Dust

Courtnee squeezed her shoulder and took a noisy sip of tea, and Juliette lifted her mug to do the same. As soon as the warm water hit her lips, there was an explosion of flavor, a richness like the smell of the flower stalls in the bazaar and also the upturned loam of a productive grow plot. It was a first kiss. It was lemon and rose. There were sparks in her vision from the heady rush. Juliette’s mind shuddered.

 

“What is this?” she asked, gasping for air. “This is from the supplies we pulled?”

 

Courtnee laughed and leaned against Juliette. “It’s good, right?”

 

“It’s great. It’s … amazing.”

 

“Maybe we should go back for another load,” Courtnee said.

 

“If we do that, I might not carry anything else.”

 

The two women laughed quietly. They sat together, gazing up at the clouds and the occasional star for a while. The fire nearest them crackled and spat sparks, and a handful of quiet conversations drifted deep into the trees where bugs sang a chorus and some unseen beast howled.

 

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Courtnee asked after a long pause.

 

Juliette took another sip of the miraculous drink. She imagined the world they might build with time and resources, with no rules but what’s best and no one to pin down their dreams.

 

“I think we’ll make it,” she finally said. “I think we can make any damn thing we like.”

 

 

 

 

 

www.hughhowey.com

 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Prologue

 

Silo 18

 

1

 

 

 

2

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

4

 

 

 

Silo 17

 

5

 

 

 

6

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

7

 

 

 

8

 

 

 

9

 

 

 

10

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

11

 

 

 

12

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

13

 

 

 

14

 

 

 

15

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

16

 

 

 

17

 

 

 

Silo 17

 

18

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

19

 

 

 

20

 

 

 

Silo 17

 

21

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

22

 

 

 

23

 

 

 

24

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

25

 

 

 

26

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

27

 

 

 

28

 

 

 

29

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

30

 

 

 

31

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

32

 

 

 

33

 

 

 

34

 

 

 

35

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

36

 

 

 

37

 

 

 

38

 

 

 

39

 

 

 

40

 

 

 

41

 

 

 

42

 

 

 

Silo 1

 

43

 

 

 

44

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

46

 

 

 

Silo 17

 

47

Dust

 

 

 

 

 

Hugh Howey

 

 

 

 

 

For the survivors

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

 

“Is anyone there?”

 

“Hello? Yes. I’m here.”

 

“Ah. Lukas. You weren’t saying anything. I thought for a second there … that you were someone else.”

 

“No, it’s me. Just getting my headset adjusted. Been a busy morning.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. Boring stuff. Committee meetings. We’re a bit thin up here at the moment. A lot of reassignments.”

 

“But things have been settling down? No uprisings to report?”

 

“No, no. Things are getting back to normal. People get up and go to work in the morning. They collapse in their beds at night. We had a big lottery this week, which made a number of people happy.”

 

“That’s good. Very good. How’s the work on server six coming?”

 

“Good, thanks. All of your passcodes work. So far it’s just more of the same data. Not sure why any of this is important, though.”

 

“Keep looking. Everything’s important. If it’s in there, there has to be a reason.”

 

“You said that about the entries in these books. But so many of them seem like nonsense to me. Makes me wonder if any of this is real.”

 

“Why? What’re you reading?”

 

“I’m up to volume C. This morning it was about this … fungus. Wait a second. Let me find it. Here it is. Cordyceps.”

 

“That’s a fungus? Never heard of it.”

 

“Says here it does something to an ant’s brain, reprograms it like it’s a machine, makes it climb to the top of a plant before it dies—“

 

“An invisible machine that reprograms brains? I’m fairly certain that’s not a random entry.”

 

“Yeah? So what does it mean, then?”

 

“It means … It means we aren’t free. None of us are.”

 

“How uplifting. I can see why she makes me take these calls.”

 

“Your mayor? Is that why—? She hasn’t answered in a while.”

 

“No. She’s away. Working on something.”

 

“Working on what?”

 

“I’d rather not say. I don’t think you’d be pleased.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“Because I’m not pleased. I’ve tried to talk her out of this. But she can be a bit … obstinate at times.”

 

“If it’s going to cause trouble, I should know about it. I’m here to help. I can keep heads turned away—”

 

“That’s just it … she doesn’t trust you. She doesn’t even believe you’re the same person every time.”

 

“It is. It’s me. The machines do something with my voice.”

 

“I’m just telling you what she thinks.”

 

“I wish she would come around. I really do want to help.”

 

“I believe you. I think the best thing you can do right now is just keep your fingers crossed for us.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because I’ve got a feeling that nothing good will come of this.”

 

 

 

 

 

Part I ~ The Dig

 

 

 

 

 

Silo 18

 

 

 

 

 

1