The Tower of Endless Worlds

by Jonathan Moeller

“Let’s go on the back porch,” said Katrina.

  Simon blinked. “Like this?”

  Katrina snorted. “Yes, college boy. Let’s walk naked onto the back porch. Or we could get dressed first, and heat up the pizza in your microwave. I don’t like cold pizza any more than you do.”

  “Why the back porch?” said Simon.

  “The weather’s nice,” said Katrina, gathering up her clothes. Simon watched with some regret as she pulled on her shirt. “Besides, it smells like cigarettes in here.” Simon raised an eyebrow, and she waved a finger in his general direction. “Not a word.”

  “Right,” said Simon. He got dressed and followed her into the kitchen. They heated some of the pizza, retrieved plates and napkins from the cupboard, and went onto the back porch. The late afternoon had just begun to turn to dusk, and they sat in the lawn chairs Simon had set up for his mother a few weeks past.

  “So,” said Katrina. “Was that so bad?”

  Simon blinked. “What? No…no, not at all.”

  She stared into the sunken woods behind the backyard. “I’m…sorry if I sort of jumped you.”

  “You’re apologizing to me?” said Simon, incredulous.

  Katrina glared at him. “Does that bother you?”

  “No, no,” said Simon. “It’s just unprecedented.” Katrina laughed. “And…well, I would have liked to have waited until after the wedding. But I think this would have happened anyway, sooner or later. I’ve sort of lived like a monk for the last few years…”

  Katrina laughed again. “Not any more.”

  Simon smiled. “Very true.”

  “I just hope no one notices when I give birth seven months after the wedding,” said Katrina.

  Simon almost choked on his pizza. “What?”

  Katrina grinned. “I’m kidding. I’ve been on the pill for a while.” She smirked. “I kind of figured it was inevitable sooner or later, too.”

  “Wise,” said Simon.

  “Wise ass college boy,” said Katrina, but she smiled as she said that.

  Simon felt himself a very lucky man.

  Something clanged.

  Katrina looked over her shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

  Simon frowned. “Yeah. A pan probably fell off a hook.”

  “Mmm,” said Katrina. “Why don’t you go and check?”

  Simon raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  Katrina gave him a look. “No, I just want you to get me a glass of water. We forgot to get something to drink.”

  “We did at that.” He squeezed her hand. “Be right back.”

  Katrina rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. “You’re just going to the damn kitchen.”

  Simon kissed her on the forehead, then on the cheek, and then the lips. Then he went back into the kitchen, leaned against the wall, and blew out a long breath. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the windows and snorted. He did indeed have a stupid grin on his face.

  It had been a very good week.

  Simon filled two glasses with water from the sink. He scooped them up and as he did he heard a distant clanging, like two pieces of metal banging together. He looked over at his shoulder at the stove. His mother’s pans hung from their nails, each in its proper place.

  “What now?” muttered Simon. The house was old and not in the best repair. “Not the plumbing, I hope. Or the gas.” Maybe he should go down to the basement and check…

  “Simon! Come look at this.” He returned to the back porch, the water forgotten. Katrina leaned over the railing, hand shading her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Look at this.” She pointed, and Simon saw a pale white light shining through the trees in the sunken wood. “What do you think that is?”

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t know. It looks like a low-flying plane or something.” The light flickered and got brighter.

  Something scratched at the back of his mind.

  Katrina grunted. “Huh. Maybe it’s a UFO.” She titled her head to the side. “And there’s that damn clanging again. Hell, maybe it is a UFO.”

  “Unidentified flying object,” muttered Simon. Something about those words filled him with dread. “Right before I met you, Mom always used to complain that she heard weird sounds coming from…from the…the…”

  Katrina frowned. “Simon? You okay?”

  Simon grabbed the railing to keep from falling over. “Oh, no. No, no, no. It can’t be that.”

  Conmager’s warning echoed inside his head.

  “What?” said Katrina, anxiety creeping into her voice.

  “Conmager’s door,” said Simon, shaking his head. He had forgotten about it during the massive work for his dissertation and his growing relationship with Katrina. “It can’t be. Oh, please don’t let it be that. Not two men and a baby.”

  “That was a movie.” Katrina grabbed his arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I gave him the van,” said Simon, staring at the light in the woods. He thought of the winged thing and shuddered. “Why couldn’t he have just taken the van and let me be? I don’t want any part of it.”

  Katrina began to look angry. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said two men and a child,” said Simon. “I hope it’s just a UFO.” He shook off Katrina’s arm and went down the porch stairs, crossed the driveway, and walked for the sunken woods.

  Katrina followed him, scowling. “Don’t just walk away from me, college boy. What the hell’s gotten into you? You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?”

  “What?” Simon spun and faced her. “No, no. Katrina, please. It’s nothing about you. It’s…”

  Katrina titled her head to the side, green eyes narrow. “Wait. You said you gave him in your van. This is something about that mugger who stole your van, isn’t it?”

  Simon stiffened. “Yes.”

  She folded her arms. “But you said you gave him the van. That’s what you just said.” Her eyes widened. “Goddamn. I remember. That night I came to visit you. I saw a red van pull out of your driveway. I thought it looked like yours, but that would have been stupid. But it really was yours, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Simon. “At least, it was mine.” He winced under her flat stare. “You have to understand. It…it was…”

  “Why did you lie to me?” said Katrina. “You lied your mother, too.”

  “Katrina,” said Simon. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you, and if…if you know about this, you might get hurt, or killed.” The memory of the winged creature burned through him. “Please. Wait in the house. I just have to go see…”

  She grabbed his wrists. “You know something, college boy? We’re going to get married, and that means that your life is mine and mine is yours. At least that’s the way it’s supposed to be. And you’re not going to keep such a big secret from me. Not after this afternoon, and not if you really want to get married.”

  Simon closed his eyes. “Wait. All right. I’ll tell you what happened.” If the door Conmager had shown him was really opening… “In fact, I’ll show you.”

  “Alright,” said Katrina. She let go of his wrists. “But you’re going to explain things to me.”

  “I will,” Simon, his thoughts a jumble. “I will. Just…this way.” He led her towards the half-overgrown path. He muttered to himself, praying that it wasn’t the door, praying that two men and a child wouldn’t come through. Katrina watched him, her face a mixture of annoyance and concern.

  The light got brighter as they drew closer to the clearing in the center of the woods. He heard the clanging noise again, as well as different sounds. Once he heard a sound like running boots. He heard a man’s voice, deep and gruff, and a low, sonorous whisper.

  “What the hell is that?” said Katrina. She had shifted to the defensive posture Simon had seen in her karate classes.

  “I don’t know,” said Simon.

  He watched her look back and forth through the trees. “It sounds…I don’t know.
It sounds awful.”

  Simon winced. The strange whispering reached an enraged crescendo. “Let’s just go back to the house.”

  “No way,” said Katrina. She pushed past him. “I want to see what this is.”

  “Katrina!” Simon ran after her. “Don’t…”

  She reached the edge of the clearing and froze. Simon almost crashed into her.

  “Simon.” Her hand grabbed his arm. “Holy hell, Simon. What the hell is that?”

  “I think it’s a door,” said Simon.

  The dark marble door Conmager had shown him stood visible. The strange symbols carved on its edges flickered with white fire, casting their light over the green-veined marble. Green light shone from under the door, sometimes flashing with a deep azure glow.

  “Oh my God,” whispered Katrina. “I’ve never seen anything like that. What is it?”

  “A door,” said Simon. “Oh, God, please don’t let it open.”

  “A door?” said Katrina. He felt her hand shaking. “A door to what?”

  The memory of his conversation with Conmager rose in Simon’s mind. “The Tower of Endless Worlds.”

  The blue light flashed under the door, brighter this time. Simon heard a young girl’s voice, calling out in fright. The gruff-voiced man shouted, and the icy whispering trembled with rage.

  Katrina took a step back. “Simon, I think it’s…”

  The door swung open with a grinding howl. A blinding shaft of white light shot out, so bright it transformed the dusk to daylight. Simon gasped and looked away, blinking. The light faded, and Simon summoned up his courage and looked through the door and into the Tower.

  What he saw almost made him run screaming to his car.

  He glimpsed of a huge pillared hall of dark marble stretching to infinity, green light gleaming off the polished walls and columns. Countless shapes of writhing shadow swarmed through the hall. The mere sight of the shadow-shapes filled Simon with unreasoning, animal dread. Blue light flashed, whirling and scything through the shadow-things. A gray-bearded man stood alone amongst the creatures, two burning swords in hand.

  Simon would never forget it.

  A small shape leapt through the open door, holding something clutched tight.

  The whispering voices rose in howls of insane rage.

  The door slammed shut and vanished. The light vanished, the discordant whispers faded to nothing.

  Simon looked at Katrina. She was shaking, her eyes wide and her face pale. “Did…did you see it?”

  “You mean the old man with the fiery swords?” Katrina stumbled over the words. “And the shadow-men with claws…and…oh, God, Simon, what the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Simon. “I really don’t.”

  Something whimpered.

  Katrina’s fingers dug even deeper to his arm. “Simon.”

  A little girl of nine or ten years stood in the center of the clearing, a few feet from where the door had appeared. She wore a dirty gray shift that flapped around her bony knees. Ragged, chopped-off dark hair hung over her pale face and deep dark eyes. She held a writhing toddler in her arms.

  “She…oh, God,” said Katrina. “She must have come through the door.”

  The little girl turned and pawed at the air. Her face knitted in a mixture of concentration and anger. “I can’t open the door.”

  Simon stared at her.

  “Can you open the door?” said the girl. She had an odd accent, similar to Conmager’s.

  Simon shook his head. “I can’t.”

  The girl looked at the ground. “Then Liam’s dead.”

  “The old man with the swords?” said Katrina.

  The girl nodded and took a step towards them. “He…he saved us. They would have gotten me and Lithon, but he slowed them down.” Her face trembled, and she began to cry. “He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Simon.

  The girl staggered towards them, holding out the squirming toddler. “Can you take Lithon? He’s gotten so heavy.”

  Katrina nodded and took the child.

  The girl almost smiled. “Thank you.”

  She shuddered and collapsed to the ground.

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