ust (Silo, #3)(36)

The tunnel came to a blessed end, the twins scampering out first. They startled the gruff men and women in their dark blue coveralls with knee patches of grease and their leather aprons slotted with tools. Eyes grew wide on faces white with chalk and black from soot. Jimmy paused at the mouth of the tunnel and let Rickson and Hannah out first. All work ceased at the sight of the bundle cradled in Hannah’s arms. One of the women stepped forward and lifted a hand as if to touch the child, but Courtnee waved her back and told the rest to return to their work. Jimmy scanned the crowd for Juliette, even though he’d been told she was up top. Elise begged to be carried again, her tiny hands stretched up in the air. Jimmy adjusted his pack and obliged, ignoring the pain in his hip. The bag around Elise’s neck banged his ribs with its heavy book.

He joined the procession of little ones as they wove through the walls of workers frozen in place, workers who tugged their beards and scratched their heads and watched him as if he were a man from some fictional land. And Jimmy felt at his core that this was a grave mistake. Two worlds had been united, but they were not anything alike. Power surged here. Lights burned steady, and it was crowded with grown men and women. It smelled different. Machines rumbled rather than sat quiet. And the long decades of growing older sloughed off him in a sudden panic as Jimmy hurried to catch up with the others, just one of a number of frightened youth, emerging from shadows and silence into the bright and crowded and noisy.





Silo 18





22



A small bunkroom had been set up for the kids, with a private room down the hall for Jimmy. Elise was unhappy with the arrangements and clung to one of his hands with both of hers. Courtnee told them she had food being sent down and then they could shower. A stack of clean coveralls sat on one of the bunks, a bar of soap, a few worn children’s books. But first, she introduced a tall man in the cleanest pale red coveralls Jimmy could ever remember seeing.

“I’m Dr. Nichols,” the man said, shaking Jimmy’s hand. “I believe you know my daughter.”

Jimmy didn’t understand. And then he remembered that Juliette’s last name was Nichols. He pretended to be brave while this tall, clean-shaven man peered into his eyes and mouth. Next, a cold piece of metal was pressed to Jimmy’s chest, and this man listened intently through his tubes. It all seemed familiar. Something from Jimmy’s distant past.

Jimmy took deep breaths as he was told. The children watched warily, and he realized what a model he was for them, a model for normalcy, for courage. He nearly laughed – but he was supposed to be breathing for the doctor.

Elise volunteered to go next. Dr. Nichols lowered himself to his knees and checked the gap of her missing tooth. He asked about fairies, and when Elise shook her head and said she’d never heard of such a thing, a dime was produced. The twins rushed forward and begged to be next.

“Are fairies real?” Miles asked. “We used to hear noises in the farm where we grew up.”

Marcus wiggled in front of his brother. “I saw a fairy for real one day,” he said. “And I lost twenty teeth when I was young.”

“You did?” Dr. Nichols asked. “Can you smile for me? Excellent. Now open your mouth. Twenty teeth, you say.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said. He wiped his mouth. “And every one of them growed back except for the one Miles knocked out.”

“It was an accident,” Miles complained. He lifted his shirt and asked to have his breaths heard. Jimmy watched Rickson and Hannah huddle together around their infant as they studied the proceedings. He also noted that Dr. Nichols, even as he looked over the two boys, couldn’t stop glancing at the baby in Hannah’s arms.

The twins were given a dime each after their check-up. “Dimes are good luck for twins,” Dr. Nichols said. “Parents put two of these under their pillows in the hopes of having such healthy boys as you.”

The twins beamed and scrutinized the coins for any sign of a faded face or portion of a word to suggest they were real. “Rickson used to be a twin too,” Miles said.

“Oh?” Dr. Nichols shifted his attention to the older kids sitting side by side on the lower bunk.

“I don’t want to take the implant,” Hannah said coolly. “My mother had the implant, but it was cut out of her. I don’t want to be cut.”

Rickson wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He narrowed his eyes at the tall doctor, and Jimmy felt nervous.

“You don’t have to take the implant,” Dr. Nichols whispered, but Jimmy saw the way he glanced at Courtnee. “Do you mind if I listen to your child’s heartbeat? I just want to make sure it’s nice and strong—”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rickson asked, thrusting his shoulders back.

Dr. Nichols studied the boy a moment. “You met my daughter, didn’t you? Juliette.”

He nodded. “Briefly,” he said. “She left soon after.”

“Well, she sent me down here because she cares about your health. I’m a doctor. I specialize in children, the youngest of them. I think your child looks very strong and healthy. I just want to be sure.” Dr. Nichols held up the metal disc at the end of his hearing tubes and pressed his palm against it. “There. So it’ll be nice and warm. Your boy won’t even know I’m taking a listen.”