Wool Omnibus Edition (Wool 1-5)

Juliette released another deep breath, and Lukas thought about what he had told her of the uprising, the things he had omitted.

“I know what you say my people did, but do you understand why they came? Do you? Something needed to be done, Luke. It still needs doing—”

Lukas shrugged, forgetting she couldn’t see him. As often as they chatted, he still wasn’t used to conversing with someone like this.

“You’re in a position to help,” she told him.

“I didn’t ask to be here.” He felt himself growing frustrated. Why did their conversations have to drift off to bad places? Why couldn’t they go back to talking about the best meals they’d ever had, their favorite books as kids, the likes and annoyances they had in common?

“None of us asked to be where we are,” she reminded him coolly.

This gave Lukas pause, thinking of where she was, what she’d been through to get there.

“What we control,” Juliette said, “is our actions once fate puts us there.”

“I probably need to get off.” Lukas took a shallow breath. He didn’t want to think of actions and fate. He didn’t want to have this conversation. “Pete’ll be bringing me my dinner soon,” he lied.

There was silence. He could hear her breathing. It was almost like listening to someone think.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand. I need to go test this suit anyway. And hey, I might be gone a while if this thing works. So if you don’t hear from me for a day or so—”

“Just be careful,” Lukas said.

“I will. And remember what I said, Luke. What we do going forward defines who we are. You aren’t one of them. You don’t belong there. Please don’t forget this.”

Lukas mumbled his agreement, and Juliette said goodbye, her voice still in his ears as he reached in and unplugged the jack.

Rather than slot the headphones into their pouch, he slumped back against the server behind him, wringing the ear pads in his hands, thinking about what he had done, about who he was.

He felt like curling up into a ball and crying, just closing his eyes and making the world go away. But he knew if he closed them, if he allowed himself to sink into darkness, all he would see there is her. That small woman with the gray hair, her body jumping from the impacts of the bullets, Lukas’s bullets. He would feel his finger on the trigger, his cheeks wet with salt, the stench of spent powder, the table ringing with the clink of empty brass and with the jubilant and victorious cries of the men and women he had aligned himself with.

9

• Silo 18 •

“—said Thursday that I’d get it to you in two days.”

“Well, dammit, it’s been two days, Carl. You do realize the cleaning’s tomorrow morning, right?”

“And you realize that today is still today, don’t you?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Get me that file and get it up here, pronto. I swear, if this shit falls through because you were—”

“I’ll bring it. C’mon, man. I’m busting your balls. Relax.”

“Relax. Screw you, I’ll relax tomorrow. I’m getting off the line. Now don’t dick around.”

“I’m coming right now—”

Shirly held the sides of her head, her fingers tangled in her hair, elbows digging into Walker’s workbench. “What in the depths is going on?” she asked him. “Walk, what is this? Who are these people?”

Walker peered through his magnifiers. He dipped the single bristle plucked from the cleaning brush into the white paint on the wet lid of primer. With utmost care, his other hand steadying his wrist, he dragged the bristle across the outside of the potentiometer directly opposite the fixed mark he’d painted on the knob itself. Satisfied, he counted the ticks he’d made so far, each one marking the position of another strong signal.

“Eleven,” he said. He turned to Shirly, who had been saying something, he wasn’t sure what. “And I don’t think we’ve found ours yet.”

“Ours? Walk, this is freaking me out. Where are these voices coming from?”

He shrugged. “The city? Over the hills? How should I know?” He started spinning the knob slowly, listening for more chatter. “Eleven besides us. What if there’s more? There has to be more, right? What’re the chances we’ve found them all already?”

“That last one was talking about a cleaning. Do you think they meant? Like—?”

Walker nodded, sending his magnifiers out of whack. He readjusted them, then went back to tuning the dial.

“So they’re in silos. Like us.”

He pointed to the tiny green board she’d helped him wire the potentiometer to. “It must be what this circuit does, modulates the wave frequency, maybe.” Shirly was freaking out over the voices; he was more fascinated in these other mysteries. There was a crackle of static; he paused in turning the knob, scrubbed back and forth across it, but found nothing. He moved on.

“You mean the little board with the number eighteen on it?”

Walker looked at her dumbly. His fingers stopped their searching. He nodded.

“So there’s at least that many,” she said, putting it together quicker than he had. “I’ve got to find Jenkins. We’ve got to tell him about this.” Shirly left her stool and headed for the door. Walker bobbed his head. The implications made him dizzy, the bench and walls seeming to slide sideways. The idea of people beyond these walls—

A violent roar rattled his teeth and shook the thought loose. His feet slipped out from underneath him as the ground trembled, decades of dust raining down from the tangle of pipes and wires crisscrossing overhead.

Walker rolled to his side, coughing, breathing the musky mildew drifting in the air. His ears were ringing from the blast. He patted his head, groped for his magnifiers, when he saw the frame lying on the steel decking before him, the lens broken into gravel-sized shards.

“Oh, no. I need—” He tried to get his hands underneath him, felt a twinge in his hip, a powerful ache where bone had smacked steel. He couldn’t think. He waved his hand, begging Scottie to come out of the shadows and help him.

A heavy boot crunched what remained of his magnifiers. Strong, young hands gripped his coveralls, pulling him to his feet. There was shouting everywhere. The pop and rattle of gunfire.

“Walk! You okay?”

Jenkins held him by his coveralls. Walker was pretty sure he would collapse if the boy let go.

“My magni—”

“Sir! We’ve gotta go! They’re inside!”

Walker turned toward the door, saw Harper helping Shirly to her feet. Her eyes were wide, stunned, a film of gray dust on her shoulders and in her dark hair. She was looking toward Walker, appearing as senseless as he felt.

“Get your things,” Jenkins said. “We’re falling back.” He scanned the room, his eyes drifting to the workbench.

“I fixed it,” Walker said, coughing into his fist. “It works.”

“A little too late, I think.”

Jenkins let go of his coveralls, and Walker had to catch himself on his stool to not go tumbling back to the ground. The gunfire outside drew nearer. Boots thundered by, more shouting, another loud blast that could be felt through the floor. Jenkins and Harper were at the doorway shouting orders and waving their arms at the people