The Black Tower: The Complete Series Read online

  “Oh, crap,” Raso said in a hushed whisper.

  “The other will return to the others,” said the Adversary. “To convey my words of salutation.”

  §

  Sgt. Costa was standing watch at the far end of the clearing. Lt. Quinn and Church were in quiet conversation, the others dozing or simply resting.

  The sudden sound of the cry of pain came from somewhere in the distance, shattering the quiet.

  Sgt. Costa started toward the trailhead.

  “Stand fast, Sergeant,” said Lt. Quinn, his voice calm.

  “But—”

  “This group stays together.” Lt. Quinn spoke slow and deliberate.

  “Your pardon, Lieutenant. They need help.”

  All were on their feet now, most looking to Quinn for direction.

  “I will not have people scattered all over the floor.”

  Costa looked ready to bolt, but held her position.

  Asher spoke hesitantly, unsure whether he should step into the exchange between officer and enlisted. “So we go together,” he said.

  Sgt. Costa waited anxiously for the lieutenant to give her the go-ahead.

  Quinn agreed. “Lead the way, Sergeant.”

  §

  The false sky looked about to explode into dawn.

  PFC Carmody stood at the ready. At her feet lay the lifeless body of PFC Raso.

  The shadowy figures were gone. Adversary was gone.

  Carmody was confused and determined and angry all at once.

  She heard the rustling of brush behind her. She knew that the path had been cleared for her.

  She could hear Sgt. Costa’s voice off in the distance, calling out to her, calling out to Raso.

  Episode One / Chapter Four

  The black sedan pulled up beside the Quonset hut and SSG Miller climbed out and opened the back door. General Wong stepped slowly out, looked over at the mysterious black tower. He gave a sharp nod to SSG Miller before walking stiffly to the wooden door of the command center.

  Once inside, he waved Corporal Johansen down when the man started to stand to attention. Captain Adamson, standing at the coffee pot, poured a second cup and had it ready when the general reached him.

  “It may have been to test us,” he said, handing him the cup. “Or to observe our response.”

  The general’s angry silence was visible. Adamson was uncertain whether to continue, but was desperate to fill the quiet void.

  “This character considers this all to be entertainment, General,” he went on. “A game, Doctor Banister called it. It watches us, plays with us… tests us.”

  “A gauntlet,” General Wong said absently.

  “The Adversary made it very clear. They must successfully traverse these floors in order to reach what it calls the Main Hall, on the top floor; where it will be waiting.”

  “Yes, well, we knew as much from its earlier blustering.” The general gripped tightly to the coffee cup. He had yet to take a drink.

  “No one else gets in, and no one gets out,” said Adamson. “The people we have in there now is all we get.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “And this Adversary has no qualms about killing them, murdering them outright.”

  The General lifted his coffee to his lips, took a cautious sip, and looked over the rim of the cup.

  “A game, Captain?” he asked.

  “Sir?”

  “A game.”

  “Yessir,” Adamson said uncertainly.

  The General took another sip. “A look at the rulebook would certainly be helpful.”

  §

  For the moment, the vegetation appeared content to let them pass. The team traveled steadily, following what seemed to be the main trail, at least for now, across the floor. It wound like a lazy river through the alien landscape, but always in the same general direction.

  Carmody stepped into the clearing, almost stumbling in before stopping abruptly.

  A vine-covered wall spanned the opposite wall, no more than five or six steps ahead of her, the rungs of a metal ladder visible in the vegetation.

  “This is it.” Susan hurried past Carmody.

  The rest of the group spilled into the clearing, Lt. Quinn using gestures to silently order his military contingent to stand alert. Asher and Owen approached the ladder mounted on the wall, with Church and Banister coming up calmly behind them.

  A thick cloud hovered high above the small clearing, pushing against the wall. The top of the ladder disappeared into the cloud.

  Church curled a brow. “Not exactly the way he described it, is it?”

  “Perhaps not,” said Banister. “But it’s the captain’s ladder, nonetheless.”

  Quinn allowed himself to look away from the vegetation that pushed in from the perimeter long enough to look at the ladder; content for the moment. His captain had been vindicated.

  Asher jumped up onto the ladder and climbed twenty feet. The cloud was still above him. He looked back across the floor, climbed a few more rungs, looked about again curiously.

  “It’s there!” he called down, started hurriedly down the ladder. “It’s right there!”

  “What’s there?” Owen asked irritably.

  “The landing,” Asher jumped down from the ladder. “Where we came in—it isn’t more than a few hundred feet away.”

  Lt. Quinn was lost. “I don’t under—”

  “It’s right beside us,” Asher said insistently. “The landing is right there.”

  Most of the group had turned to look into the alien vegetation, thinking about the route that had brought them here. Church didn’t need to.

  “That would certainly be in keeping with our host’s droll sense of wit,” he stated quietly.

  Owen looked away from encroaching vegetation and once again let her gaze rise slowly up the ladder.

  “I never noticed that cloud,” she said thoughtfully. “Not from the landing, not from anywhere.”

  Church followed where she was looking. “A ladder that appears for only a moment, that may or may not be there. A cloud that—”

  Banister cut him off. “I’ll bet you a sack of pennies that once you leave this clearing, that cloud can’t be seen. It doesn’t exist.”

  Owen was still trying to wrap her head around it. “But how the—”

  “It really didn’t become clear to me until Private Carmody described her meeting with the Adversary,” said Banister. “I had mistakenly assumed this was part of the illusion of the floor.”

  “I don’t understand, Doctor,” said Quinn.

  “Yes,” grumbled Church. “What are you dribbling on about, Banister?”

  “I was wrong, you see.”

  “Hallelujah,” Church exaggeratedly fanned his hands in the air.

  Banister chose to ignore him.

  “We can expect each floor to maintain an illusion of being something other than simply a floor in the building, but I believe this floor’s own unique aspect is its constantly changing features.”

  “And the little things,” Susan thought aloud, “like a cloud that is visible from only one location.”

  “All quite disconcerting,” Banister looked to Church. “And quite in keeping with our host’s—drollness.”

  “I see,” Church nodded. “You might just be onto something, Banister.”

  “Which is?” Lt. Quinn urged.

  Church was looking carefully at his friend Banister. “This Adversary placed the shifting visage concept, and these other oddities, on the first floor, where we must also, simultaneously, come to terms with the concept of the interior of this tower appearing to be larger than the container itself.” Church let the thought process itself. “Interesting,” he mumbled at last.

  “Be careful,” Banister frowned. “You’ll pop a brain cell.”

  “But the captain—” Susan started.

  “Yes,” Owen cut her off. “What about that?”

  “The ladder was meant to be seen,” said Banister. “At that mome
nt, by Captain Carver.”

  “To draw us in,” Church wondered.

  “Possibly, though we really can’t know that for certain.” Banister breathed out heavily. “We’ll need to gather more information.”

  Lt. Quinn was wondering how he could possibly get this group up through another seventy nine floors, when every floor was… what?

  “You don’t think the other floors will be like this?”

  “I doubt it, Lieutenant,” Banister said curtly. “More likely, each will be very different; each will have its own distinct properties. Whatever else we may find, the aspects that we are witnessing here may well be unique to this floor.”

  “Or not,” said Church.

  “Quite,” said Banister. “Or not.”

  Asher was looking restless.

  “Let’s do this,” he said, and reached out for the ladder.

  Lt. Quinn placed a hand on his arm, looked over at his sergeant.

  “Sergeant Costa? Lead the way, please.”

  Sgt. Costa shifted her backpack and approached the ladder. Asher stepped aside and she put one foot onto a rung, then the other onto the rung above. Behind her, the others in the group drifted slowly nearer. Each in turn started up.

  §

  They settled into an easy pace set by Sgt. Costa. Asher fell into the rhythm of Costa’s boots, the sound they made as they slid onto the rungs just above his head. The cloud that enveloped them hid the rest of the group from his view, though he could hear their breathing, the soles of their boots sliding onto rungs, their shifting gear.

  Elizabeth Owen’s voice came from somewhere below.

  “Anyone counting?”

  “I started to,” said Church. “Somewhat late I’m afraid. I gave it up.”

  “Jack and the bloody damn beanstalk,” Owen grumbled.

  Asher grinned, called up to Costa above him. “Call out if you see a castle, Sergeant.”

  “Yes sir.” She apparently didn’t get the joke.

  It was another full minute before Sgt. Costa stopped her methodic step, boot to rung, boot to rung.

  Asher waited.

  Sgt. Costa’s words drifted down to him. “We’re here, Professor.”

  “We’re at the top,” Asher called down. He looked up again toward Sgt. Costa, saw only her boots and her legs. “What do you see, Sergeant?”

  “It looks like a submarine hatch,” she said. “You know… a wheel in the center.”

  “Go for it.”

  “You got it.”

  Again Asher waited. He thought he heard the sound of metal against metal, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Owen called out again from somewhere below. “What the hell is happening up there?”

  “Ever the restless, eh, Elizabeth?” Church’s voice. A few seconds later, he called up calmly. “So, Professor Asher… just what is going on?”

  “She’s opening the hatch now.”

  A moment’s silence, then Church passed the word down.

  “We are advancing, Doctor Owen. Our moment of glory awaits us.”

  Above Asher, the cloud thinned slightly. He could just make out Sgt. Costa’s torso, arms reaching upward, the shadow of the round hatch.

  She gave the wheel a final turn. She looked below her at the upturned face of Professor Asher.

  “Okay,” she sighed. “That’s it, Professor… open it?”

  “Nothing for us here, Sara.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sgt. Costa turned her attention again to the hatch. “Onward and upward then.”

  She pushed up. The hatch lifted easily.

  §

  Sgt. Costa climbed up through a rusted hatchway and out onto the deck of an aging freighter.

  The ship looked long abandoned; rust everywhere, dents in the wall of a small cabin behind her, the railing in front of her twisted out of shape.

  Asher climbed up after her. The two of them moved apprehensively toward the railing.

  The color of the sea was a strange dark green. A lime green sky hovered above it like a glowing shell. An overly large moon hung low on the horizon.

  One by one, the others in the group climbed up through the hatch and onto the deck. Each moved numbly toward the rail. The hint of a warm breeze brushed their faces.

  A long, serpentine creature rose above the surface of the sea a few hundred yards from the ship, slid slowly back beneath the gently rolling waves…

  ~ end of episode one

  Episode Two

  The Freighter

  Prolog

  Sgt. Costa climbed up through the metal hatchway and out onto the deck of the aging freighter. The ship looked long abandoned; rusted metal, dents in the wall of a small cabin behind her, the railing in front of her twisted out of shape.

  Professor Asher climbed up after her. The two of them moved apprehensively toward the railing.

  The color of the sea was a strange dark green. A lime green sky hovered above them like a glowing shell. An overly large moon hung low on the horizon.

  One by one, the others in the group climbed up through the hatch and onto the deck. Each moved numbly toward the rail. The hint of a warm breeze brushed their faces.

  A long, serpentine creature rose above the surface of the sea a few hundred yards from the ship, slid slowly back beneath the gently rolling swells.

  Asher let out a long, heavy sigh. “Okay,” he said, to no one in particular. “I’ll admit it. I had no idea what I was expecting, but I’m pretty sure this wasn’t it.”

  “Me too, sir,” said Sgt. Costa.

  “Absolutely amazing,” said Dr. Banister. He and Church were standing at the rail beside the sergeant. The others slowly began to move off. Lt. Quinn called to Carmody to take up watch position. Hearing that, Sgt. Costa excused herself. Work to be done.

  Elizabeth Owen gave a less than subtle harrumph. “I don’t mean to dampen the mood, boys and girls, but we’re out in the middle of an ocean. Very few doors; however alien that ocean may be.”

  “Oh, give us a minute to enjoy the scenery, Liz,” said Banister.

  “For once I have to agree with Wes,” said Church. “I don’t want to, but I must. A moment to take it in, and then we’ll go in search of your door.”

  Sgt. Costa stepped in to take charge of posting the watch, leaving Lt. Quinn to return to the rest of the group. He stood with his back to the rail, planted his hands on his hips and studied the rusting hulk. It was like something out of an old black and white movie.

  “Doesn’t take a scientist to tell me that we’re probably going to find the access to the next floor right here on board this ship,” he said.

  “How do you figure?” asked Owen, a bit of a sneer. “Maybe our host put the opening out there. On an island, or in a floating in a mass of seaweed… inside a whale.”

  Maybe, thought Asher. But where would you even begin to look?

  “I’ll leave it to you scientists,” said Lt. Quinn. “In the meantime, I believe I have a location for our base camp.”

  Asher turned again to the view beyond the rail as the others began to follow after Lt. Quinn. The surface of the green ocean rose and fell in easy, steady swells. A ripple in the distance suggested where the alien serpent might be gliding just under the surface.

  Episode Two / Chapter One

  Lt. Quinn’s choice for home base on this floor was the ship’s lounge. Freighters like this sometimes took on a few passengers to supplement the income received from traditional cargo, and a lounge like this was where these passengers spent their time.

  That, at least, was how Lt. Quinn explained it. He more than likely acquired this information from one of the old movies this freighter brought to mind. There was a couch, several small tables with chairs, a six foot bar with a couple of tall stools. The outer wall was lined with a row of round portholes and single metal door.

  By the time Asher came into the room, most of the others had already begun settling in. Church and Banister sat at one of the tables and were in a heated discussion. Corporal R
amos had taken over one end of the bar to use as the communications station and was trying to contact General Wong. Lt. Quinn hovered beside him, leaving Sgt. Costa and Carmody outside on watch.

  Elizabeth Owen’s assistants were on the couch sorting through their knapsack.

  Asher took a seat at the other table with Susan Bautista just as Owen came in through the inner door beside the bar.

  “Well, the restroom is about what you’d expect.” She sat in the chair opposite Asher. “All the comforts of sixty years ago.”

  “And yet it is our sixty years ago,” said Banister, from the other table. “An Earth vessel to be sure, on an alien sea.”

  “Perhaps our host is confused,” smirked Owen.

  “Possible, of course, but I sense there is purpose behind each choice that he makes.”

  “Yeah… that wouldn’t make him any less a confused whacko.”

  “True.” Banister shifted position then, looked over that Lt. Quinn and Ramos. “Word from home?” he asked.

  Lt. Quinn gave Ramos a pat on the shoulder and stepped away, towards the rest of the group.

  “Unable to get through, for the moment. We’ll keep trying.”

  “No filing of reports, then?” said Owen, a big snarky grin. They had been told, through Lt. Quinn, that they would be required to make regular reports; she specifically to Dr. Lake, the science advisor on the outside.

  “I would suggest that you have them ready,” said Lt. Quinn.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Lt. Quinn looked at the other table. “Dr. Church? Can I speak with you?”

  “Of course.” Church stood and followed Lt. Quinn to the door and outside. They walked a few yards along the open promenade before stopping. Sgt. Costa stood watch another dozen steps further on, Carmody in line of sight the other direction.

  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” asked Church. Nathaniel Church was the civilian leader on the mission, though one might not think so the way he and his partner continually squabbled.

  “I believe the ultimate goal of our mission, that being to reach the top floor, has taken on a new level of urgency.” said Lt. Quinn. With the death of Captain Carver, Lt. Quinn was now military head of the team. “Wouldn’t you agree, Doctor?”