by Hugh Howey
Elise stopped in the middle of the hallway and peered over her shoulder. When she turned back, the dim lights of Mechanical caught the water in her eyes. Jimmy was about to tell her not to cry when Courtnee knelt down and called Elise over. Elise refused to budge.
“Do you want to come with us to call Juliette and talk with her on the radio?” Courtnee asked.
Elise chewed on her finger and nodded. A tear rolled down her cheek. She clutched the bag with her book in it, and Jimmy remembered kids from another lifetime who used to cling to dolls in the same way.
“After we make this call and you get freshened up, I’ll get you some sweetcorn from the pantry. Would you like that?”
Elise shrugged. Jimmy wanted to say that none of the kids had ever tasted sweetcorn before. He had never heard of the stuff himself. But now he wanted some.
“Let’s go call Juliette together,” Courtnee said.
Elise sniffed and nodded. She took Jimmy’s hand and peered up at him. “What’s sweetcorn?” she asked.
“It’ll be a surprise,” Jimmy said, which was the dead truth.
Courtnee led them down the hall and around a bend. It took a moment for the twists and turns to remind Jimmy of the dark and wet place he’d left behind. Beyond the fresh paint and the humming lights, past the neat wires and the smell of fresh grease, lay a labyrinth identical to the rusted bucket he’d explored the past two weeks. He could almost hear the puddles squish beneath his feet, hear that screaming pump he tended suck at an empty basin — but that was a real noise at his feet. A loud yip.
Elise screamed, and at first Jimmy thought he’d stepped on her. But there at his feet was a large brown rat with a fearsome tail, crying and turning circles.
Jimmy’s heart stopped. Elise screamed and screamed, but then he realized it was his voice he was hearing. Elise’s arms were latched around his leg, making it difficult to turn and flee. And meanwhile, Courtnee bent over with laughter. Jimmy nearly fainted as Courtnee scooped the giant rat off the ground. When the thing licked at her chin, he realized it wasn’t a rat at all but a dog. A juvenile. He’d seen grown dogs in the mids of his silo when he was a boy, but had never seen a pup. Elise loosened her grip when she saw that the animal meant no harm.
“It’s a cat!” Elise cried.
“That’s no cat,” Jimmy said. He knew cats.
Courtnee was still laughing at him when a young man careened around the corner, panting, summoned no doubt by Jimmy’s startled screeches.
“There you are,” he said, taking the animal from Courtnee. The pup clawed at the man’s shoulder and tried to bite his earlobe. “Damn thing.” The mechanic swatted the pup’s face away. He gripped it by the scruff of its neck, its legs pawing at the air.
“Is that more of them?” Courtnee asked.
“Same litter,” the man said.
“Conner was to put them down weeks ago.”
The man shrugged. “Conner’s been digging that damn tunnel. But I’ll get on him about it.” He nodded to Courtnee and marched back the way he’d come, the animal dangling from its scruff.
“Gave you a fright,” Courtnee said, smiling at Jimmy.
“Thought he was a rat,” Jimmy said, remembering the hordes of them that’d taken over the lower farms.
“We got overrun with dogs when some people from Supply hunkered down here,” Courtnee said. She led them down the hall in the direction the man had gone. Elise, for once, was scampering out in front. “They’ve been busy ever since making more dogs. Found a litter of them myself in the pump room, beneath the heat exchangers. A few weeks ago, another was discovered in the tool lock-up. We’ll be finding them in our beds soon enough, damn things. All they do is eat and make mess all over the place.”
Jimmy thought of his youth in the server room, eating raw beans out of a can and shitting on the floor grates. You couldn’t hate a living thing for… living, could you?
The hall ahead came to a dead end. Elise was already exploring to the left as if she were looking for something.
“Walker’s workshop is this way,” Courtnee said.
Elise glanced back. There was a yip from somewhere, and she turned and carried on.
“Elise,” Jimmy called.
She peeked into an open door before disappearing inside. Courtnee and Jimmy hurried after.
When they turned the corner, they found her standing over a parts crate, the man from the hallway placing something back inside. Elise gripped the edge of the crate and bent forward. Yipping and scratching leaked out of the plastic bin.
“Careful, child.” Courtnee hurried her way. “They bite.”
Elise turned to Jimmy. One of the squirming animals was in her arms, a pink tongue flashing out.
“Put it back,” Jimmy said.
Courtnee reached for the animal, but the man corralling the pups already had it by its neck. He dropped the puppy back in with the others and kicked the lid shut with a bang.
“I’m sorry, boss.” He slid the crate aside with his foot while Elise made plaintive noises.
“Are you feeding them?” Courtnee asked. She pointed to a pile of scraps on an old plate.
“Conner is. Swear. They’re from that dog he took in. You know how he is about the thing. I told him what you said, but he’s been putting it off.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Courtnee said, her eyes darting at young Elise. Jimmy could tell she didn’t want to discuss what needed doing in front of the child. “C’mon.” She guided Jimmy to the door and back into the hall. He in turn pulled a complaining child after him.
23
A familiar and unpleasant odor awaited them at their destination. It was the smell of hot electrics like the humming servers and the stench of unwashed men. For Jimmy, it was a noseful of his old self and his old home. An earful of it too. There was a hiss of static — a familiar, ghostly whisper like his radios made. He followed Courtnee into a room of workbenches and the wreck of countless projects underway or abandoned, it was difficult to tell which.
There was a scattering of computer parts on a counter by the door, and Jimmy thought how his father would have lectured to see them so poorly arranged. A man in a leather smock turned from one of the far benches, a smoking metal wand in his hand, tools studding his chest and poking out of a hundred pockets, a grizzled beard and a wild look in his eyes. Jimmy had never seen such a man in all his life.
“Courtnee,” the man said. He pulled a bright length of silver wire from his lips, set the wand down, and waved the smoke from his face. “Is it dinner?”
“It’s not yet lunch,” Courtnee told him. “I want you to meet two of Juliette’s friends. They’re from the other silo.”
“The other silo.” Walker adjusted a lens down over one eye and squinted at his visitors. He got up slowly from his stool. “I’ve spoken with you,” he said. He wiped his palm on the seat of his coveralls and extended his hand. “Solo, right?”
Jimmy stepped forward and accepted Walker’s hand. The two men chewed their beards and studied each other for a moment. “I prefer Jimmy,” he said at last.
Walker nodded. “Yes, yes. That’s right.”
“And I’m Elise.” She waved. “Hannah calls me Lily, but I don’t like being called Lily. I like Elise.”
“It’s a good name,” Walker agreed. He tugged on his beard and rocked back on his heels, studying her.
“They were hoping to get in touch with Jules,” Courtnee said. “And I was supposed to call her and let her know they’re here. Is she… did everything go okay?”
Walker seemed to snap out of a trance. “What? Oh. Oh, yes.” He clapped his hands. “Everything went, it seems. She’s back inside.”
“What did she go out for?” Jimmy asked. He knew Juliette had been working on something but not what. Just some Project she never wanted to discuss over the radio because she didn’t know who might be listening.
“She went to see what was out there, apparently,” Walker said. He grumbled something and eye
d the open door to his workshop with a scrunched-up nose. He apparently didn’t believe this was a valid reason for going anywhere. After an uncomfortable pause, he dropped his gaze to his desk. His old hands deftly lifted an unusual-looking radio, one bristling with knobs and dials. “Let’s see if we can raise her,” he said.
He called for Juliette, and someone else answered. They said to wait a moment. Walker held the radio out to Jimmy, who took it from him, familiar enough with how they worked.
A voice crackled out of the air: “Yes? Hello—?”
It was Juliette’s voice. Jimmy squeezed the button.
“Jules?” He glanced at the ceiling and realized that for the first time in forever, she was above him somewhere, the two of them back under the same top. “Are you there?”
“Solo!” And he didn’t correct her. “You’re with Walker. Is Courtnee there?”
“Yes.”
“Great. That’s great. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’ll be down as soon as I can. They’re making up a place for the kids near the farms, more like home. I’ve just got this… one little project to finish first. It should only be a few days.”
“It’s okay,” Jimmy said. He smiled nervously at Courtnee and felt very young all of a sudden. In truth, a few days felt like a very long time. He wanted to see Jules or go home. Or both. “I want to see you soon,” he added, changing his mind. “Don’t let it be too long.”
A burst of static. The sound of radio waves thinking. “It won’t be. I promise. Did you see my dad? He’s a doctor. I sent him down to check on you and the kids.”
“We saw him. He’s here.” Jimmy glanced down at Elise, who was tugging him toward the door, probably thinking of sweetcorn.
“Good. You said Courtnee was there. Can you put her on?”
Jimmy handed the radio over and saw that his hand was trembling. Courtnee took it. She listened to Juliette say something about the great stairway, and Courtnee updated her on the dig. There was talk of bringing the radio up so Jules could have it, an argument between them on why her father wasn’t up top to make sure she and someone named Nelson were okay, a lot that Jimmy didn’t understand. He tried to follow along, but his mind wandered. And then he realized Elise was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did that child get off to?” he asked. He ducked down and peered beneath the tool bench, saw nothing but a pile of parts and broken machines. He stood and checked behind one of the tall counters. It was a bad time for playing Hide and Find. He checked the far corner, and a cool taste of panic rose in his throat. Elise was quick to disappear back in his silo, was prone to distraction, just wandered off toward anything shiny or the slightest waft of fruit-smells. But here… with strangers and places he didn’t know. Jimmy lumbered across the room and peeked between the benches and behind the cluttered shelves, every second cranking up the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
“She was just—” Walker started to say.
“I’m right here,” Elise called. She waved from the hallway, was standing just outside the door. “Can we get back to Rickson? I’m hungry.”
“And I promised you sweetcorn,” Courtnee said, smiling. Her conversation with Juliette was done. She had missed Jimmy’s minute or two of complete and utter panic. On the way to the door, she handed him the strange radio. “Jules wants you to take this with you.”
Jimmy accepted it gingerly.
“She said it might be a day or two, but she’ll see you at your new place by the lower farms.”
“I’m really hungry,” Elise called out impatiently. Jimmy laughed and told her to be polite, but his stomach was grumbling too. He joined her in the hallway and saw that she had her large memory book out of her shoulder bag. She clutched it tightly to her chest. Loose and colorful pages she had yet to sew in jutted out at odd angles.
“Follow me,” Courtnee said, leading them down the hall. “You are going to love Mama Jean’s sweetcorn.”
Jimmy felt certain this was true. He hurried along after Courtnee, eager to eat and then see Jules. Behind him, little Elise trailed along at her own pace. She cradled her large book in both arms — humming quietly to herself because she didn’t know how to whistle — her shoulder bag kicking and squirming and making noises of its own.
24
Juliette entered the airlock to retrieve the samples; she could feel the heat from the earlier fire — or else she was imagining it. It could’ve been her temperature going up inside the suit. Or it may simply have been the sight of that sealed container on the ready bench, its lid now discolored from the lick of flames.
She checked the container with the flat of her glove. The material on her palm didn’t grow tacky and stick to the metal; it felt cool to the touch. Over an hour of scrubbing down, changing into new suits, cleaning both airlocks, and now there was a box of clues. A box of outside air, of soil and other samples. Clues, perhaps, to all that was wrong with the world.
She retrieved the box and joined the others beyond the second airlock. A large lead-lined trunk was waiting, its joints sealed, the interior padded. The welded sample box was nestled inside. After the lid was shut, Nelson added a ring of caulk, and Lukas helped Juliette with her helmet. With it off, she realized how labored her breathing had become. Wearing that suit was starting to get to her.
She wiggled out of it while Peter Billings sealed all of the airlocks. His office adjacent to the cafeteria had been a construction site for the past week, and she could tell he would be glad for everyone to be gone. Juliette had promised to remove the inner lock as soon as possible, but that there would most likely be more excursions before that happened. First, she wanted to see about the small pockets of outside air she’d brought into the silo. And it was a long way down to the Suit Lab on thirty-four.
Nelson and Sophia went ahead of them to clear the stairwell. Juliette and Lukas followed after, one hand each on either side of the trunk like porters on a tandem. Another violation of the Pact, Juliette thought. People in silver, porting. How many laws could she break now that she was in a position to uphold them all? How clever could she be in justifying her actions?
Her thoughts drifted from her many hypocrisies to the dig far below, to the news that Courtnee had punched through, that Solo and the kids were safe. She hated that she couldn’t be down there with them, but at least her father was. Initially reluctant to play any role in her voyage outside, her father had then resisted leaving her to see to the kids instead. Juliette had convinced him they had taken enough precautions that a check-up of her health was unnecessary.
The trunk swayed and banged against the rail with a jarring clang, and she tried to concentrate on the task at hand.
“You okay back there?” Lukas called.
“How do porters do this?” she asked, switching hands. The weight of the lead-lined trunk pulled down, and its bulk was in the way of her legs. Lukas was lower down and able to walk in the center of the stairway with his arm straight by his side — much more comfortable-looking. She couldn’t manage anything similar from higher up. At the next landing, she made Lukas wait while she removed the belt threaded through the waist of her coveralls and tied this to the handle, looping it over her shoulder the way she’d seen a porter do. This allowed her to walk to the side, the weight of the box leaning against her hip, just how they carried those black bags with bodies to be buried. After a level, it almost grew comfortable, and Juliette could see the appeal of porting. It gave one time to think. The mind grew still while the body moved. But then the thought of black bags and what she and Lukas were porting, and her thoughts found a dark shadow to lie still in.
“How’re you doing?” she asked Lukas after two turns of complete silence.
“Fine,” he said. “Just wondering what we’re carrying here, you know? What’s inside the box.”
His mind had found similar shadows.
“You think this was a bad idea?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. It was hard to tell if that was a shrug, or if he was adjusting
his grip.
They passed another landing. Nelson and Sophia had taped the doors off, but faces watched from behind dirty glass. Juliette spotted an elderly woman holding a bright cross against the glass. As she turned, the woman rubbed the cross and kissed it, and Juliette thought of Father Wendel and the idea that she was bringing fear, not hope, to the silo. Hope was what he and the church offered, some place to exist after death. Fear came from the chance that changing the world for the better could possibly make it worse.
She waited until they were beneath the landing. “Hey, Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever wonder what happens to us after we’re gone?”
“I know what happens to us,” he said. “We get slathered in butter and chewed off the cob.”
He laughed at his own joke.
“I’m serious. Do you think our souls join the clouds and find some better place?”
His laughter stopped. “No,” he said after a long pause. “I think we simply stop being.”
They descended a turn and passed another landing, another door taped off and sealed as a precaution. Juliette realized their voices were drifting up and down a quiet and empty stairwell.
“It doesn’t bother me that I won’t be around one day,” Lukas said after a while. “I don’t stress about the fact that I wasn’t here a hundred years ago. I think death will be a lot like that. A hundred years from now my life will be just like it was a hundred years ago.”
Again, he adjusted his grip or shrugged. It was impossible to say.
“I’ll tell you what does last forever.” He turned his head to make sure she could hear, and Juliette braced for something corny like “love” or something unfunny like “your casseroles”.
“What lasts forever?” she obliged, sure to regret it but sensing that he was waiting for her to ask.
“Our decisions,” he said.
“Can we stop a moment?” Juliette asked. There was a burn where the strap rubbed across her neck. She set her end down on a step, and Lukas held his half to keep the trunk level. She checked the knot and stepped around to switch shoulders. “I’m sorry — ‘our decisions’?” She had lost him.
