A single red line had been drawn underneath the bottom-most figure, then the number 35 had been written and circled three times. Must have been a total, she figured, even though it didn’t match the summation of the numbers above it.
Across the room was a pair of worktables, one with a broken shortwave radio transmitter sitting on it. A spread of electronic parts she recognized sat in a cardboard box next to it.
The other table was a new addition and empty. One of its folding legs was bent at an odd angle, making her wonder how it was able to remain standing. Sort of like Morse and his walker. Broken and bent, but still functional. Mostly.
The rest of the lab was how she remembered from her last visit. Neat. Tidy. Everything in its place.
“Oh my God, you’re back!” Morse said, turning his walker around in a flash of movement. It was missing a wheel on one of the legs, forcing the old man to move unevenly across the room. She worried he might topple over, given his age and health problems.
After he arrived, he gave her a powerful hug, squeezing her tight. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”
“Nah, just ran into a little bad luck, that’s all.”
“You can’t keep scaring us like this.”
“Wasn’t my plan, but sometimes things happen out there. Like today when I—”
Morse let go and put his hands up, motioning in a hurry. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t need to know. As long as you’re back safe and sound, that’s all that matters.”
Summer twisted a lip and let sarcasm fuel her words. “Well, it’s nice to know at least one person missed me.”
Morse narrowed his eyes, his tone turning sharp. “I hope you know that’s not the case. We all love you, Summer. We really do.”
She blushed for a moment, then regained her self-control. “I appreciate that, Alex, but I doubt everyone cares like you do. Krista, for one. That bitch totally hates me.”
“Trust me, we all get worried and we all care. Even Krista. It’s part of being a real human being. When you’re old like me, you’ll understand. Everyone is your son or daughter. You can’t help but want to protect them.”
A smile energized her lips. Somehow Morse seemed to know exactly what to say to rid her mind of worry. Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was his disability. She didn’t know. In truth, it didn’t matter. He was a kind man and the silo needed more like him. Plus, he never stunk. Not in a bad way. Just those mothballs. A huge plus.
Summer took a step back to make room for her backpack to swing around without hitting him. Once it was on the floor, she bent down to fish around inside. “I’ve got something for you.”
“Really? For me?” he answered, rubbing his hands together like a kid waiting for a present. The only way to describe his tone was bouncy—a stark contrast to his usual baritone, steady voice.
She held back a chuckle, enjoying his playful side. “Just a little something I picked up at the store while I was out. Finally found it after months and months of shopping. Boy, are my feet tired. Those malls are huuuuuge.”
He laughed, wobbling on a pair of unstable knees, balancing between the legs of the walker. His hands were extended, palms up. “I’ll bet.”
“You have no idea,” she quipped, as her fingers latched onto his gift.
Morse continued their charade. “And if I know you, I’d lay odds that you got a smoking deal on it, too. Probably used up all those coupons you’ve been saving.”
“Oh yeah. A great deal. In fact, the best one ever. Just wish the lines at the checkout counter weren’t so long all the time. Why is it that no matter when you go to store, a busload of old ladies and their blue hair always seem to beat you to the line and hold things up? It’s a conspiracy, I tell you. Like they plan it or something, just to piss everyone else off.”
Morse laughed again, his eyes still in anticipation mode. “Okay, so what did you bring me?”
Summer paused for a few beats, letting the tension build before she pulled out the caster wheel from her pack with a sweeping theatrical flair, holding it up like a magician at the end of his trick. “I’m guessing this might just help fix your walker.”
He snatched it, his eyes bulging. “Where on Earth did you find it?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she said, laughing.
He tested the bearing, spinning the rubberized wheel around its axle.
Her giggle vanished before she added, “Hopefully, you can make it work. I know it’s not exactly the right size, but—”
“Thank you. It’ll work. Just need to thin down the pin to fit. Shouldn’t take long,” he answered, giving it back to her. “You hold on to it for me. I’ve got something important to show you.”
She followed him past the empty worktable, taking the opportunity to put the wheel on its surface before they arrived at the equipment table next to it.
Morse moved his walker out of the way and sat down in the chair facing the radio. He shot a look at the shortwave transmitter, raising an eyebrow. Its microphone was missing, as usual.
Summer was slammed with a new thought. “Don’t tell me you got it working!”
“Almost. Just a few more tweaks and it should be good to go,” Morse said, flipping its power switch on. The device roared to life, its lights blinking, and cooling fan whirring.
“Should I get the microphone?” she asked, knowing he kept it stored in a drawer along the back wall.
“Not until I fix the transmitter and it’s ready to go. Don’t want to jinx it, now do we?”
“No, of course not.”
“Patience is a virtue in all things we do.”
She nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “Trust me, I remember.”
“We’ll plug it in when it’s time. Not a moment before.”
“Yep. Makes sense,” she said, even though she didn’t believe in the whole patience is a virtue thing. Not when Scabs are chasing you. Patience is the last thing you want.
He tapped an index finger on the box of parts sitting nearby. “By the way, your last score really helped.”
“Awesome. I just grabbed that stuff. Wasn’t sure if any of it would work.”
“Well, it did. You have a great eye, my dear.”
“Yeah, as long as I can get that stuff past the backpack Nazi. You never know with Krista. Sometimes she checks and sometimes she doesn’t.”
“I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but she’s on the warpath.”
“I heard,” Summer said in a downtrodden voice, pointing at her cheek bandage. “Liz told me.”
Morse nodded. “Did she also tell you that there was a Council Meeting while you were gone?”
“What kind of meeting?”
“Not the good kind.”
“About me?”
“Yes, but Edison will have to fill you in. He let it be known that you are to report to his office the second you’re back.”
A twinge of pain hit her chest, making her struggle for air. A few breaths later, she asked, “Any chance you can talk to him for me? You know, smooth it over.”
“Not this time, I’m afraid.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yep,” he said, turning off the radio. “Even I can’t fix certain things.”
She blew out a long, slow breath, letting the air roll across her lips. “Great. This is gonna suck.”
“Just be honest with him, regardless of what happened out there. Honesty is always the best policy.”
She wanted to change the subject before Morse became even more disappointed in her. “So when do you think you’ll make the first broadcast?”
“Soon, I hope. Gotta figure out a couple more things.”
“Can I be here when you do?”
“I don’t see why not,” he said in a cautious voice.