Epilogue
? Silo 17 ?
“Thirty two!”
Elise danced up the steps of the down deep, her breath trailing in long curls of steam behind her, the clumsy feet of youth making a racket with their heavy boots on the wet steel.
“Thirty two steps, Mr. Solo!”
She made it back up to the landing, tripped over the last step, and caught herself on her hands and knees. Elise stayed there a minute, head down, probably deciding if she would cry or be okay.
Solo waited for her to cry.
Instead, she looked up at him, a wide smile telling him she was fine. There was a gap in that smile where a loose tooth had come out and had not yet been replaced.
“It’s going down,” she said. She wiped her hands on her new coveralls and ran over to him. “The water’s going down!”
Solo grunted as she threw herself into his hip and hugged his waist. He draped an arm across her back while she squeezed him.
“Everything’s gonna be great!”
Solo held the railing with one hand and looked down past the rust-colored stain of old blood beneath his feet, looked past that memory and into the receding waters far below. He reached for the radio on his hip. Juliette would be the most excited to know.
“I think you’re right,” he told little Elise, pulling his radio free. “I think everything’s gonna be just fine . . .”