The Black Tower: The Complete Series Read online

  The vortex was five feet across, rose up nearly to the rafters. It continued to draw straw in from the surrounding stalls, creating dusty, brownish whirlwind. Barn implements and horse tack hanging on the walls clattered noisily.

  “I’m not going in that,” said Carmody. She looked awkwardly at Lt. Quinn. “Sir.”

  Asher called down from the loft. “Not there. Up here. And you may want to get our gear together.”

  Quinn looked to Ramos. “Go. Take Carmody.”

  §

  helpSgt. Costa did her best to urge Dr. Owen and Miss Powell along. She had seen Quinn lead the others into the barn at the far end of town, now saw Ramos and Carmody come back out. They were hurrying up the street toward them, Ramos veering off in the direction of the saloon.

  “What’s going on, Carmody?” she asked. They had gotten as far as the hotel. Across the street, Ramos was pushing his way through the swinging doors of the saloon.

  “We need to get our stuff.”

  Costa looked to the others before turning toward the hotel. “Let’s go.”

  “I am not carrying everyone’s crap,” said Owen.

  “Yes, ma’am. You certainly are.” Costa hadn’t even bothered to look back. She was up on the boardwalk and stepping through the door.

  Two minutes later they were coming back out, all with armfuls of clothes and backpacks and utility belts, including Dr. Owen. Ramos was crossing the street, the radio pack on his back and several canteen belts slung over one shoulder. He reached out with his free hand and took the backpack that Costa offered.

  “I don’t think we have much time,” he said. They started up the street toward the stables. Behind them, the other end of town was in near darkness. The shadowy minions that had mercifully not been harassing them the last quarter hour had reappeared, were now darting in and out of the alleys between the buildings.

  §

  Asher helped Church up from the ladder. Behind him, the loft was filled with loose hay, a path cleared to the hayloft doors set into the back wall.

  “I see,” said Church. He stepped away from the ladder to make way for Banister.

  Asher had opened the doors after clearing the way. The open plain beyond the town was visible in the growing darkness, but there was an odd shimmer, as if the world outside was being seen through a thin sheen of water in place at the opening.

  “I almost fell through,” said Asher. He reached down and took hold of Banister’s outstretched hand and pulled him up.

  “To be all on your lonesome till one or another of us eventually discovered it,” said Church. They had previously found that the portals were one way. No coming back.

  Of course, Costa had been down on the floor and would soon have realized that Asher was no longer in the loft. With the hay pushed to the side and the hayloft doors open, she would have seen what they were now seeing.

  Asher would have only been on his lonesome for as long as it was taking now to bring the others together.

  “That peculiar sound,” said Banister. He took a cautious step further into the loft. “I believe it’s coming from the portal.”

  “Yes,” said Church. “I observed that, as well.”

  To now, that low rumbling, hiss had seemed to come from everywhere. Here in the hayloft however, there was direction.

  “It’s coming from the other side,” said Banister, both a question and a statement.

  “It started when I opened the doors,” said Asher. He hadn’t realized the others had been hearing the sound out in the street.

  “Interesting.” Banister took another step, and another. He held up a hand, palm toward the portal. He thought he felt… something.

  “Watch yourself, Doctor Banister,” said Asher.

  Banister brought his hand back, looked at it curiously as he rubbed his fingertips together.

  “If you’ll recall, there was similar cross-contamination between this floor and the last,” said Church, reminded of the water in the hold of the freighter; its source had not been the alien ocean, but the lake outside town here on this floor.

  “Talk to me, people,” Quinn called up. “How does it look up there?”

  Church stepped to the edge of the loft. “Most encouraging, Lieutenant,” he said. “Is there any sign of the others?”

  “Soon enough,” said Quinn. He turned to Susan. “You go on up, Doctor Bautista. I’ll wait down here for the others.”

  “Yes, Susan,” said Church. “Please, come up.”

  Asher and Church stepped back into the center of the loft. Banister took another short step nearer the portal.

  “Is it getting louder?” he asked.

  “Doctor Banister—”

  “Banister, that’s quite close enough,” said Church.

  Banister again lifted a hand, slowly reached out toward the portal.

  “Doctor—” Asher stepped forward.

  Banister vanished. He was there… he was gone.

  “Oh, crap,” groaned Asher.

  “Nate!” Church lunged forward. One step, two…

  Church was gone.

  “Oh, crap.” Asher took another step and stopped. The sound, the wind…

  He called back over his shoulder. “Lieutenant Quinn. I most strongly suggest we get a move on.”

  §

  The Count was standing inside the enclosure in front of the stables, just inside the fence. He smiled and gave a nod to Costa as she led the others into the barnyard.

  “Good evening, Sergeant Costa,” he said warmly.

  Costa looked over at Ramos. “Get them inside.”

  “Sergeant, I—”

  “Now.” Costa said dismissively, and was done with him. She took several steps toward the Count. “Hiya, Count,” she said.

  Ramos was quietly and quickly encouraging the others through the double doors.

  “Count?” said the Count. He thought about it a moment. “Yes. I think I like that.”

  The space next to him began to shimmer, grew increasingly opaque. Within a few moments a specter that Costa took to be Ramos’ ghostly apparition had taken form; white gown, long flowing hair that appeared to drift in a light breeze. It leaned near the Count, rested both hands on his right shoulder. It had a kind face. It smiled at Costa, said nothing.

  The Count gave the apparition’s hands a comforting pat. “Hello, my dear. Do say hello to Sergeant Costa.”

  The apparition still said nothing, but her smile slowly grew more broad; impossibly wider…

  “Now, now,” said the Count, several more pats of his hand. The apparition pouted.

  The Count chuckled lightly. He sighed, breathed deeply and looked about them. “Do forgive my dear friend, Sergeant. She had so been looking forward to this evening.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” Costa gave a quick glance to the barn doors. They were all inside.

  “Yes, well…” The Count again looked about them. Darkness continued to close in. The world was growing smaller and smaller and smaller. There was little now but the stable and the barnyard. The shell of midnight blue sky above hovered low and was a shatter of deep red, jagged cracks. His grin was menacing, his bright eyes sparkled. “There is still time.”

  “We found the access portal,” said Costa matter-of-factly.

  “You certainly did,” said the Count with a nod of the head. “It is, however, in there. You, my very brave sergeant, are yet out here.”

  Beside him, the kind face of the apparition slowly began to morph.

  §

  Ramos and the lieutenant helped Owen up onto the ladder. She was the last.

  Quinn started away, toward the barn door. “See they get through the portal, Ramos.”

  “Lieutenant—”

  “We’re right behind you, Corporal.”

  “Yessir.” Ramos placed a hand on the ladder, looked back at the lieutenant as he waited for Dr. Owen to take a few more rungs. “I’ll wait for you in the loft, sir.”

  “You follow them through, Corporal. They may
need you on the other side.”

  Quinn didn’t hear whether Ramos replied. The corporal had his orders.

  Stepping outside, he was at first surprised at how quickly things had changed. It was near pitch black, but for cracks of red overhead. The fence surrounding the yard was a worn gray half-lost in shadow.

  Sgt. Costa had her back to him, stood facing the Count, and beside him a silvery flowing form of robes and gently cascading hair.

  Quinn spoke calmly, taking slow, methodic steps. “We are ready to leave now, Sergeant.”

  No response at first, then Costa gave a short nod to acknowledge that she had heard. She kept her attention on the Count.

  Quinn stopped three paces short of Costa. He waited.

  The Count leaned slightly to his left, looked at Quinn. “Good day to you, sir.” He straightened then, smiled at his dear friend the apparition.

  And then they were gone.

  Quinn saw Costa’s shoulders sag. She turned to look at him.

  “The Count likes his new name,” she said. “And we disappointed his friend.”

  §

  Professor Asher was standing in the left aisle of the passenger compartment of a wide body jet. His first impression was that he was inside a Boeing 747.

  Actually, that was his second impression.

  His first impression was that they were crashing.

  The sounds were deafening. Engines were screaming, though this was second to the loud roar of wind rushing up at him, threatening to knock him down. Either there were windows broken or there was a door open somewhere.

  Owen and Lisa were standing to one side, between two rows of seats; most of the others were scattered about the cabin in various states of panic.

  Church came rushing in from the forward cabin, Banister right behind him.

  They quelled any remaining doubt, crying out simultaneously.

  “We’re going down!”

  Ramos came hurtling through the portal behind Asher and they both tumbled to the floor of the aisle. Costa and Quinn followed a moment later.

  ~ end of episode three

  Episode Four

  Another Day at the Office

  Prolog

  The elevator doors slid aside and everyone began piling out, Quinn and Costa first, taking up defensive positions to the left and right.

  “Told you ten people could fit into an eight by eight space,” said Ramos, coming out next.

  “Yeah, well I’m not quite ready for that level of bonding,” said Carmody, right behind him.

  All ten in the team had managed to squeeze into the elevator car, even with backpacks and utility belts, but it had been a tight fit.

  They found themselves in an elevator lobby; fluorescent light panels in the ceiling, light-gray commercial carpet on the floor. The beige colored wall in front of them was solid but for a single door, a small placard above it stenciled with the word ‘Stairs’.

  The wall to their left had two doors; large, smoked-glass windows filled the wall on their right.

  “I can tell you right now, this beats the hell out of the ant colony,” said Owen. She was brushing dirt off her pants.

  “I’ll withhold my opinion on that until we’ve had a minute to look around,” said Asher. The elevator doors slid closed behind them. The letter ‘7’ was written in bold font above the doors.

  “I don’t care what we find,” growled Owen. “Anything beats giant, six foot long ants.”

  “Most likely,” said Asher. “Nonetheless, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  Banister drifted over to the windowed wall. The rest of the group grew quiet and waited.

  “Prepare yourselves, everyone,” he said after a few moments. “We may well be facing the most horrific world ever conceived.”

  “What is it, Doctor?” asked Carmody anxiously.

  Banister placed a hand on the metal crossbar set about waist high.

  “We’re in an office building,” he said darkly.

  Episode Four / Chapter One

  Johansen looked away from his radio and turned to the sound of the door opening. Captain Adamson came into the command center.

  “Anything?” asked the captain.

  Johansen shook his head no in answer. He watched Captain Adamson walk to the counter and pour a cup of coffee, then walk back to the table in the middle of the room. Papers and folders were scattered about on the table; scribblings of facts and suppositions regarding the sixth floor.

  “Ants,” said Adamson, mostly to himself. He picked up a book, all about ants. He tossed it back onto the table. “Giant ants.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine, sir,” said Johansen. “They’re bound to be on the seventh by now.”

  They had last heard from the team five days earlier. At that time, they had already been on the sixth floor for three days, holed up in a dead-end tunnel in the heart of the ant colony. There had been no sign of the portal to the seventh floor.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Corporal,” sighed Adamson. He mumbled then. “Be a helluva way to end things.”

  General Wong and Doctor Lake came into the command center. They appeared to have been in a heated discussion, now quickly fell silent.

  “Good morning, Captain,” said the general, a quick look to Adamson and then to Johansen as he continued to his desk. He dropped himself into the wooden chair. “Doctor Lake here is getting bored.”

  “That’s not what I meant, General.”

  “No new data to process, no way to pass along your well-reasoned recommendations.”

  “We’re all feeling frustrated, General,” said Captain Adamson.

  The general frowned, let out long, slow breath. “That we are,” he said at last. He looked up at Doctor Lake. “I don’t mean to take it out on you, Doctor. Well, actually I do mean to take it out on you, but I apologize both before and after the fact. There will most certainly be more snide remarks coming your way.”

  Doctor Lake stood at the table beside Captain Adamson. He glanced down at the paperwork, selected a file and opened it.

  “I will not play the butt of ridicule to your military condescension, General Wong.”

  “Don’t misunderstand, Doctor Lake. I have the utmost respect for you and all the science team members in the tower.”

  “Our responsibilities on this mission are at the very least equal to that of the military staff, sir.”

  General Wong had to smile at that. “As regards those within the tower, we are in complete agreement. But to be perfectly frank, my dear doctor, at this point in the mission… your role, and mine, lay somewhere below that of casual observer.”

  §

  The breakroom was long and fairly narrow, about twenty feet by forty feet. Not small, but not really that large for a breakroom in an office building. At one end stood three vending machines: snack, sandwich, soft drink. At the other end was a pair of shoulder-high refrigerators, beside these a counter and a water cooler. One long wall was floor to ceiling windows.

  Six tables were scattered about the room. On one sat the radio, and on another were several backpacks.

  Carmody came in through one of the two archways that opened to the hallway. She was carrying another water bottle to the cooler. Owen had pulled one of the chairs up to the cooler and was filling the team’s canteens. They were piled up on the floor beside her.

  Quinn and Lisa Powell were meanwhile working at prying open the sandwich vending machine. The lieutenant was trying not to look frustrated. Lisa looked willing to stand by and wait for instructions.

  Asher walked over to Susan, who was standing at the windows. The world beyond the glass looked like any normal, midsized city, except that it was empty of people and absolutely nothing moved. It could have been a photograph. Even the one lone cloud hovering above the city didn’t move. It hung there, small and white and fluffy, set against the backdrop of bright blue sky.

  Both Asher and Susan continued looking outside. Neither were quite sure how to get the conversa
tion going.

  “It’s quite a view,” Asher said finally.

  “It’s eerie,” said Susan.

  “It is, isn’t it? I’m going to think of it as a quiet city in the Midwest somewhere, just at dawn, with everybody still peacefully asleep.”

  “How’s that going to work for you when nobody wakes up? Your city filled with thousands of sleeping people, all lying in their beds for all eternity?”

  “Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through.” Asher grew thoughtful. The silence stretched out until it became uncomfortable. He looked back over his shoulder, into the breakroom. “No word from the doctors?”

  Susan gave a slight smile, shook her head and said nothing. Church and Banister hadn’t been gone that long.

  Asher sighed. “Guess not. They find anything, I expect we’ll hear about it soon enough.”

  “Yes.”

  §

  Lisa watched Susan and Asher, who were in quiet conversation over near the wall of windows. She could just make out what they were saying, at least enough to know it that was a touch more awkward than either of them would have liked.

  “They’re not too good at that, are they?” she asked Quinn.

  “What’s that?” Quinn continued his struggle with the vending machine.

  “The Professor and Doctor Bautista,” she said, nodding in their direction.

  Quinn looked quickly over at them. It took a moment, but then he got it. He as quickly returned to his work. He didn’t like that he got it. It made him feel very uncomfortable. It highlighted the difficulty he himself was having.

  He didn’t want Miss Powell to know that he was uncomfortable, and that only made it worse. His face grew warm. He tried to focus on getting the vending machine open, to get at the sandwiches inside.

  Lisa sighed. She looked across the room at Dr. Owen and Private Carmody. She looked at the lieutenant, turned quickly elsewhere. She tried to hide a self-conscious grin.

  “I suppose none of us are very good at it,” she said at last. She was surprised that she had managed to get that out.

  So was Lieutenant Quinn.

  He wanted to say something. He really wanted to say something.

  Why the heck don’t I say something?