Hugh Howey - Shift

Anna murmured her agreement. Her arm was still touching his. There was still no sign of Helen. 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 yet his eyes would be drawn immediately to her.

‘I guess the only way they were going to build any of this was if we gave them the right kind of insurance,’ Donald said, repeating 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 happens, they’ll have someone — something — to fall back on.’

Again, Anna rested against his arm. Definitely not an accident. 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 interesting 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 once more, ignoring the space he’d made.

‘Don’t you feel that?’ she asked. ‘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 afterwards.

‘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 of time.

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. But it came and went. Anna left his protective cover and headed off towards the Senator.

Thurman lifted his umbrella, kissed his daughter’s cheek and watched her descend the hill. He hiked up to join Donald.

They stood beside each other for a pause, the rain dripping off their umbrellas 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 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?’

‘No, sir.’ 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 not to 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.

‘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 good thing, 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.’

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 any moment.’ 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.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, shivering against the cold.

Senator Thurman left. Turning his back to the stage, Donald scanned the last of the buses and wondered where in the world Helen was.

TROY WALKED DOWN the line of cryopods as if he knew where he was going. It was just like the way his hand had drifted to the button that had brought him to that floor. There were made-up names on each of the panels. He knew this somehow. He remembered coming up with his name. It had something to do with his wife, some way to honour her, or some kind of secret and forbidden link so that he might one day remember.

That all lay in the past, deep in the mist, a dream forgotten. Before his shift there had been an orientation. There were familiar books to read and reread. That’s when he had chosen his name.

A bitter explosion on his tongue brought him to a halt. It was the taste of a pill dissolving. Troy stuck out his tongue and scraped it with his fingers, but there was nothing there. He could feel the ulcers on his gums against his teeth but couldn’t recall how they’d formed.

He walked on. Something wasn’t right. These memories weren’t supposed to return. He pictured himself on a gurney, screaming, someone strapping him down, stabbing him with needles. That wasn’t him. He was holding that man’s boots.

Troy stopped at one of the pods and checked the name. Helen . His gut lurched and groped for its medicine. He didn’t want to remember. That was a secret ingredient: the not wanting to remember . Those were the parts that slipped away, the parts the drugs wrapped their tentacles around and pulled beneath the surface. But now, there was some small part of him that was dying to know. It was a nagging doubt, a feeling of having left some important piece of himself behind. It was willing to drown the rest of him for the answers.

The frost on the glass wiped away with a squeak. He didn’t recognise the person inside and moved on to the next pod, a scene from before orientation coming back to him.

Troy recalled halls packed with people crying, grown men sobbing, pills that dried their eyes. Fearsome clouds rose on a video screen. Women were put away for safety. Like a lifeboat, women and children first.