Nathan found himself catching Cyndi’s raised eyebrow and pained expression again. His wife was slightly less agnostic than Nathan, and would probably have described herself as a causal Christian, if such a person could exist, but even he could see how uncomfortable the regimented nature of this gathering was making her. She leaned across Dave and whispered, “As soon as it’s polite, I think we should just go, and head out. I think I’ve seen enough to tell me that however good this place is, it’s not for me or my kids.”
If Nathan had nodded his agreement any harder, his head might have detached from his body. It might be difficult to get Lucy on board with the idea of going straightaway, but if he and Freeson had to carry her out of the silo kicking and screaming then so be it. He had nothing against God, but he was sure that if he could sit down with the deity and ask Him or Her about it honestly, they’d say that regimented rows of boiler-suited supplicants weren’t what they’d had in mind when they’d set this whole universe thing up in the first place.
And then there was the sermon.
“Blessed are we, the Children of the Silo! The keepers of Calgary, and the only hope for the world in this time of the Devil’s Winter! We welcome all, but we take few, as you all know, and we have with us today some new blood to bring to the pool. They must, of course, be tested, and once they have been examined, there will be an offer made based on their bodies’ sufficient suitability for service. But looking at them already, I know they are strong and skilled and resourceful. Once the test has commenced, there will be scant few hours to wait!” Strickland, his voice loud, his mouth wide, and with spittle flying from his lips like it had in the picture from his Nazi-saluting youth, was the very image of that photograph from the screen.
As Nathan watched, the zeal and the fury of that youth showed itself there in the man. “Friends, we must not falter; we must not relax our standards. We must only allow God’s purest to join us here, and this has been our greatest strength and our most honorable duty. The pool will never be sullied. You are all testament to that desire. You are God’s chosen people. Everyone, let us pray!”
Nathan shivered at the subtext below what Strickland was saying. Not a wholly political creature by any stretch, he still knew the sound of corrosive tenets of supremacy and nationalism, however they might be dressed in the borrowed clothes of religion. As he remembered it, from what his daddy had told him as a child, Jesus kinda loved everyone.
No one was chosen more than anyone else, and all that ‘love thy neighbor and do unto others as you would have done to you’ stuff seemed seriously at odds with what Strickland was saying up on his dais. If he was trying to put Nathan’s mind at rest about Strickland now and Strickland twenty years ago being two separate people, he was doing a terrible job of it.
It was Cyndi, however, who snapped first. She got to her feet and, in a barely disguised sotto voce, said to Nathan and Dave, “Come on, I think we’ve heard enough, don’t you?”
“Yup,” Nathan said, definitely having reached the threshold for listening to this kind of thing. He wasn’t just disgusted by the attitudes being displayed, but also angry. The emotion was hot in his face and scalding his throat.
He stood up and began edging his way along the rows of chairs. Most of the boiler-suited figures moved their knees out of the way to let him past. He looked back to see if Cyndi and Dave were following. They were, their faces set.
“Please stay and listen to the rest of the sermon.” Michaela had seen what was happening in Nathan’s row, and had come out to stand at the end of the row. As Nathan edged out past the boiler-suited congregation, she smiled. Putting her hands on Nathan’s shoulders and looking into his eyes like a cheap hypnotist from a county fair, she repeated, “Please stay and listen to the rest of the sermon.”
“I’m afraid I’ve heard enough, and so have my wife and Dave. You’ve got a setup here that I’m sure works for you, but it sure doesn’t work for us.”
“That is such a shame, but please if you have to leave, leave quietly and we’ll discuss getting you back your things before you leave after the service.”
“Thank you,” Nathan said has he extricated himself from Michaela’s grip. He stood back as Dave and then Cyndi exited the row. Then they began to walk towards the elevator.
But whether it was the bright lights, or the smell of the air or the anger in his gut, Nathan took three steps and wavered. The room spun, his legs fully gave way, and the lid of the world clamped down before him, black and cold on his head. The last thing he heard was Cyndi scream his name.
Nathan awoke in blackness. His mouth was dry and tasted of dirt. He felt his face. His eyes were covered with cotton wool, held down by tape, and he started feeling around with his hands, using his nails to try to find an edge to the tape so that he could take it off.
“He’s awake,” a female voice he didn’t recognize said.
“Where am I?” Nathan asked as the strong hands of two people grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands down to his sides. He heard the rattling stutter of metal on metal as cuffs were closed tight against his skin.
Nathan tried to move his feet off what he supposed was a medical gurney, but the hands on both sides of him moved down his body and secured his feet in the same way as his wrists.
“I asked where I am! What’s going on?”
Nathan heard a click and a hum as something charged. At first, he thought it was a defibrillator, and a lance of panic speared through him. Was he having a heart attack? Was he dying? Why had he fallen unconscious—were they trying to save his life?
He rode the wave of fear for a few seconds before the feedback from his body told him his muscles were in working order, and the heartbeats thumping in his throat were as strong as ever.
Something cold was rubbed against both of his temples and then something that smelled of rubber was forced into his mouth. He spat it out.
“If you spit it out again, you’ll more than likely break all your teeth. Keep it in, Mr. Tolley,” said the female voice again, “this is for your own good and, when it’s done, we’ll explain everything to you.”
The rubber thing was fitted into his mouth again, and this time he left it there; everything was going crazy, and all he wanted to do was get out of this place, take the pads off of his eyes, and find his family.
The charging hum ceased and the woman’s voice asked another person in the room, “Ready?”
“Yes,” Michaela replied.
Nathan tensed at the voice, but dared not remove the rubber gag in his mouth. Something cold and metallic was being held against his temples then, and a second later, his head exploded with light.
21
Nathan bowed to the final Station of the Cross and knelt. Still unsteady on his feet, he rocked as he went down and had to put an arm out to steady himself. He still wasn’t 100 percent, but he was feeling better, and with God’s love and God’s grace, he would make a full recovery. He wished he could read his bible for longer stretches of time, too, but the headaches were still coming hard one after another. They made his head fuzzy, making it impossible to concentrate or work on the backup generator that had failed.
Nathan understood how important it was that the generator get back in working order soon; the three levels of redundancy had to be maintained now that Calgary was in full lockdown. If the interlopers managed to shut down any of the services maintaining a link to the outside world, those generators would be their only saving grace.
Praise be to Jesus. Praise be to the Pure.
Strickland put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder to help steady him as he rocked forward on his knees. “And how are you feeling today, Nathan?”
“A little shaky, sir, but on the mend.” Nathan’s voice sometimes sounded distant to him, as if it was being spoken by someone else. But he knew that was a silly notion, and possibly a symptom of his illness.
“And your treatment?”
“It’s really helping, sir. Michaela says she’s very impressed with m
y progress. I want to be up and ready to help out in any way I can as soon as I can. I hate not being useful.”
Strickland patted the top of Nathan’s head like he was dealing with a child. “And we want you to be past satisfactory, too, Nathan. But let’s not run before we can walk, yes? It’s important you finish all of your prescribed treatments and get back as strong and well as ever.”
“I hope so, sir.”
“Jesus knows it, Nathan. Jesus knows it and decrees it.”
“Praise be,” Nathan said with all the righteous passion he could muster. “Praise be.”
“In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Good for you, Nathan; now go about your business. Thank you for coming to see me. I’m very happy with your progress.”
Nathan couldn’t help smiling as he got to his feet and, still a little shakily and with stiff knees, walked across the chapel to the elevator. He felt wonderful, having come here to see Mr. Strickland and tell him how he was getting on. It was good to be up and about again, even if it exhausted him so, and especially now that the little work he did manage was light duties at best. Everyone else seemed to be working so hard, and when they weren’t working hard, they were praying hard, and Nathan couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about that.
Tomorrow, after treatment with Michaela, he would be able to do more.
By the grace of God. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
As Nathan got into the elevator, he pressed the control for floor three and composed in his head a small prayer.
God, bless Calgary, and all who live here.
God, bless especially Mr. Strickland and his beautiful wives, for leading us and treating us, and helping us share the beneficence of Your bounteous earth and waters.
Father, please bless the government in waiting, and give them the wisdom to bring the right people of America together as one; give them the wisdom to work out who the best of us are, and who then from the pool to breed and make the babies You need to populate Your army.
The elevator stopped and the doors hissed open onto the curved corridor. Nathan smiled at another boiler-suited figure who was waiting for the elevator to go down to the mess. Nathan believed the young man’s name was Ronald, but he still wasn’t very good at remembering names. His memory had been almost completely shot since the accident. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and that his expected recovery still had a ways to go before it was realized.
“Oh, there I go again, Mr. Forgetful!” he chided himself as he walked, “I’ve completely forgotten to finish my prayer. Forgive me, Lord. Where was I?”
God, bless the government in waiting with Your wisdom and Your greater knowledge.
Nathan reached the door of his apartment and opened it. The ten-by-ten cube was dim. Nathan liked the safety he felt within it when the door was closed. He had everything he needed, too—a bed, a washbasin, a closet, and a shelf on which he kept his bible, his spare clothes, and the photograph he had of Cyndi, Tony, and Brandon, which had been taken the day they had entered the silo.
And finally, Jesus, please bless by family now they are with You in death as they were in life. God, bless Cyndi and my boys. I know you will look after them now they are gone. I know it’s just Your plan working out, and the accident was just Your way of making sure only the right ones survived to live inside the silo.
Nathan smiled, blew a kiss to his dead wife and children, picked up his bible from the shelf, and sat down on the bed to read.
Nathan didn’t dream often. He awoke in the same fashion every day, with his heart swelling with love for the Lord and a fervent desire to follow His demands through the direction of Mr. Grange or his beautiful wives. They were all so wise and thoughtful. They always had a smile or a bright word for Nathan whenever he met them in the corridors, or in the plant room where Nathan spent much of his time after treatment with Michaela.
Today would be no exception to that routine.
He met Pamela on his way into the mess hall from the elevator, though, and felt concerned to see that her face was a mask of fury. She was speaking quickly and quietly into her walkie-talkie, and Nathan thought it was impolite for him to interrupt; plus, he didn’t really understand the words she was saying. She just looked angrier than he had seen her before. She even brushed by him without saying good morning.
Now that was very unusual indeed, he thought as he collected his breakfast of salty porridge and diluted orange juice concentrate.
There wasn’t the usual number of people in the mess hall this morning. It was easy to find a seat at a table, whereas usually the place would be so packed that Nathan might have to wait for a space to become free, which in turn mean that his porridge would be cold and his juice would be room temperature and not as refreshing as when it was nicely chilled.
Chilled.
Chilled.
It’s funny, Nathan thought, how much he appreciated some cold things like his morning orange juice. How the chill of it in his mouth, swilling around his teeth, made him… not nostalgic exactly, but pushed him to yearn for something other than the constant warmth and humidity and smell of the silo. Of course, he was grateful to have been given a home after the accident, but there was still… still…
Nathan shook his head and raised the recently acquired glass of orange juice to his lips. The coldness felt good on his lips and across his tongue. He smiled, savoring every moment.
He’d been told that the accident, of which he had no memory, had occurred when he’d been working on an electrical fault in the room he’d shared with Cyndi and Tony and the baby, Brandon.
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had killed everyone else, just leaving him barely alive with electrical burns to his feet and hands. But somehow, the metal bed on which his family had lain had become live, and they’d died before anyone had gotten a chance to turn off the power.
He himself, he’d been told by Michaela, had been unconscious, and shouldn’t worry that his family had suffered. They were with the Lord now, and were sitting at His side in Heaven. They were looking down on Nathan and they were smiling.
Nathan couldn’t help smiling broadly at this thought. Of course, the Lord was looking after his family, and one day, when the plan decreed—the Lord’s plan that they all followed through Strickland and the Calgary colony—Nathan would be able to join them in Heaven.
That was a day he looked forward to with immense pleasure. To sit with the Lord and Cyndi and Tony and Bran…
Nathan blinked.
Family f… family… f…
The headache again. It cut across his skull like a ragged and rusty knife through old flesh. He rubbed at his temple, felt the scarring there, and closed his eyes.
Michaela had said the headache could be neuralgia because Nathan insisted on drinking his orange juice when it was just freshly constituted with ice water.
“When that coldness hits your teeth, and stimulates the nerves in your face, you get a kind of ice cream headache,” she’d said on the occasions when he’d told her about it. Michaela was an excellent doctor, and Nathan had no need to doubt what she said. After all, the Lord’s plan had decreed that Michaela would be wise and kind and full of medical knowledge. Nathan knew that perhaps he should wait to drink his juice, but, man… he liked the cold…. he… missed the cold.
Family fir…
Nathan shook his head to free it of the errant words. The Devil would sometimes walk into his thoughts when he least expected it and try to turn his thinking in a different direction. Away from total devotion to the Lord and Mr. Grange. But Nathan had grown adept at just flushing the words out of his head, almost as soon as they had arrived.
Famil… NO.
After leaving the mess hall, Nathan made his way to the medical unit for his daily treatment. Treatment consisted now of a counseling session with Michaela, where he would talk about how he was feeling, how to be a better member of the community, and how to worship the Lord better through His representative on Earth,
Strickland Grange.
Occasionally, if he stumbled or was interrupted in his head by the Devil, then he would settle on the gurney and put the eye protectors on himself, slip the rubber gag into his mouth and wait calmly for Michaela and Frances, Michaela’s nurse in the medical unit, to administer the treatment.
It was painful, and Nathan felt drained and aching afterwards, but these days it was definitely happening less often. Nathan was no longer stumbling over his devotions on a regular basis.
That thought made him proud in the extreme.
Then he remembered that pride was a sin and said two prayers of contrition to rid himself of the feeling.
The door to the medical unit was locked.
That was odd.
Michaela would usually be there waiting for their morning appointment to commence, and the door would not only be unlocked, but usually ajar, and Nathan would just walk in unbidden.
Nathan hadn’t been told Michaela wouldn’t be there this morning, so perhaps she was inside; he knocked on the door and waited.
The floor for the medical unit was often a busy one, too. But, as with the mess, there were very few people about this morning. Nathan smiled at one, Graham, who was a janitor who dealt with general cleanliness around the silo. He doubled when needed, Nathan had been told, as one of the workers on the security team up at the entrance to the silo. Right now, he didn’t return Nathan’s smile.
Nathan shrugged. No matter.
He was probably busy and distracted. His face was very serious as he came by Nathan, though, and so Nathan vowed to seek Graham out later and make sure he was okay. He didn’t look very happy at all. Not a bit.
The door to the medical unit stayed steadfastly closed. Nathan wondered if his knock had been too gentle, so this time he rapped firmly on the aluminum fascia.
After the Shift: The Complete Series Page 47