羊毛战记 part 4 the unraveling 46-凯发k8官网

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　　i dreamt my lady came and found me dead

　　juliette stood perfectly still and listened to the sound of footsteps retreating down the stairwell. shecould feel the vibrations in the railing. goose bumps rushed up her legs and down her arms. shewanted to call out, to yell for the person to stop, but the sudden surge of adrenaline made her chestfeel cold and empty. it was like a chill wind had forced itself deep into her lungs, crowding out hervoice. people were alive and in the silo with her. and they were running away.

　　she pushed away from the railing and dashed across the landing, hit the curved steps at a dead runand took them as fast as her legs could take her. a flight down, as the adrenaline subsided, she foundthe lungs to yell “stop!” but the sound of her bare feet on the metal stairs seemed to drown out hervoice. she could no longer hear the person running, dared not stop and listen for fear they would gettoo far ahead, but as she passed the doorway on thirty-two, she worried that they might slip insidesome level and get away. and if there were only a handful of them hiding in the vast silo, she mightnever find them. not if they didn’t want to be found.

　　somehow, this was more terrifying than anything else: that she might live the rest of her daysforaging and surviving in a dilapidated silo, talking to inanimate objects, while a group of people didthe same and stayed out of sight. it so stressed her that it took a while to consider the opposite: thatthis might instead be a group who would seek her out, and not have the best intentions.

　　they wouldn’t have the best intentions, but they would have her knife.

　　she stopped on thirty-two to listen, hands clamped to the railing. holding her breath to keep quietwas almost impossible—her lungs were crying out for deep gulps of air. but she remained still, thepulse in her palms beating against the cool railing, the distinct sound of footsteps still below her andlouder now. she was catching up! she took off again, emboldened, taking the steps three at a time,her body sideways as she danced down the stairs as she had in youth, one hand on the curving railing,the other held out in front of her for balance, the balls of her feet just barely touching a tread beforeshe was flying down to the next, concentrating lest she slip. a spill could be deadly at such speeds.

　　images of casts on arms and legs and stories of the unfortunate elderly with broken hips came tomind. still, she pushed her limits, positively flying. thirty-three went by in a blaze. half a spirallater, over her footfalls, she heard a door slam. she stopped and looked up. she leaned over therailing and peered down. the footfalls were gone, leaving just the sound of her panting for air.

　　juliette hurried down another rotation of the steps and checked the door on thirty-four. it wouldn’topen. it wasn’t locked, though. the handle clicked down and the door moved, but it caught onsomething. juliette tugged as hard as she could — but to no avail. she yanked again and heardsomething crack. with a foot braced on the other door, she tried a third time, yanking sharply,snapping her head back, pulling her arms toward her chest and kicking with her foot—something snapped. the door flew open, and she lost her grip on the handle. there was anexplosion of light from inside, a bright burst of illumination spilling out the door before it slammedshut again.

　　juliette scrambled across the landing and grabbed the handle again. she pulled the door open andstruggled to her feet. one broken half of a broomstick lay inside the hallway; the other half hungfrom the handle of the neighboring door. both stood out in the blinding light all around her. theoverhead lamps inside the room were fully lit, the bright rectangles in the ceiling marching down thehall and out of sight. juliette listened for footsteps but heard little more than the buzzing of the bulbs.

　　the turnstile ahead of her winked its red eye over and over, like it knew secrets but wouldn’t tell.

　　she got up and approached the machine, looked to the right where a glass wall peeked into aconference room, the lights full on in there as well. she hopped over the stile, the motion a habitalready, and called out another hello. her voice echoed back, but it sounded different in the lit air, ifthat were possible. there was life in here, electricity, other ears to hear her voice, which made theechoes somehow fainter.

　　she passed offices, peeking in each one to look for signs of life. the place was a mess. drawersdumped on the floor, metal filing cabinets tipped over, precious paper everywhere. one of the desksfaced her, and juliette could see that the computer was on, the screen full of green text. it felt asthough she’d entered a dream world. in two days—assuming she’d slept that long—her brain hadgradually acclimated to the pale-green glow of the emergency lights, had grown used to a life in thewilderness, a life without power. she still had the taste of brackish water on her tongue, and now shestrolled through a disheveled but otherwise normal workplace. she imagined the next shift (didoffices like these have shifts?) returning, laughing, from the stairwell, shuffling papers and rightingfurniture and getting back to work.

　　the thought of work had her wondering what they did here. she had never seen such a layout. shealmost forgot her flight down the stairs as she poked about, as curious about the rooms and power asthe footsteps that had brought her there. around a bend she came to a wide metal door that, unlike theothers, wouldn’t open. juliette heaved on it and felt it barely budge. she pressed her shoulder againstthe metal door and pushed it, a few inches at a time, until she could squeeze through. she had to stepover a tall metal filing cabinet that had been yanked down in front of the heavy door in an attempt tohold it closed.

　　the room was massive, at least as big as the generator room and far larger than the cafeteria. itwas full of tall pieces of furniture bigger than filing cabinets but with no drawers. instead, their frontswere covered with blinking lights, red, green, and amber.

　　juliette shuffled through paper that had spilled from the filing cabinet. and she realized, as she didso, that she couldn’t be alone in the room. someone had pulled the cabinet across the door, and theyhad to have done this from inside.

　　“hello?”

　　she passed through the rows of tall machines, for that’s what she figured they were. theyhummed with electricity, and now and then seemed to whir or clack like their innards were busy. shewondered if this was some sort of exotic power plant—providing the lighting perhaps? or did thesehave stacks of batteries inside? seeing all the cords and cables at the backs of the units had herleaning toward batteries. no wonder the lights were blaring. this was like twenty of mechanical’sbattery rooms combined.

　　“is anyone here?” she called out. “i mean you no harm.”

　　she worked her way through the room, listening for any movement, until she came across one ofthe machines with its door hinged open. peering inside, she saw not batteries but boards like the kindwalker was forever soldering. in fact, the guts of this machine looked eerily similar to the inside ofthe dispatch room’s computer—

　　juliette stepped back, realizing what these were. “the servers,” she whispered. she was in thissilo’s it. level thirty-four. of course.

　　there was a scraping sound near the far wall, the sound of metal sliding on metal. juliette ran inthat direction, darting between the tall units, wondering who the hell this was running from her andwhere they planned to hide.

　　she rounded the last row of servers to see a portion of the floor moving, a section of metal gratesliding to cover a hole. juliette dived for the floor, her tablecloth garb wrapping around her legs, herhands seizing the edge of the cover before it could close. right in front of her, she saw the knucklesand fingers of a man’s hands gripping the edge of the grate. there was a startled scream, a grunt ofeffort. juliette tried to yank back on the grate but had no leverage. one of the hands disappeared. aknife took its place, snicking against the grate, hunting for her fingers.

　　juliette swung her feet beneath her and sat up for leverage. she yanked on the grate and felt theknife bite into her finger as she did so.

　　she screamed. the man below her screamed. he emerged and held the knife between them, hishand shaking, the blade catching and reflecting the overhead lights. juliette tossed the metal hatchaway and clutched her hand, which was dripping blood.

　　“easy!” she said, scooting out of reach.

　　the man ducked his head down, then poked it back up. he looked past juliette as if others werecoming up behind her. she fought the urge to check—but decided to trust the silence just in case hewas trying to fool her.

　　“who are you?” she asked. she wrapped part of her garment around her hand to bandage it. shenoticed the man, his beard thick and unkempt, was wearing gray overalls. they could’ve been madein her silo, with just slight differences. he stared at her, his dark hair wild and hanging shaggy overhis face. he grunted, coughed into his hand, seemed prepared to duck down under the floor anddisappear.

　　“stay,” juliette said. “i mean you no harm.”

　　the man looked at her wounded hand and at the knife. juliette glanced down to see a thin trace ofblood snaking toward her elbow. the wound ached, but she’d had worse in her time as a mechanic.

　　“s-s-sorry,” the man muttered. he licked his mouth and swallowed. the knife was tremblinguncontrollably.

　　“my name’s jules,” she said, realizing this man was much more frightened of her than the otherway around. “what’s yours?”

　　he glanced at the knife blade held sideways between them, almost as if checking a mirror. heshook his head.

　　“no name,” he whispered, his voice a dry rasp. “no need.”

　　“are you alone?” she asked.

　　he shrugged. “solo,” he said. “years.” he looked up at her. “where did”—he licked his lipsagain, cleared his throat; his eyes watered and glinted in the light—“you come from? what level?”

　　“you’ve been by yourself for years?” juliette said in wonder. she couldn’t imagine. “i didn’tcome from any level,” she told him. “i came from another silo.” she enunciated this last softly andslowly, worried what this news might do to such a seemingly fragile man.

　　but solo nodded as if this made sense. it was not the reaction juliette had expected.

　　“the outside …” solo looked again at the knife. he reached out of the hole and set it on thegrating, slid it away from both of them. “is it safe?”

　　juliette shook her head. “no,” she said. “i had a suit. it wasn’t a far walk. but still, i shouldn’t bealive.”

　　solo bobbed his head. he looked up at her, wet tracks running from the corners of his eyes anddisappearing into his beard. “none of us should,” he said. “not a one.”