we lower our weapons, will you lower yours?” the frizzy-haired girl asked.

  “Never gonna happen,” Sawtooth shot back.

  “Easy, Sawtooth. Easy,” Destiny said. “Everyone, please, just take it slow. We’ll get through this. But first, we have to find a way to trust each other.”

  Flipside tugged on Destiny’s arm and whispered in her ear. “I would start by making the big guy put down his swords.”

  Destiny nodded, then turned her attention to the visitors. “First, how about Gigantor over there putting down his swords.”

  Ms. Frizzy Hair nodded at the masked man, making Destiny wonder if the youngest member of their group was the person in charge.

  Yet the burly woman had the stance and the hawk-like eyes of a seasoned leader, so she wasn’t sure.

  Masked Man removed his swords from their sheaths and put them on the ground.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Frizzy said, motioning in the direction of Sawtooth.

  Destiny peered over at Sawtooth. “Okay, do it.”

  Sawtooth shifted his feet, making it appear he was standing on hot coals. “No way. Not until they identify themselves and put their shit down. They asked for this meet, remember? They need to go first, Destiny.”

  Destiny looked at the burly woman. “Please. Jus
t do as he asks. Otherwise, we’ll never get through this.”

  Burly Woman turned her focus to Frizzy and held her gaze.

  Frizzy nodded.

  Burly stepped forward, holstering her weapon in the process. “I’m Security Chief Krista Carr.” She nodded in the direction of the big man wearing all the leather. “That’s Nomad.”

  “Nomad? What kind of name is that?” Sawtooth asked, his fingers gripping and releasing the rifle.

  Destiny pointed a finger to her chest, wanting to take the focus off Sawtooth and his overcharged adrenaline. “I’m Destiny.”

  Krista nodded, then continued, turning to the side and holding out a hand toward Frizzy.

  The girl stepped forward before Krista could announce her name. She wiped the hair away from her face, even though the breeze was fighting her efforts. “I’m Summer.”

  Destiny glanced at Flipside with a puzzled look, hoping he would remember the story she told him from long ago.

  Flipside only shrugged, so she wasn’t sure if he did.

  Destiny turned her attention back to the girl with the endless frizz. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

  “Summer.”

  “And your last name?”

  “Lane.”

  Destiny couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Summer Lane?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said. What are you, deaf?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be from Tucson, Arizona, would ya?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Summer said, her tone cautious. “Home of the Titan II Missile and the Arizona Wildcats.”

  “Goddamn desert rats,” Sawtooth said. “I knew it.”

  “Not anymore,” Krista said.

  Sawtooth’s tone turned even more serious than before. “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s no longer a desert. It’s covered in snow and ice like everywhere else.”

  “Well, that’s not entirely true,” Summer said. “Some parts have started to thaw a bit.”

  Destiny’s throat tightened tenfold as she factored in all that was happening, making it hard to swallow. Or even talk. She fought through it, finding her voice once again. “Holy shit. I don’t believe this.”