Unfortunately, her responsibilities along those lines had greatly diminished since entering the tower. Her attempts at helping them to organize and process their ideas and theories often only got in the way and she frequently found herself standing to one side and waiting for one or the other to turn to her in search of mediation.
Much of that changed after the thirteenth floor. Dr. Church was depending on her more now that Banister was on the other side of the radio. While there was no replacing Banister, she was accomplished in her own right and fully capable of working through ideas with Church. She could stand in for Dr. Banister between communication windows.
Finding out that Doctor Banister had made it to the command center had made those communication windows difficult. Church had been unable to understand his friend agreeing to stay behind without a putting up a fight, and without telling him. Certainly together they could have come up with something, some way of keeping the team together.
But Susan got it. There had been no options. Banister and Carmody would stay behind no matter what they did. And she knew that if Banister had told his friend, Church would have absolutely stayed behind in some vain attempt to get them all to the next floor. The mission would have been lost.
Banister had only told Peter so that they would know what happened after the fact. He hadn’t wanted his friend left wondering.
Professor Asher had understood as well. He had been put into a terrible position, but he had kept Dr. Banister’s secret. He had waited until they were well on their way before telling anyone.
Dr. Church had been very, very upset. Even hearing that Banister and Carmody had survived and were back at command, he hadn’t forgiven Asher.
Susan wondered if this breach of trust could ever be overcome.
“Susan… do you see that?” asked Church. He was looking to their left.
Susan’s mind had been elsewhere. “What?”
“There.” He slowed his step. Susan slowed to match.
Asher, walking ahead of them, sensed something and looked back. “What’s going on?”
“I see,” said Susan.
There was something in the fog. Movement… something…
“People,” mumbled Church. “There’s someone there.”
Shadows, shadows within shadows. People moving.
“Is that—” Susan started.
“It’s Wes.”
They watched as Dr. Banister stopped in front of the Quonset hut that served as the command center. He looked in their direction. He took a step toward them. He started to lift a hand.
And then the fog rolled in from both directions and the shadows washed away.
“Dr. Church?” asked Asher. “Susan?”
“Gone now,” said Church. “Never mind.”
§
Banister stood just outside the Quonset hut. Across the open lot stood the tower, rising up into a thick, off-white cloud deck that lay heavy over everything. The sound of muffled voices came and went from the bivouac that was set up around the other side of the tower. Other than that, the world was quiet.
Had he just seen what he thought he had seen?
The thin strands that had drawn out from the layer of cloud above now began to retreat; the strange fog winnowing its way across the asphalt began to fade, vanishing as a whisper into the mist.
The Quonset hut door opened and Carmody came out of the command center. She held the door open and Lake came out behind her. Banister had to step to one side to make way for them. He kept his attention on the peculiar cloud formations. A last fingerling strand was drawing back up into the cloud deck.
“Doctor Banister?” prompted Carmody. “Doctor Lake has been looking for you.”
“Thank you, Private,” Lake said patiently. “I can speak for myself.”
“What is it, Lake?” asked Banister.
“Yes. Well I…” Lake looked sharply at Carmody, then looked across to the tower, clasped his hands behind his back. “I believe we had a meeting scheduled, Doctor Banister.”
“Did we?” he asked absently.
“Yes. We did. We do.”
“I don’t suppose you saw any of that?” Banister said abruptly, pointing in the direction of the clouds bumping up against the tower.
“Excuse me?”
“No, I suppose not.” He turned to look at Lake for the first time. “I’m sorry. We had a meeting, didn’t we?”
“We were to review our data regarding our plane here and its relationship to the floors.”
“Hmm, yes.” Banister turned slowly back to the tower. “I may have some additional information to contribute.”
§
Costa rested her hand on the top of the anchor post and turned about, waited for the others to gather up close. The rope bridge disappeared into the fog behind her some ten feet beyond the post.
“Nice work, Sara,” said Asher. He slipped out of his backpack and set it at his feet, pulled his canteen from his belt.
“Yes, very good,” said Church. He and Susan stepped around Asher. He studied the bridge, or what little was visible, stepped near the edge of the chasm and looked down.
“I doubt we could have missed it,” grumbled Owen. “Not after what Peter said. How many times did you find this thing?”
“Four. Nonetheless,” said Asher, nodding politely to Costa.
“Absolutely,” said Church. “Thank you for successfully guiding us to our first milestone.”
“Sure. Any time, Doctor Banister,” said Costa. She looked over at Lieutenant Quinn, who was just finishing a few words with Ramos. “Lieutenant?”
“Lead the way, Sergeant,” said Quinn. “When you reach the other side, you stay well within sight of the bridge.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quinn turned to the group. “The bridge certainly looks strong enough, but we’re not taking any chances. I’ll be sending you across half a minute apart. Take it slow, and when you get to the other side, stay together. Hold hands if you have to, but no wandering off.”
With that, Costa moved out onto the bridge. She held onto the two rope handrails, put one foot in front of the other and started out over the chasm. She stopped two steps out and looked back over her shoulder. Professor Asher and the lieutenant were standing at the head of the bridge watching her. She could just make out the silhouettes of the others standing behind them.
She started forward across the bridge. Another two steps and there was nothing but the fog, the bridge disappearing behind and before her. She heard Dr. Owen’s voice drifting toward her. She was griping about something, probably something to do with poor Ramos, but that faded as well… and then she was utterly alone.
§
Asher paced his steps slow and easy, sliding his hands along the rope hand rails to either side. The bridge faded into the fog several steps ahead. Sergeant Costa was up there somewhere.
Liz Owen was behind him. He knew that because he occasionally heard her.
“Peter!” she called out. “You still on the bridge?”
“Yes, Liz. I’m still on the bridge.”
“Peter? Peter?”
Asher stopped and twisted about so that he could call out behind him. “Here, Liz. Still on the bridge.”
He started forward then. There was only silence behind him. He had lost her again. She should only be thirty seconds behind him, assuming they were travelling the same pace, but there was something very strange about this floor… strange even for the tower.
It took him at least four minutes to cross the bridge, perhaps longer. He really wasn’t very good at judging time. However long it took, he knew it was a really long time. It was a very wide chasm.
“Sara? Sergeant Costa?” Asher stepped off the bridge. He couldn’t see anything beyond the two anchor posts. Shadow-filled fog drifted slowly past.
He let out a long, exhausted sigh and let his pack slide from his shoulder.
“Crap.”
He was alone.
§
Joha
nsen entered the command center a couple of minutes ahead of the next communication window. Lake and Banister were huddled together at one of the tables, heavy into some deep discussion, their hushed voices seldom carrying beyond the table.
Carmody was over near the radio, her back against the counter, arms folded as she watched the two doctors.
“What’s that all about?” he asked her.
“As best I can tell, before they went all hush-hush on me, our bubble wall is touching the bubble walls of all the floors.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, that was my thought.”
“Bubble wall?”
“Ya see,” she sighed, “Each floor has a connection to the floor below it and the floor above it; though they’re not really above and below.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Now… our own little acre has a simultaneous connection to every floor. A wall of our plane is actually touching every floor, all at the same time.”
“Okay…” Johansen glanced up at the clock above the radio. “Okay… hey, about that time, eh?”
He settled himself in before the radio, put on the headset. Behind him, Lake and Banister slid their chairs back and stood up, wandered over to stand behind him.
Johansen flipped a switch, rested two fingers on a dial.
“Tower, this is command. Tower, this is command. Over.”
§
Ramos was sitting on the ground a few yards from the end of the bridge, the radio set up beside him. He had the receiver to his ear.
“Yeah, hey there Johansen.” He looked at the world around him. He was all alone. “We have a bit of a problem here. Over.”
Episode Six / Chapter Three
Susan Bautista had been walking for hours. She kept a steady pace, stopping just three times to drink from her canteen and once to have a light meal from the dried berries and jerky she had in her pack. She had called out to the others at each of those stops, not expecting a reply and not getting one.
She had known midway across the bridge that she was alone, and so was not surprised to find no one waiting when she stepped off on the other side. She had waited there just long enough for anyone who might be coming across the bridge behind her to finish the crossing, just in case. When no one showed up, she had started off, marching directly away from the chasm.
They had been on this floor for several days. By now Cpl. Ramos had no doubt been in communication with command a second time. They were probably freaked, what with the team scattered across eight flavors of the floor with no obvious way to get back together. Command certainly wouldn’t have an answer.
Susan was just as certain they would all be together again, sooner rather than later. Just as the bridge had been an unavoidable milestone, so too would be the threshold connecting these different realities of this floor together. It would be a simple matter of recognizing it when she saw it.
She came upon the apple tree only moments after seeing its large shadow shifting into and out of focus in the fog.
This has to be it…
The tree was big, the lower branches barely within her reach, the higher branches lost in the fog. She set her pack down against the trunk and pulled down an apple. Sitting next to her pack, her back against the tree, she munched on the fruit and waited.
§
Asher stood under the orange tree. It grew right out of the smooth hard surface of the floor. And it was big, the biggest orange tree he had ever seen. He could barely reach the fruit hanging from the lowest branches.
Sitting with his back against the trunk, he peeled an orange as he thought about what to do next. There was no day and night on this floor, no light and dark. There was only gray, but by the reckoning of the team time they went by, it was late evening. His own internal clock told him the same thing.
He decided he’d have a good night’s sleep and then start out again in the morning. He assumed the others would be stopping for the night as well, wherever they might be; he’d hang around until mid-morning before heading out to give anyone who might be out there on this variation of the floor time to show up.
Not that he expected anyone would be making an appearance. He was pretty sure it was just him and this tree, but he would stick around long enough to be certain.
Sleep was a long time coming, despite how tired he was. He couldn’t get comfortable and his mind refused to quiet down. The strange fog drifted slowly past, fingering its way through the branches overhead, gray and shadowed.
Morning came and he started awake, somewhat surprised that he had finally drifted off. He ate a little from his rations, peeled and ate another orange, and washed his breakfast down with a few swallows of his water.
He collected as many oranges as he could carry in his pack and stuffed another couple into his shirt to eat as he walked. Finally, gathering branches and leaves and orange peel, he created an arrow on the ground indicating the direction he would be heading. You never knew…
He walked for several hours. He was about to stop for lunch when he noticed a dark swath of shadow running left to right across his path. Another four steps and he came up to a wooden rail fence. It disappeared into the fog a few yards to his left and to his right, posts every eight feet, horizontal split wood rails set at one foot and at three feet above the ground.
Another boundary, thought Asher.
Should he climb over the fence and continue on, or follow the fence and stay inside the boundary?
Lunch… he decided. He sat with his back against the nearest post; another orange, a half ration, and half of his remaining water. A sure sign that he had to get wherever it was he needed getting to.
§
General Wong handed the radio headset to Captain Adamson and went over to the table. The captain would give any final instructions to the corporal in what few seconds remained in this communication window, the third window since their arrival on this floor.
Banister and Lake were already hashing over the most recent news. There was some disagreement as to the underlying meaning of the walnut tree that Cpl. Ramos had come upon.
The general hadn’t gotten any underlying meaning from it, but from what Ramos had reported, several things were immediately evident. First of all, this didn’t look to be a threshold or portal. This was no junction point of the multiple realities of this floor. It was a walnut tree.
And second, being that it was a walnut tree, and as it was currently bearing lots and lots of walnuts, it was a much-needed food source.
“Gentlemen, please,” said General Wong.
Banister and Lake turned their heads in unison.
“Yes?” asked Banister.
“You’re arguing over the meaning of the walnut tree?”
“Absolutely,” said Dr. Lake. “Properly interpreting the meaning of the tree on this floor will add to what we already understand of the Adversary and could help us in safely guiding the team across later floors.”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“It is the reason I am here.”
“Yes, I understand. But for the moment the team would be better served by our focusing on next steps.”
“At the moment we have no recommendation beyond what we have already suggested,” said Banister.
“Exactly so,” stated Lake.
The general looked up at Captain Adamson’s approach. “Captain.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Please,” hint of pleading. “Interrupt.”
“Corporal Ramos will be getting a few hours rest. He’ll then harvest as many walnuts as he can carry and continue on.”
“Very good, Captain.” General Wong leaned forward and set his elbows onto the table. He rubbed his face with his palms. “I wish we knew how the others were doing.”
“I am fairly confident they are no worse off than the corporal,” said Banister. “With or without walnuts.”
§
Sgt. Miller came around the corner of the tower from the mess hall on his way t
o the command center. The sky was a dull, flat gray, the air damp enough that he frequently had to wipe the wet from his eyes. The clouds had been dark and threatening for days, and with each passing hour they seemed to push down lower and lower.
Reaching the command center, he turned back to look at the tower once more before going in. The lights that had once been set up near the now-absent door access had long since been removed, but a detail still patrolled the base of the tower. He saw the two-person team come around the far corner, little more than dark silhouettes in the thick mist.
Miller was about to turn back and open the door when he noticed something odd happening to the low cloud layer near the tower. The clouds were beginning to bulge and swirl, and thick streamers of fog began reaching down toward the ground.
This is what Doctor Banister saw…
Sgt. Miller stepped away from the Quonset hut, took several steps toward the tower. He noted that the two soldiers on patrol had stopped and were also watching what was happening.
Good… witnesses.
The fog strands reached the ground, drifted out and coalesced with one another, puffing and expanding and contracting. A large, dark shadow began to form within this cloud bank. The shadow eventually took on the shape of a tree.
The door opened behind Miller. Johansen came out of the Quonset hut.
“Hey, Sarge. I was just— whoa, what the hell is that?”
“What does it look like? It’s a tree.”
“Hey… is that—”
“I think so.”
The shadow drifted into and out of focus, but they could see a figure sitting on the ground beneath the tree. It looked like Ramos. He was trying his damnedest to smash a walnut with the butt of his canteen.
§
Asher followed the fence all through the morning and well into the afternoon, when it abruptly ended in the side of a dune rising up from the floor, the slope of sand disappearing into the drifting fog overhead.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 19
