The Black Tower: The Complete Series

by David R. Beshears

  “Well enough.” Elizabeth closed her notebook, slipped it into her knapsack on the floor beside her. “She’s resting.”

  “She was pretty shook up.”

  “That she was.” Elizabeth reached over and picked up Asher’s coffee cup. She took a swig, raised a brow, set the cup back onto the table. “How about you, Peter?”

  “I wasn’t nearly eaten by a sea monster.”

  “Perhaps not, but you did do battle with one; came to the rescue of a damsel in distress, no less.” She wiped a dab of coffee from the corner of her mouth.

  “Say, I did, didn’t I?” Asher grinned. “Not bad.”

  “A regular hero, you are.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. She silently watched Asher take another sip from his coffee. He held the cup out to her. She unfolded her arms and took the cup.

  “Nothing on the hatch hunt, eh?” She drank down the last of the coffee, handed him back an empty mug.

  Asher shook his head no. Most of the team had paired off to do another search for the way to the next floor. He had just returned from exploring the small compartments between the forward hold and the bow with Sgt. Costa. “I have this strange feeling that I’ve looked right at it and didn’t see it for what it was.”

  “You mean that big orange arrow pointing to a swirling black hole and the sign reading ‘This way to next floor’?”

  “Do you think that was it?”

  “Possibly. Maybe we should throw Quinn in and see what happens.” She pointed to the empty cup that Asher was still holding. “Don’t you want some more of that curious liquid?”

  Asher grinned and stood. He walked casually over to the side table. Church and Banister came in as he was filling the cup.

  “Well, there’s no going back,” said Banister. “Not that it was ever really an option.”

  “The hatch is gone?” asked Owen.

  “Oh, it’s there,” said Church.

  “It just won’t open,” said Banister. “It may look like a hatch, but I don’t think it’s a hatch.”

  Asher thought it was probably good to know there was no going back, not even in an emergency. But as Banister said, there was never really a question about returning to the first floor. They needed to find the way to the next floor.

  The problem was, no matter how methodical or organized their search might be, they were still basically just poking a stick into the shadows and hoping something jumped out. They didn’t know what they were looking for.

  He returned to the table, absently handing Elizabeth the cup as he sat down. “I do have a thought,” he said.

  “Does it hurt?” Owen asked, deadpan. She brought the cup to her lips to hide a thin grin. She so enjoyed her own sense of humor.

  “On occasion,” Asher sighed. He looked curiously at the two senior scientists. “You’ll remember something similar happening on the first floor. The door leading out vanished; leaving us only to continue forward.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Church. “The way back closes as the way ahead opens.”

  “A feature of the tower floors?” wondered Banister. “It could be.”

  “Okay, so what does that give us?” asked Owen. “Nothing has really changed so far as options.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Church. “The access to the next floor may not have been immediately available to us.”

  “Not until the way back was closed,” Banister thought aloud. “And we don’t really know when that happened.”

  “So we’ll have to search the ship yet again,” growled Owen. “Which we would have done in any case. As I said… our options remain just as they were.”

  “Yes, yes, right enough, Liz,” sighed Banister. He spoke then to the entire group. “Given this, what are our next steps?”

  “Well,” Church frowned, wandered toward the couch and sat on the arm. “We must of course operate under the assumption that there is in fact a way to the next floor.”

  “Of course,” said Banister. “Otherwise there’s no point.”

  “Exactly so. Given that, there are really only three choices. The way lies somewhere on the ship, in the water just beyond the ship, or is just above us.”

  “What about on some island a thousand miles away?” asked Owen.

  “As the ship will never travel under its own power, that is highly unlikely,” said Church. “Again, there would be no point. Therefore, any such option is not really an option. If it cannot be reached, it is not a choice.”

  “All right,” Owen nodded thoughtfully. “I can give you that. Then let us focus initially on the most likely.”

  “On the ship, then.”

  “Yes,” Owen stated flatly. “The Adversary put us on this ship; the ship is the game board. I am as yet too unfamiliar with the Adversary to ascribe much to his reasoning, so let us for the moment go with the most obvious. At least until we learn more of his thought processes.”

  “Very reasonable,” said Banister. He could see it coming.

  “And so, we search the ship. Again.”

  “Yes…” hesitantly.

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  §

  Lt. Quinn and Ray were at the bottom of the rear hold, down near the water line. They had found nothing and were starting across the floor toward the steep metal stairs when Sgt. Costa called down from the gangway above them.

  “Something curious about the water in the forward hold, Lieutenant,” she said. She was leaning against the rail, looking down at them, Carmody beside her.

  “What’s that, Sergeant?”

  “It’s warm,” she said. “And it’s fresh water. The forward hold.”

  “Fresh?”

  He looked questioning to Ray Do. Ray stepped back to the water’s edge and knelt down. He held a hand to the water. It was cold. He cupped a hand and brought it up to his face. He smelled it, tasted it.

  “Salty,” he said, looking up at the lieutenant. He grimaced. “Very salty, as a matter of fact.”

  Lt. Quinn looked up at Sgt. Costa. “Fresh?” He asked again.

  “And warm. We tested several locations.”

  Quinn turned back to Ray. “Finally something for you white-coats to mull over, eh?”

  Ray stood, his back to the water. He smiled as he wiped his wet hand on his pants. “I know a couple of old codgers who are going to—”

  He stopped when he saw the disconcerted look on Lt. Quinn’s face. “What?” he asked.

  Quinn took hold of Ray by the arm. He stepped back as he looked beyond Ray, toward the water.

  Sgt. Costa called out calm and cool from above. “Back it up, boys.”

  “Get outta there!” cried Carmody.

  A disturbance in the water; a rippling, and the head of the sea creature rose up from the surface, higher and higher, the long neck undulating.

  Lt. Quinn continued to pull Ray back as he stepped further from the water.

  Ray turned slowly about. As he looked up, the creature lowered its head, turned slightly and studied Ray.

  “Pick up the pace, Lieutenant,” said Costa.

  Lt. Quinn again took hold of Ray’s arm. “Let’s go, Ray,” he said, forced calm.

  The face of the serpent began to morph. Its features slowly contorted. It became the face of the Adversary, as Carmody and Raso had seen on the first floor... when Raso had been killed.

  “Oh, my god,” cried Carmody, now barely above a whisper. “Oh, my god.”

  The great serpent pushed its face ever closer to Ray, its grin broadening, growing more menacing.

  §

  Church and Banister sat at one of the tables in the lounge, hovering over a collection of pencil drawings outlining various sections of the ship. They talked quietly, and whenever they came to agreement Banister would update one of the drawings.

  Asher stood at the counter watching Ramos tweak knobs on the radio. They hadn’t been able to communicate with command since before the radio took that spill and ended up on the floor. There wa
s some concern that the inability to make contact might be more than just the Adversary playing games. If the radio was in fact broken, and irreparable, they might be out of communication with the outside world for the rest of the mission.

  Owen came into the lounge from the back hall. She wore a worried look. “Did you hear that?”

  “Sorry, Liz.” Banister looked up from the drawings. “What was it you heard?”

  “I’m not sure. Raised voices, maybe?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything.”

  Asher took a step from the counter. He listened, at first hearing only the background noises of the sea brushing up against the creaking ship.

  Then, something…

  Owen looked to Asher. “Peter?”

  “Uh, huh,” he said. “Yes…”

  It was very faint. Someone crying out… a man crying out.

  Then a woman’s scream, also very faint.

  “That’s Carmody,” said Ramos.

  “Something is very, very wrong,” said Owen.

  Asher started toward the door. “Come on.”

  §

  Sgt. Costa stood on the gangway some twenty feet above the floor of the hold, both hands on the rail. Carmody was sitting beside her, back against the wall, elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands.

  Asher came through the hatchway, took one step and stopped. Costa continued to look down onto the floor of the hold, slowly dropped her hands to her sides. She took a long, shuddering breath.

  Asher moved nearer the rail, peered over the side. He looked curiously back to Costa, again down onto the floor.

  He was missing something, but he didn’t know what. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

  There was Lt. Quinn. He was standing alone near the water’s edge, the rippling surface slowly settling.

  Episode Two / Chapter Four

  Asher stepped through the hatch and out onto the deck. He walked in the direction of the lounge, passing Elizabeth Owen consoling a very shaken Lisa Powell along the way. Owen didn’t look that much better than Lisa.

  In the lounge, Banister and Church stood near one table, Susan sitting in one of the chairs. Ramos and Carmody were at the counter. Carmody glanced once at Asher as he came in, then looked to Banister and Church.

  “Why isn’t the ship sinking?” she asked. “If there’s a hole in the hull big enough for the creature to get through, why isn’t the ship sinking?”

  “Buoyancy?” suggested Ramos. He was getting nowhere with the radio.

  “The salt content is high, but not nearly high enough,” said Church.

  Asher sat on one arm of the couch. “How can the water in the forward hold be fresh and warm, while the rear hold is cold and salty? A chemical reaction to something on the ship?”

  Banister and Church had already come to a consensus. Banister straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “Hazarding a guess, the water in the forward hold comes from a different source.”

  “And is therefore the passage to the next floor,” stated Church.

  “I see,” said Asher. “That could also explain… this junction between floors could be working as an air pocket.”

  “And keeping the ship afloat.”

  Realization swept slowly across Carmody’s face like a gray shadow. “You’re not suggesting that we—”

  “Yes, my dear,” said Banister. “Exactly so.”

  §

  The team was scattered about on the floor of the forward hold. Several wore their backpacks, others had stacked theirs together in a pile a few yards from the water’s edge.

  “Even the air is warmer here,” noted Susan.

  “No doubt radiating from the water’s surface,” said Church.

  Lt. Quinn approached the pool cautiously, squatted down and reached into the water with a cupped hand. He brought up a palm of water, tasted it.

  “It’s fresh, all right,” he said, looking to Sgt. Costa. He stood and looked to the entire group. “And quite warm.”

  “The environment on the other side bleeding through to this side,” Banister stated.

  “Great choice of words there, Wes,” grumbled Owen.

  “What does that tell us about the next floor?” asked Quinn.

  “I don’t believe it tells us much of anything, Lieutenant,” said Susan.

  “Doctor Bautista is right,” said Owen. “We could walk into a volcano, or a steamy bathroom with a heat lamp.”

  PFC Carmody had been keeping her distance from the water’s edge. She wasn’t ready for this. “We’re not really going in there? Into the water? With the sea monster?”

  “Not to worry, Private,” Banister soothed. “This is not the same body of water. The source is the next floor. No creature.”

  “Not the same creature,” Church corrected. “There could be a completely different monster.”

  “True.” Banister bowed his head. “But I suggest that if this is in fact the portal to the next floor, our Adversary would see that it was traversable.”

  “We have no choice, in any case,” finished Church.

  “But… but this would take us down,” Carmody said, a hint of desperation. “We’re supposed to be going up.”

  “We’re not really going up or down, my dear,” sighed Owen. She had resigned herself to what they were about to do. “We’re going somewhere else.”

  “Exactly so,” said Banister. “The entrance can appear to us to be up, down, forward, back, left, right. And we might come out on the other side upside down and diagonal.”

  Lt. Quinn walked over to the collection of backpacks, found his and began slipping into it. “I’ll go first.” He started back to the water. “Give me what time you think is sufficient to attempt to get word back if I run into problems.”

  “Good luck, Lieutenant,” said Church.

  Quinn gave him a nod in thanks, turned looked to Costa. “Send them through one or two at a time, Sergeant. You bring up the rear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lt. Quinn stepped into the water. Each step took him down just a little deeper. He mumbled something about the water being fine and disappeared beneath the surface without looking back.

  Ramos set the radio onto the floor and slid out of his backpack. He took out a small pouch and unfolded a poncho. Sgt. Costa looked on doubtfully as he began wrapping the radio. He would never get a watertight seal, but perhaps it would help.

  “Who would like to go next?” she asked the group.

  Elizabeth Owen rested an uncharacteristically motherly hand on her assistant’s shoulder. “Let us be off, Miss Powell.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  They stepped into the water side by side. A few yards in, Elizabeth Owen turned back to those still on shore. “Oh my, this does feel pleasant. Peter, we should have done a bit of skinny dipping when we had the chance.”

  “Perhaps on the other side,” said Asher, grinning.

  Owen had already turned forward, spoke over her shoulder. “It’s a date, then.”

  Ramos had settled again into his backpack. He picked up the poncho-wrapped radio and headed to the water. “See you on the other side.”

  Costa looked sharply at Carmody. “You. Into the water.”

  “Sergeant, I—”

  “Now.”

  Carmody stepped forward. She hesitated, held her arms stiffly at her sides, fluttered her fingers. Without looking back, without saying another word, she went into the water and quickly forward.

  “Okay.” Asher in turn looked to Susan, Banister and Church. “After you.”

  Susan let out a noisy breath and entered the water. Asher then urged the two scientists with a wave of the hand.

  “No, go right ahead, young man,” said Church.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” added Banister. “See to Susan.”

  Both were grinning. They had donned their backpacks. They were ready.

  “All right.” Asher stepped quickly to the last remaining backpack, swung it up and around.
“Don’t be long about it.”

  They watched him disappear beneath the surface. Both then looked back to Sgt. Costa. She in turn looked to them with a raised brow.

  “Shall we?”

  “Of course,” said Banister.

  The ship shuddered suddenly. A moment later the water level began to rise.

  Church and Banister looked curiously at one another.

  “Change in ballast.” Church stated calmly.

  “Our Lieutenant has reached the other side,” said Banister. “The passage is open.”

  “Water on both sides seeking common level.”

  There was more alarming movement from the ship. It began to list to one side.

  “Doctors,” urged Sgt. Costa. “I think we should go now.”

  “Yes,” agreed Banister. “Let us be off.”

  §

  The small lake, perhaps a thousand feet across, was surrounded by tall, yellow grass and a few scrubby bushes, one gnarly oak tree. The sun was high overhead, the horizon in the distance beyond a flat, open plain.

  Lt. Quinn had slipped out of his backpack, waded back into the water and assisted Owen and her assistant to the bank. As he did, others of the team began to appear, the smooth, glassy surface of the still lake rippling and churning.

  Quinn hurried back in to help Susan the last few yards. As he went back to see to the others, Susan took another few steps, slowly caught her breath as she casually took in their surroundings.

  Ahead of them, just over a short rise, was a tiny, old-west town; little more than a dusty road and a couple of dozen buildings. There was no movement, no sign of life.

  Turning about in a slow circle, Susan realized that this was it. They were out on a wide-open windswept plain, with the only features this one small lake and a cluster of old buildings lining a single dirt street.

  Sgt. Costa was the last to make an appearance. She trudged out of the water, sputtering, nodded a sharp affirmative to Quinn. She shrugged out of her backpack, looked around them, glanced up at the warm, bright sun.

  “Looks like ours, doesn’t it?” asked Asher, shading his eyes, also looking up at the sun.

  “If you say so, sir.”

  ~ end of episode two

  Episode Three