The Black Tower: The Complete Series Read online

  The Black Tower

  The Eleven Episode Serial

  By David R. Beshears

  “The Black Tower Serial”

  The complete series

  eleven episode serial

  based on the miniseries screenplays

  Greybeard Publishing

  www.greybeardpublishing.com

  Copyright 2013 / 2014 by David R. Beshears

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-0-9914327-7-6 (electronic text edition)

  Greybeard Publishing

  P.O. Box 480

  McCleary, WA 98557-0480

  ebook edition

  Copyright 2014 David R. Beshears

  Contents…

  Introduction

  Episode One – The First Floor

  Episode Two – The Freighter

  Episode Three – Ghost Town

  Episode Four – Another Day at the Office

  Episode Five – Night Train

  Episode Six – Fog and Shadows

  Episode Seven – The Tunnels of Hades

  Episode Eight – The Neighborhood

  Episode Nine – Storms

  Episode Ten – Lighthouse

  Episode Eleven – Sandcastles

  Introduction

  This novella serial is based on the eleven one hour screenplays of the television miniseries “The Black Tower”.

  This omnibus edition contains all eleven novellas in the serial, with each novella a direct adaptation of one of the episodes in the miniseries. They are structured and formatted exactly as the one hour screenplays from which they have been adapted.

  Episode One

  The First Floor

  Prolog

  The Quonset hut sat in the predawn shadow of the black obelisk-like skyscraper towering eighty stories high, surrounded by the dark silhouette of the city skyline. Everything gleamed from an overnight rain.

  Staff Sergeant Miller stepped out of the hut and held the door open for the civilian. SSG Miller, in his early twenties, clean-cut and dressed in starched army fatigues, moved with a smooth self-assuredness.

  In sharp contrast to Peter Asher; Asher was in his late thirties, wore loose, casual dress, untrimmed and unruly hair, and had a quiet, preoccupied look.

  Miller moved out ahead and opened the rear door of the black sedan. Asher mumbled an unintelligible thank you before climbing in.

  Asher watched from the back seat as they approached the massive, windowless tower. The jet-black walls of the structure, and the asphalt from which it rose, were wet from the rain. At the base, a lone door was illuminated by an industrial strength light mounted on a tall tripod set a short distance away.

  The sedan came to a stop. Asher climbed out before Miller could get out and open the door for him. He took two steps and stopped, let his gaze rise slowly up the side of the awesome structure reaching up to the sky, just beginning to take on some early dawn color.

  Miller pulled a small canvas knapsack from the trunk of the car and stepped up beside his charge. He indicated the door set into the side of the building.

  “Sir?” he urged, then led Asher to the door. It opened as they approached, and Corporal Ramos stood in the opening.

  Ramos’ face showed more experience than his twenty three years would suggest. His fatigues weren’t nearly as crisp as that of Miller’s; no starch and a bit haggard.

  He gave Miller a curt nod, who handed him Asher’s bag.

  Asher looked uncertainly at Ramos, then back to Miller.

  “Thank you for everything, Sergeant,” said Asher.

  “My pleasure, Professor. Good luck to you.”

  Ramos slipped one strap of Asher’s knapsack over his shoulder. “Professor Asher? We should get inside.”

  “Yes,” said Asher. He looked again to the sergeant. “Well… thank you again.”

  Asher moved to the door and disappeared inside.

  Miller gave Ramos a sharp look. “Take care of him, Ramos.”

  “Do my best, Sarge.”

  Miller watched the door ease closed, turned at the sound of another vehicle pulling up. It looked just like one he had used to bring his professor over.

  A young man climbed out of the front passenger side, a young woman out of the rear passenger side.

  The driver, another army sergeant, slid from behind the wheel and opened the left rear door. Elizabeth Owen slowly glided out, seemingly accustomed to be waited on. Once she was clear, the driver closed the door and moved to the rear of the sedan, opened the trunk.

  Elizabeth Owen was in her mid-fifties. There was an in-charge bearing in her manner. She was calm in her direction, and fully expected every order to be carried out without question.

  She waved a hand to her staff without taking her eyes off the building in front of her. “Get the bags,” she stated.

  Ray Do and Lisa Powell both moved to help the driver. Both were in their early thirties. They were clean, neat, sharp and intelligent. They were science wizards who found themselves spending as much time doing menial labor for their boss as they did working in their field.

  §

  Inside the tower, Ramos squeezed past Asher and led the way down the long, brightly lit corridor. As they walked, Asher took notice of his guide for the first time. The young soldier’s manner appeared as tired as his clothes.

  That didn’t bode well.

  They stepped out of the corridor onto a wide landing. It was enclosed on three sides, with the side directly opposite opening out onto a large, sunny expanse. The sky was an unfamiliar shade of red. Thick vegetation, twisted and alien, covered the landscape.

  The landing was little more than a balcony positioned thirty feet above the rest of the first floor of the building. Amongst a small collection of cardboard boxes and an assortment of canvas bags and packs were four other soldiers.

  Lt. Gordon Quinn was in his late twenties, medium height, a slim build but strong. He had the manner of a military man without the severe gung-ho cliché. He kept his hair trimmed but not close-cropped, his face clean-shaven, his uniform sharp but not necessarily crisp.

  Sgt. Sara Costa, also in her late twenties, would rather use her brain than her brawn, yet still came across as fully capable of taking care of herself. She was strong willed, knew what she was doing and didn’t need to prove herself to anyone.

  PFC Raso and PFC Carmody each had the college-kid look about them, as if their plan was to quietly do their three years in the army, then get out and go back to school. They wore the military uniform, but it wasn’t enough to make them look all that military.

  At the moment, they were using machetes on vines that clung to the walls of the landing and were threatening to move down the access corridor that Asher and Ramos had just come through.

  Several M4 Carbines were leaning against the wall, and beside these two holsters with side-arms. One of the demands had been no weapons, but they had brought them in anyway. Wasted effort, as it turned out. Firearms wouldn’t fire in the tower. There was no logical reason for it, but such was the case; leave it to illogic to sort out.

  Lt. Quinn and Sgt. Costa were standing at the edge of the landing. Costa gave a sharp nod and turned away as Asher approached. She followed a narrow trail down to the forested floor below.

  Quinn waited until Asher was standing beside him before speaking, and then he kept his attention on the alien forest that was spread out before them.

  “Professor Asher,” he said calmly.
“Welcome to the First Floor.”

  Episode One / Chapter One

  The clearing was twenty feet in diameter, with four trailheads opening to narrow paths leading away from it. It was encircled by alien vegetation that reached high and loomed menacing overhead; brush and twisted trees and vines of thick rope and triangular leaves, all threatening to push in and swallow up the clearing. The few streaks of light that managed to stream in had a reddish tint.

  Wes Banister knelt over the lifeless body of Captain Carver, lying face up on the floor of thick mulch. Nearby, Susan Bautista tended to Nathaniel Church’s injured arm. The three scientists were visibly worn down, with the much older Banister and Church in particular having seen better days.

  Wes Banister was in his late sixties. Long gray hair encircled a balding top and a face with sharp features and crystal clear eyes.

  Nathanial Church was a black man a couple of years younger, graying at the temples and wrinkling about the eyes.

  Susan Bautista was Wes Banister’s assistant. She was thirty years old, average height and a couple of pounds overweight. Her hair and makeup were worn efficient. She had a quiet confidence that showed itself in her manner.

  She did her job and left the bantering to the professors.

  Banister sat back, rubbed his pale face with both hands and looked again at the body of Captain Carver.

  “He’s dead, Nate,” he said, glanced for the hundredth time at the vegetation that surrounded the clearing.

  Susan Bautista finished bandaging Church’s arm, stood and looked at Banister and the dead man.

  Church, glancing at the bandaging, mumbled almost incoherently.

  “Thank you, Susan.”

  Susan nodded without looking back, turned away from the others and found a level spot to sit down.

  Banister avoided looking at the dead military man. “So, then. What do we do now?”

  “We keep moving,” said Church.

  “I’m not keen on continuing down that trail.”

  “Neither am I,” said Church. “But we really have little choice. We’re in as much danger here as on the trail.”

  Banister looked again at the surrounding vegetation.

  “Perhaps so,” he grumbled. “It seems quieter here, though… d’you notice?”

  “Quite peaceful,” Church said with more than a hint of quiet sarcasm.

  They both looked questioningly at Susan.

  “The only safe place is back at the landing,” she said.

  “She’s right, of course,” said Banister.

  “She usually is.” Church positioned himself to stand, and Susan scrambled to her feet and started towards him.

  “Let me help you, Doctor.” She held onto his uninjured arm and helped him to his feet.

  “Thank you, Susan.”

  “Yes,” Banister said snidely. “Do bring the old man along, Susan.” He picked up the machete that was lying alongside the captain and started toward the trailhead. He paused then, looked back at the body. “I’m not comfortable leaving Captain Carver like this.”

  Church gave a low grunt. “We certainly can’t take him with us.”

  “No. No, of course not.”

  “We’ll send someone back for him, Doctor,” said Susan.

  “Yes, of course.” Banister turned back to the trailhead. “I’ll take the lead for a while.”

  §

  Asher stood at the edge of landing, mesmerized by the scene. From the landing, the terrain fell quickly away, the floor taking the shape of a large bowl. To all appearances, there were no walls and there was no ceiling.

  There was a faint shimmer where walls and ceiling should have been.

  Something was there. And yet, there wasn’t.

  He could hear Sgt. Costa behind him, at the back of the landing, directing the two privates, Raso and Carmody. She had them once again hacking away at the vines. They were complaining, again, but it was little more than background noise to Asher.

  He saw movement below, and a moment later Lt. Quinn appeared from one of the side trails. He stepped past a small, thick mass of short brush and started down what Asher had been told was the main trail.

  He was startled at the sound of a woman’s voice, turned to see Elizabeth Owen following Corporal Ramos out of the access tunnel. He missed what she had said, but it had the sound of an order to her staff. Asher recognized the young man as her assistant, though he couldn’t remember his name. The young woman with them must have been a fairly recent addition.

  Ramos set down a bag he was carrying, looked quickly about the landing, and started in Asher’s direction.

  “Corporal,” said Asher, turning back towards the floor.

  “Professor.” Ramos looked down at the trailheads. “The lieutenant out on the floor?”

  “Said he’d be back in a few minutes.”

  Ramos nodded, scanned the floor again. “Extraordinary, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Nothing can quite prepare you for it.”

  Asher glanced up at what should have been the ceiling. “Eighty floors.”

  “So the experts say.” Ramos’ gaze continually returned to the main trail. “The lieutenant is starting to worry. They should have been back by now.”

  Asher only nodded in reply.

  “Do you know them, Professor?”

  “Only by reputation.” Asher indicated the floor. “How long have they been gone?”

  “Almost a day. Captain Carver took them out.”

  Lt. Quinn appeared at the trailhead, walked steadily up to the base and climbed the rise toward the landing.

  Ramos patiently waited, and Lt. Quinn spoke up just as he reached the landing.

  “Yes, Corporal?”

  “The last of ‘em sir,” he said, indicating the group he had just brought in. There were no salutes. This was a conscious decision. No sense putting a big sign over Lt. Quinn’s head reading ‘shoot me first’.

  “Thank you.” Quinn looked briefly at the people scattered about the landing, then back behind him at the floor. “Take Carmody and Raso down the main trail. Listen up for the Captain.”

  Ramos gave a terse nod and went to get the privates. Lt. Quinn waited until they were starting back across the landing before stepping towards the rest of the group.

  “Folks?” he urged, moving into the center of the landing. “Gather ‘round, please.”

  Elizabeth Owen sat on one of the boxes, warily eyeing the military man. Her assistants, Ray Do and Lisa Powell, stood behind her. They quietly watched and waited, looking to Quinn more like servants than assistants.

  At least Professor Asher appeared to have an agreeable way. He moved to another box and sat down.

  “My name is Lieutenant Quinn,” the lieutenant started. “Captain Carver is out on the floor with the rest of the scientific staff assigned to this project. We expect them back at any time.”

  “Is the military to be in charge, Lieutenant?” Owen asked, somewhat accusingly.

  “You have all been thoroughly briefed on the protocols, Dr. Owen. Captain Carver will be in overall command, but he will not be encroaching into the scientific aspects of the project.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “However, you will remain within the project parameters established by General Wong and Dr. Church. Captain Carver will step in should civilian activities endanger team personnel or threaten the goals of the mission.”

  “As was explained to us, Lieutenant,” said Asher.

  Owen looked from Quinn to Asher. “And what is your role here, Peter?” she asked. “Your name came up rather sketchily in the briefing that I was forced to endure.”

  “Professor Asher is an anthropologist, Dr. Owen,” Quinn offered.

  “I am fully aware of his credentials, Lieutenant,” Owen said tersely. She looked back again at Asher, continued to speak to Quinn. “Our paths have crossed from time to time over the years. Peter is quite the respected figure in his field. Several fields
in fact.”

  “Of course,” said Quinn.

  Owen turned then to look directly at Asher. “Of late, however, your activities have been, shall we say, hidden in the government shadow?”

  “A few obscure projects, Elizabeth,” said Asher. “Nothing mysterious. Nothing very important, really.”

  “Did those projects have anything to do with what you are doing here?”

  “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here. I can only assume that it was believed my areas of expertise might prove useful.”

  “And well they might,” said Lt. Quinn, jumping back in, eager to get the conversation back on track. “We have eighty floors to traverse, and, to be honest, we have no idea what we might find.”

  Owen turned her attention fully to Quinn. “And you, Lieutenant? What is it that you bring to the expedition?”

  “Have no delusions, Dr. Owen,” Quinn said curtly. “Your function here is to assist us in getting to the top floor. Anything that you learn along the way, other than what helps you in getting us there, is secondary. I’ll be pleased as punch for you, but beyond that it won’t mean a thing to me. I hope that I am clear on this.”

  “In typical grunt fashion, Lieutenant.”

  “As may be, ma’am. Now, if I might, I would like to get the preliminaries out of the way. Best we be prepared upon Captain Carver’s return.”

  Elizabeth Owen didn’t give Lt. Quinn the benefit of a response, leaving Asher to step back in.

  “Please, Lt. Quinn,” he stated quietly.

  “Thank you, Professor,” Quinn nodded to Asher, then spoke again to the group. “This landing will serve as our first floor base camp. It is from here that we will conduct our search for an access to the second floor.”

  Lisa Powell spoke up for the first time. “The floor can’t be that large.”

  “Miss Powell,” Quinn gave her a nod. “Welcome. As you have no doubt noticed, the inside dimensions of the tower do not appear to correspond to the outside dimensions.”

  “I assumed that was just illusion.”

  “As yet, we don’t know how it is being done. The fact is, we have traveled much further than the exterior dimensions would suggest without reaching a wall.”