Third Shift - Pact by Hugh Howey Read Free Book Online Page A

to be heard over some obnoxious din of screams and shouts. “I’m going to get your mother, okay? Just stay there, James. Don’t move.”
    Jimmy turned to the monitor. “Okay,” he said. He hung the Mike back on its hook, his hands trembling, and returned to the black box with all the controls. He felt helpless and alone. He should be out there, lending a hand. He thought about Nick and Seth and Sarah Jenkins. How long before he could see his friends again? He hoped it wouldn’t be long.

8
    Hours passed, and Jimmy wanted to be anywhere but that place. He crept down the dark passage to the ladder and peered up at the grating, listening. There was a faint buzzing sound coming and going that he couldn’t place. The hiss of the radio could barely be heard from the end of the corridor. He didn’t want to be too far away from the radio, but he worried his dad might need him by the door as well. He wanted to be in two places at once.
    He went back to the room with the desks. Another of the long guns like his father had used to kill Yani was propped against the wall. Jimmy was afraid to touch it. He wished his father hadn’t left. It was all Jimmy’s fault for being separated from his mom. They should’ve made it down together. But then he remembered the crush of people on the stairs. If only he’d been faster, they wouldn’t have gotten caught up in the crowds. And it occurred to Jimmy that the only reason his mother was there at all was because she had come for him. If it weren’t for that, his parents would be down in that room, safe and together.
    He tried not to think of that. Jimmy glared at the throbbing red lights overhead. The hissing from the radio was getting on his nerves. He hissed back at the thing like Mrs. Pearson shushed the kids in the back row. The small room was strange and bewildering. On one desk, a book unlike any other. On another desk, windows into the whole of the silo. Drawings hung on the wall in the next room the size of blankets, and a gun rested idly, a big pistol that could kick men from a distance.
    “James—”
    Jimmy spun around. His father’s voice was there in the room with him. It took a moment to realize the static from the radio was gone.
    “—Son, are you there?”
    He lunged for the radio, grabbed the Mike at the end of the cord. It had been hours without voices. Too long. As he squeezed the button, a flash of movement caught his eye. Someone was moving on the monitor.
    “Dad?” He stretched the cord across the small room and looked closer. His father was outside the steel door, standing at the end of the hall. Yani was still in the foreground, unmoving. The other body was gone. His father had his back to the camera, the portable radio in his hand. “I’m coming!” Jimmy yelled into the radio. He dropped the Mike and dashed for the corridor and the ladder.
    “Son! No—!”
    His father’s shouts were cut off by a grunt. Jimmy wheeled around, his boots squeaking. He clutched the desk for balance. On the screen, another man had emerged from around the corner. His father was doubled over in pain. This man held the long pistol, stooped to pick up something from the ground, held it to his mouth. It was the portable his father had taken from the room.
    “Is this Russ’s boy?”
    Jimmy stared at the man on the screen. “Yes,” he said out loud. “Don’t hurt my dad.”
    The room was full of static. The lights overhead continued to throb red.
    Jimmy cursed himself, pushed away from the desk, and grabbed the dangling Mike. “Please don’t hurt him,” he said, squeezing the button.
    The man turned and looked directly at the camera. It was one of the security guards. There was a bit of movement peeking out from around the corner of the hall, more people out of sight.
    “James, is it?”
    Jimmy nodded. He watched his dad regain his composure and stand. His father made a gesture to someone out of sight. He patted the air with his palm as if to calm them.
    “What’s