Frozen World (Book 2): Silo [Hope's Return]

by Falconer, Jay J.

  “Shit, I knew it,” Dice mumbled.

  Fletcher took the paper from the Nomad and unfolded it. His eyes lingered on the contents for a few moments, then he looked at Dice. “Looks like it’s underground.”

  “Then Frost was right,” Dice said.

  “For once,” Fletcher replied.

  “An old missile silo,” the Nomad said.

  “How heavy is their security?” Fletcher asked

  “Virtually none.”

  Fletcher held out his hand to the masked man. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  The Nomad ignored him and instead turned and walked to the fuel truck, his swords jostling in their sheaths along his sides.

  The driver tossed him the keys as he cruised by.

  The Nomad snatched them in mid-air, then climbed into the truck, started it, and drove away, taking the same route he’d used on the way in.

  Dice looked at Fletcher. “I thought for sure he was going to inspect the drum.”

  “So did I, especially with all the tension today. Why did you push him like that?”

  “Not sure, but something was off—I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He seemed different somehow.”

  Fletcher nodded. “I got that feeling, too.”

  “Maybe he felt something was off about us, too. That’s why he was acting different. Some kind of sixth sense.”

  “Could be.”

  “Either way, he’s eventually going to figure it out.”

  “By then, it’ll be too late.”

  “I hope you’re right, boss. Because men like him always come looking for revenge. It’s that honor thing getting in the way.”

  “Of course he will, and we’ll be ready,” Fletcher said, whistling to his men. “Let’s roll out!”

  CHAPTER 25

  Summer leaned back in the chair in Edison’s office and put her arms behind her head. She closed her eyes and drew in a quick, massive round of air and let it out just as fast, wondering if anyone else would have had the same level of anxiety she had if they were sitting in this spot instead of her, pretending to be the leader. One who’d just taken the reins with zero credibility or experience.

  It was one thing to be able to sit in Edison’s space and not have her chest crushed by another round of heartache after all the bloodshed and death.

  But attempting to fake it till she made it? How did she do that when she had no clue how to even fake it?

  None of her new reality made sense and yet, here she was—in his office, tasked as the person in charge of Nirvana.

  So far, she thought she’d kept it all under control—well mostly, but of course it was all a lie. Everyone, including her, knew that she was inadequate to take Edison’s place.

  If only her trepidation ended there. Everything around her reminded her of Stuart. Not just visually, which was to be expected. What she found odd was that she could smell him—everywhere. Even on the desk in front of her and the walls.

  Sure, it was old man stink that had been sprayed with layers of humidity and wrapped inside a thick, moldy blanket.

  By themselves, some might consider these fragrances disgusting, but they weren’t to her and she knew why—the strange mixture was Edison. Perfectly so.

  Even unpleasant smells have memories attached to them. And everywhere she looked, that’s what she saw and felt—memories—fond memories—all of them flooding into her mind, each one attached to a unique aroma.

  She took a moment to search her memories, but couldn’t remember a time when she’d noticed his scent before. It must have been as prevalent back then as she thought it was right now. If that were true, then why couldn’t she remember any of those aromas?

  Perhaps it was a death thing. Something about once you leave the Earth, your stink takes over in your stead.

  She thought about that idea for another minute, then flushed the theory away as stupidity. She scoffed, figuring her mind was running with lunacy, all brought forth as some form of a coping mechanism. Perhaps done to help offset the pain she was trying to bury.

  Then there was his workspace.

  It was hers now and she needed to do something with the mess before the reclamation team showed up to do their sweep and clear thing. She’d held them off so far, but eventually someone would notice and start questioning her motives.

  Her mind switched to a new question. One she’d never thought of before.

  How do you clear out a lifetime of someone else’s work with nothing more than a bunch of empty boxes and a broom?

  Is that all there is to one’s life at the end—a pile of meaningless paperwork and a collection of junk that someone else has to callously pack up and haul away?

  It was a depressing thought, but one she was sure that many had asked before her. Some might have found solace in the process, or closure, but she found it distressing.

  Out of tragedy comes hope was one of Edison’s favorite sayings. She wasn’t sure if any of that was true, more so now as she brought her eyes down and took yet another glance around the room.

  All she could hear was the rumbling hum of the air circulation system and her own heartbeat, thumping in rhythm with the passage of time.

  She was certain Edison thought he had more time. Frost probably did, too. Morse, not so much, but regardless, everyone usually does. It’s part of pushing ahead into the unknown, trying to accomplish something positive for the day.

  Summer decided to shift her focus to the page of notepaper on the desk. The first sentence had been easy for her to write, the pen scribing it with ease. Then again, all it said was “Welcome, citizens of Nirvana.”

  That was an hour ago, shortly after Krista had banished her from public duty until she’d completed her speech.

  Summer could have argued at the time, but chose not to—her second-in-command was correct. A public address needed to get done and for that to happen, she needed to separate herself from everything else going on in the silo.

  Before her next thought arrived, three knocks came from the door and then she heard a sharp, single bark. Her eyes beamed at the entrance. “Sergeant Barkley?”

  “Someone wants to see you,” a female voice said from the other side of the door.

  Summer recognized the voice. “Come in, Krista. It’s not locked.”

  The door opened and the Security Chief walked in, holding a paracord leash that was attached to her new four-legged friend.

  Summer smiled, seeing the firm, crisp wag of the dog’s tail. Plus, his eyes looked much more alive than before.

  “I think someone missed you,” Krista said, letting go of the homemade restraint.

  The dog strolled forward, still hampered by a limp, but the pace of his paws had improved since she’d last seen him.

  He cruised around the left edge of the desk and came straight at her. Summer put her knees together before the canine landed his wet snout on top of her lap.

  She rubbed him enthusiastically. “You’re looking better, aren’t you, boy?”

  “He does seem to be improving, believe it or not.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty special, isn’t he?”

  “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

  “With his healing or that he hasn’t bitten you yet?”

  Krista grinned. “Both. I wasn’t sure at first, but he seems to be adjusting to life here quite nicely.”

  “He just needed someone to love him,” Summer said, running her hands down his back and up again. It was at that moment when she realized he didn’t smell awful and his fur was fluffy. “Who gave him a bath?”

  “Liz and I did,” Krista said, reaching behind her back. She lifted the tail of her shirt before bringing her hand out front again. “Right after I found this.” She held up a rainbow-colored notebook.

  “Holy shit! You found it?” Summer snapped, scooting the mutt out of the way as she jumped to her feet. “Where?”

  “A member of the reclamation team had it in his quarters.”

  “Tha
nk God it wasn’t incinerated,” Summer said, arriving at Krista’s position in a heartbeat. She pinched her forehead as a million questions burned inside. Then, a second later, one popped to the top of the list, making her feel more like a leader than a moment ago. “That’s not standard procedure. He shouldn’t have taken it.”

  “And he’s been written up for it.”

  “Why he’d do it?”

  “He couldn’t answer that question. Not to my satisfaction.”

  Summer shrugged, pressing her lips together out of habit. “Maybe he just wanted a memento.”

  “That’s still no excuse. Especially when it belonged to a man who just died of a horrible disease,” Krista answered, holding out the notebook.

  Summer went to grab it, but pulled her hand back. “Is it contagious?”

  “If it was, it’s not anymore.”

  Summer shook her head when the words didn’t resonate. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means Liz treated it with a strong antibacterial. She says it’s as clean as it’s going to be.”

  “That doesn’t sound very safe. Maybe we should just burn it?”

  “I thought of that, but since it’s already made the rounds from the tech’s quarters to the infirmary and now here, it’s kind of too late for that.”

  “Is that what Liz said?” Summer asked after a pause.

  “Liz said to give it to you,” Krista answered, shaking the notebook. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Summer took it. When she opened it, she found pages and pages of handwritten notes and diagrams, none of which she understood. At least his notes weren’t written in cursive like the letter he’d left for her. “What does all this mean?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t speak geek.”

  “Liz does.”

  “She said microbiology isn’t her thing.”

  “So that’s what this is? Microbiology?”

  “Apparently Morse was worried about something in our wastewater that he called ravenous antibiotic eaters. That’s all Liz could figure out.”

  “Really? I thought doctors had to know this stuff.”

  “So did I, but she said they had specialists for all that back in the day. You know, labs full of geeks who got hard-ons from all this bug stuff.”

  “Sounds like bugs eating bugs to me,” Summer quipped after scanning another page of notes. She closed the journal and held it up. “Then this is basically useless?”

  Krista shrugged. “Unless you know someone else who speaks geek.”

  Summer nodded, running through the facts in her head. Then she remembered something she’d thought about earlier. “What about Lipton?”

  “I was wondering if that asshole’s name was going to come up.”

  “He seems to think he knows everything about everything.”

  “In my experience, that’s usually a sign that he’s just a fraud. You know the type. Some guy who’s pretending to be smarter than he really is, because he has a microscopically small pecker.”

  Summer laughed. “Or he’s one of those geeks who gets wood when he discovers something new. A tiny, insignificant amount of wood. Like a splinter or something.”

  Krista snickered for a bit before her face turned serious again. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask him.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Summer said, giving the notebook back to Krista.

  “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  Summer walked back to Edison’s desk and took her seat in his chair, resuming her scrub of the dog’s fluffiness.

  Krista pointed at the paper on the desk. “How’s the speech coming along?”

  Summer snatched the paper and held it up, turning it to face Krista. “It’s not.”

  “Writer’s block?”

  “It’s more like leadership block. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.”

  “Want some help?”

  Summer nodded, hoping that Krista would offer. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Absolutely,” Krista said, grabbing one of the extra chairs in the office and pulling it around the desk.

  Summer snapped her fingers at Sergeant Barkley, then pointed at the corner.

  The dog followed her command and moved out of the way, lying in the spot she’d indicated.

  Krista sat down and scooted in next to Summer, putting Morse’s notebook on the desk next to the stand-up picture frame.

  Summer’s eyes went to the photo of June as well. She scoffed after a flood of new feelings entered her body. Even though they came out of nowhere, they felt as though they’d been there the whole time. “What do you think Stuart and June would think right about now?”

  “About us sitting here? Working together?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. They’d both say it’s about fucking time.”

  Summer paused, letting the phrase Krista had used sink in. Her mind went back in time, seeing June standing next to her, showing her how to make one of her homemade trinkets. “I really can’t imagine June would ever cuss. Or Stuart, either.”

  “Yeah, probably not, but then again, who knows? There are times when you need to really make a point.”

  Summer nodded. “Fuck yeah.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Dice pulled the truck to the side of the mountain road and put the vehicle into park. He depressed the parking brake to keep the vehicle stationary on the steep grade, hearing at least a dozen clicks as the mechanism engaged.

  The cliff to the right was imposing, but unless the majority of the embankment gave way in the next half-hour, he figured the spot he’d picked was safe.

  He nodded in silence at Sketch sitting across from him in the passenger seat, before knocking on the back wall of the cab, using three raps. “All right boys, this is it.”

  Sketch put his pad of paper down on the seat, giving Dice a view of the artwork he’d been doodling. It was a head and shoulders portrait of a young girl with unruly, jet-black hair and a petite nose. Her jawline had a touch of fierceness to it, as did her eyes, even though she looked thin overall.

  He wouldn’t classify her as pretty, but she did have that girl next door look. Cute would have been one term that fit. Doable after a six-pack would have been another.

  Dice let his eyes linger for another second, getting the sense that he knew her face, but he couldn’t place it. His friend was a terrific artist, but sometimes the man’s perception was off, almost as though Sketch had re-envisioned what the subject should have looked like, not as they appeared in the wild.

  Sketch tucked the pencil under the edge of the pad, then swung his hand around to latch onto the door handle. They both opened their respective doors and got out of the truck, moving toward the rear of the vehicle.

  The trees lining the mountainside seemed to be making a comeback, their leaves halfway into their sprout, offering a touch of greenery to the area. If he remembered correctly, Dice hadn’t been to this location in at least a year. A lot had changed since then, with the sun beginning to break through the endless winter skies.

  He wondered if the majestic oaks had waited with purpose to start their bloom, needing to make sure the newfound sunshine was not a random event.

  If he were a tree, that’s what he would have done. The last ten years hadn’t been kind, leaving all survivors to wonder if the budding signs of progress were permanent or simply a ruse, designed to torture those who witnessed them.

  He knew as well as anyone that Mother Nature had a wicked sense of humor, more so since the string of volcanos down south had taken down the planet. He’d only heard bits and pieces about the backstory, leaving him to wonder if the apocalypse was actually manmade or not. It seemed like a stretch.

  Then again, he’d been known to climb down the rabbit hole on occasion, chasing the latest government conspiracy. Of course, that was before The Event, usually after reading a controversial post on one of his favorite blogs.

  Those articles were a welcome break from the nightly grind at t
he casino. Some might have thought the long line of chicks he’d banged were the diversion, but in truth, it was his reading that became the escape.

  Dice met Sketch at the rear of the truck, taking a command position in front of the eight-member team of the new hunting party. The squad looked ready, their heads covered in helmets and chests carrying tactical rigs stuffed with extra mags.

  “Okay, men. Today is the first day of training. Game is known to be in the area, but it’s limited. You’ll have to search high and low for it. It won’t be easy, but if you make it through this course, you’ll be part of our prestigious backup unit, filling in for the primary when they’re tasked to provide support for our new leader.”

  Dice hesitated, taking a read on the men standing before him. Everyone appeared to be on the same page, their eyes attentive and focused. “To cover more ground, you’ll break into two teams of four. But check your sightlines, gentlemen. We don’t need any incidents of friendly fire today. We’re short-staffed enough as it is. Any questions?”

  Nobody made a sound, each man looking alert and ready to peel out.

  Dice motioned to the men on the right, who were already standing in a makeshift group, their rifles at the ready. “You four are Alpha Team. Take the east side.” He pointed at an outcrop of rock, maybe three hundred yards up the hill. The protrusion appeared to be made of blue granite, its size impressive. “Work your way around that ridge and meet us at the summit in two hours.”

  “Roger that,” one of the men said, adjusting his rucksack by the straps.

  Dice peered at the other four. “Beta Team, you take west. I want you to cover the area by the old mine, about half a click up. Then meet us at the rally point. Whichever team takes down the most kills will be deemed the champions of this exercise. Extra points will be awarded for head shots, so aim small, shoot small.”

  Heads nodded and equipment rattled, but nobody said a word in response.

  Dice continued. “Be sure to salt the meat after each kill. Each of you has a supply in your pack, so use it. We can’t afford to waste anything today. Understood?”

  “Yes, boss,” another man said.