Silo 49: Dark Till Dawn

by Ann Christy

  When she woke, it was to a gentle knock for the first time since she had begun her training. The more normal brusque bang followed by a head poked in to announce the time was what she had grown accustomed to so it made her jump from the bed with surprise. She jerked open the door, thinking something must be wrong, only to surprise Bedie in her turn as she hurried down the hall.

  Bedie fluttered a hand near her chest and tittered, “Oh dear, you too? I should have just gotten Zara’s horn!”

  Lillian waved and apologized, then rapped on Leo’s door as Bedie rounded the corner out of sight. He opened it immediately and said, “Bedie, I’m up.” He stopped short when he saw who it was and said, “Good morning, Other-breath.”

  “I think I scared the poop out of Bedie just now.”

  Leo ran a hand through his bed mussed hair and it fell back into place perfectly. Even his hair seemed to be proof against any attempt at making him less than perfect. It was irritating. He shrugged and said, “Me, too.”

  “Poor Bedie. Meet me for breakfast?”

  Leo looked back into his room for a moment and then grabbed his kit and pile of clothes from somewhere by the door. He gave her a grin and then dashed past her to the bathroom. “Only if you hurry and I’ve got the bathroom first,” he tossed behind him as he slid up to the door.

  The hand motion she sent his direction wasn’t a complementary one but all he did was laugh and go inside, leaving her in the chilly hall. Lillian checked the clock in her room, did the mental math, grabbed her own kit and hurried to take her own shower. She’d have to be fast if she wanted breakfast.

  By the time she dashed into the communal space— the wonderful smells of breakfast luring her like a goat to a stalk of celery— she was cutting it close on time. She tossed her kit on one of the chairs, earning a dirty look from one of the trainers when drips of water began to trail down the cushion. Breakfast was calling her with greater urgency than that which urged her to wipe up the cushion and apologize, so she shrugged, mouthed an apology in the trainer’s direction and kept moving.

  When the nutritionist saw her, he grabbed a tray and scooped up what he wanted her to have and shoved the tray in her direction. “You need to eat all this and you have just about five minutes in which to do it.” That was all the urging she needed so she grabbed her utensils and slid into a seat across from Leo. He had already half cleared his plate by the time she shoveled her first impressively sized mouthful in.

  “Hey, why did you get so much fruit?” Leo asked, pointing at her tray with his fork. He examined his own tray again, smiled and added, “Well, I got more eggs.”

  Lillian crammed a spoonful of corn mash mixed with honey into her mouth on top of the melon still in there. She had to tilt her head back so that all of it didn’t come dribbling back out when she said, “That’s because you’re an idiot and eggs are brain food. You’re deficient.”

  It came out sounding a bit garbled and Leo’s brow creased as he tried to parse her words. She could tell when he finally got it, the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with a line about fruit. He failed and settled for flicking his own porridge at her, landing a splatter on the back of her hand. She licked it off while Leo got told to eat his food and not throw it by the nutritionist.

  Greg stuck his head around the entry and called out, “Two minutes! Get your stuff!”

  There was no time for Lillian to finish, so she put all of her eggs into her mouth at once— making her mouth look a bit like she had tried to swallow a ball— and scooped up the fruit into her napkin. Swiping her kit up off the chair on her way past, she realized it was actually quite difficult to chew that much food and jog at the same time. She slowed to a walk and finally got the scrambled eggs down as she reached her door.

  Her mother had been insistent that she pack the evening before and now Lillian was grateful she had. She shook the rest of the water off her bathing kit, wrapped it in her hand towel and shoved it into the top of her pack. All the rest was done. Shouldering the pack, she looked around the room that had been hers for training. The bed wasn’t made and she had left things in just the right amount of disarray. It said that this room was hers and her mark was on it.

  Even if she lost tomorrow, she would be the alternate. That meant she would come back here and continue to train in the event that Leo couldn’t run. Since they no longer had a third racer to take third place, she was sure to either win or be that alternate. Lillian had thought that might change the way she looked at the race, because it meant she couldn’t really lose in the sense of leaving in defeat, but it didn’t. If anything, it made the pressure more intense. She knocked on the wall two times for luck and then left without looking behind her.

  Seventeen

  The groups were given an empty apartment on Level 5, the level the race would begin on. It was sort of a stroke of luck their route was one that started on a residence level. Sleeping in a medical berth at a way station the night before the race was far less pleasant than a two bedroom compartment. Leo and Lillian rolled a die to decide which of them would get the big bed in the main bedroom and which would take the bunk beds in the other. Leo lost, but he did it gracefully with only one or two accusations of cheating belied by a grin.

  Greg and Zara offered to make up pallets on the living area floor, but the racers demurred and they paired up by gender. There was nothing much in the kitchen since the apartment was vacant, but they got a delivery from the cafeteria up top that more than made up for it. They had a nice evening, considering the situation, and played a round of Run Me that was a little more subdued than most games.

  When Zara told them it was time for bed, they went without argument. It was a sign of both racers’ nervousness. Lillian felt odd lying next to another person in bed. She hadn’t had to since her sister was big enough to sleep on her own. Every move Zara made in her sleep jarred her even though she stayed well on her side of the bed, taking up less than her half if anything.

  Lillian finally slipped out of bed, thinking she might sleep on the couch. There was a dim light from the kitchen breaking the darkness but the end of the living area was in shadow. She crept toward the couch in the unfamiliar room until she found the arm with her hand. She turned in place and plopped down on the couch with a sigh, only to start back up at the sound of a soft laugh.

  From the darkness she heard Greg’s voice. “I sometimes wonder if I’m being rewarded or punished.”

  That surprised her and it was awkward because she didn’t know how she should take it. Dealing with Greg was often like that. During training they had to be close. They spent all day and much of the evening together most days. Things would be normal and their interactions easy and then suddenly he would look at her and pull away, like a wall had suddenly come up between them. He knew she liked him, she could tell that. She also knew he liked her. Was it their age differences? That was understandable but also something that could be overcome. It certainly wasn’t the first time a lopsided age match had been made.

  If it wasn’t the age difference, then it had to be their status of trainer and trainee. That was more logical than the other reason and one she could respect. It was why she hadn’t just said something to him, made some direct statement of her interest like people were supposed to. Waiting till after the race was the right thing to do. But what did it mean when he made statements about being rewarded or punished?

  She sighed.

  Greg laughed but it was a sad laugh and then he went silent. After a few moments in the darkness, he said, “Your cousin snores.”

  It was Lillian’s turn to laugh. “Like a pig, yes he does.”

  “You should be sleeping. You need the sleep, believe me.”

  “How much sleep did you get before your race?” she asked, genuinely curious and not just trying to be a smart ass.

  “Oh, I’d say about two whole minutes,” he replied. His tone said he was joking, but not by much.

  She thought for a moment. Diving right in seemed
the best approach. “Why do you say things like that? I know you like me.”

  The intake of his breath was loud in the silence that followed. Lillian was just at the point of running away in embarrassment when he answered her. “Have I ever told you about Lizbet?”

  Was this misdirection? Was he going to avoid the subject altogether?

  When she didn’t answer, he added, “This is how I’m going to answer you.”

  She nodded in the darkness but that was more for herself than him. He couldn’t see more than the barest hint of her by the dim glow of the nightlight behind the half wall of the kitchen. “No.”

  He sighed again, like whatever he was going to say pained him. “Lizbet was someone important to me when I was young, almost the same age as you.”

  Lillian pulled her leg up on the couch and turned to face him. She snuggled down into the corner of the sofa more comfortably and said, “Was?”

  “Yes. She died.”

  Lillian searched for words to say, but all she could think of was, “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. But why that matters is because you remind me a lot of her. A lot. You could be sisters or, given your age, even her daughter.”

  “Oh, so there’s the weird factor for you?” she asked.

  He laughed. “You don’t mince words, do you?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he went on. “That’s like her, too. But yes, that is part of the weird factor for me. There’s more to it.”

  “There’s always more to everything.”

  “That, there is.”

  “So, are you saying I should just give up or are you saying that you’ll get over it eventually?”

  “Lillian, I’m not even sure what I’m saying. I know what Lizbet wanted and I know you’re not really her, but I had given up on the idea on having some aspects of life. I’m trying to figure out how this is all supposed to work.”

  Something about the name Lizbet tickled a memory in her head and then clicked home. She did the math and asked, “Isn’t Lizbet short for Elizabeth?”

  She could feel the tension rise in Greg from where she sat. It was like all his defenses just rose up and then she knew she was right so she pressed on. “As in, Elizabeth the Other?”

  “She wasn’t an Other,” he barked out. In a softer tone, he said, “That judgment was never made, but you can believe me that she wasn’t an Other.”

  “Tell me,” she urged.

  The pause was long and she knew he was trying to get the nerve to talk. If he had some soft spot for someone who was believed to be an Other, then no wonder he was closed off. He would find no sympathetic ears in the silo.

  “It was Elizabeth’s father who was the Other. That was certain. He killed six women and was caught. Anyone who could do that would have to be an Other and he was judged accordingly. But you know how it is. Others are born randomly to humans just as humans were born randomly to Others. But in the same way a human will almost always bear humans, won’t Others do the same? That was the logic and Lizbet was the only child born of any Other in the history of the silo.”

  “But she was a kid. Couldn’t they tell?”

  “That’s just it. How can you tell?”

  “I see.” She did see. A handful of Others had been born within the silo. Of all of them, only one had been discovered as a young person and he had been almost an adult when he was discovered with the latest captured pet in mid-torture. Even then, no one under the age of twenty could be punished like an adult so he was left in remediation until his twentieth birthday and then shoved out the airlock. “So, they locked her up?”

  “No, nothing like that. She was just a little girl, very young, and she didn’t do anything. But she was watched. Even her mother was watched. They reported for evaluation every so often. But that was nothing compared to what she went through at school and around other kids. They teased her, said things, did things. We lived down the hall from them. I wasn’t allowed to play with her anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again because he sounded so sad.

  “Anyway, life wasn’t kind to her. After a while, she didn’t go anywhere unless she had to. When her mom got sick she used to have to go to the bazaar and I would try to go with her. You know, just to keep a buffer between her and other people. One day I didn’t go.”

  “And she died?”

  “No, not then. But she did get cornered and there was a fight. She was just trying to protect herself but all they saw when the fight broke up was her—a potential Other—holding a fire hose and a guy with a bunch of broken teeth.” He stopped for a second, seemed to gather himself and before she could say anything, he pressed on. “She wasn’t judged but the word was out that she was a potential Other and after that she was shunned. She retreated into herself almost entirely. Until 25 Drums anyway.”

  “She went to the club, even though she didn’t have any friends?” Lillian couldn’t imagine that. It wouldn’t be nearly as fun without people to dance and socialize with. And if the purpose for sending teen shadows to the club was so that they meet, mingle and eventually find a match, why would a shunned person even want to go? The club, started about the same time as the races began, was meant to help ease the difficulty finding matches by letting teens meet others from all over the silo, rather than be stuck with only choosing those nearby. “Why would she go?”

  “You know what it is like there. All are supposed to be welcome and all are supposed to be equal there. And she could dance.”

  Suddenly Lillian understood the look in the training room just from the way he said the word dance. It was said like he was seeing a wonder, something amazing and rare. She knew why he thought she was like Lizbet. Because of her dancing the day he saw her first. “Ah.”

  “I didn’t know what all was going on there since I was a couple of years younger, but when I went my first time it was so I could see her.” He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “I couldn’t dance to save my life, but she taught me to at least keep a simple rhythm after about a year. She was so different there. No one talked to her or spent much time with her, but they kept to the rules for the most part. And she didn’t have to slouch around and try to be invisible. She could just fly.” His voice choked on the last word.

  “She must have been special.”

  “She was. Even though people scorned her in life, they copied her in 25 Drums. They copied her clothes, her way of moving…everything. But then she was going to age out and turn twenty. She decided it would be better to join with the silo than go back to being always invisible.”

  “I know I keep saying it, but I’m so sorry this happened. You loved her a lot?”

  “I did. I wanted to declare for her when I won the race.”

  “That was the year you ran?”

  “Yes. It was the best and the worst year of my life. So, do you understand? Why it’s hard for me. Why I need time?”

  She leaned forward and reached across the fabric of the couch until she touched his hand. “I’m okay with that. You just give me the high sign—a clear high sign—when you decide. I’m in no hurry.” She leaned back again and added, “But don’t wait too long. You are getting old.”

  Eighteen

  She woke to Zara standing in front of her and tapping her foot on the floor. It was an angry tap.

  She wiped her eyes, realized where she was and scooted forward and away from Greg, who was still leaning back with his head at an awkward angle on the couch. She had fallen asleep tucked up against him and stretched out on the sofa. She knew her face was flaming red when she looked up at Zara and shrugged.

  “If you couldn’t sleep with me in there you should have woken me. I would have moved out here,” Zara said, her tone a cross between angry and guilty.

  Lillian was confused. Wasn’t she going to say anything about finding her and Greg cozied up on the couch? Did she not see him back there? She turned around as Greg yawned loudly and stretched the kinks out of his arms and legs.

  “She came out
here, we talked and she fell asleep. She slept soundly once she dropped off. Oh, and did you know she grinds her teeth something fierce when she sleeps?”

  Leo had stepped out from his bedroom while Greg spoke, scratching at his lower back and blinking like a sleepy cat. “Yeah, it sounds like fingernails across a slate. She needs to see the dentist.”

  Lillian stood. That was enough of that. “Fine. I don’t know about any of you, but I actually have something important to do today, so if you don’t mind?” With that, she marched off to get her kit and a shower.

  When she came out, Leo and Zara were at the table unpacking their breakfast tray delivered from up top. Zara kept smacking Leo’s grabbing hands as he went for various goodies on the tray and he kept saying ouch, only to reach out and try again. Lillian just shook her head. Leo’s hair was wet so he had clearly already showered, but there was only one bathroom in the residence. “Did you bathe in the sink again?” she asked.

  Zara stopped in mid-motion and looked from one to the other, a look of surprise on her face. She shook her head, looked back down and muttered, “Total mental defectives.”

  Leo laughed and finally stopped trying to steal breakfast. “No, they actually arranged for us to use bathrooms in other residences. People are really nice.”

  Greg walked in right then, a towel wrapped around his head like a girl. Everyone, even Zara, laughed at the sight. He just looked confused and said, “What? It keeps my head from getting cold.”

  Lillian just knew that it was going to be a great day.

  Nineteen

  The hallway seemed too bright to Lillian. The colors were stark and all the lines were too sharp. Her heart was thudding like a drum and the sounds in her ears were squishy. It was almost start time and they were only two turns away from the place where the race would start. She puffed out a breath and felt the tingle of adrenaline. Leo tensed beside her and she heard what he had only a heartbeat earlier. It was the sound of cheering.