Holston knew this was his last time to walk these
spiral stairs. After a lifetime of speeding down and lumbering back up the silo
steps, he possessed no will to ever do it again. His knees ached as he moved up
the treads automatically. His tin badge burned in his right hand as he no
longer wore it over his heart.
He made the decision while he tried to sleep that
night. His wife, Allison, became a cleaner three years prior, and Holston still
did not know why. He missed her so much and the white dot on the hill far away
no longer looked like her but a piece of granite shinning in the sun.
Why did she think there was life on the outside of
the silo? The place was brown and the wind kicked up great toxic storms, but
not once had he seen life or even a green plant. The silos past the hill were
ragged and rusty. Again no life, but Allison swore it was a lie. She had found
old computer language that proved it was verdant and teaming with life.
Holston walked into the silo’s police department,
passed his Deputy’s desk and into his office. He looked down at the files on
his desk and felt a pang of guilt knowing he was about to hand down unfinished
business to his deputy and best friend, Marnes. He picked up the heavy ring of
cell keys and headed down the hall.
Marnes ambled in and watched his friend open the
cleaning cell. He walked the opposite way to make the coffee and turn on the
lights. They had worked so long together they knew each other’s boot shuffle. Holston
pulled the cell door shut and threw the keys towards the scratch of heel on the
linoleum. Marnes felt the keys whack his heel and put the coffee pot down to mosey
towards the cell.
“You cleaning the cleaning cell, Holston?”
Holston smiled at the joke as he sat on the bench
and looked out the view to the hill. His badge laid on his right knee. Cleaners
had a full view of the outside to remind them how important the job was to
others. There were so many years between cleanings that the view was hard to
see with all the muck stuck to the lens.
Holston looked up at his friend and pushed the badge
towards the bars. “Sherriff Marnes, I surrender.”
I am reading an engaging story titled Wool by Hugh
Howey. Howey wrote this in the morning before work and during lunch while
working at a bookstore. He did an excellent job for every chapter pulls you to
the next.
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