Lyndon Perry: The Last Prayer

“Of course, Elias,” his secretary said, interrupting the reminisces. The sound of Ester’s sobs and the sheriff’s throat-clearings prompted him to say farewell to his mentor and friend. “I will do my best.” The two men grasped each other’s arms briefly and then stepped back. “May God grant you mercy.”

Upon hearing Hanna tell her parents she would see them soon, Elias smiled at his protégé and said, “God has, my friend. God surely has.”

In the silence that followed their departure, Elias allowed the tears to come.

When Alston returned, he brought with him a woman lugging a child-sized body suit, boots, and helmet. The sheriff held the priest’s slightly larger version. He laid the bulky, white hazard suit over a stool, placed the gear on the floor, then unlocked both jail doors. The prisoners slowly exited their cells. The airlock was just down the hall.

“This is Nina. She’ll help you suit up and tell you what to do.”

Without a word, the woman assigned to strap the condemned pair into their suits began, stage by stage, to dress them. She took to her work in nervous spurts. First the leggings, then the boots. Then she wrapped the connections with insulating tape.

“Straighten up, please. Take a step. Can you walk?” Both priest and child demonstrated that they could. “You’re lucky we had a suit your size, Father. We had to make Hanna’s special.”

Yes, quite lucky . Elias caught an amused look from the sheriff standing behind her.

Nina realized her mistake. “I mean to say, we….”

“That’s quite all right, daughter. Please continue.”

She resumed her frenetic tuggings, zippings, and tapings in embarrassed silence. Within a short time both of them were fully suited except for their helmets. They stood there awkwardly, awaiting the instructions they knew were next.

“You see these colored pouches? Numbered so you can read them?” Elias looked down on his chest and nodded. “Take the spray from one and squirt the sensor twice. Take the wool from two and scrub the lens. Take the cloth from three and wipe it clean. Take a film from four and apply the protective layer.” She turned to the girl and said, more gently, “You got that Hanna?”

“I think so,” Hanna said.

“I will assist her,” assured the priest.

Nina stepped back allowing the sheriff his official moment. Alston said gruffly, “Hanna Tate, Father Elias, you are hereby condemned to clean for endangering the silo. Do you have anything to say?”

At first, Elias shook his head then realized, “Hanna, I forgot to lead you in your last petition. Would you like to offer your final…”—somehow the word ‘penance’ didn’t quite fit—“…prayer?”

“Yes, Father. My last prayer is that everyone will follow us to God’s heaven.”

His heart, recently so weak and reticent, suddenly melted and was recast with a tensile strength that would last an eternity. He gripped both her hands through his thick gloves. “That is my confession as well.”

After Nina provided some final instructions about quickly leaving the airlock before it resealed, trapping them in a fiery death, Sheriff Alston led them to the hatch. He unlocked the door with a key from the cluster at his belt and ushered them inside. Nina, apologetically, placed Hanna’s helmet on first, then the priest’s, snapping them both shut then wrapping the connecting seam with protective tape. The time for words had passed. But for Elias, they were no longer necessary. He had a job to perform and he did so willingly.

Taking Hanna’s arm, Elias watched as Alston closed the hatch behind them. Together they sensed the vibration of the door slam shut, heard the klaxon horn blare out a warning, and felt the whoosh of pressure as the airlock matched the outdoors, form-fitting their suits around them. A flashing red light and the hiss of decompressed gas signaled the release of the outer door; the mix of gases and atmosphere produced a thick mist around them both.

A pale glow beckoned them through the airlock and Hanna pulled on Elias’s hand as she made her way easily through the narrow opening. Elias, likewise, had no trouble exiting the underground silo. Side by side they ascended a long cement ramp toward a red and pink-colored sky.

Arriving at the top of the path, Elias gasped. It was not quite sunrise, but the viewplate in his helmet revealed a palate of colors he hadn’t thought possible. The hill was indeed covered with flowers, deep yellow flowers on a field of dark green. And beyond the hill, castles! Beautiful and shimmering, high enough to catch the morning sun’s rays that would soon burst down upon their own bit of paradise.

Paradise! Yes! And they must clean the window so all may see it.

Hanna had already left his side and was spinning and running, clumsily because of the suit, but running, dancing, skipping among the flowers. Elias imagined her shouting with joy as she pointed to the top of the hill. Though he longed to join her in her ecstatic outburst, he knew his old, worn out frame simply could not. He also knew they needed to clean. Maybe the child had forgotten, maybe she would leave him behind and keep on skipping, traipsing to the castles in the sky. But before he could wave her back, Hanna turned and ran towards him, arms wide in carefree abandon.

She motioned to one camera; Elias indicated another. They knew their jobs and each headed to their assignment, climbing short ladders that led to muted, grime-covered sensors. Spray, scrub, wipe, apply; each utilized the contents from each pocket in turn. The directions were simple enough even if their execution took some effort. Beads of sweat trickled down his nose. Elias coughed a few times, the exertion catching up with him.

He glanced over at Hanna who was waving at the camera after every application. She motioned to whoever was watching the inner screen to come join them, pointing to the hill behind her where a fading twilight was giving way to a glorious day. The pinks and reds and oranges along the horizon were asserting themselves; the yellows and greens stretched before them were keeping pace. Surely this was a hint of heaven. Hanna had been right.

Finally, as if by mutual agreement, they both crawled down from their perches and met in the clearing in front of the earth-covered bunker. Hanna grabbed his gloved hand and started to pull him through the yellow flowers. Elias took a few steps and almost tripped, stumbling upon some hidden rock, he guessed. He coughed again and stopped to catch his breath. His viewplate shimmered and Elias blinked the sweat from his eyes.

Before him, Hanna pointed up the hill. He followed her gaze and could see the castles in the distance, golden in the sun that was about to illumine even them. The young girl pulled on his hand once more. Heaven, she seemed to say, we must make our way to God.

And so Elias put one foot in front of the other, trusting his way to paradise.

Samuel followed Jedediah, Adin, and Ester into the cafeteria where a large viewscreen projected the blurred and dreary image of the world beyond. They were alone, which was not unusual. Very few attended a cleaning; the disturbing images of dying friends were best left to the imagination. Even the mayor had chosen to remain in her quarters, washing her hands of a child’s execution, the first in the history of her silo.

The klaxon horn, muted at this distance but still alarming, caused them all to stiffen. In a few moments they would see the condemned fulfill their duties, allowing the people of the silo to see clearly once again the surface devastation wrought by their ancestors. It was a reminder the people of the silo paradoxically abhorred and welcomed.