Silo 49: Deep Dark by Ann Christy Read Free Book Online Page B

figure eight bun on the back of her head that Marina had seen her wearing since the day Joseph first brought her home. Frizzy strands of shorter hair escaped the bun and framed her face like a halo of wispy whiteness. Her face was remarkably unlined except when she smiled. Then her eyes all but disappeared in the many wrinkles that appeared.
    It was said that life was divide d into thirds. The first was childhood and it was supposed to be the happiest. The second was adulthood and it was to be the most rewarding. The third was being old and that, alas, went by the fastest. Marina and Joseph were almost to that final stage and Mother Patrick was already older than many people could expect to ever be, but she was more vital and vigorous than many a youngster. She was certainly happier than most. Perhaps the maxim simply didn’t apply to some people.
    "So, my babies," she began, clearly meaning all three of them. At some point during the years Joseph and Marina had joined the group loosely lumped as ‘babies’ in Mother Patrick's eyes. Her bright brown eyes flicked from one to the next. "What brings you to see me? The message just said a vacation. Are you vacationing with me or on your way somewhere?"

Chapter Five
    Their visit was a good one, though shorter than any of them might have liked. Joseph put a small crimp on things when he asked if she was sleeping in her off ice, his tone disapproving. Mother Patrick quickly reminded him that she only worked the hours she could handle but that the trip back up to 82 was more than she liked to do after coming down.
    She made it very clear she was comfortable here overnight and was able to take days off between her shifts if she stayed on call overnight. Joseph didn’t respond with acquiescence, instead voicing argument about how much she worked overall. The tension was lifted before it could really build when Mother Patrick chucked her son under the chin and reminded him of many nights they had spent on that couch or floor when the birthing times of the animals came too quickly for them to go home. He smiled an honest smile at that and admitted how much he had liked those days. He did elicit a promise from her to ask for a comfortable bed, perhaps a real folding bed rather than a cot, if the couch became too much to bear.
    They drank tea and heard the stories of the Animal Farm, at least this side of it where the animals lived rather than where they went to be processed. They discussed the family's plans for this vacation and dutifully wrote down the requests for items that Mother Patrick had a particular want for.
    It was a short list of simple things. Some bright cloth from the Garment district for a few new kerchiefs, some strawberry jam if they could find some because she had a hankering for it. Odds and ends that made life a little easier for a woman who found it difficult to make long journeys up the stairs were added. Marina would be sure to find every one of the items, and a few gifts besides, before they stopped on their way home.
    Mother Patrick showed Sela a set of newborn twin goats with their mother in one of the pens across the hall. The delight on her face at the sight was gratifying. The mother was still too newly delivered to feel comfortable with Sela’s excited squeals and quick hands around her kids, but Mother Patrick calmed her so Sela could pet the newborns.
    Down the ramp, Mother Patrick took them to see the laying room where chickens lived in groups inside smaller coops. Each held about twenty hens and each coop had things called nesting boxes along the back wall. The visitors giggled at the argumentative cackling different groups seemed to engage in and the bright, greedy interest many of the chickens showed when they noted humans in the vast room.
    Mother Patrick also showed the family the dim walkway that ran behind the coops that allowed the workers to collect the eggs. They walked a short distance down one of them and Sela clapped her hands over her