“Sometimes, yes. People have needs, Rod. Needs that are outside the norm.”
“You mean outside the practical and tactical. Things that keep us all alive.”
“Yes. We must always have compassion and be willing to make an exception or two. It’s all part of tending to the flock. Like the Good Shepherd would do.”
Zimmer held back his true sentiment about compassion—that it was for the weak-minded and unprepared. He needed to spin it a different way, one that wouldn’t offend the founder. “Makes sense on paper, sir. But with all due respect, I disagree. Not in the long run. We have limited space and our Seekers need to produce. Hunting down personal items is a gigantic waste of manpower.”
“And woman power.”
“Of course, woman power, too. But it’s a risk we just can’t afford to take. We must stay focused every minute of every day, especially with the increase in Scab activity out there.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like Krista.”
“Well, she’s right. Everyone’s lives depend on it. It’s our job to keep this place running smooth and everyone safe. That’s more important than a temporary boost in morale and certainly more important than toys. More so now than before, with our increase in numbers.”
Edison hesitated for a good twenty seconds, running a hand over his chin. “Yes. Yes. I see your point. Maybe I’m the one who needs to adjust on occasion.”
Zimmer was pleased he finally broke through the ideology of their leader. “Can you make an announcement to the ranks? They’ll listen to you.”
“Sure. I’ll take care of it in my next public address. Thanks for bringing this to my attention.”
“That’s my job, sir.”
“And we appreciate all your efforts, Rod. Is there anything else?” Edison said, giving the needs list back to Zimmer.
“No, that about covers it,” Zimmer said, turning for the door. He walked out, organizing the paperwork in his hand, while his mind drifted into analysis mode.
The professor’s new solar technology might change the balance of power so to speak, which on paper was a good thing for Nirvana.
Yet he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for his stake in the future, a future that might also need adjusting, depending on what happened next with Frost, Krista and the Scabs. So many variables, all of them adding to an uncertain future. A future in which he needed to have some level of control.
Edison waited until Zimmer closed the door, then sent the rolling chair back several feet toward his work desk with a shove of his feet. His body spun ninety degrees thanks to the swivel seat, bringing him around to face a picture of his wife, June.
The photo showed her standing next to her prize-winning rose garden with tattered jeans on, plus a tie-dyed t-shirt, work gloves, and trimming shears in hand.
It was his favorite picture, the sun glistening off her bob of short gray hair. Her infectious smile was sustenance for his soul, even in a two-dimensional photo.
Sometimes he’d sit there with hands folded, staring at her for hours on end, hoping for her wisdom to somehow ooze across the desk and fill him with insight.
Edison picked up the cracked picture frame and brought his face close to it. He moved his spectacles up to free his vision for a close-up view.
He loved the gentle wrinkles around her soulful eyes and her turned-up nose, even through the broken glass of the frame.
Her subtle beauty brought a warm feeling to his chest, one that he missed dearly. He knew the day he met her that he’d always feel this way.
His eyes wandered down to the Infinity Chain hanging in front of her shirt. She’d fabricated the necklace only a week before the picture was taken.
It symbolized everything she was about—an infinite future with peace, tranquility, and compassion for all. The same ideology he’d built Nirvana on, hoping each resident would learn to embrace it as well.
Tears welled in his eyes as he brought his lips to the picture and gave it a soft kiss. He put the photo back on the edge of the desk, angling it toward him.
“I’m trying June. I really am. But I’m afraid I’m failing you. Things are starting to come apart and I’m not sure what else to do. I know I’m supposed to find a balance between the rules and compassion like you taught me, but it’s not working. It seems like every decision I make backfires in some way.”
He sobbed for a short minute, then collected himself after a blow of his nose into some tissue.
“I miss you, darling, more than you know. If only you were here. You’re so much better at all this political stuff than I am.”
CHAPTER 12
Summer woke up on her left side in a jolt. Even though her eyes were open, all she saw was black. It took a few seconds for her mind to catch up to what she was sensing.
Her legs were bent at the knees and her left arm was out straight, with her right hand draped behind her. The throbbing in her cheek was intense, but that was the only pain other than the sting of cold. The chill was everywhere, but even more so underneath her rib cage pressing against the ground.
A moment later, her memories came alive, showing her a series of events. The vision started with her feet tripping over the pallets. Then the faceplant and cheek injury. Her mind’s eye flashed a view of the cannery and conveyor system, then it changed to show the hole in the roof with water dripping down through it. Then she remembered hearing the loud bangs from the building’s door, right before the roof collapsed.
That’s when the answer hit her—she’d fallen through the floor. Shit.
Now she was here—wherever here was. It must have been a basement below the cannery’s production room. Somehow, though, she was still alive.
Summer ran it all through her head again and again, trying to understand how the collapse could have happened. It took several minutes of pondering, but one answer did come into focus—the water dripping from the roof must have weakened the floor, allowing it to cave in when the rest of the ceiling came tumbling at her.
It made sense, given the lack of deep water around her feet when she walked to the middle of the conveyors. Water must have been seeping into the subfloor ever since the thaw started, rotting the support structure over time. When Slayer and his men started banging on the door she’d leveraged shut with the dolly, it must have shaken the ceiling loose, bringing the rest of it down on her.
Summer twisted her body so she could slip off her pack and bring it around in front of her. She unzipped the main pouch and put her hand in, fishing around until she found the waterproof matches. They were next to the can opener and the fork she’d used earlier.
There were only three matches remaining, one of which she ran across the ignition strip on the side of the box. The flame roared to life, giving her a view of her surroundings.
When her eyes came into focus, so did a spread of colors above her—diffused white with a plethora of browns, grays, and blacks mixed in.
She looked down to see snow—lots of it. It must have cradled her fall. What a stroke of luck, much like the flat section of roofing above her. It was about four feet away and the size of a pickup truck, angling from high to low. It acted like a shield, keeping the rest of the debris at bay.
Just then, a rush of air came at her from the side, making the flame dance. She whipped her head around and peered into the darkness, moving the match farther away from her body.
There appeared to be a crawl space, but the light only extended a few feet beyond the flame. She couldn’t see much else past that point.