ust (Silo, #3)(90)

He narrowed his eyes at her, then turned his attention back to the folders. “What is all this?” He picked up the map and studied it, set it down and picked up another piece of paper. “We pulled crates of this stuff out of the other room. What the hell are you two working on?”

“Just take me in,” Charlotte begged. She was getting scared.

“In a minute.” He studied the radio, found the volume, turned it down. He put his back to the desk and leaned against it, the pistol held casually by his hip. He was going to drop his pants, Charlotte realized. He was going to force her to her knees. He hadn’t seen a woman in several hundred years, was wanting to understand how to wake them up. That’s what he wanted. Charlotte considered running for the door, hoping he might shoot her, hoping he would either miss or hit her square—

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Charlotte felt tears roll down her cheeks. Her voice quivered, but she managed to whisper her name.

“Mine’s Darcy. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Charlotte began to shake. It was exactly what she imagined a man would say before doing something vile.

“I just want to understand what the hell’s going on before I turn you over. Because everything I’ve seen today suggests this is bigger than you and your brother. Bigger than my job. Hell, for all I know, the moment I take you up to the office, they’re going to put me under and put you back to work down here.”

Charlotte laughed. She turned her head and wiped the tears hanging from her jaw onto her shoulder. “Not likely,” she said. And she began to suspect that this man really wasn’t going to hurt her, that he was just as curious as he seemed. Her gaze drifted back to the folders. “Do you know what they have planned for us?” she asked.

“Hard to say. You killed a very important man. You shouldn’t be up. They’ll put you in Deep Freeze would be my guess. Alive or dead, I don’t know.”

“No, not what they’re gonna do to me and my brother – what they have planned for all of us. What happens after our last shift.”

Darcy thought for a moment. “I … I don’t know. Never thought about it.”

She nodded to the folders beside him. “It’s all in there. When I go back to sleep, it won’t matter if I’m alive or dead. I’ll never get up again. Neither will your sister or mom or wife or whoever they have here.”

Darcy glanced at the folders, and Charlotte realized his not taking her in right away was an opportunity, not a problem. This is why they couldn’t let anyone know the truth. If people knew, they wouldn’t stand for it.

“You’re making this up,” Darcy said. “You don’t know what will happen after—”

“Ask your boss. See what he says. Or your boss’s boss. And keep asking. Maybe they’ll give you a pod down in Deep Freeze next to mine.”

Darcy studied her for a heartbeat. He set his pistol down and unbuttoned the top button on his coveralls. And then the next. He kept unbuttoning them down to his waist, and Charlotte knew she’d been right about what he planned to do. She prepared to jump him, to kick him between the legs, to bite him—

Darcy took the folders and slid them around his back, tucked them into his shorts. He began buttoning up his coveralls.

“I’ll look into it. Now let’s go.” He picked up the gun and gestured toward the door, and Charlotte took a grateful breath. She walked around the drone control stations. Inside, she felt torn. She had wanted this man to take her in, but now she wanted to talk more. She had feared him, but now she wanted to trust him. Salvation seemed to come from being arrested, from being put back to sleep, and yet some other salvation seemed to lie within reach.

Her heart pounded as she was marched into the hallway. Darcy shut the door to the control room. She passed the bunkrooms and the bathrooms, waited at the end of the hall for him to open the door to the armory, her hands useless behind her back.

“I knew your brother, you know,” Darcy said as he held the door for her. “He never seemed like the sort. Neither do you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. We were only ever after the truth.” She passed through the armory and toward the lift.

“That’s the problem with the truth,” Darcy said. “Liars and honest men both claim to have it. It puts people in my position in something of a predicament.”

Charlotte pulled to a stop. This seemed to startle Darcy, who took a step back and tightened his grip on his pistol. “Let’s keep moving,” he told her.

“Wait,” Charlotte said. “You want the truth?” She turned and nodded at the drones beneath their tarps. “How about you stop trusting what people are telling you? Stop deciding who to believe with your gut. Let me show you. See what’s out there for yourself.”





52



Donald’s side was a sea of purples, blacks, and blues. He held his undershirt up, his coveralls hanging from his hips, and inspected his ribs in the bathroom mirror. In the center of the bruise there was a patch of orange and yellow. He touched this – barely a brush of his fingertips – and a jolt of electricity shot down his legs and into his knees. He nearly collapsed, and it took a moment to gather his breath. He lowered his shirt gingerly, buttoned his coveralls up, and hobbled back to his cot.