Dust (Silo #3)

“There has to be something we can do,” Charlotte said. Her eyes lit up. “We could lighten a drone enough to carry us from here. The bunker busters must weigh sixty kilos. If we lighten another drone up, it could carry you.”

“And fly it how?”

“I’ll stay here and fly it.” She saw the look on his face and frowned. “Better that one of us gets out,” she said. “You know I’m right. We could launch before daylight, just send you as far as you can go. At least live a day away from this place.”

Donald tried to imagine a flight on the back of one of those birds, the wind pelting his helmet, tumbling off in a rough landing, lying in the grass and staring up at the stars. He pulled his rag out and filled it with blood, shook his head as he put it away. “I’m dying,” he told her. “Thurman said I have another day or two. He told me that a day or two ago.”

Charlotte was silent.

“Maybe we could wake another pilot,” he suggested. “I could hold a gun to his head. We could get you and Darcy both out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” his sister said.

“But you would have me go out there alone?”

She shrugged. “I’m a hypocrite.”

Donald laughed. “Must be why they recruited you.”

They listened to the radio.

“What do you think is going on in all those other silos right now?” Charlotte asked. “You dealt with them. Is it as bad there as it is here?”

Donald considered this. “I don’t know. Some of them are happy enough, I suppose. They get married and have kids. They have jobs. They don’t know anything beyond their walls, so I guess they don’t have some of the stress about what’s out there that you and I feel. But I think they have something else that we don’t have, this deep feeling that something is wrong with how they’re living. Buried, you know. And we understand that, and it chokes us, but they just have this chronic anxiety, I think. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen men happy enough here to get through their shifts. I’ve watched others go mad. I used to … I used to play solitaire for hours on my computer upstairs, and that’s when my brain was truly off and I wasn’t miserable. But then, I wasn’t really alive, either.”

Charlotte reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I think some of the silos that went dark have it best—”

“Don’t say that,” Charlotte whispered.

Donald looked up at her. “No, not that. I don’t think they’re dead, not all of them. I think some of them withdrew and are living how they want quietly enough that no one will come after them. They just want to be left alone, not controlled, free to choose how they live and die. I think it’s what Anna wanted them to have. Living down here on this level for a year, trying to find some life without being able to go outside, I think it changed how she viewed all this.”

“Or maybe it was being out of that box for a little while,” Charlotte said. “Maybe she didn’t like what it felt like to be put away.”

“Or that,” Donald agreed. Again, he thought how things would’ve been different had he woken her with some trust, had heard her out. If Anna was there to help, everything would be better. It pained him, but he missed her as much as he missed Helen. Anna had saved him, had tried to save others, and Donald had misunderstood and had hated her for both actions.

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?”

“I’m sorry.” Donald apologized and waved his hand. “It’s just that … it’s nothing. It’s a good thing. Were you in the army?”

“Yeah, but not for long. I think I was in the Secret Service.” Darcy watched them eat for a moment. “What about you two?”

“Air Force,” Charlotte said. She jabbed her fork at Donald, whose mouth was full. “Congressman.”

“No shit?”

Donald nodded. “More of an architect, really.” He gestured at the room around them. “This is what I went to school for.”

“Building stuff like this?” Darcy asked.

“Building this,” Donald said. He took another bite.

“No shit.”

Donald nodded and took a swig of water.

“Who did this to us, then? The Chinese?”

Donald and Charlotte turned to one another.

“What?” Darcy asked.

“We did this,” Donald said. “This place wasn’t built for a just-in-case. This is what it was designed for.”

Darcy looked from one of them to the other, his mouth open.

“I thought you knew. It’s all in my notes.” Once you know what to look for, Donald thought. Otherwise, it was too obvious and audacious to see.

“No. I thought this was like that mountain bunker, where the government goes to survive—”

“It is,” Charlotte said. “But this way they get the timing down just right.”

Darcy stared down at his boots while Donald and his sister ate. For a last meal, it wasn’t all that bad. Donald looked down at the sleeve of the coveralls he’d borrowed from Charlotte and saw the bullet hole in them for the first time. Maybe that was why she had acted as if he was crazy for putting them on. Across from him, Darcy began to slowly nod his head. “Yeah,” he said. “God, yeah. They did this.” He looked up at Donald. “I put a guy in Deep Freeze a couple shifts ago. He was yelling all this crazy stuff. A guy from accounting.”

Donald set his tray aside. He finished his water.

“He wasn’t crazy, was he?” Darcy asked. “That was a good man.”

“Probably,” Donald said. “He was getting better, at least.”

Darcy ran his fingers over his short hair. His attention went back to the scattering of supplies. “The suits,” he said. “You’re thinking of leaving? Because you know I can’t help you do that.”

Donald ignored the question. He went to the end of the aisle and retrieved the hand truck. He and Charlotte had already loaded the bunker buster on it. There was a plastic tag dangling from the nose cone that she said he would need to pull before it was armed. She had already removed the altimeter controls and safety overrides. She had called it a “dumb bomb” when she was done. Donald pushed the cart toward the elevator.

“Hey,” Darcy said. He got up from his bin and blocked the aisle. Charlotte cleared her throat, and Darcy turned to see that she was holding a gun on him.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

Darcy’s hand hovered over a bulging pocket. Donald pushed the handcart toward him, and Darcy stepped back.

“We need to discuss this,” Darcy said.

“We already have,” Donald told him. “Don’t move.” He stopped the handcart beside Darcy and reached into the young guard’s pocket. He withdrew the pistol and stuck it into his own pocket, then asked for Darcy’s ID. The young man handed it to him. Donald pocketed this, and then leaned the cart back on its wheels and continued toward the lift.

Darcy followed him at a distance. “Just slow down,” he said. “You’re thinking of setting that off? C’mon, man. Take it easy. Let’s talk. This is a big decision.”

“Not arrived at lightly, I promise. The reactor below us powers the servers. The servers control everyone’s lives. We’re going to set these people free. Let them live and die how they choose.”

Darcy laughed nervously. “Servers control their lives? What’re you talking about?”

“They pick the lottery numbers,” Donald said. “They decide who is worthy to pass themselves along. They cull and shape. They play mock wars to pick a winner. But not for long.”

“Okay, but there’s just three of us. This is too big for just us to decide. Seriously, man—”

Donald stopped the cart right outside of the lift. He turned to Darcy, saw that his sister had gotten to her feet to stay close to him.

“You want me to name all the times in history that one person led to the death of millions?” Donald asked. “Something like five or a dozen people made this happen. You might be able to trace it back to three. And who knows if one of those men was influencing the other two? Well, if one man can build this, it shouldn’t take more than that to bring it all down. Gravity is a bitch until she’s on your side.” Donald pointed down the aisle. “Now come sit down.”