part 2 proper gauge

16

the floors flew by faster as they approached home. in the darkest sections of the staircase, between

quiet floors of people hunkered down and awaiting a return to normalcy, old hands wrapped around

each other and swung between two climbers, brazenly and openly, grasping each other while their

other hands slid up the cool steel of the rails.

jahns let go sporadically only to check that her walking stick was secure against her back or to

grab marnes’s canteen from his pack and take a sip. they had taken to drinking each other’s water, it

being easier to reach across than around one’s own back. there was a sweetness to it as well,

carrying the sustenance another needed and being able to provide and reciprocate in a perfectly

equitable relationship. it was a thing worth dropping hands for. momentarily, at least.

jahns finished a sip, screwed on the metal cap with its dangling chain, and replaced it in his outer

pouch. she was dying to know if things would be different once they got back. they were only

twenty floors away. an impossible distance yesterday now seemed like something that could slip

away without her noticing. and as they arrived, would familiar surroundings bring familiar roles?

would last night feel more and more like a dream? or would old ghosts return to haunt them both?

she wanted to ask these things but talked of trivialities instead. when would jules, as she insisted

they call her, be ready for duty? what case files did he and holston have open that needed tending to

first? what concession would they make to keep it happy, to calm down bernard? and how would

they handle peter billings’s disappointment? what impact would this have on hearings he might one

day preside over as judge?

jahns felt butterflies in her stomach as they discussed these things. or perhaps it was the nerves of

all she wanted to say but couldn’t. these topics were as numerous as grains of dust in the outside air,

and just as likely to dry her mouth and still her tongue. she found herself drinking more and more

from his canteen, her own water making noises at her back, her stomach lurching with every landing,

each number counting down toward the conclusion of their journey, an adventure that had been a

complete success in so many ways.

to start with, they had their sheriff: a fiery girl from the down deep who seemed every bit as

confident and inspiring as marnes had intimated. jahns saw her kind as the future of the silo. people

who thought long-term, who planned, who got things done. there was a precedent of sheriffs running

for mayor. she thought juliette would eventually make a fine choice.

and speaking of running, the trip had fired up her own goals and ambitions. she was excited

about the upcoming elections, however unopposed she might be, and had even dreamed up dozens of

short speeches during the climb. she saw how things could run better, how she could perform her

duties more diligently, and how the silo could have new life breathed into old bones.

but the biggest change was whatever had grown between herself and marnes. she had even begun

to suspect, just in the last hours, that the real reason for his never taking a promotion was because of

her. as deputy, there was enough space between them to contain his hope, his impossible dream of

holding her. as sheriff, it couldn’t happen: too much conflict of interest, too much his immediate

superior. this theory of hers contained a powerful sadness and an awe-inspiring sweetness. she

squeezed his hand as she thought about this theory, and it filled her with a deep hollowness, a cramp

in her gut at all he had silently sacrificed, a massive debt to live up to no matter what happened next.

they approached the landing to the nursery and had no plans for stopping to see juliette’s father,

to urge him to receive his daughter on the way up, but jahns changed her mind as she felt her bladder

beg for release.

“i’ve got to go pretty bad,” she told marnes, embarrassed like a child to admit she couldn’t hold it.

her mouth was dry and her stomach churning from so much fluid, and maybe from the fear of getting

home. “i wouldn’t mind seeing juliette’s father, either,” she added.

marnes’s mustache bent up at the corners with the excuse. “then we should stop,” he said.

the waiting room was empty, the signs reminding them to be quiet. jahns peered through the

glass partition and saw a nurse padding through the dark corridor toward her, a frown becoming a

slight smile of recognition.

“mayor,” she whispered.

“i’m sorry not to have wired ahead, but i was hoping to see dr. nichols. and possibly use your

restroom?”

“of course.” she buzzed the door and waved them through. “we’ve had two deliveries since you

last stopped by. things have been crazy with this generator mess—”

“power holiday,” marnes said, correcting her, his voice gruff and louder than theirs.

the nurse shot him a look but nodded as if this was duly noted. she took two robes from the racks

and held them out, told them to leave their stuff by her desk.

in the waiting room, she waved toward the benches and said she would find the doctor. “the

bathrooms are through there.” she pointed at a door, the old sign painted on its surface nearly worn

clean away.

“i’ll be right back,” jahns told marnes. she fought the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand, as

normal as that dark and hidden habit had lately become.

the bathroom was almost completely devoid of light. jahns fumbled with an unfamiliar lock on

the stall door, cursed under her breath as her stomach churned noisily, then finally threw the stall

open and hurried to sit down. her stomach felt like it was on fire as she relieved herself. the mixture

of welcomed release and the burn of having held it too long left her unable to breathe. she went for

what felt like forever, remained sitting as her legs shook uncontrollably, and realized she had pushed

herself too hard on the climb up. the thought of another twenty levels mortified her, made her insides

feel hollow with dread. she finished and moved over to the adjoining toilet to splash herself clean,

then dried herself with one of the towels. she flushed both units to cycle the water. it all required

fumbling in the darkness, unfamiliar as she was with the spacing and location that were second nature

in her apartment and office.

she staggered out of the bathroom on weak legs, wondering if she might need to stay one more

night, sleep in a delivery bed, wait until the morning to make the climb to her office. she could barely

feel her legs as she pulled open the door and returned to marnes in the waiting room.

“better?” he asked. he sat on one of the family benches, a space left conspicuously beside him.

jahns nodded and sat heavily. she was breathing in shallow pants and wondered if he’d find her weak

if she admitted she couldn’t go any further that day.

“jahns? you okay?”

marnes leaned forward. he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking toward the ground. “jahns.

what the hell just happened?”

“lower your voice,” she whispered.

he screamed instead.

“doctor!” he yelled. “nurse!”

a form moved beyond the dusky glass of the nursery. jahns laid her head back against the seat

cushion, trying to form the words on her lips, to tell him to keep it down.

“jahns, sweetheart, what did you do?”

he was holding her hand, patting the back of it. he shook her arm. jahns just wanted to sleep.

there was the slapping of footsteps running their way. lights turned up forbiddingly bright. a nurse

yelled something. there was the familiar voice of juliette’s father, a doctor. he would give her a bed.

he would understand this exhaustion …

there was talk of blood. someone was examining her legs. marnes was crying, tears falling into

his white mustache, peppered with black. he was shaking her shoulders, looking her in the eye.

“i’m okay,” jahns tried to say.

she licked her lips. so dry. mouth so damned dry. she asked for water. marnes fumbled for his

canteen, brought it to her lips, splashing water against and into her mouth.

she tried to swallow but couldn’t. they were stretching her out on the bench, the doctor touching

her ribs, shining a light in her eyes. but things were getting darker anyway.

marnes clutched the canteen in one hand, smoothed her hair back with the other. he was

blubbering. so sad for some reason. so much more energy than her. she smiled at him and reached

for his hand, a miraculous effort. she held his wrist and told him that she loved him. that she had for

as long as she could remember. her mind was tired, loosening its grip on her secrets, mouthing them

to him as tears flowed down his face.

she saw his eyes, bright and wrinkled, peering down at her, then turning to the canteen in his

hand.

the canteen that he had carried.

the water, she realized, the poison meant for him.