Read Shadows Online

Authors: Peter Cawdron

Tags: #wool, #silo, #dystopian adventure, #silo saga

Shadows (21 page)

BOOK: Shadows
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Susan looked and raised one
eyebrow in a gesture she hoped implied defeat. She had no idea what
Charlie was getting at.


They're
intact. The suits are intact. Don't you get it. Some of these guys
and gals are hundreds of years old. The cleaners lower down are
starting to deteriorate, but most of their suits are still intact
as well. What does that tell you?

Susan shrugged her
shoulders.


Think about
it. They don't die simply because they run out of air. We know that
because we saw how Xavier died. He was shaking uncontrollably, some
of that poisonous gas had seeped in. If the suit material is robust
after decades of weathering then it has to be the seals that fail.
I think the seals are only designed to last a few
minutes.


So you've
replaced them?

she asked.

But with
what?

Charlie held
up a strip of black rubber, saying,

With the edging from
around the wall-screen.


And the
mattress?

she asked.


The mattress
is for show,

he said, grinning.

To make them think I've gone crazy. To stop them looking
too closely at the suit.


How long
will the rubber last?

she asked, feeling a rush of
excitement.


I don't
know,

Charlie replied.

But I'll make it to
the top of that damn hill. I won't clean, Sue. I swear to you, I
will not clean. I will not give those bastards that satisfaction.
And I won't let them watch me die. I'll head over the hill and out
of sight. Let's see how they spin that to the
crowd.

Susan forced a smile. Her
lips didn't want to respond, they felt perpetually downturned, but
she smiled nonetheless.


Look
carefully at the helmet, Sue. Try it on.

The air tank, helmet and
boots were the only items Charlie hadn't managed to drag inside his
cell, but he had them hard up against the bars and had been clearly
examining them.


How long
will you have?

she asked, her eyes settling on the
small black metal oxygen tank sitting beside the bars.


Michelson
says, once the airlock opens, I've got five minutes max, but
there's nothing I can do about that.

For a moment,
Charlie looked forlorn but then he perked up, repeating his initial
admonition,

Look at the
helmet!

Five minutes. Her heart
sank and she struggled to breathe. Five minutes seemed so short,
too absurdly short to be a measurement of life. Five minutes was
all she had with him, and was all he'd get on the outside of the
silo. Her heart ached.

Susan picked up the helmet
trying to distract herself from the macabre thought of only having
five minutes to live. She was immediately surprised by its weight.
She'd expected the helmet to be quite light, but it was bulky and
heavy. A silver collar ran around the base of the white,
nondescript sphere, while the black visor was barely a few inches
high running in a strip in front of the eyes. Visibility would be
poor, she imagined, as the visor was narrow. Once the helmet was
on, you'd only be able to see directly in front, which explained
why the suit had numbered pockets. The suit technicians were trying
to make cleaning as easy as possible with such a restricted view,
but why not make the visor bigger?


Go
on,

he said.

Try it on for
size.

Ordinarily, she would have
relished the chance to try on something exotic like this, but this
was Charlie's death mask. She couldn't help but feel claustrophobic
slipping the helmet over her head. With the helmet resting on her
shoulders, the only light seeped in from around the
collar.


Why's it so
dark?

she asked, wondering if she had the helmet
facing the right way. For a second, she felt stupid, as though
she'd put the helmet on backwards, but as she lifted the clunky
sphere from her head and the light flooded in she caught a glimpse
of the black visor from within. She pulled the helmet off and
turned it around, examining the visor in more detail.


What do you
think?

Charlie asked.


I don't
understand,

she said.

How do you open
the visor so you can see?

Charlie was
silent.


Is it like a
welding mask, or something?

she
asked.


Or
something,

he replied with a knowing
smile.

Remember Xavier? Why did he need his reading
glasses?


I don't
know,

Susan confessed.

Charlie got up and jumped
back on the bed. He put his face up close to the
wall-screen.


Do you know
what amazes me about these wall-screens?

he
asked.

Susan shrugged her
shoulders.


Think about
the computer monitors you've seen in the porting stations. If you
get up close to those green screens all the letters are clunky. The
image is made up of tiny dots, and if you look closely you can see
each one individually.


So?

Susan said, not seeing the
connection.


But these
wall-screens,

Charlie continued.

They're different. They're much more advanced. Get up close
and you can see an astonishing amount of detail you missed from a
distance, and you still can't see any tiny dots building the bigger
picture. Ah, but when it comes to someone like Xavier who's
long-sighted and needs glasses to read, get up close and the
screen's a blur.

Susan was quiet.


I think I
know why everyone cleans,

Charlie said. He
paused, whether it was for dramatic effect or not, she didn't know,
but he certainly had her attention.

I don't think that
black strip is a visor at all. I think it's a tiny
wall-screen.


But
why?

Susan asked.

That doesn't make
any sense.


It does when
you think about it,

Charlie continued.

What do we want to see more than anything else in the
world.

That was
easy, thought Susan.

Blue skies and green
meadows.


Perhaps,

Charlie said.

Just
maybe, that's what we see when we clean.


Huh?

Susan replied, somewhat
perplexed.


Think about
Xavier. Think about how he reached down and grabbed at the dust. He
was trying to touch something, but what? There was nothing there.
What could he see that we couldn't see?


Think about
what he did after he cleaned. He stood there in front of the
camera, blocking our view, but why? What could he see that he
hadn't seen a thousand times before standing in the
cafeteria?


Think about
when he died. He was in no rush, no hurry. He wasn't afraid. He
should have been, but he wasn't. He was quite calm and content. He
just walked along taking in the view around him. Why? What did he
see? I think he saw what he wanted to see: blue skies and green
meadows. I think he saw what Hammond wanted him to see. I think
that's why the bastard doesn't even watch the cleanings anymore.
He's so sure they're going to take the bait, so cocky he feels he
doesn't need to watch. Well, I've got a surprise for that old
git.


Oh,
Charlie,

Susan said, feeling helpless. She could hear a
key scraping against the inside of the metal lock on the door
behind her.

Charlie rushed forward,
thrusting his hands between the bars and holding her tight, kissing
her passionately.


Time

s
up,

Deputy Michelson said. Another deputy followed him
into the holding area and grabbed at Susan, pulling her away from
Charlie.


I love
you,

she cried, trying to pull away from the
deputy.


I love you
too,

he yelled back as the door slammed shut behind
her.

The deputies were rough,
much rougher than she'd ever known them to be under Sheriff Cann.
They marched her out the door of the office and pushed her into the
open area in front of the cafeteria.

Mayor Johns was already
addressing the crowd.


... not a
popularity contest. Laws are to be upheld regardless of the
individual involved, as without the rule of law society would
collapse.


LIES,

Susan yelled, tears streaming from
her eyes. She went to yell again, to unleash her fury on the mayor
and Hammond when an arm grabbed her from behind, pulling her
backwards.


Don't you go
anywhere, Hammond,

she cried as she was pulled away
against her will.

Charlie won't do it.
He won't clean.


Let it
go,

the old sheriff said, pulling her close, not roughly,
but with a degree of force that snapped her out of her rage.

You know he wouldn't want this. You know he's doing this to
protect you. Don't follow him out of that
airlock.

Sheriff Cann had tears in
his eyes. He let her go and she threw her arms around him, hugging
him.


I don't know
what to do,

she said, sobbing.

I feel like I should do something to help
him.


There's
nothing you or I can do,

the old man said
with a weary voice, unable to look her in the eyes.

Another hand rested on her
shoulder. She turned and saw her mother and father standing beside
her. They too had tears in their eyes. She hugged each of them. In
the passion of the moment, she couldn't make out what the mayor was
saying over the loud speaker system. The old lady's words were just
a haze of noise and confusion.

Susan stood there just ten
feet away as Deputy Michelson led Charlie out of his cell and into
the airlock. Like Xavier, his hands were bound in front of him in
handcuffs, but unlike Xavier, he didn't cry out at the last minute.
Charlie carried himself with composed dignity. Their eyes met for a
second and she knew what was going through his mind. The sheriff
was right. She knew he loved her, and she knew he wanted her to
remain silent, which made it all the more difficult for her as she
sobbed.

Sheriff Cann had his arm
around Susan's back, while her mother stood next to her with her
hand over her shoulder. Her father stood behind her, resting his
hand on her other shoulder. Touch, it seemed, conveyed more than
words ever could.

After what seemed like an
eternity, the deputies stepped out of the airlock along with the
suit technician. The door to the lock closed with a loud metal
clang that reverberated through her like thunder. Deputy Michelson
spun the outer handle, sealing the airlock and the crowd went
silent.

Over the
speakers, the mayor repeated,

Everyone
cleans.

Susan stood wiping her
tears as she looked up at the wall-screen. Somewhere deep inside
the walls of the silo, pumps spun up to speed as pipes rattled. The
automated process was underway. Minutes passed like hours, and then
a helmet appeared, with the sun glistening off the slick, white
surface.

Charlie walked out into
view in his silver suit, moving slowly. Like Xavier, he reached
down, trying to touch something near the ground. His hand swayed
back and forth just inches from the dust as though he were running
his fingers over something soft.


No,

Susan whispered to herself.

Not you too, Charlie. Please, no.

BOOK: Shadows
5.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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