Jay J. Falconer
M. L. Banner
SILO: SUMMER’S END
Suggested Reading Order for the Series
This series is a serial and part of the Frozen World collection of stories.
Each book is an immediate continuation of the earlier story and involves many characters, which are introduced and explored in each successive work. We strongly suggest reading the books in order, starting with this book.
Here are the books in the series:
Silo: Summer’s End (Book 1)
Silo: Hope’s Return (Book 2)
Silo: Nomad’s Revenge (Book 3)
Foreword
Admit it. As a reader, don’t you just love that pulse-pounding, leave you breathless kind of science fiction story?
You know the one I’m talking about. The one with the rich characters, deep mysteries, and endless action. So much so, that when you’re done reading, you can’t wait until the next book comes out so you can see what happens next.
You’re about to experience all of that and more when you jump into Silo Book 1: Summer’s End.
Imagine what life would be like on our planet if the entire world was hit with a mini Ice Age and frozen over after a swarm of dark clouds filled the sky with volcanic ash, choking out the Sun?
Then, one day in the future, the Sun makes a comeback, peeking out from the heavens and warming the Earth once more.
What would it mean for the survivors when the great thaw began?
How could anyone have lived that long without sunlight?
What would the Frozen World look like after all that time?
Would the rules for society be different?
Get ready for a thrilling saga that takes off right out of the gates, and won’t let you rest until the end, when you’ll be left begging for more.
Welcome to Silo Book 1: Summer’s End.
P.S. Be sure to check out the Cool Free Silo Stuff section at the back of this book for some amazing insider Air Force information, plus a few other surprises.
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CHAPTER 1
Summer Lane tore down an abandoned alley with her stainless steel necklace bouncing off her chest. She glanced back to check her lead. It was down to half what it was a few minutes ago. Somehow the hunger gang had closed ground, increasing their foot speed as hers started to wane.
Faster! Faster! she convinced herself, pushing her feet close to their tripping point. Good thing she was young and in shape, her thighs still able to drive her rail-thin legs, even after a mile of this unexpected chase.
She tucked the keepsake inside her sweatshirt, not wanting it to shake loose. It was all she had to prove who she was and where she belonged, both of which might just keep her alive, depending on who might capture her or check her allegiance.
Trash from the abandoned metro area seemed to be everywhere, crowding her path like roving anti-personnel mines, if that was even a thing. She didn’t know. History wasn’t her strong suit; neither was following the rules.
The refuse blew around in clumps, nestling around other objects she had to dodge. Yet despite its abundance, its stench was long gone, as were the flies and maggots, much like the horde of citizens that used to occupy the city.
Summer made a hard left, angling her body to fight the inertia of her sprint as she raced across the frozen landscape, dodging the snow flurries smacking her in the face.
The sting in her legs grew with every step she took, but it still wasn’t as wicked as the pain in her chest. The frigid air seared her lungs with each gasp, burning with the force of a Titan II Missile.
Right then, her mind flashed a video from her childhood—something that stuck in her memories all these years—a fiery missile launch from an underground silo, shooting high into the sky to deliver its devastating payload on some poor, unsuspecting target.
When this chase first began, Summer only needed to take in air every three steps, adding distance between her and the gang on her heels. However, now her breaths were down to a single stride, meaning her speed would continue to fail. The uphill jaunt wasn’t helping either, not with a backpack strapped on and Mother Nature’s unrelenting howl thrashing her face.
Right on cue, the hoodie across her head blew back from another gust of wind. Her hands went up, yanking it back into place for the third time in the last minute.
She made a sharp right, turning down another corridor she’d never trekked before, her mind changing its focus to the neon scarf atop her head.
What a total screwup. Who in their right mind would choose a bright red bandana on a day like today, with a hunger gang in the area? There were plenty of choices in her backpack, all different colors and styles—what was she thinking?
Just bad luck, she thought to herself as she vaulted over a soiled cardboard box with the word U-Haul stenciled on it. The airborne feeling didn’t last long, but while it did, she felt like an Olympic hurdler, clearing the obstacle with precision.
Some might have plowed through the container, landing a shoe on its exterior, but she knew better. Any kind of object could be hiding inside, leaving her with a twisted ankle. An injury like that would mean death, as would most other failures that might occur during one of her Seeker Missions.
Summer peered back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the pursuers. Only a few hundred yards stood between her slender frame and those with knives drawn and bellies empty.
Experience had taught her that when starvation fuels adrenaline, a hunger gang’s speed and endurance increase, mostly out of necessity, but also from desire—two closely related motives.
Sure, some of her cohorts in the silo thought the ‘Scabs’ chasing her were no longer human, simply because frostbite had taken the ends of their noses. Yet they were, even with their ravenous eyes leading the charge.
Somehow, they’d locked onto her tracks. She’d gotten careless. Downright lazy. There were rules and those rules existed for a reason. Seekers like her must never assume an area was clear of predators. But yet, she had.
She knew those chasing her would eventually catch up. A slip away point was needed, and fast, just like she’d been taught. Something to conceal her escape and slow them down. Her eyes scanned the area ahead, looking for an advantage.
After two quick lefts and a long right, she scampered out from behind a string of abandoned homes. They were stacked together like clones, built only a few feet apart.
No privacy, she thought, her mind flashing a snapshot of her lumpy mattress in the storage room of the old missile silo she called home, just wide enough to lie on her side with her knees bent to sleep.