In the distance, a light went out with a pop, and Donald felt the darkness closing in on him. There was nothing down here for him, nothing but awful memories and horrible realizations. His heart pounded as it began to come together, a thing he dearly wanted to disbelieve. His phone hadn’t worked properly the day the bombs fell; he hadn’t been able to contact Helen. And then there were all the times before when he couldn’t reach Mick, the nights he and Anna had found themselves alone.
And now they’d been left alone again, in this silo. Mick had changed places with him at the last moment. Donald remembered a conversation in a small apartment. Mick had given him a tour, had taken him down into a room and said to remember him down there, that this was what he wanted.
Donald slapped one of the lockers with his palm, the loud bang drowning out his curse. This should’ve been Mick over here, freezing and thawing, going steadily mad. Instead, Mick had stolen the domestic life he often teased Donald for living. And he’d had help doing it.
Donald sagged against the lockers. He reached for his handkerchief, coughed into it, imagined his friend consoling Helen. He thought of the kids and grandkids they’d had together. A murderous rage boiled up. All this time, blaming himself for not getting to Helen. All this time, blaming Helen and Mick for the life he’d missed out on. And it was Anna, the engineer. Anna who had hacked his life. She had done this to him. She had brought him here.
80
Donald retrieved the items from the other two lockers as if in a dream. Numb, he rode the lift back down to Dr. Wilson’s office and dropped off the reactor tech’s personal effects. He asked Dr. Wilson for something to help him sleep that night and paid careful attention to where the pills came from. When Wilson left for the lab with his samples, Donald helped himself to more of the pills. Crushing them up, he added two scoops of the powder and made a bitter drink. He had no plan. His actions followed robotically one after the other. There was a cruelness in his life that he wished to end.
Down to the deep freeze. Pushing a loaded-up wheelchair ahead of him, he found her pod effortlessly. Donald traced a finger down the skin of the machine. He touched its smooth surface warily, as if it might cut him. He remembered touching her body like this, always afraid, never quite able to give in or let go. The better it felt, the more it hurt. Each caress had been an affront to Helen.
He pulled his finger back and held it in his other hand to stop some imaginary bleeding. There was danger in being near her. Anna’s nakedness was on the other side of that armored shell, and he was about to open it. He glanced around the vast halls of the deep freeze. Crowded, and yet all alone. Dr. Wilson would be in his lab for some while.
Donald knelt by the end of the pod and entered his keycode. Some small part of him hoped it wouldn’t work. This was too great a power, the ability to give a life or take it. But the panel beeped. Donald steadied his hand and turned the dial just as he’d been shown.
The rest was waiting. Temperatures rose, and his anger faded. Donald retrieved the drink and gave it a stir. He made sure everything else was in place.
When the lid sighed open, Donald slid his fingers into the crack and lifted it the rest of the way. He reached inside and carefully removed the tubing from the needle in Anna’s arm. A thick fluid leaked out of the needle. He saw how the plastic valve on the end worked and turned it until the dripping stopped. Unfolding a blanket from the back of the wheelchair, he tucked it around her. Her body was already warm. Frost dripped down the inner surface of the pod and collected in little channels that served as gutters. The blanket, he realized, was mostly for him.
Anna stirred. Donald brushed the hair off her forehead as her eyes fluttered. Her lips parted, and she let out a soft groan filled with decades of sleep. Donald knew what that stiffness felt like, that deep cold frozen in one’s joints. He hated doing this to her. He hated what had been done to him.
“Easy,” he said as she began to grope the air with shivering limbs. Her head lolled feebly from side to side, murmuring something. Donald helped her into a sitting position and rearranged the blanket to keep her covered. The wheelchair sat quietly beside him with a medical bag and a thermos. Donald made no move to lift her out and help her into the chair.
Blinking and darting eyes finally settled on Donald. They narrowed in recognition.
“Donny—”
He read his name on her lips as much as heard her.
“You came for me,” she whispered.
Donald watched as she trembled; he fought the urge to rub her back or wrap her in his arms.
“What year?” she asked, licking her lips. “Is it time?” Her eyes were now wide and wet with fear. Melting frost slid down her cheeks.
Donald remembered waking like this with his most recent dreams still clouding his thoughts. “It’s time for the truth,” he said. “You’re the reason I’m here, aren’t you?”
Anna stared at him blankly, her mind in a fog. He could see it in the twitch of her eyes, the way her dry lips remained parted, the processing delay he knew well from the times they’d done this to him, from the times they had woken him.
“Yes.” She nodded ever so slightly. “Father was never going to wake us. The deep freeze—” Her voice was a whisper. “I’m glad you came. I knew you would.”
A hand escaped from the blanket and gripped the edge of the pod as if to pull herself out. Donald placed a hand on her shoulder. He turned and grabbed the thermos from the wheelchair. Peeling her hand from the lip of the pod, he pressed the drink into her palm. She wiggled her other arm free and held the thermos against her knees.
“I want to know why,” he said. “Why did you bring me here? To this place.” He looked around at the pods, these unnatural graves that kept death at bay.
Anna gazed at him. She studied the thermos and the straw. Donald let go of her arm and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the phone. Anna shifted her attention to that.
“What did you do that day?” he asked. “You kept me from her, didn’t you? And the night we met to finalize the plans—all the times Mick missed a meeting—that was you as well.”
A shadow slid across Anna’s face. Something deep and dark registered. Donald had expected a harsh defiance, steel resolve, denials. Anna looked sad instead.
“So long ago,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Donny, but it was so long ago.” Her eyes flitted beyond him toward the door as if she were expecting danger. Donald glanced back over his shoulder and saw nothing. “We have to get out of here,” she croaked, her voice feeble and distant. “Donny, my father, they made a pact—”
“I want to know what you did,” he said. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “What Mick and I did—Donny, it seemed like the right thing at the time. I’m sorry. But I need to tell you something else. Something more important.” Her voice was small and quiet. She licked her lips and glanced at the straw, but Donald kept a hand on her arm. “Dad woke me for another shift while you were in the deep freeze.” She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on him. Her teeth chattered together while she collected her thoughts. “And I found something—”
“Stop,” Donald said. “No more stories. No lies. Just the truth.”
Anna looked away. A spasm surged through her body, a great shiver. Steam rose from her hair, and condensation raced down the skin of the pod in sudden bursts of speed.
“It was meant to be this way,” she said. The admission was in the way she said it, her refusal to look at him. “It was meant to be. You and me together. We built this.”
Donald seethed with renewed rage. His hands trembled more than hers.