Shadows (8 page)

Read Shadows Online

Authors: Peter Cawdron

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

BOOK: Shadows
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A few pages
over, Susan found herself looking at wisps of vapor drifting in the
pitch black of space. The array of colors was breathtaking to
behold, a beautiful tapestry of reds and blues, yellows and greens
slowly blending with each other. The caption said something about
Orion, but like so many other words she

d seen, the
term was meaningless. She wondered if she would ever see something
so beautiful with her own eyes.

The book called this
ethereal cloud a nebula and said it spanned twenty-four light
years, which was something that gave Susan a glimpse into how
radically language had changed. She understood each of the
components, twenty-four, light and years, but she had no idea what
these words meant when run together. How could a year be a
measurement of distance rather than time? And what did light have
to do with a year?

In the back of her mind,
something was wrong, something ate away at her thinking, but she
couldn't quite articulate what. After reading for what must have
been a couple of hours the disconnect finally
registered.


I don't
understand,

she confessed, taking her hair band
off and fiddling with it nervously.

Why keep this
secret? Secrets are to protect something. There's nothing here to
protect, only something beautiful to share.

Charlie
smiled, looking up from his book as he said,

I don't
know. Maybe they figure if we knew what we lost it would be too
much for us?

He opened
another book and flicked through a few pages. Resting it before
her, he pointed at an image, saying,

Recognize this? This
is a book on anatomy and medical practices.

He was pointing at an image
of a knee brace. It looked far more refined and purpose-built than
the one he'd made for Sheriff Cann, but the likeness was
unmistakable.


Who have you
told?

she asked.


No
one,

Charlie replied.

Well, no one other
than you. Doc Winters thinks I'm a genius. Truth is, I realized how
this knowledge could help. Barney doesn't like me tinkering. He
thinks if Hammond finds out there will be hell to pay, so I play it
cool. Just the odd innovation here and there, something to make
people's lives easier.

Susan shook her head, still
playing with her hand band.


This is
wrong. This is so wrong.


What?

Charlie asked in surprise.

I thought you'd like this place?


I love
it,

Susan confessed.

But if all this has
been hidden then it's been hidden for generations, for hundreds and
hundreds of years.

Charlie didn't seem to get
her point.


If they've
kept this hidden from everyone, for all time, you have to ask what
will they do when find out that you know?


Barney knows
too,

Charlie replied.


I can't
believe how na
ï
ve you
are,

Susan replied, somewhat exasperated.

If they're showing him, they're grooming him to be a
keeper, someone that will bury this knowledge for another hundred
years.


Not
Barney,

Charlie replied, shaking his head.

Susan looked him in the
eye. In that moment, she could see the reality of their position
sinking in to his thinking.


So what are
you saying?

Charlie asked.

Do you
want me to bury this? Would you have me ignore all this? Think of
how this could change our lives, of how it could revolutionize the
silo.


Revolutions
cost lives,

Susan said coldly, and Charlie
stopped talking.

Susan got up
and rested her hands on his shoulders, saying,

You're
good man, Charlie. You're a great man, but that's the problem. This
is not a world for great men. It's a world for those that are
content to make do without progress.

She sighed,
saying,

We have to walk away.


I can't do
that,

Charlie confessed, shrugging his shoulders. His
eyes cast down at his boots as he continued sheepishly,
saying,

I can't turn my back on all this. I can't
pretend this doesn't exist.

Susan
breathed deeply saying,

Then we need to
think very carefully about what happens next.

Charlie didn't respond
verbally. He simply nodded, putting his book back on the shelf.
Susan put her book back as well. There was an unspoken agreement
between them that it was time to leave.

Susan flicked her hair
behind her ears, forgetting about her hair-band as Charlie turned
off the lights. In the back of her mind she was vaguely aware
something familiar was missing, but she was so distracted by the
revelation of all she'd seen that she left her hair-band sitting in
the middle of the desk.

Chapter 05: Flying

 

Susan slept late. Her
mother woke her shortly after seven before she headed out to the
farms. Susan was tired and sore. She'd pushed herself a little too
hard on the stairs, trying to redeem time in the early hours of the
morning. Grabbing an apple on the run for breakfast, she scooted
down to the porter's office on level ten, arriving as the first
wave of porters was departing on their assignments for the day. Her
caster was waiting impatiently inside the office.


Not Down
Deep,

Susan whispered to herself as she walked in the
office, wrapping her

kerchief around her
neck, signaling she was ready to port.

Please, not
Down Deep.

Porting to and from the
Down Deep meant heading below level 120. It could be done within a
day, but only for letters and light supplies. Anything of any
weight would take a couple of days to port back to the Uppers and
she didn't want to be away for more than a day. She was worried
about Charlie. She needed some time to collect her thoughts, and
the stairs would give her that, but she also felt the two of them
needed to continue their conversation where they left off the night
before. The monotonous, rhythmic thump of boots on metal had a way
of dulling worries, giving her time and space to think, but she
knew they couldn't replace the need to talk with Charlie about how
anxious she felt about that hidden room.

Lisa was Susan's caster.
She was a seasoned vet, having ported throughout the silo for over
thirty years. She had survived a futile attempt by the Mid levels
to take over the silo, and had a scar running down the side of her
face for her troubles. The scar was old, barely visible, just a
blemish running in a crooked line from her right temple, beside her
eye, down past the corner of her mouth to her chin. Susan never
asked her about it. She figured Lisa would tell her the story
behind that scar if and when she was ready. Susan had been no more
than five when the riot broke out. She had vague memories of smoke
and cries for help, but had been spared seeing the bodies.
Sometimes, Lisa would talk about the attack while on a long haul,
but only ever in general terms. She never spoke about her own role
in the uprising on one side or the other. Susan figured her
references to the unrest were her way of killing time, passing
knowledge along, making sure the next generation was warned, but
she also realized that the mental scars ran deeper than the marred
skin on her face.


Bout time
you got here, sleeping beauty,

Lisa quipped,
pulling her dark hair back into a pony tail. She gestured to
Susan's unkempt hair, adding,

Have you got a
hair-tie or a hair-band?


Ah,

Susan replied, not sure where she'd
left the hair-band. She didn't remember seeing it by her bed this
morning.


No
matter,

Lisa said.

I've got a spare
hair-tie. That'll do yah. You're gonna need it
today.

Susan accepted the
hair-tie, swirling her hair around and pulling it back into a pony
tail.


Down
Deep?

she asked.


Yep.

Susan wanted to swear, but
she kept he thoughts to herself. Serves her right, she figured,
last ones in always got the shitty jobs.


What's the
assignment?

she asked.


Heavy down,
light up,

Lisa replied.


Yes,

Susan said, unable to hide her
delight. They could do this in a day.


You got
yourself a date tonight?

Lisa asked.

Nice romantic romp through the garments?

Susan was
surprised by how transparent she was to her caster. She didn't have
anything planned, but she had to see Charlie again tonight. She
felt compelled to bring her discussion about him to a close, so she
sheepishly said,

Yeah, something like
that.


We're
hauling hydroponic pumps down for refit, and have a couple of parts
to bring back up, so we best get going.

The pumps had already been
loaded into porting packs. Damn, they were heavy, she thought,
bending with her knees and working the pack on before standing up
straight and leaning against the wall as she waited for Lisa to
complete some paperwork. Susan regretted not having something more
substantial for breakfast. She was going to burn some serious
calories today.

They set off at a good
pace. Going down the stairs with a heavy weight was all about
timing, getting the rhythm of the steps just right so as to expend
the least amount of energy. The trick was to move in such a way as
to avoid the pack bouncing around too much, as that would wear her
out quickly and leave her with blisters beneath the shoulder
straps. Within twenty floors, Susan was beginning to feel a burn in
her calf muscles.

Lisa was a great caster.
She could read her shadow. Even though Susan hadn't complained,
there must have been some subtle signs in her breathing or her
focus that told Lisa she was struggling.


Let's take a
break in five,

she said. It was an old porter's
trick, and Susan knew it, but it worked nonetheless. Susan
understood precisely what Lisa was doing, pushing her on a little
further, making sure they made some good time, while also giving
her a goal, the opportunity to countdown to a rest stop five levels
further on. It worked, that slight change of focus allowed Susan to
push through the ache and keep going.

Neither of the women had
said much during the descent, but stopping on the landing of level
thirty five, just above IT, gave them a chance to unwind and
chat.


You should
have seen those boys scurrying for the Mid
packages,

Lisa said, wiping her brow with her

kerchief.

They took one look
at these pumps and their destination and they couldn't get out the
door fast enough.


Hah,

Susan replied. Sitting down and
leaning up against the outer wall of the landing, watching as
people walked up and down the stairs passing just in front of
them.


It's tough
gig,

Lisa continued.

But we'll get good
chits for this. Thirty down and thirty back.


Sixty
chits!

Susan said in surprise.

I can
understand the thirty down, but I thought you said we had a light
haul going back, just letters and stuff?


We
do,

Lisa replied.

There's a bunch of
letters, for just a few chits, and a package for the dirt farms
that someone's paying handsomely to express.


What would
the dirt farms need from the Down Deep?

Susan asked,
even though she had a fair idea Charlie was behind this.

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