羊毛战记 part 4 the unraveling 49-凯发k8官网

　　49

　　if you had the strength of twenty men,

　　it would dispatch you straight.

　　the waiting beyond the stacks of supply was the worst. those who could napped. most engaged innervous banter. knox kept checking the time on the wall, picturing all the pieces moving throughoutthe silo. now that his people were armed, all he could hope for was a smooth and bloodless transferof power. he hoped they could get their answers, find out what had been going on in it—thosesecretive bastards—and maybe vindicate jules. but he knew bad things could happen.

　　he saw it on marck’s face, the way he kept looking at shirly. the worry there was evident in theman’s frown, the tilt of his eyebrows, the wrinkles above the bridge of his nose. knox’s shift leaderwasn’t hiding the concern for his wife as well as he probably thought he was.

　　knox pulled out his multi-tool and checked the blade. he flashed his teeth in the reflection to seeif anything from his last meal was stuck there. as he was putting it away, one of supply’s shadowsemerged from behind the stacks to let them know they had visitors.

　　“what color visitors?” shirly asked as the group gathered their guns and lurched to their feet.

　　the young girl pointed at knox. “blue. same as you.”

　　knox rubbed the girl’s head as he slipped between the shelving units. this was a good sign. therest of his people from mechanical were running ahead of schedule. he made his way to the counterwhile marck gathered the others, waking a few, the extra rifles clattering as they were gathered up.

　　as knox rounded the counter, he saw pieter enter through the front door, the two supply workersguarding the landing having allowed him past.

　　pieter smiled as he and knox clasped hands. members of pieter’s refinery crew filed in behind,their customary black overalls replaced with the more discreet blue.

　　“how goes it?” knox asked.

　　“the stairs sing with traffic,” pieter said. his chest swelled as he took in and held a deep breath,then blew it out. knox imagined the pace they’d maintained to shave off so much time.

　　“everyone’s under way?” he and pieter slid to the side while their two groups merged, membersof supply introducing themselves or embracing those they already knew.

　　“they are.” he nodded. “i’d give the last of them another half hour. though i fear the whispers onporters’ lips travel even faster than we do.” he looked toward the ceiling. “i’d wager they echo aboveour heads even now.”

　　“suspicions?” knox asked.

　　“oh, aye. we had a run-in by the lower market. people wanted to know the fuss. georgie gavethem lip, and i thought it’d come to blows.”

　　“god, and not in the mids yet.”

　　“aye. can’t help but think a smaller incursion would’ve had a greater chance of success.”

　　knox frowned, but he understood pieter’s thinking so. the man was used to doing a great dealwith only a handful of strong backs. but it was too late for them to argue over plans already in action.

　　“well, the blackouts have likely begun,” knox said. “there’s nothing to it but for us to chase themup.”

　　pieter nodded gravely. he looked around the room at the men and women arming themselves andrepacking their gear for another quick climb. “and i suppose we mean to bludgeon our way up.”

　　“our plan is to be heard,” knox said. “which means making some noise.”

　　pieter patted his boss on the arm. “well then, we are already winning.”

　　he left to pick out a gun and top up his canteen. knox joined marck and shirly by the door. thosewithout guns had armed themselves with fearsome shanks of flattened iron, the edges bright silverfrom the shrill work of the grinder. it was amazing to knox that they all knew, instinctively, how tobuild implements of pain. it was something even shadows knew how to do at a young age,knowledge somehow dredged up from the brutal depths of their imagination, this ability to deal harmto one another.

　　“are the others running behind?” marck asked knox.

　　“not too bad,” knox said. “more that these guys made good time. the rest’ll catch up. you guysready?”

　　shirly nodded. “let’s get moving,” she said.

　　“all right, then. onward and upward, as they say.” knox scanned the room and watched hismechanics meld with members of supply. more than a few faces were turned his way, waiting forsome sign, maybe another speech. but knox didn’t have another one in him. all he had was the fearthat he was leading good people to their slaughter, that the taboos were falling in some runawaycascade, and it was all happening much too quickly. once guns were made, who would unmakethem? barrels rested on shoulders and bristled like pincushions above the crowd. there were things,like spoken ideas, that were almost impossible to take back. and he reckoned his people were aboutto make many more of them.

　　“on me,” he growled, and the chatter began to die down. packs rustled into place, pocketsjangling with danger. “on me,” he said again to the quieting room, and his soldiers began to form upin columns. knox turned to the door, thinking this was certainly all on him. he made sure his riflewas covered, tucked it under his arm, and squeezed shirly’s shoulder as she pulled the door open forhim.

　　outside, two workers from supply stood by the railing. they had been turning the sparse trafficaway with a made-up power outage. with the doors open, bright light and the noise of supply’smachinery leaked out into the stairwell, and knox saw what pieter meant by whispers travelingswifter than feet. he adjusted his pack of supplies—the tools, candles, and flashlights that made itseem as if he were marching to aid rather than war. beneath this beguiling layer were secreted morebullets and an extra bomb, bandages and pain salve for just in case. his rifle was wrapped in a strip ofcloth and remained tucked under his arm. knowing what it was, he found the concealment ridiculous.

　　looking at the others marching with him, some in welding smocks, some holding constructionhelmets, he saw their intentions were all too obvious.

　　they left the landing and the light spilling from supply behind and began their climb. several ofhis people from mechanical had changed into yellow overalls, the better to blend in the mids. theymoved noisily up the dimmed nighttime glow of the stairwell, the shiver of traffic from below givingknox hope that the rest of his people would be catching up soon. he felt sorry for their weary legsbut reminded himself that they were traveling light.

　　he tried his damnedest to picture the coming morning as positively as he could. perhaps the clashwould conclude before any more of his people arrived. maybe they would end up being nothing morethan a wave of supporters coming to join in the celebrations. knox and mclain would have alreadyentered the forbidden levels of it, would have yanked the cover off the inscrutable machinery inside,exposing those evil whirring cogs once and for all.

　　they made good progress while knox dreamed of a smooth overthrow. they passed one landingwhere a group of women were hanging laundry over the metal railing to dry. the women spottedknox and his people in their blue overalls and complained of the power outages. several of hisworkers stopped to hand out supplies and to spread lies. it wasn’t until after they had left and hadwound their way up to the next level that knox saw the cloth had come unwrapped from marck’sbarrel. he pointed this out and it was fixed before the next landing.

　　the climb turned into a silent, grueling ordeal. knox let others take the lead while he slid backand checked on the status of his people. even those in supply, he considered his responsibility. theirlives were hanging in the balance of decisions he’d made. it was just as walker had said, that crazyfool. this was it. an uprising, just like the fables of their youth. and knox suddenly felt a direkinship with those old ghosts, those ancestors of myth and lore. men and women had done this before—maybe for different reasons, with a less noble anger caught in their throats, but somewhen, onsome level, there had been a march like this. similar boots on the same treads. maybe some of thesame boots, just with new soles. all with the jangle of mean machines in hands not afraid to usethem.

　　it startled knox, this sudden link to a mysterious past. and it wasn’t that terribly long ago, was it?

　　less than two hundred years? he imagined, if someone lived as long as jahns had, or mclain for thatmatter, that three long lives could span that distance. three handshakes to go from that uprising tothis one. and what of the years between? that long peace sandwiched between two wars?

　　knox lifted his boots from one step to another, thinking over these things. had he become the badpeople he’d learned about in youth? or had he been lied to? it hurt his head to co