71

　　• Silo 18 •

　　The door to the generator¹ room slammed shut behind her, dulling the patter of gunfire to a distanthammering. Shirly ran toward the control room on sore legs, ignoring her friends and coworkersasking her what was going on outside. They cowered² along the walls and behind the railing from theloud blast and the sporadic³ gunfire. Just before she reached the control room, she noticed someworkers from second shift on top of the main generator toying with the rumbling⁴ machine’s massiveexhaust system.

　　“I got it,” Shirly wheezed⁵, slamming the control-room door shut behind her. Courtnee and Walkerlooked up from the floor. The wide eyes and slack jaw⁶ on Courtnee’s face told Shirly she’d missedsomething.

　　“What?” she asked. She handed the two transmitters to Walker. “Did you hear? Walk, does sheknow?”

　　“How is this possible?” Courtnee asked. “How did she survive? And what happened to yourface?”

　　Shirly touched her lip, her sore chin. Her fingers came away wet with blood. She used the sleeveof her undershirt to dab⁷ at her mouth.

　　“If this works,” Walker grumbled⁸, fiddling⁹ with one of the transmitters, “we can ask Julesherself.”

　　Shirly turned and peered through the control room’s observation window. She lowered her sleeveaway from her face. “What’s Karl and them doing with the exhaust feed?” she asked.

　　“They’ve got some plan to reroute it,” Courtnee said. She got up from the floor while Walkerstarted soldering¹⁰ something, the smell reminding her of his workshop. He grumbled about hiseyesight while Courtnee joined her by the glass.

　　“Reroute it where?”

　　“IT. That’s what Heline said, anyway. The cooling feed for their server room runs through theceiling here before shooting up the Mechanical shaft¹¹. Someone spotted¹² the proximity¹³ on a schematic,thought of a way to fight back from here.”

　　“So, we choke them out with our fumes¹⁴?” Shirly felt uneasy about the plan. She wondered whatKnox would say if he were still alive, still in charge. Surely all the men and women riding desks upthere weren’t the problem. “Walk, how long before we can talk? Before we can try and contact her?”

　　“Almost there. Blasted magnifiers …”

　　Courtnee rested her hand on Shirly’s arm. “Are you okay? How’re you holding up?”

　　“Me?” Shirly laughed and shook her head. She checked the bloodstains on her sleeve, felt thesweat trickling¹⁵ down her chest. “I’m walking around in shock. I have no idea what the hell’s goingon anymore. My ears are still ringing from whatever they did to the stairwell. I think I’ve screwed upmy ankle. And I’m starving. Oh, and did I mention my friend isn’t as dead as I thought she was?”

　　She took a deep breath.

　　Courtnee continued to stare at her worryingly. Shirly knew none of this was what her friend wasasking her about.

　　“And yeah, I miss Marck,” she said quietly.

　　Courtnee put her arm around her friend and pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t meanto—”

　　Shirly waved her off. The two of them stood quietly and watched through the window as a smallcrew from second shift worked on the generator, trying to reroute the outpouring of noxious¹⁶ fumesfrom the apartment-sized machine to the floors of the thirties high above.

　　“You know what, though? There are times when I’m glad he’s not here. Times when I know Iwon’t be around much longer either, not once they get to us, and I’m glad he’s not here to stressabout it, to worry about what they’ll do to us. To me. And I’m glad I haven’t had to watch him do allthis fighting, living on rations¹⁷, this sort of craziness.” She dipped her chin at the crew outside. Sheknew Marck would have been either up there leading that terrible work or outside with a gun pressedto his cheek.

　　“Hello. Testing. Hello, hello.”

　　The two women turned around to see Walker clicking the red detonate switch, the microphonefrom the headset held beneath his chin, furrows¹⁸ of concentration across his brow.

　　“Juliette?” he asked. “Can you hear me? Hello?”

　　Shirly moved to Walker’s side, squatted¹⁹ down, rested a hand on his shoulder. The three of themstared at the headphones, waiting for a reply.

　　“Hello?”

　　A quiet voice leaked out of the tiny speakers. Shirly clapped a hand to her chest, her breath stolenfrom the miracle of a reply. It was a fraction of a second later, after this surge of desperate hope, thatshe realized this wasn’t Juliette. The voice was different.

　　“That’s not her,” Courtnee whispered, dejected. Walker waved his hand to silence her. The redswitch clicked noisily as he prepared to transmit.

　　“Hello. My name is Walker. We received a transmission from a friend. Is there anyone elsethere?”

　　“Ask them where they are,” Courtnee hissed²¹.

　　“Where exactly are you?” Walker added, before releasing the switch.

　　The tiny speakers popped.

　　“We are nowhere. You’ll never find us. Stay away.”

　　There was a pause, a hiss²⁰ of static.

　　“And your friend is dead. We killed him.”

 

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