He should do something. He should tie the handles together or wedge something under the doors, but he was too afraid. He turned and ran instead. He ran down the stairs, jugs clattering together, his empty pack flopping on his back, someone else’s knife clutched in his hand. When the jugs caught on the railing the rope snagged, and he tugged twice before giving up and letting them go. His hole. He had to get to his hole. Breathing heavily, he hurried on, the clangs and vibrations of some other disrupting his solitude. He didn’t have to stop to listen for them. This was a loud ghost. Loud and solid. Solo thought of his machete, which had snapped in half years ago. But he had this knife. This knife. Around and around the stairs he went, sorely afraid. Down to the landing. Wrong landing! Thirty-three. One more to go. Stopped counting, stopped counting. He nearly stumbled, he ran so fast. Sweating. Home.
He slammed the doors behind him and took a deep breath, hands on his knees. Scooping the broom off the ground, he slid it through the handles on the door. It kept the quiet ghosts at bay. He hoped it would work on the noisy ones.
Solo pushed through the busted security gate and hurried down the halls. One of the lights overhead was out. A Project. But no time. He reached the metal door and heaved. Ran inside. Stopped and ran back. He leaned on the door and pushed it closed. He got low and put his shoulder into the filing cabinet, slid that against the door, an awful screech. He thought he heard footsteps outside. Someone fast. Sweat dripped off his nose. He clutched the knife and ran, through the servers. There was a squeal behind him, metal on metal. Solo was not alone. They had come for him. They were coming, coming. He could taste the fear in his mouth like metal. He raced to the grate, wished he’d left it open. At least the locks were broken. Rusted. No, that wasn’t good. He needed the locks. Solo lowered himself down the ladder and grabbed the grating, began to pull it over his head. He would hide. Hide. Like the early years. And then someone was tugging the grate from his hand. He was swiping at them with the knife. There was a startled scream, a woman, breathing heavy and looking down at him, telling him to take it easy.
Solo trembled. His boot slipped a little on the ladder. But he held. He held very still while this woman talked to him. Her eyes were wide and alive. Her lips moved. She was hurt, didn’t want to hurt him back. She just wanted his name. She was happy to see him. The wetness in her eyes was from being happy to see him. And Solo thought — maybe — that he himself was like a shovel or a can opener or any of those rusty things lying about. He was something that could be found. He could be found. And someone had.
Epilogue
2345
• Silo 1 •
DONALD SAT IN the otherwise empty comm room. He had every station to himself, had sent the others to lunch and ordered those who weren’t hungry to take a break. And they listened to him. They called him Shepherd, knew nothing else about him except that he was in charge. They came on and off shift, and they did as he ordered.
A blinking light on the neighbouring comm station signalled silo six attempting to make a call. They would have to wait. Donald sat and listened to the ringing in his headset as he placed a call of his own.
It rang and rang. He checked the cord, traced it to the jack, made sure it was plugged in correctly. Between two of the comm stations lay an unfinished game of cards, hands set aside from Donald ordering everyone out. There was a discard pile with a queen of spades on top. Finally, a click in his headset.
‘Hello?’ he said.
He waited. He thought he could hear someone breathing on the other line.
‘Lukas?’
‘No,’ the voice said. It was a softer voice. And yet harder, somehow.
‘Who is this?’ he asked. He was used to talking to Lukas.
‘It doesn’t matter who this is,’ the woman said. And Donald knew perfectly well. He looked over his shoulders, made sure he was still alone, then leaned forward in his chair.
‘We’re not used to hearing from mayors,’ he said.
‘And I’m not used to being one.’
Donald could practically hear the woman sneer at him. ‘I didn’t ask for my job,’ he confided.
‘And yet here we are.’
‘Here we are.’
There was a pause.
‘You know,’ Donald said, ‘if I were any good at my job, I’d press a button right now and shut your silo down.’
‘Why don’t you?’
The mayor’s voice was flat. Curious. It sounded like a real question rather than a dare.
‘I doubt you’d believe me if I told you.’
‘Try me,’ she said. And Donald wished he still had the folder on this woman. He had carried it everywhere his first weeks on shift. And now, when he needed it—
‘A long time ago,’ he told her, ‘I saved your silo. It would be a shame to end it now.’
‘You’re right. I don’t believe you.’
There was a noise in the hallway. Donald removed one of the cups from his ears and glanced over his shoulder. His comm engineer stood outside the door with a Thermos in one hand, a slice of bread in the other. Donald raised his finger and asked him to wait.
‘I know where you’ve been,’ Donald told this mayor, this woman sent to clean. ‘I know what you’ve seen. And I—’
‘You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve seen,’ she spat, her words sharp as razors.
Donald felt his temperature rise. This was not the conversation he wanted to have with this woman. He wasn’t prepared. He cupped his hand over the microphone, could sense that he was both running out of time and losing her.
‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’m saying—’
‘Listen to me,’ she told him. ‘I’m sitting over here in a roomful of truth. I’ve seen the books. I’m going to dig until I get to the heart of what you people have done.’
Donald could hear her breathing.
‘I know the truth you’re looking for,’ he said quietly. ‘You may not like what you find.’
‘You may not like what I find, you mean.’
‘Just… be careful.’ Donald lowered his voice. ‘Be careful where you go digging.’
There was a pause. Donald glanced over his shoulder at the engineer, who took a sip from his Thermos.
‘Oh, we’ll be careful where we dig,’ this Juliette finally answered. ‘I’d hate for you to hear us coming.’
Reading Group Questions on Shift
• Thurman truly believes that he is doing what is right for his country by building the silos and forcing people inside them. Do you agree with him based on the information of the possible threat to his country? Or is acting on anything but a certainty of a threat too much of a risk to take?
• Mick is obviously aware of the last-minute switch between himself and Donald when they go down into the silo just before the rally. Of their two roles, Donald’s is the more powerful, with much more responsibility, leading to him living for hundreds of years, but he is envious of Mick’s relatively normal life in a silo with Helen. Whose position would you rather be in?
• The members of silo one are given medication that causes them to forget traumatic events. If you were offered this medication freely, would you take it? Or would you want to remember the truth about your past?
• Donald discovers that Anna is the reason he is in silo one, and not with Helen in a different silo, and is furious. Do you think she put him there for purely selfish reasons? Or do you think she thought he would be the best man for the job? In either case, do you believe she had the right to make that decision for him?