Hugh Howey: First Shift: Legacy

Anna laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about the conditions of the grounds after this.”

Donald thought about all the loads of radioactive waste that would be trucked in. “Yeah.” He thought he saw her point.

Turning away from the parking lot for a moment, he peered down the hill toward the Georgia stage. It would also be the site of the first national gathering of delegates later that day, all the most important people under one tent. Behind the stage and among the smoking food tents, the only sign of the underground containment facility was a small concrete tower rising up from the ground, a bristle of antennas sprouting from the top. Donald thought of how much work it would take to haul away all the flags and soaked buntings before the first of the spent fuel rods could finally be brought in.

“It’s weird to think of a few thousand people from the state of Tennessee stomping around on top of something we designed,” Anna said. Her arm brushed against Donald’s. He stood perfectly still, wondering if it had been an accident. “I wish you’d seen more of the place.”

Donald shivered, more from fighting to remain still than from the cold and moist morning air. He hadn’t told anyone about Mick’s tour the day before. It felt too sacred. He would probably tell Helen about it and no one else. “It’s crazy how much time went into something nobody will ever use,” he said.

Anna murmured her agreement. Her arm was still touching his. There was no sign of Helen making her way through the security complex. Donald felt irrationally that he would somehow spot her among the crowds. He usually could. He remembered the high balcony of a place they’d stayed in during their honeymoon in Hawaii. Even from up there, he could spot her taking her early morning walks along the foam line, looking for seashells. There might be a few hundred strollers out on the beach, and his eyes would be immediately drawn to her form, her singular gait.

“It’s weird how much pressure was on us to get everything right, don’t you think?”

“Mmm,” Anna said.

“I guess the only way they were going to build any of this was if we gave them the right kind of insurance.” Donald repeated what the Senator had told him, but it still didn’t feel right.

“People want to feel safe,” Anna said. “They want to know, if the worst thing possible happens, they’ll have someone— something —to fall back on.”

There was pressure against his arm. Definitely not an accident, not a breeze or gust of wind pushing her into him. Donald felt himself withdraw and knew she would sense it, too.

“I was really hoping to tour one of the other bunkers,” he said, changing the subject. “It’d be cool to see what the other teams came up with. Apparently, though, I don’t have the clearance.”

Anna laughed. “I tried the same thing. I’m dying to see our competition. But I can understand them being sensitive. There’s a lot of eyes on this joint.” She leaned into him again, ignoring the space he’d made.

“Don’t you feel that?” she asked, glancing up at the bottom of the umbrella. “Like there’s some huge bull’s-eye over this place? I mean, even with the fences and walls down there, you can bet the whole world is gonna be keeping an eye on what happens here.”

Donald nodded. He knew she wasn’t talking about the convention but about what the place would be used for afterward.

“Hey, it looks like I’ve got to get back down there.”

He turned to follow her gaze, saw Senator Thurman climbing the hill on foot, a massive black golf umbrella shedding the rain around him. The man seemed impervious to the mud and grime in a way no one else was, the same way he seemed oblivious to the passing decades.

Anna reached over and squeezed Donald’s arm. “Congrats again. It was fun working together on this.”

“Same,” he said. “We make a good team.”

She smiled. He wondered for a moment if she would lean over and kiss his cheek. It would feel natural in that moment, and then that moment irised shut. Anna left his protective cover and headed off toward the Senator.

Thurman lifted his umbrella and smiled at his daughter, and Donald watched as he tried to make her take the umbrella from him, but she refused in a way that he knew quite well. Stubborn and proud. Thurman kissed his daughter’s cheek and watched her descend the hill a ways, then he hiked up to join Donald.

They stood beside each other a pause, their umbrellas overlapping, the rain dripping off the Senator’s and onto Donald’s with a muted patter.

“Sir,” Donald finally said. He felt newly comfortable in the man’s presence. The last two weeks had been like summer camp, where being around the same people almost every hour of the day brought a level of familiarity and intimacy that knowing them casually for years could never match. There was something about forced confinement that really brought people together. Beyond the obvious, physical ways.

“Damn rain” was Thurman’s reply.

“You can’t control everything,” Donald said.

The Senator grunted as if he disagreed. “Helen not here yet?”

“Nossir.” Donald fished in his pocket and felt for his phone. “I’ll message her again in a bit. Not sure if my texts are getting through or not—the networks are absolutely crushed. I’m pretty sure this many people descending on this corner of the county is unprecedented.”

“Well, this will be an unprecedented day,” Thurman said. “Nothing like it ever before.”

“It was mostly your doing, sir. I mean, not just building this place, but choosing to not run. This country could’ve been yours for the taking this year.”

The Senator laughed. “That’s true most years, Donny. But I’ve learned to set my sights higher than that.”

Donald shivered again. He couldn’t remember the last time the Senator had called him that. Maybe that first meeting in his office, more than two years ago? The old man seemed unusually tense or oddly relaxed. It was strange that Donald couldn’t tell which.

“When Helen gets here, I want you to come down to the state tent and see me, okay?”

Donald pulled out his phone and checked the time. “You know I’m supposed to be at the Tennessee tent in an hour, right?”

“There’s been a change of plans. I want you to stay close to home. Mick is going to cover for you over there, which means I need you with me.”

“Are you sure? I was supposed to meet with—”

“I know. This is a promotion, trust me. I want you and Helen near the Georgia stage with me. And look—”

The Senator turned to face him. Donald peeled his eyes away from the last of the unloading buses. The rain had picked up a little.

“You’ve contributed more to this day than you know,” Thurman said.

“Sir?”

“The world is going to change today, Donny. You deserve this.”

Donald wondered if the Senator had been skipping his nanobath treatments. His eyes seemed dilated and focused on something in the distance. He appeared older, somehow.

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“You will. Oh, and a surprise visitor is coming. She should be here anytime.” He smiled. “The national anthem starts at noon. There’ll be a flyover from the 141st after that. I want you nearby when that happens.”

Donald nodded. He had learned when to stop asking questions and just do what the Senator expected of him.

“Yessir,” he said, shivering against the cold.

Senator Thurman left, and the sound of the rain on Donald’s umbrella shifted with the new bombardment from above. Turning his back to the stage, Donald scanned the last of the buses and wondered where in the world Helen was.