Wool Omnibus Edition (Wool 1-5)

“Yes,” the voice said. “And now you know.”

He said something else, just barely audible, like it was being said to someone else. “Our time is up, Lukas Kyle. Congratulations on your assignment.”

The headphones were sticky against his head, his face clammy with sweat.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“Oh, and Lukas?”

“Yessir?”

“Going forward, I suggest you concentrate on what’s beneath your feet. No more of this business with the stars, okay son? We know where most of them are.”

16

• Silo 18 •

“Hello? Solo? Please say something.”

There was no mistaking that voice, even through the small speakers in the dismantled headset. It echoed bodiless in the control room, the same control room that had housed that very voice for so many years. The location was what nailed it for Shirly; she stared at the tiny speakers spliced into the magical radio, knowing it could be no one else.

Neither she nor Walker dared breathe. They waited what felt like forever before she finally broke the silence.

“That was Juliette,” she whispered. “How can we—? Is her voice trapped down here? In the air? How long ago would that have been?”

Shirly didn’t understand how any of the science worked; it was all beyond her pay grade. Walker continued to stare at the headset, unmoving, not saying a word, tears shining in his beard.

“Are these… these ripples we’re grabbing with the antenna, are they just bouncing around down here?”

She wondered if the same was true of all the voices they’d heard. Maybe they were simply picking up conversations from the past. Was that possible? Like some kind of electrical echo? Somehow, this seemed far less shocking than the alternative.

Walker turned to her, a strange expression on his face. His mouth hung partway open, but there was a curl at the edges of his lips, a curl that began to rise.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he said. The curl transformed into a smile. “This is now. This is happening.” He grabbed Shirly’s arm. “You heard it too, didn’t you? I’m not crazy. That really was her, wasn’t it? She’s alive. She made it.”

“No—” Shirly shook her head. “Walk, what’re you saying? That Juliette’s alive? Made it where?”

“You heard.” He pointed at the radio. “Before. The conversations. The cleaning. There’s more of them out there. More of us. She’s with them, Shirly. This is happeningrightnow.”

“Alive.”

Shirly stared at the radio, processing this. Her friend was still somewhere. Still breathing. It had been so solid in her head, this vision of Juliette’s body just over the hills, lying in silent repose, the wind flecking away at her. And now she was picturing her moving, breathing, talking into a radio somewhere.

“Can we talk to her?” she asked.

She knew it was a dumb question. But Walker seemed to startle, his old limbs jumping.

“Oh, God. God, yes.” He set the mish-mash of components down on the floor, his hands trembling, but with what Shirly now read as excitement. The fear in both of them was gone, drained from the room, the rest of the world beyond that small space fading to meaninglessness.

Walker dug into the parts bin. He dumped some tools out and pawed into the bottom of the container.

“No,” he said. He turned and scanned the parts on the ground. “No no no.”

“What is it?” Shirly slid away from the string of components so he could better see. “What’re we missing? There’s a microphone right there.” She pointed to the partially disassembled headphones.

“The transmitter. It’s a little board. I think it’s on my workbench.”

“I swiped everything into the bin.” Her voice was high and tense. She moved toward the plastic bucket.

“My other workbench. It wasn’t needed. All Jenks wanted was to listen in.” He waved at the radio. “I did what he wanted. How could I have known I’d need to transmit—?”

“You couldn’t,” Shirly said. She rested her hand on his arm. She could tell he was heading toward a bad place. She had seen him go there often enough, knew he had shortcuts he could take to get there in no time. “Is there anything in here we can use? Think, Walk. Concentrate.”

He shook his head, wagged his finger at the headphones. “This mic is dumb. It just passes the sound through. Little membranes vibrating—”

He turned and looked at her. “Wait—there is something.”

“Down here? Where?”

“The mining storehouse would have them. A transmitter.” He pretended to hold a box and twist a switch. “For the blasting caps. I repaired one just a month ago. It would work.”

Shirly rose to her feet. “I’ll go get it,” she said. “You stay here.”

“But the stairwell—”

“I’ll be safe. I’m going down, not up.”

He bobbed his head.

“Don’t change anything with that.” She pointed to the radio. “No looking for more voices. Just hers. Leave it there.”

“Of course.”

Shirly bent down and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Outside, she found dozens of faces turning her way, frightened and questioning looks in their wide eyes, their slack mouths. She felt like shouting over the hum of the generator that Juliette was alive, that they weren’t alone, that other people lived and breathed in the forbidden outside. She wanted to, but she didn’t have the time. She hurried to the rail and found Courtnee.

“Hey—”

“Everything okay in there?” Courtnee asked.

“Yeah, fine. Do me a favor, will you? Keep an eye on Walker for me.”

Courtnee nodded. “Where are you—?”

But Shirly was already gone, running to the main door. She squeezed through a group huddled in the entranceway. Jenkins was outside with Harper. They stopped talking as she hurried past.

“Hey!” Jenkins seized her arm. “Where the hell’re you going?”

“Mine storeroom.” She twisted her arm out of his grasp. “I won’t be long—”

“You won’t be going. We’re about to blow that stairwell. These idiots are falling right into our hands.”

“You’re what?”

“The stairwell,” Harper repeated. “It’s rigged to blow. Once they get down there and start working their way through—” He put his hands together in a ball, then expanded the sphere in a mock explosion.

“You don’t understand—” She faced Jenkins. “It’s for the radio.”

He frowned. “Walk had his chance.”

“We’re picking up a lot of chatter,” she told him. “He needs this one piece. I’ll be right back, swear.”

Jenkins looked to Harper. “How long before we do this?”

“Five minutes, sir.” His chin moved back and forth, almost imperceptibly.