The Black Tower: The Complete Series

by David R. Beshears

  “I doubt tonight’s dinner is going to help much with that empty belly, Lisa.”

  “I will gratefully accept whatever is on the menu.” She knew that would come to very little. There wasn’t much left.

  Ramos thought on that and began shaking his head. “No, no, no. I think it’s high time we got us a brand new menu. After all, we got us a brand new restaurant.”

  §

  The north beach was a few yards wider and a few hundred yards longer than the south beach. Other than that, there wasn’t much difference between the two. The sand was fine and mostly dry; the low waves were gentle and constant and didn’t travel far up onto the shore.

  The cliff wall rose nearly two hundred feet from the beach. It was steep, rocky, with occasional tufts of hardy vegetation.

  There didn’t look to be much to discover along the way, but one never knew. Surprises, both good and bad, could show up anywhere; as could the portal that would take them to the next floor.

  Costa walked distant enough from the cliff to be able to see most of it without having to tilt her head back too far, yet near enough to be able to study the details hidden in the shadowy crevices. Church and Susan walked beside her, a step or two nearer the water. Church managed to study the cliff while also conversing with Susan about one thing or another, with an occasional comment or question to Costa.

  He was for the most part able to keep the conversation pleasant, but the subject of the storm inevitably came up. He suspected it was over, though there was no way of knowing that for sure. It seemed to him that if it was to make another appearance, it was long overdue, at least as evidenced by past experience.

  Also from past experience, the storm had always come onto each floor from the same direction as they had entered, as if following their path through the portal. And each time it had arrived, they had seen it coming, there had been at least the opportunity for a timely escape; such was the way of the Adversary.

  Church pointed out that their arrival through the portal onto this floor had come from the cliff wall and onto the lighthouse cape. As such, should the storm follow them, it would come from the cliff.

  This would leave very little warning. None at all, in fact.

  Very unlike the Adversary.

  It would make no sense.

  All this led Church to the optimistic view that the storm was at an end.

  His dear friend Wes Banister would no doubt have been quick to highlight the flaws in this thinking.

  He sure missed the old fart.

  A shadow danced across the sand. They all glanced up at once.

  It was the seagull circling about overhead. Wings outstretched, it had to be ten feet across.

  “Quickly, this way,” said Costa. She led Church and Susan to the base of the cliff, hoping this would provide at least some protection.

  Their backs against the rock wall, they watched as the gull landed clumsily not far away. It folded its wings and began to strut up and down the beach near the water’s edge. It appeared to be searching the wet sand for food, though it always kept an eye on the humans.

  After a time, its investigative wandering had it drifting just a little inland, further from the surf and nearer the cliff, eyes always side-glance to the humans.

  All too intentional so far as Costa was concerned. She stepped forward and stood protectively in front of Church and Susan, holding the staff at the ready.

  The seagull continued to drift nearer, now a dozen feet from the humans. When holding its head up straight, it stood almost five feet tall, near to Costa’s shoulders.

  Costa took a quick step forward and jabbed the staff in the bird’s direction. It flapped its wings and hopped backward, was quickly out of range of the staff. Costa took another two steps forward and jabbed again. Again the gull leapt back and away, squawking loudly; an angry, screeching cry.

  Costa kept at it. She took another step and made ready. The giant gull stomped backward, quickly took a short step forward and gave Costa an indignant look.

  Costa pointed the staff threatening in the gull’s direction. The bird suddenly spread its great wings wide and made to assault the human. Thinking better of it, it turned aside, beat its wings and took flight.

  Church and Susan moved away from the cliff.

  “Well done, Sara,” said Church.

  “That is one big, scary bird,” said Susan.

  “Eh, not so bad,” said Costa with a playful smirk. “You’ve seen one monstrously ginormous seagull, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

  “Uh, huh. No doubt.”

  “Yes, well, now that we have that taken care of, shall we continue? Doctor Church? Doctor Bautista?” Before starting out again, she looked back toward the lighthouse…

  §

  Asher watched Costa fend off the seagull from his position on the lighthouse catwalk. Once she had chased the bird off, the sergeant looked back toward the lighthouse. She must have seen Asher, because she lifted her staff over her head to show that all was well. He acknowledged her with a wave of his arm. Costa and the others started again up the beach.

  Asher walked around the catwalk to stand facing seaward. He leaned forward with his elbows on the rail, clasped his hands and took in the scene. With the background white noise of surf and wind, it was easy to imagine this little bubble of universe was all there was.

  Elizabeth Owen walked the circle of catwalk around from the back side and joined him. An invisible specter, she stood beside him, leaned against the rail beside him.

  “Hello, Peter,” she said, looking out at the same sea he was looking at. “Nice view.”

  Asher took in a long, easy breath, let it out slowly as he glanced down at his hands, unclasped them and rubbed them together. It had the feel of a response, though of course he couldn’t hear her, couldn’t see her.

  She went on. “I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. I had my doubts for a while there.”

  Asher leaned forward and looked down. There was movement over near a collection of tide pools near the base of the promontory, down where rock met sand.

  Several crabs were scrambling about.

  Asher turned away, straightened, put his hands on the rail. Looking to his right, he could just make out the three figures of Costa, Church and Susan far up the north beach.

  Way back when, back before the storm and everything had gone crazy, Asher and Susan had been cautiously growing closer. Since then however, there hadn’t been much opportunity to pursue the relationship further.

  Not that he had a clue what that meant.

  But it would have been nice to find out.

  Maybe now; maybe now that the storm had stopped, if it had stopped, maybe they could stop running and start taking the floors at a more normal pace.

  Normal.

  Now that was funny. How the hell had he come up with the concept of normal in this place?

  He sensed movement below, leaned out and looked down.

  Cpl. Ramos had come out of the lighthouse and was walking in the direction of the end of the cape. He had something in his hand. From way up on the catwalk it looked like a length of pipe.

  Owen also leaned forward and glanced down. She shook her head and frowned.

  “What the hell is he up to?” she sneered. “Certainly can’t be anything good.”

  “Corporal Ramos,” Asher called down. “Is everything all right?”

  Ramos stopped and looked back, looked up to the top of the lighthouse. Asher was leaning out over the rail.

  “Everything’s fine, Professor.”

  “What’s up? Do you need any help?”

  “The cupboards are bare.” Ramos held up the pipe. “I thought I’d fetch us some dinner.”

  “Mmm… crab meat,” Owen said conversationally, as if she might actually be part of the conversation. “Wish I could join you.”

  “Crab meat?” Asher called down.

  “Yes sir, that’s the plan.” Ramos turned back around and continued away.

  Asher c
onsidered, finally called out again. “Ahead another couple of paces, then to your left and down to the tide pools.”

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Okay,” Owen sighed. “So every now and then the little corporal isn’t completely intolerable.”

  §

  Quinn was sitting on the edge of the top of the pillar, looking down into the empty black below. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular… just looking. There wasn’t much else to do.

  The Acolyte claimed he could see the team down there, but that could have been a lie.

  Right on cue, the Acolyte settled in beside Quinn.

  “Hello, Lieutenant,” he said. He leaned forward and looked down into the void. “Kinda quiet, eh?”

  “As a graveyard,” Quinn said darkly.

  “How very macabre,” said the Acolyte.

  “That’s kind of the point.”

  The Acolyte went quiet as he thought about that. “Ah… I believe I understand,” he stated calmly. “A comment on circumstances, yours and theirs.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  They sat quietly side-by-side for a few moments.

  “Feeling down, are we?” said the Acolyte finally. He continued to stare into the black. So did Quinn.

  “What was your first clue?”

  The Acolyte gave a sage smile, nodded. “We each have our role to play, Lieutenant Quinn. We may not know fully what that role is, but I can assure you, each is important. Take comfort in that.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Quinn said again.

  Something down in the black caught the Acolyte’s attention.

  “Oooh… crab legs.”

  Episode Ten / Chapter Two

  The team sat around the table in the main room of the lighthouse, eating a meal of crab and a little of what remained of their supply of dried fruit. Only Susan wasn’t present, as it was her turn on watch.

  As they pulled apart strips of crab meat, they went over what they had found during their surveys of both the south and north beaches. Neither search had revealed a way beyond what beach they could see. The cliff wall turned into the water at the end of each beach and effectively closed off their exit. Ramos had attempted to work his way around, clambering out onto the rocks of the cliff, but he didn’t get far and that route appeared hopeless. Costa had fared no better.

  As for ways up the cliff wall, there were several possibilities, though none appeared particularly promising, and they all looked far from safe. Closer examination might reveal a potential route.

  And as for the portal off this floor, there was as yet no clue as to what form it might take.

  It all seemed very reminiscent of the floors they had travelled before the storm.

  After thirty minutes of bantering back and forth, Church stood and began preparing a plate for Susan. As soon as Asher realized what the doctor was doing, he offered to take it to her. He took the plate and left by way of the staircase.

  Susan was circling the catwalk and Asher stepped through the door just as she reached it.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he said, and held the plate out to her.

  “How thoughtful, Peter.” She took the plate and they both moved to the rail.

  “A team effort,” said Asher. “I just brought it up.”

  “Then thank the team for me,” said Susan. “And thank you.”

  The sun was setting and the sea was just taking on the orange and red hues of sunset. They admired it as Susan ate her dinner.

  “Wow,” said Asher. “I should volunteer for the evening shift.”

  “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  The conversation drifted to some of the sights they had seen on other floors, for despite all the terrible things they had faced over these fifty-eight floors, some of the scenery had been spectacular, going all the way back to the alien jungle of the very first floor.

  Susan stopped in midsentence, leaned against the rail. She was looking out to the horizon.

  “Peter… do you see that?”

  A thin, dark band had formed on the horizon, just formed, just visible. It cast a strange outline against the sunset.

  “A storm front?” asked Peter.

  “Maybe. I really can’t tell.”

  “It can’t be our old friend. Church is right. That would come from the other direction. From the cliff.”

  “So then, a good old fashioned tempest?”

  “With our luck? It’s probably a hurricane.”

  §

  Major Connelly stood alone in the middle of the empty first floor. What little light there was came in through the opening in the distant wall, splashing onto the concrete floor and not quite reaching her.

  She was trying to make sense of what was happening to the tower, and she wasn’t getting very far. From what she knew of the Adversary, and from what little she had discerned of the Adversary’s plans, none of this should be happening. It didn’t fit. It didn’t fit at all.

  Which left her with the uncomfortable thought that this wasn’t the Adversary’s doing.

  But how could that be? The Adversary was the creator of all things.

  And now, of late, Connelly had started seeing things, hearing things; pictures of places she had never been, words and thoughts that were not her own.

  Something was happening, and it frightened her.

  Owen came quietly up beside her. Connelly hadn’t seen Dr. Owen in a very long time, yet for a few moments they stood silent, saying nothing.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” Owen said at last.

  “Thanks. I was going for simple.”

  “Success.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “So… should I ask?” asked Connelly. “How is the team?”

  “I had a helluva time running them down. Then I lost ‘em. Then I found ‘em again.”

  “And?”

  “They’re well enough, considering. Oh… Quinn’s no longer with them.”

  “What? Is he all right?”

  Owen shrugged. “I suppose so. They lost him back on, geez… thirty seven?”

  “Thirty seven? Where are they now?”

  “Fifty eight, I think.”

  This took Connelly by surprise. “That’s good news, at least. Very good news. Isn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Another shrug. Owen hesitated then, shifted uneasily. “I don’t know if you know this from your connections and what-not, but I was hauled up before the Adversary a while back.”

  “No. I didn’t know. To be honest, I’ve been pretty much out of the loop; out of all the loops. You’ve been my only connection to anything outside the command center here, and I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Hey, I thought I’d lost me too.”

  “Well, it’s good to have you back, Doctor Owen. So, what about your audience with the Adversary?”

  “It was weird. Really weird. You know, I think I was on the top floor.”

  “I expect you were in the Great Hall. From what little I know, the Adversary seldom leaves the Great Hall.”

  “So I heard.”

  “I’ve never been in the Great Hall.”

  “But what about, you know… you and the Adversary?”

  “He speaks to me sometimes. At least… he used to.”

  “What, like a voice in your head?”

  “Yes. A voice in my head.”

  “But you’ve never seen him?”

  “No.” Melancholy shadowed Connelly’s face. “That makes you kind of special.”

  “I’m not too sure about that,” said Owen. “I met him and I’m not sure I saw him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think I do either.” Owen thought a moment, tried to come up with the right words to describe her experience in the Great Hall. “Nothing was quite real. It was like… a strangely colored cloud; lots of clouds, drifting into and through one another. It wasn’t really a hall. It wasn’t a room or even a place. It was lots of places all at once. Real
ity within reality within reality.”

  “And the Adversary?”

  “He was there. I knew that, without coming face to face with him. He was one of the realities. I sensed his presence. Amongst chaos, he was order.” Owen hadn’t been looking at Connelly. She turned to her now. “I had no choice but to move toward that calm. I was drawn to it.”

  “And he spoke to you then?”

  “Yes. I have to do something. I’m pretty sure I have to do something.” Owen became very confused. “Quinn. I have to… I have to…”

  “Doctor Owen? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Owen said dreamily. “I have to go.”

  §

  Quinn had taken to doing exercises; push-ups, jumping jacks, running in place, squats. At the moment he was doing sit-ups, lying on his back near the center of the top of the pillar. He was midway through his set when he noticed a figure watching him from a few yards away.

  It was Dr. Owen.

  Quinn finished out another half-dozen sit-ups before stopping. He lay back, looking up into the black, his hands clasped behind his head.

  The black hadn’t changed. It was still black everywhere beyond the top of the pillar that was his home, his prison. The only break in the void was the column-lined corridor in the distance, hanging suspended in nothing.

  It had been a while since he last had company It had been days at least, probably weeks, since the Acolyte had last dropped in for a visit.

  Quinn spoke without turning his head. “Doctor Owen,” he said casually. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  He could hear her soft footsteps as Owen approached.

  “The Adversary sent me,” she said.

  Quinn sat up with a quiet groan, brought an arm out and leaned on one hand. “Are you working for the man, now?”

  “I was drafted.”

  “Drafted…” Quinn leaned slowly to one side and came to his feet. He stretched and worked his shoulders and arms. With a nod of the head he indicated the corridor. “That was you I saw a while back, wasn’t it?”

  Owen appeared to notice the corridor in the distance for the first time. She stepped away from Quinn, walked toward the edge of the pillar top.

  “Probably,” she said at last. She was captivated by the sight. She spoke over her shoulder. “Have you been here long?”