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.”

Jimmy rubbed his chest where his breathing had been checked and wondered why the doctor hadn’t warmed it for him.

“For a dime?” Rickson asked.

Dr. Nichols smiled. “How about a few chits, instead?”

“What’s a chit?” Rickson asked, but Hannah was already adjusting herself on the bunk so the doctor could have a look.

Courtnee rested a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder while the check-ups continued. Jimmy turned to see what she needed.

“Juliette wanted me to call her as soon as you all were over here. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while—”

“Wait,” Jimmy said. “I’d like to come. I want to speak with her.”

“Me too,” said Elise, pressing against his leg.

Courtnee frowned. “Okay,” she said. “But let’s be quick, because you all need to eat and get freshened up.”

“Freshened up?” Elise asked.

“If you’re going to go up and see your new home, yeah.”

“New home?” Jimmy asked.

But Courtnee had already turned to go.

••••

Jimmy hurried out the door and down the hall after Courtnee. Elise grabbed her shoulder bag, the one that held her heavy book, and scampered along beside him.

“What did she mean about a new home?” Elise asked. “When are we going back to our real home?”

Jimmy scratched his beard and wrestled with truth and lies. We may never go home, he wanted to say. No matter where we end up, it may never feel like home again.

“I think this will be our new home,” he told her, keeping his voice from cracking. He reached down and rested his wrinkled hand on her thin shoulder, felt how fragile she was, this flesh that words could crack. “It’ll be our home for a time, at least. Until they make our old home better.” He glanced ahead at Courtnee, who did not look back.

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.