1
The children were playing while Holston climbed to his death; he could hear them squealing1 as only
happy children do. While they thundered about frantically2 above, Holston took his time, each step
methodical and ponderous3, as he wound his way around and around the spiral staircase, old boots
ringing out on metal treads.
The treads, like his father’s boots, showed signs of wear. Paint clung to them in feeble chips,
mostly in the corners and undersides, where they were safe. Traffic elsewhere on the staircase sent
dust shivering off in small clouds. Holston could feel the vibrations4 in the railing, which was worn
down to the gleaming metal. That always amazed him: how centuries of bare palms and shuffling5 feet
could wear down solid steel. One molecule6 at a time, he supposed. Each life might wear away a
single layer, even as the silo wore away that life.
Each step was slightly bowed from generations of traffic, the edge rounded down like a pouting7
lip. In the center, there was almost no trace of the small diamonds that once gave the treads their grip.
Their absence could only be inferred from the pattern to either side, the small pyramidal bumps rising
from the flat steel with their crisp edges and flecks8 of paint.
Holston lifted an old boot to an old step, pressed down, and did it again. He lost himself in what
the untold9 years had done, the ablation of molecules10 and lives, layers and layers ground to fine dust.
And he thought, not for the first time, that neither life nor staircase had been meant for such an
existence. The tight confines of that long spiral, threading through the buried silo like a straw in a
glass, had not been built for such abuse. Like much of their cylindrical11 home, it seemed to have been
made for other purposes, for functions long since forgotten. What was now used as a thoroughfare for
thousands of people, moving up and down in repetitious daily cycles, seemed more apt in Holston’s
view to be used only in emergencies and perhaps by mere12 dozens.
Another floor went by—a pie-shaped division of dormitories. As Holston ascended13 the last few
levels, this last climb he would ever take, the sounds of childlike delight rained down even louder
from above. This was the laughter of youth, of souls who had not yet come to grips with where they
lived, who did not yet feel the press of the earth on all sides, who in their minds were not buried at
all, but alive. Alive and unworn, dripping happy sounds down the stairwell, trills that were
incongruous with Holston’s actions, his decision and determination to go outside.
As he neared the upper level, one young voice rang out above the others, and Holston
remembered being a child in the silo—all the schooling14 and the games. Back then, the stuffy15 concrete
cylinder16 had felt, with its floors and floors of apartments and workshops and hydroponic gardens and
purification rooms with their tangles17 of pipes, like a vast universe, a wide expanse one could never
fully18 explore, a labyrinth19 he and his friends could get lost in forever.
But those days were more than thirty years distant. Holston’s childhood now felt like something
two or three lifetimes ago, something someone else had enjoyed. Not him. He had an entire lifetime
as sheriff weighing heavy, blocking off that past. And more recently, there was this third stage of his
life—a secret life beyond childhood and being sheriff. It was the last layers of himself ground to dust;
three years spent silently waiting for what would never come, each day longer than any month from
his happier lifetimes.
At the top of the spiral stairway, Holston’s hand ran out of railing. The curvy bar of worn steel
ended as the stairwell emptied into the widest rooms of the entire silo complex: the cafeteria and the
adjoining lounge. The playful squeals20 were level with him now. Darting21 bright shapes zagged
between scattered22 chairs, playing chase. A handful of adults tried to contain the chaos23. Holston saw
Emma picking up scattered chalk and crayon from the stained tiles. Her husband, Clarke, sat behind a
table arranged with cups of juice and bowls of cornflour cookies. He waved at Holston from across
the room.
Holston didn’t think to wave back, didn’t have the energy or the desire. He looked past the adults
and playing children to the blurry25 view beyond, projected on the cafeteria wall. It was the largest
uninterrupted vista26 of their inhospitable world. A morning scene. Dawn’s dim light coated lifeless
hills that had hardly changed since Holston was a boy. They sat, just as they always had, while he had
gone from playing chase among the cafeteria tables to whatever empty thing he was now. And
beyond the stately rolling crests27 of these hills, the top of a familiar and rotting skyline caught the
morning rays in feeble glints. Ancient glass and steel stood distantly where people, it was suspected,
had once lived aboveground.
A child, ejected from the group like a comet, bumped into Holston’s knees. He looked down and
moved to touch the kid—Susan’s boy—but just like a comet the child was gone again, pulled back
into the orbit of the others.
Holston thought suddenly of the lottery28 he and Allison had won the year of her death. He still had
the ticket; he carried it everywhere. One of these kids—maybe he or she would be two by now and
tottering29 after the older children—could’ve been theirs. They had dreamed, like all parents do, of the
double fortune of twins. They had tried, of course. After her implant30 was removed, they had spent
night after glorious night trying to redeem31 that ticket, other parents wishing them luck, other lottery
hopefuls silently praying for an empty year to pass.
Knowing they only had a year, he and Allison had invited superstition32 into their lives, looking to
anything for help. Tricks, like hanging garlic over the bed, that supposedly increased fertility; two
dimes34 under the mattress35 for twins; a pink ribbon in Allison’s hair; smudges of blue dye under
Holston’s eyes—all of it ridiculous and desperate and fun. The only thing crazier would have been to
not try everything, to leave some silly séance or tale untested.
But it wasn’t to be. Before their year was even out, the lottery had passed to another couple. It
hadn’t been for a lack of trying; it had been a lack of time. A sudden lack of wife.
Holston turned away from the games and the blurry view and walked toward his office, situated36
between the cafeteria and the silo’s airlock. As he covered that ground, his thoughts went to the
struggle that once took place there, a struggle of ghosts he’d had to walk through every day for the
last three years. And he knew, if he turned and hunted that expansive view on the wall, if he squinted37
past the ever-worsening blur24 of cloudy camera lenses and airborne grime, if he followed that dark
crease33 up the hill, that wrinkle that worked its way over the muddy dune38 toward the city beyond, he
could pick out her quiet form. There, on that hill, his wife could be seen. She lay like a sleeping
boulder39, the air and toxins40 wearing away at her, her arms curled under her head.
Maybe.
It was difficult to see, hard to make out clearly even back before the blurring41 had begun anew.
And besides, there was little to trust in that sight. There was much, in fact, to doubt. So Holston
simply chose not to look. He walked through that place of his wife’s ghostly struggle, where bad
memories lay eternal, that scene of her sudden madness, and entered his office.
“Well, look who’s up early,” Marnes said, smiling.
Holston’s deputy closed a metal drawer on the filing cabinet, a lifeless cry singing from its ancient
joints42. He picked up a steaming mug, then noted43 Holston’s solemn demeanor44. “You feeling okay,
boss?”
Holston nodded. He pointed45 to the rack of keys behind the desk. “Holding cell,” he said.
The deputy’s smile drooped46 into a confused frown. He set down the mug and turned to retrieve47
the key. While his back was turned, Holston rubbed the sharp, cool steel in his palm one last time,
then placed the star flat on the desk. Marnes turned and held out the key. Holston took it.
“You need me to grab the mop?” Deputy Marnes jabbed a thumb back toward the cafeteria.
Unless someone was in cuffs48, they only went into the cell to clean it.
“No,” Holston said. He jerked his head toward the holding cell, beckoning49 his deputy to follow.
He turned, the chair behind the desk squeaking51 as Marnes rose to join him, and Holston completed
his march. The key slid in with ease. There was a sharp clack from the well-built and well-maintained
inner organs of the door. The barest squeak50 from the hinges, a determined52 step, a shove and a clank,
and the ordeal53 was over.
“Boss?”
Holston held the key between the bars. Marnes looked down at it, unsure, but his palm came up to
accept it.
“What’s going on, boss?”
“Get the mayor,” Holston said. He let out a sigh, that heavy breath he’d been holding for three
years.
“Tell her I want to go outside.”
![](../../../skin/default/image/4.jpg)
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收听单词发音
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squealing
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v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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frantically
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ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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ponderous
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adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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vibrations
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n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 );震动;感受;(偏离平衡位置的)一次性往复振动 | |
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shuffling
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adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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molecule
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n.分子,克分子 | |
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pouting
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v.撅(嘴)( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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flecks
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n.斑点,小点( fleck的名词复数 );癍 | |
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untold
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adj.数不清的,无数的 | |
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molecules
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分子( molecule的名词复数 ) | |
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cylindrical
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adj.圆筒形的 | |
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mere
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adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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ascended
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v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
schooling
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n.教育;正规学校教育 | |
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stuffy
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adj.不透气的,闷热的 | |
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16
cylinder
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n.圆筒,柱(面),汽缸 | |
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17
tangles
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(使)缠结, (使)乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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18
fully
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adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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19
labyrinth
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n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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squeals
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n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21
darting
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v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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scattered
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adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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23
chaos
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n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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24
blur
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n.模糊不清的事物;vt.使模糊,使看不清楚 | |
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25
blurry
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adj.模糊的;污脏的,污斑的 | |
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vista
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n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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crests
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v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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lottery
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n.抽彩;碰运气的事,难于算计的事 | |
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29
tottering
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adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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implant
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vt.注入,植入,灌输 | |
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31
redeem
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v.买回,赎回,挽回,恢复,履行(诺言等) | |
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superstition
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n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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crease
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n.折缝,褶痕,皱褶;v.(使)起皱 | |
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dimes
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n.(美国、加拿大的)10分铸币( dime的名词复数 ) | |
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mattress
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n.床垫,床褥 | |
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situated
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adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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squinted
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斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 ); 眯着眼睛; 瞟; 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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dune
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n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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boulder
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n.巨砾;卵石,圆石 | |
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toxins
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n.毒素( toxin的名词复数 ) | |
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blurring
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n.模糊,斑点甚多,(图像的)混乱v.(使)变模糊( blur的现在分词 );(使)难以区分 | |
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joints
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接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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noted
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adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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demeanor
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n.行为;风度 | |
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pointed
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adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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drooped
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弯曲或下垂,发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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retrieve
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vt.重新得到,收回;挽回,补救;检索 | |
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48
cuffs
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n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打,拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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beckoning
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adj.引诱人的,令人心动的v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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50
squeak
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n.吱吱声,逃脱;v.(发出)吱吱叫,侥幸通过;(俚)告密 | |
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51
squeaking
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v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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determined
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adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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ordeal
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n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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