ust (Silo, #3)(102)

Charlotte let go of his hand to adjust the radio. She tried hailing someone on both channels, ran her fingers through her hair and listened to static.

“There was a while there when I thought this was a good thing,” Donald said. “What they did, trying to save the world. They had me convinced that a mass extinction was inevitable, that a war was about to break out and claim everyone. But you know what I think? I think they knew that if a war broke out between all these invisible machines, that some pockets of people would survive here and there. So they built this. They made sure the destruction was complete so they could control it.”

“They wanted to make sure the only pockets of people who survived were in their pockets,” Charlotte said.

“Exactly. They weren’t trying to save the world – they were trying to save themselves. Even if we’d gone extinct, the world would’ve gone right on along without us. Nature finds a way.”

“People find a way,” Charlotte said. “Look at the two of us.” She laughed. “We’re like weeds, aren’t we, the two of us? Nature sneaking out along the edge. We’re like those silos that wouldn’t behave. How did they think they would ever contain all this? That something like this wouldn’t happen?”

“I don’t know,” Donald said. “Maybe the kinds of people who try to shape the world feel like they’re smarter than chaos itself.”

Charlotte switched the channels back and forth in case someone was answering on one or the other. She seemed exasperated. “They should just let us be,” she said. “Just stop and let us grow however we must.”

Donald lurched out of his chair and stood up straight.

“What is it?” Charlotte asked. She reached for the radio. “Did you hear something?”

“That’s it,” Donald told her. “Leave us be.” He fumbled for his rag and coughed. Charlotte stopped playing with the radio. “C’mon,” he said. He waved at the desk. “Bring your tools.”

“For the drone?” she asked.

“No. We need to put together another suit.”

“Another suit?”

“For going outside. And you said those bunker busters weigh sixty kilos. Exactly how much is a kilo?”





57



“This is not a good plan,” Charlotte said. She tightened the breathing apparatus attached to the helmet and grabbed one of the large bottles of air, began fastening the hose to it. “What’re we going to do out there?”

“Die,” Donald told her. And he saw the look she gave him. “But maybe a week from now. And not here.” He had an array of supplies laid out. Satisfied, he began stuffing them into one of the small military backpacks. MREs, water, a first-aid kit, a flashlight, a pistol and two clips, extra ammo, a flint, and a knife.

“How long do you think this air will last?” Charlotte asked.

“Those bottles are for sending troops overground to other silos, so they must have enough to reach the furthest one. We just need to go a little further than that, and we won’t be as loaded down.” He cinched up the pack and placed it next to the other one.

“It’s like we’re lightening up a drone.”

“Exactly.” Picking up a roll of tape, he pulled a folded map out of his pocket and began affixing it to the sleeve of one of the suits.

“Isn’t that my suit?”

Donald nodded. “You’re a better navigator. I’m going to follow you.”

There was a ding on the other side of the shelves from the direction of the lifts. Donald dropped what he was doing and hissed for Charlotte to hurry. They made for the drone lift, but Darcy called out to let them know it was just him. He emerged from the tall shelves with a load in his arms, fresh coveralls and a tray heaped with food.

“Sorry,” he said, seeing the panic he’d caused. “It’s not like I can warn you.” He held out the trays apologetically. “Leftovers from dinner.”

He set the trays down, and Charlotte gave him a hug. Donald saw how quickly connections were made in desperate times. Here was a prisoner embracing a guard for not beating her, for showing an ounce of compassion. Donald was glad for the second suit. It was a good plan.

Darcy peered down at the scattering of tools and supplies. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

Charlotte checked with her brother. Donald shook his head.

“Look,” Darcy said, “I’m sympathetic to your situation. I am. I don’t like what’s going on around here, either. And the more that comes back – the more I remember about who I was – the more I think I’d be fighting this alongside you. But I’m not all-in with you guys. And this—” He pointed to the suits. “This doesn’t look good to me. This doesn’t look smart.”

Charlotte passed a plate and a fork to Donald. She sat on one of the plastic storage bins and dug into what looked like a canned roast, beets, and potatoes. Donald sat beside her and slid his fork through the slick roast, chopping it up into bites. “Do you remember what you did before all this?” Donald asked. “Is it coming back to you?”

Darcy nodded. “Some. I’ve stopped taking my meds—”

Donald laughed.

“What? Why’s that funny?”