羊毛战记 part 4 the unraveling 35-凯发k8官网

　　35

　　one, two, and the third in your bosom.

　　lukas held the small box tightly against his chest as he hiked up to the landing on thirty-eight. herewas a mixed-use level of offices, shops, a plastics factory, and one of the small water treatmentplants. he pushed through the doors and hurried down corridors quiet from the day’s cleaning untilhe reached the main pump control room. his it master key allowed him inside. the room housed atall and familiar computer cabinet from his tuesday maintenance schedule. lukas left the overheadlight off to keep the small window in the door darkened to passersby. he slid behind the tall serverrack and the wall, scooted to the ground, and fished his flashlight out of his overalls.

　　in the soft red glow of his night light, lukas gently peeled the flaps of the box apart, revealing thecontents inside.

　　the guilt was immediate. it punctured the anticipation, the thrill of discovery, of intimacy. itwasn’t guilt from defying his boss or lying to deputy marsh, nor of delaying the delivery of items hehad been told were important. it was the violation of her things. the reminder of her fate. here werejuliette’s remains. not her body, which was lost and gone, but the remnants of the life she had lived.

　　he took a heavy breath, considered closing the flaps and forgetting the contents, and then thoughtof what would become of them anyway. his friends in it would probably be the ones to paw throughthem. they would tear open the box and trade items like kids swapping candy. they would desecrateher.

　　he bent the flaps open further and decided to honor her instead.

　　he adjusted his light and saw a stack of silo vouchers on top, wrapped in a piece of wire. hepulled these out and flipped through them. they were vacation vouchers. dozens of them. he liftedthem to his nose and puzzled over the tangy scent of grease emanating from the box.

　　a few expired meal cards lay underneath these vouchers, the corner of an id badge poking out.

　　lukas reached for the badge, coded gold from her job as sheriff. he searched for another id amongthe various scattered cards, but it appeared it had not yet been replaced with whatever colormechanical used. there hadn’t been that much time between her being fired for one offense andbeing put to death for another.

　　he took a moment to study the picture on the badge. it looked recent, just as he remembered her.

　　her hair was tied back tight, leaving it flat on her head. he could see loose curls sticking out at eitherside of her neck and remembered the first night he had watched her work, how she had braided herlong hair herself while she sat alone in a pool of light, peering at page after page in those folders ofhers.

　　he ran his finger over the picture and laughed when he saw her expression. her forehead waswrinkled, her eyes narrowed, as if trying to determine what the photographer was attempting or whyin the heavens it was taking so long. he covered his mouth to prevent the laugh from becoming a sob.

　　the vouchers went back into the box, but the id slid into the breast pocket of his overalls as if byjuliette’s own stubborn accord. the next thing that caught his eye was a silver multi-tool, newlooking, a slightly different model from his own. he grabbed this and leaned forward to pull his owntool out of his back pocket. he compared the two, opening a few of the tools on hers and admiringthe smooth motion and neat click as each attachment locked into place. taking a moment to firstclean his, wiping his prints off and removing a bit of melted rubber wire casing, he switched thetools. he decided he would rather carry this reminder of her and have his own tool disappear intostorage or be pawned off to a stranger who wouldn’t appreciate—lukas froze at the sound of footsteps and laughter. he held his breath and waited for someone tocome in, for the overhead lights to burst on. the server clicked and whirred beside him. the noise inthe hallway receded, the laughter fading.

　　he was pushing his luck, he knew, but there was more in the box to see. he rummaged insideagain and found an ornate wooden box, a valuable antique. it was just slightly bigger than his palm,and he took a moment to figure out how to open it. the first thing he saw as the top slid away was aring, a woman’s wedding ring. it could’ve been solid gold, but it was difficult to tell. the red glowfrom his flashlight tended to wash out colors, causing everything to appear dull and lifeless.

　　he checked for an inscription but found none. it was a curious artifact, this ring. he was certainjuliette hadn’t been wearing it when he’d known her, and he wondered if it was a relative’s, or athing passed down from before the uprising. he placed it back in the wooden box and reached for theother item inside, a bracelet of some sort. no, not a bracelet. as he pulled it out, he saw that it was awatch, the face so tiny it melded with the design of the jeweled strap. lukas studied the face, andafter a moment he realized his eyes or the red flashlight were playing tricks on him. or were they? helooked closely to be sure—and saw that one of the impossibly thin hands was ticking away the time.

　　the thing worked.

　　before he could contemplate the challenge of concealing such an item or the consequences ofbeing discovered with it, lukas slid the watch into his chest pocket. he looked at the ring sittingalone in the box, and after a moment’s hesitation, palmed this and stashed it away as well. he fishedthrough the cardboard box and gathered some of the loose chits at the bottom and placed these intothe antique box before sealing it shut and returning it.

　　what was he doing? he could feel a trickle of sweat work its way from his scalp and run thelength of his jawline. the heat from the rear of the busy computer seemed to intensify. he dipped hishead and lifted his shoulder to dab the itchy run of sweat away. there was more in the box, and hecouldn’t help himself: he had to keep looking.

　　he found a small notepad and flipped through it. it contained one to-do list after another, all of theitems neatly crossed out. he replaced this and reached for a folded piece of paper at the bottom of thebox, then realized it was more than a piece. he pulled out a thick collection of papers held togetherwith brass fasteners. across the top, in handwriting similar to that in the notebook, was printed:

　　main generator control room operation manualhe flipped it open and found inscrutable diagrams and bulleted notes lining the margins. it lookedlike something she’d put together herself, either as a reminder from piecing the room’s operationtogether over time, or perhaps as a helpful guide for others. the paper was recycled without beingpulped, he saw. she had just written on the back. he flipped the manual over and checked the linesand lines of printed text on the opposite side. there were notes in the margins and a name circledover and over:

　　juliette. juliette. juliette.

　　he flipped the manual over and surveyed the rear, only to find it was the original front. “thetragic historye of romeus and juliette,” it said. it was a play. one lukas had heard of. in front ofhim, a fan kicked on in the heart of the server, blowing air over warm chips of silicon and wire. hewiped the sweat from his forehead and tucked the bound play back into the box. he neatly arrangedthe other items on top and folded the cardboard flaps together. wiggling back to his feet, lukasdoused his light and shoved it back into his pocket, where it nestled against juliette’s multi-tool. withthe box secured under one arm, he patted his chest with his other hand and felt her watch, her ring,and her id there with its picture of her. all tight against his torso.

　　lukas shook his head. he wondered what the hell he was thinking as he stole out the small anddark room, a tall panel of winking and blinking lights watching him go.