Refuse

12

The walk down to 60 passed swiftly because Leah busied her mind by going through the events of the past several days in her head, and at some point she began to feel like she was starting to make sense of it all. She didn’t have it completely worked out yet, but she was… just.. just… on the verge of some breakthrough.

Whenever she would pass someone on the stairs, she’d look down and away, maybe peering over the railing towards the down-deep because she didn’t want anyone to recognize her or stop her to ask her questions. From here, you could see all the way down to 99, which was the unofficial start of the down-deep.

She didn’t know what time it was. Time was always a mystery in the silo unless you were the kind of person who paid attention to such things. Leah wasn’t that kind of person. She figured it was late, but didn’t know how late.

When she reached the landing on 60, she loitered for a moment, checking out the situation, seeing if she’d been followed, looking for inquiring eyes and to see if anyone was paying special attention to her. No one was, so she sprinted down the hallway that led to Alexander’s old apartment.

I don’t even know if someone is living here now! The thought was screaming in her head as she stuck the key in the lock, and she closed her eyes before she made the willful decision to try and turn the key. A gentle twist of the wrist and the key turned smoothly in the cylinder, and she heard the locking mechanism tick as the pins all cleared their obstructions, and the door responded to the pressure she applied to it by swinging open slowly to reveal a room not unlike Ivan’s living room. This room was also sparsely furnished, but there was a large desk pushed against one wall, and a heating vent, which was partway up the same wall, was opened. The louvered grill that had once covered the heating vent was lying on the desk. A rope was hanging from the heater vent—one end of it down inside the ducting and the other was tied to the leg of the desk. No human had escaped down the heating vent. The desk was heavy, but not heavy enough to hold the weight of a person. Something else then.

Leah closed the door and made a quick perusal of the living area. The small kitchen looked as if it were used often, and there were a few dirty cups and spoons in the sink. The tiny bedroom had been turned into another work area, and there was a desk and couple of metal shelves in that room, but nothing else of note for her to investigate. Apparently, someone or some group had commandeered the apartment and was using it as a work space.

She’d just started to examine the rope when it went taut. Stepping back a few steps, she could tell from the tension on the rope that something was now hanging on the other end. There were a few sharp metallic raps coming from the vent, then there was silence, and the rope hung still and stiff. For a few moments she just stared at it, uncertain what she should do.

After a minute or so had passed, she decided she’d check the rope, and when she pulled on it, she noted the resistance and that whatever was tied on the other end wasn’t too heavy, so she pulled the rope up slowly, trying her best not to make too much noise as she did.

When the object at the end of the rope cleared the mouth of the heating vent, she saw that there were several books tied to the rope. Homemade books. Books made with black-market paper. She untied the bundle and carefully placed the books on the desk.

The top book caught her attention. The title was written in large print… Lex Rex, and the author was someone named Samuel Rutherford. She had no idea who Samuel Rutherford was, but whoever had published this book had cared a great deal about the content, because the book was completely copied out in charcoal.

The second book looked like a book of poetry. The third and final book was the one that really shook her.

…her Alexander!

The book was thick and, like the other books, it had been built by hand. Someone had bound the book by first sewing it with heavy yarn. Then the spine had been dipped in a hard material, like glue or a very stiff wax. She flipped through the pages and she did not recognize the hand, but she recognized the spirit behind the words. Her heart jumped and she almost squealed with delight at the very thought that someone, somewhere, cared enough about Alexander’s words to put them into a book.

Leah had almost convinced herself to sit down and read the book right then, but her elation melted away when she saw, from the corner of her eye, the knob of the front door slowly twist, and then the door itself push open. Standing in the doorway was Joseph Kind, the man she was certain had ratted the paper guild out to the authorities.

When he first entered the room, he had a smile of complete confidence on his face. Leah melted as she stepped backwards, half-stumbling until she was sitting on the love seat. She still gripped Alexander’s book in her hands.

“Ahh, Leah,” Joseph said, “you finally made it. I was wondering if you were every going to show up here.” He indicated to the book in her hand. “That’s a great book. You should read it.”

He pushed the door closed behind him, and as he did, Leah felt her stomach turn and the fight-or-flight response began to take hold of her. She blinked her eyes and looked around the room. The door behind Joseph was the only way out.

Joseph nodded his head at her, as if he were reading her mind. “You probably think that I squealed on you to the silo. I didn’t. That was your mother. We’re on the same team. Anyway, welcome to Samizdat!”