Silo 49: Deep Dark (24 page)

Greta followed along as she wrote and asked, "What bad thing did he do?"

Marina could tell by the look in her eyes that Greta knew very well what she was talking about. She pointed to the chair on the other side of Greta, the one that
Piotr always sat in.

"No!" she exclaimed.
"That I can't believe. Why? He had no reason for that!"

Marina made to wipe the board again but Greta grabbed her arm and stopped her. She said, "Please. Don't talk about it anymore. Not until we get to the council. Once you're well."

She pointed to herself and pantomimed a hale and hearty look. All she got in response was Greta eyeballing the piece of tubing hanging out of her nose and taped to her face. Marina made a face. Greta remained firm.

She decided to leave the subject alone for the moment and switched her attention to the neatly arrayed papers from her find on the table. She found the large sheet, now minus the envelope. She unfolded it and found a
long tear in it from the struggle in her room. She made a sound of distress and pointed but Greta soothed her and told her it would be properly cared for. She carefully laid it flat and pointed to the circle that represented their silo.

Greta turned away for a moment and then looked back. This was hard for her, Marina could see that. Her whole life had revolved around the preservation of objective truth or the best version of it that could be ferreted out with certainty. This one paper had put the lie to all of it.

At Marina's inquiring look, Greta said, "Yes. I figured out that represents our silo."

Marina made a big circle with her finger around all the other circles and gave a questioning shrug.

Greta understood her and answered, "I don't know. They could be just like us or they might be...not like us...Others. How can we know?"

There was just so much to say, to relay, to ask and discuss that Marina's frustration crested suddenly and she had to remove her hands from the sheet of paper lest she damage it. She wrote, "Radio jacks in burn
ed room. Fifty of them. One blank. Ours blank."

That surprised
Greta and Marina watched her face as she tried to picture the burned room beneath IT, the jacks and to match it all together in her mind. She said, "You think that they are like us and we all used to be able to communicate."

Marina nodded and Greta considered that possibility. "That would change things, wouldn't it?"

Marina nodded again and smiled.

While Marina healed, she and Greta worked on the finds. Detailed reports were sent to the council and the replies were equal parts excitement, concern and admonitions for secrecy. Even after two weeks, ghosts of the bruises could still be seen on her neck and she wore her kerchief unrolled to hide as much as she could. She had not left the Memoriam during the healing, as much to preserve the secrecy of what had happened as her dignity.

Word had spread, of course, but it was limited to Taylor losing control out of grief and guilt that his caster had died without him being able to prevent it. It was a sympathetic tale and people moved on after a few re-tellings. Joseph visited twice a day, concerned but understanding the ways of the silo.

He had too much experience with people losing their perspective and needing remediation to not understand that something he would rather not know was going on
behind the scenes. If he had suspected before that she was dealing with something from 'before', now he felt sure of it and his only concern was getting his wife back as soon as possible.

Her voice returned slowly but it did begin to return. It was not the same voice she had before but it was an interesting change to have a new one. It surprised her every time she heard it. The tube was
finally removed but she was still on a soft food diet. Thin porridge, strained vegetables and nothing chewy at all were the fare she was allowed. The better she felt the more she worried over what Taylor had said to her, the look on Taylor's face when she had mentioned his loss and the way he had said that all they found was poison.

One morning when
they met for breakfast Greta told her the council would be meeting with them the next day. She kept her face so scrupulously neutral that Marina knew she was all nerves. It was how Greta dealt with things, she was coming to learn. Calm in the face of chaos.

“W
e need to get to the upper main medical facility first thing,” Greta added and left it open.

Marina felt her belly clench with nerves. It must have showed on her face because Greta squeezed her hand on the table and said, "It'll be okay. He can't hurt you again."

In her new and croaking voice Marina said, "It's not that. It's just...everything."

"I know. I feel the same. I really don't know what will happen. We'll just have to see," Greta replied
with a sigh. She gave one final squeeze of her hand and went off for her tray of food.

They took the stairs slowly during the dim-time. It was a little unnerving to be taking the stairs in the dark once more
, and not just because of what happened to Piotr. It was in the dark that Taylor had watched her return. Greta had been mindful of it and provided them both with lights. Their packs were stuffed and heavy with all that she had brought back, a summary of their discoveries to date and their own personal goods for their stay.

The quiet of the silo during these late hours
didn’t encourage conversation and kept their footfalls light. It was a long trip that way. They took breaks but even then they were subdued on the quiet landings where they stopped.

When they arrived, it was still deep into the dimming and they were tired and footsore. They would be staying in the medical facility since it usually had empty rooms, now being no exception. It was unnerving to be there. This was where remediation was done, along with other serious care that required a patient to remain
for treatment. The mere idea of remediation often kept people from visiting and encouraged people to be well enough to go home somewhat faster than in medical facilities serving the mids or the down deep.

They napped and then prepared, Greta mumbling to
herself as she practiced her opening remarks. Marina remained quiet, thinking of what she wanted to happen and also what was probably better
did
happen.

They were shown into a
hastily prepared room. A hospital room just like the others, the two narrow wheeled beds had been removed and lined the hallway outside the door. Deep grooves had been worn into the tile after countless moves of the beds. Even the plastic baseboards had been worn thin in places where repeated scrubbings and rubs had occurred over the countless years.

Despite the signs of wear, the room was clean and smelled it. The lights were bright and shone down on a cluster of mismatched chairs
around a battered but serviceable table. They had even provided pitchers of water and tea, along with several cups. It would do.

The council was not yet in place, but Marina and Greta were let in early to set up their exhibits and order their case. Once they opened their packs, no one but the council, and eventually Taylor, would be allowed to enter. Outside the door, a burly medic stood guard. He
tuned a radio receiver to a channel not in use and filled the hallway with static so that no one might overhear. They were thorough; Marina had to give them that.

The presentation went surprisingly well considering what the two women were revealing. The council had read their confidential reports so it wasn't a complete surprise but Marina would have expected more reaction when faced with the physical evidence of such momentous news. The most expressive reaction Marina saw came when she showed them the entry for the solar system and explained what it said and then showed them the one labeled Earth.

She passed the book in front of their faces so they could see the tiny dot that represented all those silos. The mayor’s eyes grew wide and Marina’s former supporter, Darren, opened his mouth in an amazed O and kept repeating that it must be huge. With every repetition the word huge altered as if he couldn't find the right way to express it.

The meeting
lasted for hours and fatigue had settled over her like a thick blanket by the time they broke for lunch. Knowing the strain they would be under, lunch rations had been laid out in the visitor’s room where they could eat without curious eyes upon them. It was almost completely silent during the entire meal. Everyone sat or stood, abortive attempts at small talk overcome by glazed expressions. The subtext of every word was clear. "Can you believe it?"

They didn't even last the time allotted for lunch. Everyone had returned and was in their place before time so they
pressed on. Now would come the part that Marina dreaded. The council wanted to know what had caused Taylor to react as he had when he encountered Marina that night. They felt it important to understand it in context.

He had been demanding that he be heard, that th
ey were going to make a mistake and that they needed to hear him. The council had solicitously asked if she wanted to withdraw for his hearing and she considered it. Only for a moment, though. There were a few things she wanted to ask him, too.

Taylor had been held
in seclusion with no contact other than the council medic. Even the guards that brought him meals wore earmuffs the same as the ones worn in mechanical. The belief in the silo that madness could be spread was a real one and based on real evidence. When one person tried to convince another to go with them outside or chisel through the silo walls to some imaginary place where things were better, sometimes that person listened. Remediation was a private thing. The madness and dangerous behavior that brought them there was also private. For Taylor, that privacy had been heightened because of what he might say.

Taylor was brought in wearing un
-dyed pants and a matching shirt. It was what a medic might wear in surgery but it was also the uniform of the mentally unfit. The ends of restraints dangled from his wrists while padded bands encircled them. Without pockets to hide things in he was safer to be around. Without boots, he was less likely to try to run. It was simple logic but it made him look stripped and powerless. His face was pale and puffy, the lack of normal activity allowing weight to pad his fit frame. Even after what he had done, Marina hated to see him like that.

He met her eyes almost immediately but looked away just as fast. Marina could see the shame in his expression. Now that whatever had seized him had passed and the frenzy
was gone, he clearly regretted his actions. The council’s questions were supposed to come first. Taylor gave them no opportunity. His eyes scanned the table and his lips tightened. He said, "You have to get rid of all of that. Destroy it." It was said in a calm and very even tone, but it was not a suggestion. It was a command.

The mayor's eyebrows lifted at the tone and
he pressed his hands to the Legacy book. He leaned forward just the tiniest bit and replied, "I'm inclined to deny that request."

Taylor's fingers twitched in agitation and the council medic tightened his grip on Taylor's arm. He pressed Taylor into a chair and then deftly tightened the free ends of the restraints to the chair arms. They fit perfectly and Marina noticed that the chair he was in was different from all the others. Since they were all different, she hadn't noticed at first. His had a thicker, sturdier frame and wide flat armrests. She suppressed a little shiver because that was the chair she had almost chosen as her own.

Once secure, the medic stood and asked Taylor if he was comfortable, a silly question if ever Marina heard one. Taylor gave the man a nod and he retreated back to the council side of the table. He inclined his head at the Mayor and said, "You can go ahead now."

The mayor cleared his throat and asked the big question first. "Why did you attack Marina?"

Taylor hadn't expected that because he flinched and shot her a sidelong glance. He licked his lips nervously and answered, "I saw her come back and I just had the feeling she had something. Maybe it was her pack or something, but I just knew it."

"So you attacked her?"
Darren asked.

"No. I didn't intend to do anything to her," Taylor answered and paused.

He had been alone for enough time to create a smooth story that would come out perfectly, but he seemed to be searching for the right words. Marina thought that probably meant he was telling the truth. For some reason, it made her feel better.

"I really just went to see if I was right. Even when I opened her door, I kept thinking that I was being silly. I thought I would take a peek, see nothing and I could just put this all behind me."

"But that isn't what happened. What did happen?" the mayor asked.

He sighed deeply and looked down but he answered, "I opened the door and saw what she had."

The council medic was paying attention to Taylor, his gaze an evaluating one, but Marina noticed that he was also looking at her similarly. It made her nervous but she understood. She was sitting near a person who had almost killed her. That was cause for some clinical interest, she supposed.

"And then?" the mayor prodded.

"I guess I just wanted it gone. Not her," he said abruptly, looking up as he made his point. "I didn't even know what all she had. I just saw the big book, some small books and all those papers. I tried to tell myself it was probably things from the archives. Things that we had already seen and dismissed. I had to look, though. I had to be sure."

Marina remembered the open chart, the papers collected from where she had put them and how it felt to wake up and realize someone had been moving around
in her room as she slept. She hadn't considered how strange it must have been for him to be doing it.

T
he mayor was about to prod him further but Taylor cut him off, raising his fingers off the chair as much as the restraints allowed. "I looked at just a few things but it wasn't hard to figure out that she had something entirely different. I saw the journals," he pointed with his head toward the black books on the table, "and I knew what they were. We had been walking past the pages for long enough to recognize them right away. Then I saw the chart and I sat there a while, just looking at it. Something just...broke."

She watched him talk, her hands pressed tightly to her legs to keep them from fluttering about. It helped her keep her peace. He had sat there a while? He had sat in her room and what? Decided to kill her? To take the objects no matter the cost?

Something must have shown on her face because the council medic interjected, "Based on what I've been able to draw from Taylor, at that point we believe he suffered a complete break with reality. When that happens, the idea of cause and effect, of action and consequence, starts to become meaningless. It's rare, but it does happen. Usually when there is something occurring that simply can't be accepted." He motioned to the array of papers and books and said, "Something like this would qualify."

The mayor listened, nodding his understanding and then looked back to Taylor. He asked, "Does that mean you don't remember it?"

Taylor shook his head. "No. I wish I could say that, but I do. It just seems more like something from long ago or a little unreal or something." He stopped and looked at Marina for the first time full in the face. He said, "I'm so very sorry."

Marina felt tears prick her eyes. If he was asking for forgiveness, then he was going to be unsatisfied. She wasn't ready for that.
Not at all. She just looked away from him and didn't acknowledge his words.

"Marina's account was clear. She indicated that she awoke, you struggled over the book and that you pretended to stop only to attack her again as soon as the opportunity arose. Is this accurate?" the sheriff asked.