But for Elizabeth Owen, they wouldn’t even have had that.
It had been Dr. Banister who had convinced General Wong that the Owen scenario was real. It had been Banister who had first appreciated the value of Major Connelly, whoever or whatever she truly was, no matter her true loyalties.
“Does Doctor Banister have anything new?” he asked the Major.
“As regards the threat?” asked Connelly. “He and Doctor Lake continue to document what information Doctor Owen relays through me, but analysis of the data to date has yet to reveal any answers. I believe they are focusing on the residents of the floor. They suspect that they may play at least some part in whatever danger looms over the team.”
“And what do you think, Major?” asked the general. “I would be most interested in your opinion; your thoughts, from your perspective.”
“I am afraid I have very little to contribute, sir. As you know, my expertise lay in the medical field.”
“You have no opinions from your own observations.”
“As I have stated, sir,” said the major. “My observations do not reach any further than yours. I have no more information than you. I leave the analysis of that information to Doctor Banister and Doctor Lake.”
“Very well, Major.” General Wong frowned, pursed his lips and let out a noisy sigh. “Should anything… come to you… any thoughts that might be helpful, I do hope that you will bring them to me.”
“Of course, General.” Major Connelly looked genuinely surprised. “Without hesitation.”
“Yes,” said the general with another low sigh. He leaned back in his chair. “Of course.”
§
Quinn and Ramos stood at the curb of one of the main thoroughfares. Across the street was a young woman, long dark hair, dressed in slacks and a light shirt. She was silent, unmoving, as all the residents. Her unwavering gaze could have been directed right at them.
“Are you sure?” asked Quinn.
“Yes sir. Absolutely, sir,” said Ramos. “It’s her, all right.”
“Well then,” sighed Quinn. He stepped off the curb, took one step into the street. He stopped, studied the woman for some sign.
There was nothing.
But if Ramos was certain, then it was so. And if it was so, then it meant… what?
§
Asher walked out of his house, closing the door behind him as he stepped down from his porch.
He stopped suddenly, startled.
There was a woman and her little girl standing on the front walk, a pace from the sidewalk.
They hadn’t been there before…
They weren’t moving, and yet they were most certainly coming up the walk to the house.
“Oh, boy,” mumbled Asher.
§
Church and Susan were making their way up the street to the café.
Two people were at the bus stop, one sitting on the bench, the other standing beside it. The figure standing appeared to be looking expectantly up the street.
Church and Susan continued. They passed a store window. Beyond the glass, a middle-aged man was in the act of dressing a mannequin.
There was a small group standing at the intersection, waiting to start across the crosswalk.
It was as a three dimensional photograph; a snapshot of a single moment in time, capturing the residents of this community going about their daily lives.
Entering the café, they found Asher and Lisa sitting at the tables. Sgt. Costa was standing near the counter.
A waitress stood behind the counter.
The café cook was visible through the order window, standing before the stove in the kitchen.
Episode Eight / Chapter Three
The café was eerily quiet. Half the team was gathered around the cluster of tables, with only an occasional soft-spoken comment breaking the silence. Over at the counter, Ramos sat on the stool directly opposite the waitress. He was leaning slightly forward, hands clasped before him, studying the woman’s face. Her unblinking eyes stared back at him.
Quinn and Dr. Church were in the last booth at the far end of the café, Quinn’s hand-drawn maps spread out on the table between them. It was Elizabeth Owen’s booth. She sat beside Church, leaning near to better see the drawings.
“I see,” mumbled Church. He moved one of the hand-drawn maps aside, compared it to the one beneath it. “Yes. Most odd.”
The spectral Elizabeth Owen agreed. She frowned. “It certainly is.”
“Though not unprecedented, I should think,” Church said, mostly to himself.
“Oh, of course not,” said Owen, dripping sarcasm.
Quinn shuffled through the drawings, found the one he was looking for. He pointed to a building he had labeled “strip mall”.
“Six days ago,” he stated. He pulled a second map over. He found the strip mall on this drawing. “Three days ago.”
Church nodded, his hand resting on a third drawing. “And yesterday,” he said, pondering.
“Our little world isn’t just getting smaller, Doctor. It’s shrinking,”
“A bit of both, I believe.” Church noted that while the distances between some locations were growing shorter, other locations had indeed… dropped off the map.
“Either way, Doctor Church; it doesn’t bode well for us.”
“No, it doesn’t,” grumbled Owen. She furrowed her brow as she continued looking at the maps.
“No, it doesn’t,” said Church. They had come across somewhat similar phenomenon in the past, going all the way back to the first floor, where distances were dependent upon perspective. But while the first floor had been disconcerting, it had been the third floor that had been the most threatening. They had only just escaped through the portal before that old west town had been devoured by the black that had been closing in on them.
Dr. Church saw their current circumstance as a somewhat twisted amalgamation of the two, all made possible by the very nature of the floors.
“You’re running out of time, Nate,” said Owen.
“Our time here is limited,” said Church, looking up from the maps to Lieutenant Quinn.
“A few days at most,” agreed Quinn.
§
Asher looked over at the row of booths lining the wall of the café. Quinn and Church sat in the last booth, hovering over the lieutenant’s drawings.
Meanwhile, over at the counter, Cpl. Ramos was poking the waitress in the forehead with a finger.
“Ramos, leave the lady alone,” ordered Costa.
Ramos lowered his hand, leaned forward and moved his face in close, almost nose to nose with the waitress. “She’s new,” he said.
“No kidding,” said Costa.
“No. I mean new. A lot of ‘em are moving around, disappearing one place, showing up in another, but not her. She’s brand new.”
“Maybe we just didn’t come across her before,” suggested Costa. “We haven’t been absolutely everywhere.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I think she’s new. And the cook, too.”
Asher thought Ramos was right. A lot of the residents were on the move, but just as many were making their first time appearances. The mother and child on the walk outside his house, for instance.
The world was starting to get crowded.
Down at the far end of the café, Quinn and Church slid out of their booth. The lieutenant gathered up his maps as Dr. Church approached the rest of the team.
Asher didn’t much like the dour look on the doctor’s face.
§
Quinn stood waiting outside the café. He had sent three of the team to the left, and Professor Asher and Dr. Bautista to the right.
There would be no dilly-dallying from this moment forward. The portal must be found. It must be found quickly. Everyone understood the urgency.
Sgt. Costa stepped out of the café.
“Ready, sir,” she said.
“Very good, Sergeant.” The two started across the street. Reaching the other side, they had to
step around a group of residents who were lined up at the curb before they could enter the alley.
§
Asher and Susan turned right onto the narrow side street, continued for three blocks and then turned left. They were headed for the six block square in the northwest quadrant of Lt. Quinn’s search grid. Mixed in amongst the familiar and expected shops, the area had a handful of pawn shops, a couple of secondhand stores and a swap meet. Ramos and Lisa Powell had been the first to map it, and Asher had been involved in a later sweep. Both searches had been rewarded with useful supplies.
This third search was not about supplies. They were looking for the portal first and foremost. Second was to survey geographic changes.
Rounding the corner and starting up the main street of the neighborhood, the first of the pawn shops was ahead on the left.
“I don’t remember it being this close the last time,” said Susan.
Everyone found it unsettling that no one had noticed the diminishing distances during their explorations. How could you not notice a store or a street or a mall was closer this time than the last?
“I think you’re reading things into it, now that we know what’s happening,” said Asher.
“We know what’s happening?”
“We know he’s playing with our minds,” said Asher, meaning the Adversary.
As they got nearer the pawn shop, they noticed a figure standing with his back to the door. Any other place or time, he could well have just stepped out of the store.
“Well, he’s new,” Susan said casually. The figure was blocking the way in. Since the store had been searched previously, he couldn’t have been there before.
They passed by the pawn shop and continued up the street.
Susan stopped outside the used book store three doors down from the pawn shop. Asher stood beside her, looking inside. There were several rows of tall bookshelves.
The detail on this floor was beyond anything they had previously seen. There were thousands of books in there. Asher had examined at least a hundred of them his last time here. This could have been any used book store he had ever visited back in the real world.
Susan lifted a hand and carefully placed a palm on the glass of the window.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Spoken with true conviction.”
Susan smiled. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be melancholy.”
She turned away from the window and they started walking again.
“No. I get it,” said Asher.
He knew how she felt. The thought of going back out there wasn’t at all appealing. But this little bubble of cozy that was floor twenty seven was being eaten away before their very eyes. This home and hearth that had done so much to heal them was inexplicably dissolving beneath them. They were being thrown back into the pit.
Walking side by side, their hands touched. Without thinking twice, their fingers intertwined.
§
Quinn and Costa returned to the café half an hour before sunset. Quinn hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob.
“Are we good?” he asked.
“Yes sir.” Costa was a strong spirit, but she was still shaken by what Quinn had told her on their way back. It must have shown on her face or in her manner. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. Really.”
“Very good.” His own expression softened. “No need to worry, Sergeant. A few floors to go, yet.”
“Yes sir.”
“No surprises. I wanted you to be ready.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Quinn opened the door. “You coming?”
“Not just yet.”
Quinn gave a nod and went into the café.
Costa was still standing outside when Ramos, Lisa and Dr. Church returned. Church appeared lost in thought, Lisa a little bewildered, and Ramos just plain excited.
“Helluva thing, Sarge,” said Ramos, watching the others go inside. “Weirdest damn thing I ever saw.”
This just managed to bring Costa out of her own wandering reverie. “That’s a very high bar, Ramos.”
“Hence, my enthusiasm. So… two buildings that I swear on my mother’s pinky ring were at least a good three blocks apart just two days ago… are now side by side. I mean they’re sharing the same damned parking lot.”
“What?”
“And lookin’ like they belong together.” Ramos nodded his head up and down a couple of times. “Eh? See? Weirdest thing, or what?”
“Yeah. Weird.” Costa decided she could let this go for the moment. She stole a quick glance through the window into the café, then turned to start up the street. “Walk with me if you please, Corporal.”
Oh, this can’t be good, thought Ramos.
They walked in silence till they were far enough from the café that Costa was certain they wouldn’t be overheard. She stopped then, faced Ramos.
She wasn’t sure where to start.
“What is it, Sarge?” asked Ramos.
“It’s about the lieutenant.” She hesitated. “About our escape from the Hades floor.”
“Yeah… the lieutenant found the portal. What of it?”
“It was a bit more complicated than that,” said Costa. “Ya’ see, Quinn made a deal. With the devil.”
“I don’t get the joke, Costa. What are you talking about?”
“We get out of Hades, Quinn gets to stick with us till we get to the 37th floor. When we leave the 37th floor, the lieutenant stays behind.”
“But that’s crazy.”
“No doubt. That was the deal.”
Ramos turned away from Costa. He growled low and shook his head, stepped stiffly off the sidewalk.
“Damn,” he grumbled quietly, then more forcefully. “Damn.”
“That’s about how I feel about it.”
“You went along with this?” Ramos turned around and again faced Costa. “Sergeant?”
“Didn’t know about it. Quinn just told me. Now I’m telling you.”
“Damn,” Ramos said again. “Okay, so what do we do?”
“I have no idea.”
“We can’t let this happen, Sarge. We gotta do somethin’.”
“I don’t know that there’s anything we can do. The Lieutenant only told me now ‘cause he wanted me to be ready. I’m telling you for the same reason.”
“Oh, I’ll be ready, all right.”
Costa glowered at him. “We’ll do what we can, come to that, but whatever happens on thirty seven, I need you ready for thirty eight. Understood?”
Ramos frowned darkly, set his jaw tight and made ready to say something. In the end he fought it back. He half-turned, eventually nodded in the direction of the café. “And what about them?” he asked.
“Let’s keep this just between us for now,” said Costa. “They need the lieutenant just as he is. Invincible.”
§
Banister sat with an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, only half listening to Lake. The man wasn’t saying anything that he hadn’t already said a dozen times before. Banister was looking past Lake to the radioman Corporal Johansen.
Not that he was expecting anything new from that, either.
Johansen thumbed the switch on the radio to the off position. He looked up at Carmody, who was standing beside him.
“Why do I keep trying?” he asked dejectedly. “They don’t even have a radio.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Carmody stated flatly.
“Major Connelly says they don’t.”
“And that makes it so?”
“Doesn’t make it not so.”
“What does that mean?”
Banister spoke up then, deciding to jump into the conversation. “It means, my dear, that we should not dismiss the Major’s words out of hand.”
Dr. Lake grimaced. “You give her words way too much credence, Banister. If you cannot trust the source, you cannot trust the data.”
“One should never trust any data unreservedly,
whatever the source,” said Banister. “But do we disregard completely the information offered simply because her motivation may not serve the same end as our own?”
“That’s the point. We don’t know her motivation. It may yet prove counter to ours, perhaps even dangerous. Lest you forget, she is a servant of the Adversary.”
“Not a servant, Doctor Lake.” Major Connelly stood in the open doorway. The sunshine behind her put her form into dark silhouette. “A creation.”
The door closed slowly as she stepped fully into the Quonset hut. Lake stood and gave a brisk nod as Connelly approached the table.
“Pardon, Major,” he said. “But if I might speak frankly, such a distinction does nothing to allay my concerns.”
“Then you do not fully understand that distinction, if I might also speak frankly.” Major Connelly pulled out a chair and sat opposite Lake and Banister. “As a servant, my role would be, by the very nature of the position, to serve the needs of the Adversary. But I am a creation. This creation is Major Connelly. My role is Major Connelly. My purpose is to be Major Connelly. The goals and the desires that would be Major Connelly… these are my goals and my desires.”
Dr. Lake gave a sly grin. “But then, we come back to it, do we not? You ask that we trust this is so.”
“We will always, as you say, come back to it,” said Connelly. “That would be true in any event. And I myself, if I am who and what I claim to be, do I not face the same dilemma? At some point, must I not choose to accept or deny that the persona of Elizabeth Owen that is presented to me is in fact Doctor Owen and not a construct of the Adversary? And take that then one step further. Whether she be Doctor Owen or not, is she in fact witnessing the true events of our team in the tower? Might she instead be witness to a fabrication of the Adversary?”
“You make my argument for me, madam,” said Lake. “Given this, what would you have us do? Take it all on faith?”
“You have a choice, Doctor Lake.” Connelly slid her chair back and stood up. “You work with what you are given, doubts and all, or you do nothing.”
At that there was a slight snicker from Dr. Banister.
Episode Eight / Chapter Four
There were several boxes stacked in one of the booths in the café; supplies that had been collected from the most recent explorations.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 25
