It’s never easy dealing with the savagery of death, but once you’re sure the initial threat is over, you can finally turn your back and ignore the possibility of another breech. For a while, at least, because the threat is always there—waiting for a chance to re-engage.
At this point in the process, Krista was sure there was no chance of those malicious feelings gaining a foothold. Not mentally or emotionally. And certainly not until the job was done. A job that was infinitely harder now, with Summer running the silo.
The mere thought of that girl making command decisions for everyone was difficult to justify, despite it being Edison’s dying wish.
The staff would soon raise concerns, no matter how Krista chose to spin the news of their newly-appointed leader. Some might decide to balk or threaten to leave.
Not that she would blame them. She’d already had those same thoughts. What concerned her most was the possibility of an eventual mutiny. Or an overthrow, depending on where the majority of Nirvana’s population stood at the time.
Krista pulled the transport into its narrow parking spot, making sure the front bumper didn’t run into the wooden slats along the wall in front. The last thing she needed was to create a drive-through lane where none was required.
Most of the time, the wooden barn sat alone and appeared to be abandoned. Just some old relic that belonged to a nearby dairy farm with thousands of cows back in the day.
Edison had the barn moved a short distance to this very spot to fool an unaware observer. To them, it would appear to be nothing more than a massive storehouse in the middle of a nowhere. The key word being nowhere.
In reality, that term meant a remote field that was now in the process of thawing like everything else. The Event had changed every nuance of life on the planet. Not just with the weather, but each survivor’s emotions and goals, plus everything in between.
When Krista heard the rumble of the barn doors closing behind her, she let out the mythical breath she’d been holding in secret, ever since her arrival at the monthly Trading Post meet. It had been a long day, one filled with plenty of blood.
At least everyone was safe, sealed inside the wooden façade built to conceal the silo’s entrance, all of it designed with the critical eye of a world-renowned genius. Unfortunately, that same genius was now rotting in the rear of the truck.
Krista fought back the urge to weep for her former boss, a man she didn’t always agree with, but a man she respected for his willingness to take a stand, no matter how right or wrong he was at the time. Usually wrong, if anyone dared to keep a tally, his ideals posing a constant threat to security.
Regardless, Edison had thought of almost everything to help sell the backstory of the wayward barn, including constructing stretches of broken-down split rail fencing that gave the appearance of a pasture, one enclosed long ago.
He’d even constructed a dry water well and a few dilapidated stalls, complete with cow pies thrown about, each resembling an ancient fossil, rather than a fresh dropping.
She never understood why there wasn’t a main house on the property. She had planned to ask Edison that very question, but never got around to it. Now the answer would forever remain unknown, adding to the mystery of his intellect.
“Concealment Team ready to deploy!” a male’s voice called out, snapping Krista out of her reflective state. It was coming from the left, somewhere beyond her view.
The spotter in the loft answered the hail. “All clear. Proceed.”
A crack of light erupted along the left side of the building, the sunlight beaming in through the driver’s window from an access door.
Krista watched the team leader stand aside as the rest of the squad broke through the exit and trotted outside. Each member carried a custom-made rake, designed with a wide set of tree-like branches made of aluminum. Edison’s fabrication teams had made them to his exact specifications, allowing the tire tracks to be erased after each mission.
It normally took about twenty minutes to cover all the signs, smoothing the dirt with sweeping passes. It was a rehearsed production, stretching from the barn’s door to the outskirts of the clearing and up the approach hill.
Krista hoped they’d work faster today, not because she was in a hurry, but more because of the knot nagging at her stomach. It wasn’t shrinking as it should have been now that they were inside a closed, secure structure.
Something was keeping the pain stoked and alive. Whether it was the universe or something else, she didn’t know. The feeling was there, nonetheless.
After the side door closed, Krista put the shifter into park, then turned the engine off and hopped out of the truck. She put her fingers into the corners of her mouth and sent a sharp whistle at the guards stationed near a pair of yellow handrails bordering a staircase that led below ground.
She waved her hand, signaling for the men to join her at the driver’s door. They began a jog to her position, the clatter of gear and weapons making a comforting sound. She was home once again, with troops of like minds and similar goals.
Krista whistled at another team of men, only they weren’t soldiers. All three wore hardhats and tool belts. They stood bent over, huddled around one of the massive slide rails that supported the blast doors covering the silo’s missile bay. The men straightened up and shot a look at Krista.
“A little help, please,” she said.
The men stopped their work and began a casual trek to her position.
Her pair of guards arrived first. She pointed to the rear of the truck. “Take the prisoners to the brig. I’ll send a medical team down to assess their injuries.”
“Yes, ma’am,” one of the guards said, turning and taking a direct path to the tailgate. The other soldier followed, his rifle in a standby position, angled from high to low across his chest.
The maintenance workers arrived at the same moment as Summer, who was holding the dog in her arms, her face flushed red and eyes wider than normal.
“I’ll meet you inside,” Summer said in a stark tone, never stopping her feet. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t forget the professor. We can’t leave him there like that.”
“Not a chance,” Krista said, holding back a few choice words. Words not fit for the ears of a freshly-minted leader. Nor would they be proper conduct for the second-in-charge of Nirvana. A good soldier keeps their mouth shut and opinions quiet, even when every cell in their body is screaming at them to do otherwise.
Krista wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did. It wasn’t as if Summer was out of line. It just seemed that way. Maybe it was the sharp tone the girl had just used. Or the fact that they had only just arrived at camp and Summer was already barking orders, with civilians and troops nearby.
Summer continued ahead with the dog hanging limp across her forearms, heading toward the twin handrails that bordered the entrance to the silo.
The hardhat crew formed a semi-circle around Krista.
“What can we do to help?” the fattest man asked, his head covered in a dome of protective plastic.
“I need you to escort the prisoners down to the brig.”
“Prisoners? Us?”
“Relax. They’re blindfolded and secure. Just make sure they don’t walk into any walls, or fall down the stairs.”
The men stood there in silence, only blinking, with looks of confusion on their faces.
“Don’t think about it. Just do it. My men will cover you,” Krista said, grabbing each man by the arm and sending them forward in a shove.
Krista watched Summer travel between the handrails and down the steps. Just then, the top of a head came up the stairs in the opposite direction, climbing higher into view with each step.