羊毛战记 part 5 the stranded 81-凯发k8官网

　　81

　　• silo 18 •

　　awareness, like sporadic jolts of pain from her burns, came and went.

　　juliette remembered a billowing fog, boots stomping all around her, lying on her side in the ovenof an airlock. she watched the way the world warped out of shape as her helmet, a viscous thing,continued to sag toward her, melting. a bright silver star hovered in her vision, waving as it settledbeyond her dome. peter billings peered through her helmet at her, shook her scalded shoulders, criedout to the people marching around, telling them to help.

　　they lifted her up and out of that steaming place, sweat dripping from faces, a melted suit cutfrom her body.

　　juliette floated through her old office like a ghost. flat on her back, the squeal of a fussy wheelbelow her, past the rows and rows of steel bars, an empty bench in an empty cell.

　　they carried her in circles.

　　down.

　　she woke to the beeping of her heart, these machines checking in on her, a man dressed like herfather.

　　he was the first to notice that she was awake. his eyebrows lifted, a smile, a nod to someone overher shoulder.

　　and lukas was there, his face—so familiar, so strange—was in her blurry vision. she felt hishand in hers. she knew that hand had been there awhile, that he had been there awhile. he was cryingand laughing, brushing her cheek. jules wanted to know what was so funny. what was so sad. he justshook his head as she drifted back to sleep.

　　••••

　　it wasn’t just that the burns were bad; it was that they were everywhere.

　　the days of recovery were spent sliding in and out of painkiller fogs.

　　every time she saw lukas, she apologized. everyone was making a fuss. peter came. there werepiles of notes from down deep, but nobody was allowed up. nobody else could see her but the mandressed like her father and women who reminded her of her mother.

　　••••

　　her head cleared quickly once they let it.

　　juliette came out of what felt like a deep dream, weeks of haze, nightmares of drowning andburning, of being outside, of dozens of silos just like hers. the drugs had kept the pain at bay—buthad dulled her consciousness, too. she didn’t mind the stings and aches if it meant winning back hermind. it was an easy trade.

　　“hey.”

　　she flopped her head to the side—and lukas was there. was he ever not? a blanket fell from hischest as he leaned forward, held her hand. he smiled.

　　“you’re looking better.”

　　juliette licked her lips. her mouth was dry.

　　“where am i?”

　　“the infirmary on thirty-three. just take it easy. do you want me to get you anything?”

　　she shook her head. it felt amazing to be able to move, to respond to words. she tried to squeezehis hand.

　　“i’m sore,” she said weakly.

　　lukas laughed. he looked relieved to hear this. “i bet.”

　　she blinked and looked at him. “there’s an infirmary on thirty-three?” his words were on a delay.

　　he nodded gravely. “i’m sorry, but it’s the best in the silo. and we could keep you safe. butforget that. rest. i’ll go grab the nurse.”

　　he stood, a thick book spilling from his lap and tumbling into the chair, burying itself in theblanket and pillows.

　　“do you think you can eat?”

　　she nodded, turned her head back to face the ceiling and the bright lights, everything coming backto her, memories popping up like the tingle of pain on her skin.

　　••••
　　she read folded notes for days and cried. lukas sat by her side, collecting the ones that spilled tothe floor like paper planes tossed from landings. he apologized over and over, blubbering like he wasthe one who’d done it. juliette read all of them a dozen times, trying to keep straight who was goneand who was still signing their name. she couldn’t believe the terrible news about knox. some thingsseemed immutable, like the great stairway. she wept for him and for marck, wanted desperately tosee shirly, was told that she couldn’t.

　　ghosts visited her when the lights were out. juliette would wake up, eyes crusted over, pillowwet, lukas rubbing her forehead and telling her it would be okay.

　　••••

　　peter came often. juliette thanked him over and over. it was all peter, all peter. he had made thechoice. lukas told her of the stairway, his march to cleaning, hearing her voice on peter’s radio, theimplications of her being alive.

　　peter had taken the risk, had listened. that had led to him and lukas talking. lukas had saidforbidden things, was in no danger of being sent anyplace worse, said something that confused herabout being a bad virus, a catching cold. the radio barked with reports from mechanical of peoplesurrendering. bernard sentenced them to death anyway.

　　and peter had a decision to make. was he the final law, or did he owe something to those who puthim in place? did he do what was right or what was expected of him? it was so easy to do the latter,but peter billings was a good man.

　　lukas told him so on that stairwell. he told him that this was where they’d been put by fate, butwhat they did going forward defined them. that was who they were.

　　he told peter that bernard had killed a man. that he had proof. lukas had done nothing todeserve this.

　　peter pointed out that every ounce of it security was a hundred levels away. there was only onegun up top. only one law.

　　his.