Wool Omnibus
“Good news,” Peter said. “Congratulatory notes.”
Lukas shot him a look that told Juliette she might think otherwise.
“Well…it is news.” He looked across the table at her. His hands were folded in front of him, resting on the marred wood, just like hers. It felt as though they might both move them several inches until they met, until fingers interlocked. It would be so natural after weeks of practice. But that was something worried friends did in hospitals, right? Juliette pondered this while Lukas and Peter went on about elections.
“Wait. What?” She blinked and looked up from his hands, the last part coming back to her.
“It was the timing,” Lukas explained.
“You were all anyone was talking about,” Peter said.
“Go back,” she said. “What did you say?”
Lukas took a deep breath. “Bernard was running unopposed. When we sent him out to cleaning, the election was called off. But then news got around about your miraculous return, and people showed up to vote anyway—”
“A lot of people,” Peter added.
Lukas nodded. “It was quite a turnout. More than half the silo.”
“Yeah, but…Mayor?” She laughed and looked around the scratched-up conference table, bare except for the untouched glasses of water. “Isn’t there something I need to sign? Some official way to turn this nonsense down?”
The two men exchanged glances.
“That’s sorta the thing,” Peter said.
Lukas shook his head. “I told you—”
“We were hoping you’d accept.”
“Me? Mayor?” Juliette crossed her arms and sat back, painfully, against the chair. She laughed. “You’ve gotta be kidding. I wouldn’t know the first thing about—”
“You wouldn’t have to,” Peter said, leaning forward. “You have an office, you shake some hands, sign some things, make people feel better—”
Lukas tapped him on the arm and shook his head. Juliette felt a flush of heat across her skin, which just made her scars and wounds itch more.
“Here’s the thing,” Lukas said as Peter sat back in his chair. “We need you. There’s a power vacuum at the top. Peter’s been in his post longer than anyone, and you know how long that’s been.”
She was listening.
“Remember our conversations all those nights? Remember you telling me what that other silo was like? Do you understand how close to that we got?”
She chewed her lip, reached for one of the glasses, and took a long drink of water. Peering over the lip of the glass, she waited for him to continue.
“We have a chance, Jules. To hold this place together. To put it back to—”
She set the glass down and lifted her palm for him to stop.
“If we were to do this,” she told them coolly, looking from one of their expectant faces to the other. “If we do it, we do it my way.”
Peter frowned.
“No more lying,” she said. “We give truth a chance.”
Lukas laughed nervously. Peter shook his head.
“Now listen to me,” she said. “This isn’t crazy. It’s not the first time I’ve thought this through. Hell, I’ve had weeks of nothing but thinking.”
“The truth?” Peter asked.
She nodded. “I know what you two are thinking. You think we need lies, fear—”
Peter nodded.
“But what could we invent that’s scarier than what’s really out there?” She pointed toward the roof and waited for that to sink in.
“When these places were built, the idea was that we were all in this together. Together but separate, ignorant of one another, so we didn’t infect the others if one of us got sick. But I don’t want to play for that team. I don’t agree with their cause. I refuse.”
Lukas tilted his head. “Yeah, but—”
“So it’s us against them. And not the people in the silos, not the people working day to day who don’t know, but those at the top who do. Silo eighteen will be different. Full of knowledge, of purpose. Think about it. Instead of manipulating people, why not empower them? Let them know what we’re up against. And have that drive our collective will.”
Lukas raised his eyebrows. Peter ran his hands up through his hair.
“You guys should think about it.” She pushed away from the table. “Take your time. I’m going to go see my family and friends. But I’m either in, or I’ll be working against you. I’ll be spreading the truth one way or the other.”
She smiled at Lukas. It was a dare, but he would know she wasn’t joking.
Peter stood and showed her his palms. “Can we at least agree not to do anything rash until we meet again?”
Juliette crossed her arms. She dipped her chin.
“Good,” Peter said, letting out his breath and dropping his arms.
She turned to Lukas. He was studying her, his lips pursed, and she could tell he knew. There was only one way this was going forward, and it scared the hell out of him.
Peter turned and opened the door. He looked back at Lukas.
“Can you give us a second?” Lukas asked, standing up and walking toward the door.
Peter nodded. He turned and shook Juliette’s hand as she thanked him for the millionth time. He checked his star, which hung askew on his chest, and then left the conference room.
Lukas crossed out of sight of the window, grabbed Juliette’s hand and pulled her toward the door.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Did you really think I would just accept that job and—?”
Lukas pressed his palm against the door and forced it shut. Juliette faced him, confused, then felt his arms slide gently around her waist, mindful of her wounds.
“You were right,” he whispered. He leaned close, put his head by her shoulder. “I’m stalling. I don’t want you to go.”
His breath was warm against her neck. Juliette relaxed. She forgot what she was about to say. She wrapped an arm around his back, held his neck with her other hand. “It’s okay,” she said, relieved to hear him say it, to finally admit it. And she could feel him trembling, could hear his broken and stuttered exhalations.
“It’s okay,” she whispered again, pressing her cheek against his, trying to comfort him. “I’m not going anywhere for good—”
Lukas pulled away to look at her. She felt him searching her face, tears welling up in his eyes. His body had started shaking. She could feel it in his arms, his back.
And then she realized, as he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, that it wasn’t fear or panic she was sensing in him. It was nerves.
She whimpered into their kiss, the rush to her head better than the doctor’s drugs. It washed away any pain caused by his hands clutching her back. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt lips move against her own. She kissed him back, and it was over too soon. He stepped away and held her hands, glanced nervously at the window.
“It’s a…uh—”
“That was nice,” she told him, squeezing his hands.
“We should probably—” He jerked his chin toward the door.
Juliette smiled. “Yeah. Probably so.”
He walked her through the entrance hall of IT and to the landing. A tech was waiting with her shoulder bag. Juliette saw that Lukas had padded the strap with rags, worried about her wounds.
“And you’re sure you don’t need an escort?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. She shrugged the bag higher up her neck. “I’ll see you in a week or so.”
“You can radio me,” he told her.
Juliette laughed. “I know.”
She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, then turned to the great stairwell. Someone in the passing crowd nodded at her. She was sure she didn’t know him, but nodded back. Other chins were turning to follow her. She passed through them and grabbed that great curved bar of steel that wound its way through the heart of things, that held those pouting and worn treads together as life after life was ground away on them. And Juliette lifted her boot to that first step on a journey far too long in coming—
“Hey!”
Lukas called after her. He ran across the landing, his brows lowered in confusion. “I thought you were heading down, going to see your friends—”
Juliette smiled at him. A porter passed by, loaded down with his burdens. Juliette thought of how many of her own had recently slipped away.
“Family first,” she told Lukas. She glanced up that great shaft in the center of the humming silo and lifted her boot to the next tread. “I’ve got to go see my father, first.”