M Banner - Silo - Summer's End

“A minute late by the looks of it,” Summer said, standing by the back of the transport, shifting her weight between legs.

Krista realized the missing truck held the goods they’d brought for trade. “Took our supplies, too.”

Summer raised an eyebrow. “Or the Scabs did.”

“I doubt Scabs can drive,” Krista said in a terse voice, watching Fletcher and Dice move the professor forward, obviously making room for Summer and the dog. She noticed the professor’s breathing was shallower. “Come on, Summer. Hurry up. The professor doesn’t look so good.”

“A little help?” Summer asked her.

“Yeah, right. Sorry,” Krista said, stepping forward in a lurch to assist the girl into the truck with both hands.

Summer climbed the bumper and into the covered area of the truck, then put Sergeant Barkley down with a waist bend. She sat cross-legged next to the mutt, rubbing his neck with one hand, while pressing on his knife wound with the other.

Krista watched the girl bring her gaze to the professor, staring at him with tears falling from her eyes, looking as though someone had stuck a knife in her, too.

Krista figured Summer was torn between tending to the ugliest German Shepherd on the planet and Edison—a man who always had Summer’s back.

Granted, both the dog and the professor were fighting for their lives, but how could that girl prioritize an animal she barely knew over a person who had kept her safe and fed all these years? It didn’t make sense. At least not to Krista.

When the animal woke up with a whimper, Summer turned her attention to the canine, her face running a ghostly white when their eyes met. “I know it hurts, boy. But we’ll be home soon. Just hang in there.”

“Can you drive this thing?” Fletcher asked Krista, sounding more like a demand than a question.

“On it,” Krista snapped. But before she turned and completed a step toward the driver’s door, the professor sat up and gasped.

Everyone flinched in a startle.

“Krista? I need Krista?” the old man asked, his eyes glazed over.

Krista flew up the tailgate and into the cargo area, shoving past Summer. She knelt down next to Dice, nudging him to the side, then took Edison’s wrinkled hand in hers, squeezing it between her fingers. His skin was cold, terribly so, as if he’d been sleeping in a walk-in freezer. “I’m right here, Professor.”

His voice turned weak, almost to the point of a whisper. “Promise me something.”

She leaned in close. “Sure. Anything.”

“Stand by her,” he said in a fading tone.

“Who?”

“Summer,” he said, struggling for air to fuel his words. “She needs a loyal council.”

“For what?”

His words became even more choppy and weak. “To take over.”

“Take over?”

“Yes. Nirvana.”

Krista hesitated a few beats, not wanting to admit that she’d just heard those words. “She’s not ready, Professor.”

“Rules of Succession,” he said, the words arriving with mostly air. “Promise me.”

“Okay. I will. You have my word,” Krista said, feeling her heart break into two.

Edison took one last massive breath before the air in his lungs ran out. His head flopped back and tilted to the side, his eyes still open.

“Do something!” Summer screamed, tears flooding her face in waves.

Fletcher laid the old man back on the floorboard, resting his lifeless body on the cold steel.

“No! No! No!” Krista said, leaning forward and putting her hands on Edison’s chest to start CPR. She pumped and pumped, but the life in his eyes never returned.

The blackness had him.

Krista finished dressing the dog’s wound with a wrap of cotton and medical tape from the vehicle’s first aid kit. It took eleven stitches to close the hole, but the dog took the pain like a champ, just like he had for the past half hour.

Summer never stopped stroking the animal’s fur the whole time, her eyes vacant with tears, even after her long bout of sobbing that seemed to have lasted forever.

Right now, Summer’s attention didn’t appear to be on anything specific, her stare aimed at a point somewhere off at the distance, beyond the back of the truck, far past the carnage littering the area.

Krista knew why. She felt the same way, staring at the blanket covering the professor’s lifeless body, fighting back the shock of his death.

Summer had done enough wailing for everyone, but it still didn’t lessen the grief squeezing Krista’s heart.

Tears are for the weak , Krista reminded herself, forcing the anguish from her heart.

“That should do it,” Krista said, finishing the wrap on Sergeant Barkley. She flashed a pair of tight eyes at Summer. It was obvious the girl needed a diversion, something to free her mind of the tragic, bloody death of her mentor and friend.

Krista knew the best way to do that was to grab Summer’s attention with something unexpected. Verbal, that was—an emotional redirect—part shock and part awe—or simply callous. Either would work, if she delivered the words in the proper tone and with the right inflection. Just enough to engage, but not so much as to hurt. “But I still think this was waste of supplies.”

Summer’s empty, watery stare vanished in a heartbeat, as she turned her eyes to Krista. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Our medical supplies should be saved for two-legged creatures, not four.”

“How can you say that?”

“Simple logic. We must have priorities.”

“No way we’re letting Barkley die like the professor.”

Krista felt an emotional stab slam into her chest, but she wasn’t going to allow it to gain a foothold. Not entirely, otherwise she’d lose her status as Nirvana’s toughest SOB. “Jesus, Summer. I didn’t let him die. I did all I could.”

“She did,” Fletcher added from just beyond the tailgate, looking resolute, even though he wasn’t technically part of their team. “Edison lost too much blood. There’s wasn’t any more anyone could do.”

“Not what I meant,” Summer said, making eye contact with Sergeant Barkley. “Someone has to survive today.”

“You mean like the four of us?” Dice quipped in a matter-of-fact way, flashing his attention at Krista, then Fletcher and Summer.

Summer patted the dog on the neck. “Five.”

Dice nodded, looking as though he’d just surrendered. Or he was trying to be supportive. Hard to tell. “Sure, five. That’s something at least.”

“We should get moving,” Fletcher said to Dice, both men standing a foot apart, only inches beyond the rear of the truck.

“You guys aren’t leaving, are you?” Summer asked.

Krista put a hand on Summer’s arm, giving her an eye flare and a subtle head shake, hoping the girl would understand the gesture. Their enemies, or former enemies, needed to leave, but Krista didn’t want to utter the actual words. Fletcher and Dice couldn’t be allowed to follow them home, not without compromising something Edison held most dear—the location of Nirvana. “They have their own people to think about, now that Frost is gone.”

“She’s right,” Fletcher said. “I’m afraid this is where we part ways. We’ve all got new responsibilities. People to think about.”

Krista took her time, scooting a path to the rear of the truck, while her mind went into deep analysis mode.

She wondered what life in the silo would be like now that the professor was gone. She wasn’t happy about Edison putting Summer in charge, but the Rules of Succession were clear.

So was her duty to fulfill her pledge to the old man, even if anointing Summer as Nirvana’s new leader went against all known logic in the universe.