by Ben Farthing
"Us," Roberts whispered.
"You could break her in half. What are you scared of?"
"Anyone can summon the lurchers." He rubbed the nub of his finger.
"Why would she want that?" Chris tried not to think of Eddie lost in this mess, encountering a pale, dizzying lurcher. "My son's in here. I need to find him."
Roberts motioned for Chris to follow. They rounded the sunken plot of bathroom fixtures, to enter a forest of ductwork. Dull silver boxes emerged from the floor and then branched into a chaotic canopy above their heads.
They squatted in a nook next to an aluminum y-junction.
Roberts' gaze darted from shadow to shadow. "Why do you think your boy's in here?"
Chris explained the text messages.
Roberts listened intently. "We need to find him before Micah. That thing--not the Deviser--did something to her mind."
Chris suspected it had only amplified the tyrannical obsession already in Micah's mind. She'd dominated her industry by walking on people--why stop now?
"She's trying to offer me up to the counterfeit Deviser," said Roberts. "You too, now. She'll probably do the same to him."
"But the lurchers repair the building. How does getting them to hurt us help her?"
"Either there's something we don't understand about them, or her mind is just damaged."
"Okay, then we need to find Eddie before she does. He would have headed toward the light."
"Micah was hovering around there, before you showed up and started shouting."
"Then let's get there quick."
Roberts squeezed his eyes shut, breathed deep, then nodded. "Alright, but you need to understand something. Micah and I were wrong about this building. Whatever's been helping mankind with the other buildings, that's something else. If the Deviser is an angel, this counterfeit is a demon. I should have realized it as soon as we saw the crazy mental floors. This building is nothing like the others."
"You're wasting time."
"I need you to understand that I never meant for anyone to get hurt. This building is a counterfeit."
That didn't ring true to Chris. This building wasn't like the others, but it did feel like the next step in progression. The others brought people close together. And now that people were living tightly in cities, this one would... Chris wasn't sure. It healed mental issues. But it had also swallowed Leon and Dr. Terry.
"When we first built feeding troughs for wild animals, we must have seemed like angels." Chris walked through the ductwork forest, toward the orange light.
Roberts followed. "What are you talking about?"
"Then when we built warm barns for them to sleep in. They were comfortable. But they were also nearby for our easy access."
Chris reached the edge of the ductwork forest. The mist was thicker--he could feel moisture on his skin.
Past the forest, a cracked plane of stacked floor tiles. Through the thick orange fog, the central light grew brighter.
"This isn't a slaughterhouse," Roberts said. "We're not cattle. The Deviser--the true Deviser--has been helping mankind for millennia."
"It's funneled us into cities. And now we've been funneled to the top floor. What's at the end of the chute? Cattle get a quick death from a pneumatic gun." Chris pointed to the light through the fog. "What do we get?"
Roberts whispered, "No."
"What did Leon and Dr. Terry get? What did your Deviser do to Micah?"
"That's not the Deviser," Roberts growled.
"You saw the same flat dimension outside as I did. Was there anything out there that felt benevolent?"
"This demon imposter could be from another plane of reality."
"Answer my question." Chris needed Roberts to accept what was happening if they were going to escape. "This building fits the pattern you and Micah were searching for. But has anything here felt like it was designed to help people?"
Roberts hugged his arms across his chest. "It's not the Deviser. The Deviser loves us. I could feel that thing's hate. Micah watched it and whispered to herself. She doesn't care whether it's the real Deviser, as long as it gives her what she's been searching for: the next breakthrough that'll make her even more rich and powerful."
And now Eddie was up here with her. This conversation was wasting time.
Chris stepped out of the ductwork forest onto the cracked tile plane. These stacks were several inches from each other, and each step sent individual tiles sliding around. It was like walking on ice.
Roberts followed behind. Tile cracked under his weight.
From far ahead through the mist, a child yelled, surprise wrapped up in anger.
Chris ran to find his son.
55
Chris scrambled over the stacks of tile. Orange fog blew past his cheeks.
The light through the mist grew brighter.
"Eddie!" he called.
The only response was the tile clinking against itself as Roberts lumbered behind him.
"What's the plan?" Roberts asked.
Chris's footing wobbled, then he continued on. "Find Eddie. Find a way back down."
"I meant with Micah. If we get close, she'll bring the lurchers after us."
"If she's a threat to my son, I'll deal with her." Chris heard the hubris in his voice, threatening this bodyguard's client and friend.
But Roberts didn't object.
The light grew brighter to the point that Chris had to squint through the orange fog. Under his feet, the gaps between stacks of tile grew wider. Every wobbling step he took sent a low tower toppling.
He called for his son again.
From ahead, off to the side of the brightness, a response. "Dad?"
A mixture of relief and terror filled Chris. Eddie was still okay; Eddie was stuck in this tower with him. And with Micah.
"Come to my voice," Chris yelled.
Eddie's footsteps, hopping from stack of tile to stack of tile, sounded through the fog.
Chris ran towards them.
Eddie appeared out of the mist. A smeared shape at first, barely visible through the light reflecting on the moisture in the air. Then more defined as Chris saw Eddie's Spiderman t-shirt, grass-stained blue jeans, and the red Nikes that Chris had bought him last week. Finally Chris saw Eddie's face. Shaggy hair, tossled from anxious pulling. Lips tight with repressed fear. Green eyes pleading with Chris to make this nightmare end.
Chris braced himself on a steady stack of tile and lifted his son.
Eddie was nearly ten and weighed a solid hundred pounds. Chris was exhausted, and his wounded hand throbbed. But he found the strength to hold his son.
"I couldn't find the treasure." Eddie buried his face in Chris's shoulder. "I tried to be helpful. I'm sorry."
Chris cooed, "It's okay. I'm not mad. Are you okay? You're not hurt?"
"An invisible man tried to hurt my friend, but we got away."
He'd thought he knew terror before, but the idea of Leon or Dr. Terry going after Eddie rocked Chris to his core. "I won't let anyone get you."
Roberts patted Eddie's back. "You have a friend up here?"
Eddie flinched away from the giant man. But he saw Roberts' earnest smile and relaxed. "My friend went back down the elevator. She didn't mean to leave me alone."
"You're okay. You're not alone now," Chris promised.
Roberts crouched, still taller than Eddie by a foot. "You're either brave or stupid, going on a treasure hunt like this."
"Brave," Eddie said.
"He's got reckless momentum." Chris felt pride for his determined son. "He'll own a booming business one day, if I can keep him alive long enough." His own joke felt sick considering their present circumstances. "Eddie, why did you think there was treasure in here?"
Eddie wriggled his way out of Chris's embrace. "The man in the driveway wanted to hire you find it."
"You misunderstood. But he's a jerk anyways." Chris knew he shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but he wasn't positive Dr. Terry was dead, and if anyone d
eserved ill words, it was the old man who'd got them into this situation to start with.
"I'm sorry I wasn't helpful enough and Mom left."
"What?"
"I tried to do enough chores."
Roberts gave Chris an awkward look, as if to say, better deal with this.
"Mom left because she wanted a new life," Chris said.
"With kids more helpful than me."
"I don't think she wants any kids." That was stupid. That's not what Eddie needed to hear. "Wait, that's not what I meant. I mean, she left because she didn't want to be married to me anymore. It has nothing to do with you."
Anger flared inside Chris, and then his body went weak. He'd sleep alone tonight. Make breakfast alone tomorrow.
No, tomorrow was Saturday. On Saturdays, Eddie helped him make pancakes.
He took a breath. He shouldn't be feeling heartbreak while on the top floor of a deadly, impossible skyscraper.
"But I wasn't helpful enough," Eddie said. "That's why I had to leave my old mom."
"No. Somebody told you wrong. Your old mom tried her best but she failed. You came to us so you could be happier."
Eddie scrunched his eyebrows. "Mom didn't give me a hug goodbye."
Chris didn't know which mom he meant.
"Ah fuck," breathed Roberts.
Chris jerked his head around, looking for the threat. He expected to see Micah charging with the light at her back, wielding a taser and pepper spray. Or lurchers shambling towards them. Or Dr. Terry and Leon, sickly gray and eager to yank Eddie off to wherever they'd been taken.
But then Roberts said, "Hey now, your daddy gives good hugs, doesn't he?"
Eddie nodded.
"And he's not giving you any 'goodbye' hugs. Just good morning or good night hugs. This guy's not going anywhere."
"I know," Eddie whispered. "Can we go home now?"
"Of course." Chris looked around. The constant bright light helped him maintain his bearings--he knew which way led back to the elevators--but the fog still kept visibility short and close.
"The elevator wouldn't open back up," Eddie said. "It did for Cam, but not for me."
That was a puzzle they didn't have time for. Why did the elevator only open for some people? Better to skip the brainteaser.
"We'll find another way down. Any ideas?" Chris asked Roberts. But he feared the elevators were the only exit.
"Did you see that pit with the desks and chairs? Maybe it goes down to the next floor."
"Maybe it leads to Leon and Dr. Terry. Or to outside--the other version of outside." Chris imagined helping Eddie climb down the mishmash of chair legs, unable to know what was around the bend. "We need a stairwell. Or ducts we can climb down."
"Let's find the edge of this room," suggested Roberts. "Another outer hallway might have what we need."
Chris shook his head. "This room went beyond the elevators. Downstairs, the outer hallway was on the other side. Up here, I don't even know if there's an outer wall at all." Everything was pointing back to the elevators. He couldn't figure out the building's appetites--he just wanted a path downstairs.
Tile tapped tile somewhere out in the fog. Roberts snapped to attention. "Seems like if the building wants us, the building will take us."
Gears turned in Chris's mind. "You don't think it's random who was taken?"
"Like you said, this building is like a slaughterhouse chute."
"I said everything the Deviser has created is like that," Chris said. "It brought us closer together in cities, and now it's driven us up this tower."
"I'll give you this tower. That's all. The Deviser Micah taught me about is good. But you're right about this building. It drove us upwards, just like the slaughterhouse workers drive cattle towards their final stall."
"Why hasn't it taken us? Why'd it take Leon and Dr. Terry?"
Roberts shrugged. "I don't know. But if we can figure out why, then maybe we can convince it to let us leave."
"We can't leave?" Eddie asked.
"Sure we can," Chris said. "We're deciding the best way out right now."
"You were with both of them before they disappeared," Roberts said. "What did they do? What did they say?"
Trying to calmly remember made Chris feel his exhaustion. "I'm not sure. Leon was talking about building hacking. He was excited because he hadn't done it in a while. And Dr. Terry... he was losing his mind. He was rambling apologies for fucking up my career."
Eddie gasped and then giggled at his dad swearing. The innocent sound felt sour against their unnatural surroundings.
Roberts scratched his cheek. "And they didn't step in the wrong place, or touch the wall, or anything like that?"
Chris exhaled. "I couldn't tell you."
"You've got to. We figure out what it wants, and maybe we can get out."
Chris held tight to Eddie's hand.
It was a stupid plan. A long shot. Even if they figured something out, what could they do with that info? But the elevators wouldn't let them back down, and there was no sign of a stairwell. Even if he found the ventilation system like he'd used down below, it'd take days to crawl down a hundred-twenty floors.
This was the only plan they had.
"Alright. Let's go over what we know."
Eddie wandered towards the light. "I was going to look out the window. We could try that."
Chris and Roberts exchanged a thoughtful look. Chris had assumed the light was unnatural, but maybe it was a window, and the sun had broken through the clouds outside.
"It's worth checking out," Roberts said. "If it's a window, there's a wall, and there could be stairs. Just keep an eye out for Micah."
If it was a way down without puzzling out why and when the elevator worked, Chris was for it.
"Let's do it." Chris took Eddie's hand and led the way towards the light.
56
They walked around a pit of steel framing studs, and between piles of rolled up carpet stacked higher than they could see.
The light grew brighter.
Twice they heard someone behind them. Roberts fell back to frequently check over his shoulder. Micah was hunting them, and she'd bring the lurchers.
Chris tried to squash the hope he felt growing inside. If Eddie was right, and it was a window and sunlight, then maybe there was a way down. He expected that out the window would be the same otherworldly landscape that he'd seen out the window below. But if there was a wall, there may be a stairwell.
"See it, Dad?" Eddie tugged on Chris's hand to point at the light.
Chris squinted through the orange fog, now turned yellow with the whiteness of the light.
The fog thinned out to reveal a blindingly bright rectangle.
They'd reached a wall, like any other wall down below. Cinderblock painted white. Close to the blinding light, the paint was dried and flaking.
No ceiling was visible, even with the thinner fog allowing Chris to see forty feet above. The cinderblock continued upwards out of sight.
The bright rectangle itself--or window, if it was a window--was ten feet wide and twice as tall. Chris couldn't tell if it was glass that faced a blinding sun or a flat surface that itself shone with blinding light. He closed his eyes and turned away.
When he opened them, he saw Eddie, slack jawed, staring at the light. His pupils were pinpricks, his body doing what it could to protect Eddie from his own actions.
Chris stepped between his son and the light.
Eddie looked up at Chris. His shoulders hung loose. He smiled. Dimples appeared in his cheeks. "Can I see it again?"
"The light? What did you see?"
"I like it. Like when I sat between you and Mom and we watched Spider-man."
That had been after an especially bad week at his bio mom's house, and the social worker had filed an emergency order to get Eddie removed quickly.
Chris looked over his shoulder. He squinted into the light.
His eyes tingled, and then that feeling extended into his head, an
d down his spine. Even with the pain from his missing finger, the cuts down his back, and the aches in his muscles, he felt more comfortable. He didn't need to run away.
Scratch that--this building was wildly dangerous, and he needed to get himself and his son out of here. But the anxiety that accompanied those thoughts before was gone. His level of confidence that he could escape hadn't changed, only his body's stress reaction.
He looked back down at Eddie. The terror of raising an emotionally damaged boy by himself was gone. It would be difficult, and maybe he'd make awful mistakes. But thinking about it no longer sent his heart pounding and his palms sweating.
Roberts stood behind them, peering curiously at the light. "You felt that, didn't you?"
"I think so," Chris said.
"It's like it reached into my brain and fixed it. Look," he pointed next to the window.
Tough to see past the light's glare, pipes ran alongside the window, leading into the light on one end, and down into the floor on the other.
"That's what's powering everything," Chris said. "That's the same energy that's in all the central rooms."
His curiosity got the better of him, and he looked again. He couldn't tell whether the pipes were going through an open window, or attached directly to a glowing panel. Regardless, this seemed to be the source of the mental and emotional energy that he'd felt in the room with the miniature sun, or the room with the neon slides. This building was designed to fix minds, and this was the power source.
The tingling entered through his eyes again, down into his body. He thought of his career, hijacked by a single man, and for the first time in four years, he didn't feel hate when he thought of him. He thought of his future career prospects. He was in a shitty spot, no portfolio, four years into his career. If he wanted to stay an architect, it wouldn't be easy. But he would make it work or he wouldn't. It'd hurt and he'd always doubt whether he bailed too soon, but life would go on. He thought of his house. If he and Eddie had to move, that would be tough. He'd leave the house where he and Sherri had fallen more deeply in love. And then fallen out of love. Eddie would have one more rug yanked out from under him. But he and Eddie would still be together. It was cheaper to live in the suburbs anyways. Or he could see if his parents would take them in. Chris's dad loved Eddie. Chris had no intention of moving to small town Virginia with his parents indefinitely, but maybe it'd be a good space to regroup while he and Eddie figured things out.
