Silo 49: Flying Season for the Mis-Recorded by Christy Ann

Author:Christy, Ann [Christy, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Ann Christy
Published: 2014-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Seven

It was warmer tucked in behind all the empty baskets at the lift post station. Her coveralls didn’t do much to dampen the chill of concrete against her butt, but overall it wasn’t a bad spot to wait. She needed to get up to Level 82, since that was the best place for what she had in mind, but that wasn’t the direction to her quarters or the farms and there were a lot of people traveling the stairs after 25 Drums let out. Spending some time here, tucked in this dark corner, and waiting for them to clear out was fine by Lizbet.

It didn’t take long. The last of the laughs and groups talking loudly cleared away in less than an hour, a final group of four getting tired of flirting with each other on the dark landing at last and saying their goodbyes. When it had been quiet for several minutes, she heard the staff turning over the facility to maintenance so the club could be remade once more for the shopping and theater it served when it wasn’t a club.

After a few more long minutes, her stomach lurching as the time grew near, she eased herself out of her nest of baskets and peered down the landing to be sure it was empty. Nothing but the red lights and the deep shadows they left behind were present on the landing. She hit the stairs and took them two at a time for a few levels, working out her nervous energy. After she felt a little fatigue, she slowed down and let herself enjoy the trip, leaning out over the rails now and again to catch the upward breeze.

It smelled of everything below. The silo’s breath smelled of farms, soil, animals and even a hint of oil. Most of all it smelled of life, the eternally renewing life of the silo. The silo was life itself. All within it were sheltered and renewed in some form or another when their present lives were over. In the silo, there was always another chance to live.

When Level 82 rolled into sight it surprised Lizbet. The trip, which would normally seem long, was as short as a trip down the hallway. She lit from the stairs and made directly for the lift. It was shipped for the night—this being the one night every two weeks when there was no night post—and resting on the platform in a sagging pile. The gate was closed so she eased the catch open as slowly and quietly as she could after she pushed the fabric bucket aside. One tiny squeak broke the quiet as she pulled it open but nothing happened in response and no one was around to hear it.

Lizbet walked back near the wall where there was a straight shot to the opening and stood there, her eyes closed and her thoughts moving quickly. Strangely, there were no doubts in her mind. This really was the only option left to her. Let the silo fashion her into something new, something that people didn’t shun or shy away from.

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