They had from dawn till dusk. After that…
“Oh, my,” said Church, looking outside. He pushed aside one of the swinging doors and took a hesitant half-step out.
“What is it, Doctor?” Quinn looked up from his map, carefully set down the pencil.
“Private Carmody appears to be—” Church stepped the rest of the way through and out onto the boardwalk. “Just a moment,” he called back, and then disappeared from view.
Quinn and Banister both started toward the front of the saloon. They met Church coming back inside, one arm around Carmody. She was frantically waving both arms, swatting at something that wasn’t there. She was mumbling to herself, even as Church tried to soothe her.
He guided her over to a chair and sat her down. She leapt back up once, but he finally calmed her down enough that he was finally able to sit down beside her.
“What happened to her, Nate?” asked Banister.
Church rested a hand on Carmody’s arm. He kept his attention on her as he spoke to the others.
“More of those black shadows that we saw back on the first floor,” he said. “A cloud of them. I don’t think they did her any real harm, though.”
“Damned things are everywhere,” she managed to get out.
“You’re all right now, my dear.”
“Yes, you should be fine now, Private,” said Quinn. He stood to one side of the table, hands clasped behind his back. “They appear to have left… for the moment.”
“You can’t walk from one building to the next. And they whisper at you. Sounds like thousands of ‘em, all whispering.”
“What are they saying?” asked Quinn.
“I couldn’t understand ‘em. They were all talking at once.” She shrugged then. “Maybe they’re not saying anything.”
Quinn looked to the windows, to the swinging doors and the street beyond.
“Not like any ghost town I’ve ever heard of.”
“Yes, well…” Church gave Carmody another pat on the arm, then stood up. “We may have to endure these minions of the Adversary on any number of floors, whatever the environment.”
“So the early evidence would suggest, though it is by no means definitive,” said Banister. These minions had shown themselves now on two of three floors. Had the team spent more time on the freighter, might they have appeared on the second floor as well?
“They seem to be more of a nuisance than a danger,” said Quinn. “At least, so far.”
“Where they are, the threat is not far away?” suggested Banister, raising a brow as he looked to his partner. “Such was certainly the case in our previous encounter.”
“I saw nothing in this instance,” said Church. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
“And may yet be,” said Banister.
Church grew thoughtful. He turned back to Carmody. “They assaulted you only while you were outdoors?”
“They were waiting for me; the moment I stepped outside.”
“Yes, and then ceased their attack each time you stepped indoors.”
“We saw that here,” stated Quinn. He looked in the direction of the pair of swinging doors, the daylight outside. He started toward it.
“So,” Church sighed noisily, spoke the group. “Harbinger or not, their presence could make our excursions from building to building most uncomfortable.”
“How fortunate the general store is right next door,” said Banister. Actually, all the buildings in town were pretty much right next door. There were just five buildings on each side of the street.
“Should be fun,” said Church. “Shall we?”
“Oh, by all means.”
“It’s clear at the moment,” said Quinn. He had moved to the doorway. Outside, the street was clear.
“I expect that to change momentarily,” said Church. He gave Carmody a final comforting pat on the arm, nodded to Banister. The two of them started across the room.
Quinn stepped through the doors and held one side open. “No site-seeing,” he said as first Banister and then Church came out onto the boardwalk.
The two of them hurried along the boardwalk and were quickly starting across the alleyway between the saloon and the general store. They hadn’t yet reached the other side when both were swarmed by the inky black shadows, spinning wildly around their heads.
Quinn resisted the urge to rush after them, to assist them he knew not how, and a few moments later the two men were up on the porch and hurrying up to the door. They went into the general store as Quinn went back into the saloon.
§
Ramos stood at the well behind the saloon, this his second trip out since finding water there. He was using the crank to unwind the rope that eased the bucket down into the well. A handful of canteens were on the ground beside him.
A group of small dark shadows circled a dozen feet above him; ethereal black ghosts caught in a little whirlwind. Occasionally, gray shadows of those shadows could be seen skittering across the ground around him.
He had been startled when they first appeared up there, and he had almost rushed back into the saloon. But they had yet to overtly threaten him, had yet to so much as approach him.
They were just… there.
He heard footsteps pounding along a boardwalk over on Main Street. He hesitated a moment, looked in the general direction of the alley beside the saloon, and listened out for any cry for help. None came.
He continued lowering the bucket.
He stopped. A bitterly cold chill steadily worked its way through him. He actually shivered.
He felt it first, and then he saw it.
A ghostly hand rested on his forearm; a woman’s hand, long delicate fingers.
Ramos lifted his gaze without moving his head. The apparition stood beside him, stood beside the well; a gentle face, framed in dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders in slowly moving waves. She wore flowing robes of a silvery gray mist.
She smiled a warm smile. Ramos couldn’t help but smile back; a reflexive response, certainly not from any warm and fuzzy. He was afraid, very afraid, something close to terror.
He let go of the crank handle and took a very cautious step back, the rope unwinding another three quarter turn before stopping. He felt the hand of the apparition brush across his arm as he pulled away. And then something about her expression changed. There was a hint of growing darkness. Ramos took another step back, his focus never leaving her face.
Her smile withered away and was gone. Her expression turned cool, then cold. A seething anger slowly rose up within her, shown on that once gentle face.
Her silvery misty form drifted toward Ramos, grew steadily darker as she drew nearer. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground. Scrambling back, the apparition turned ever darker. It hovered before him. It smiled then once more, but it was now a maniacal grin. Her head rolled back and she let out a deep, bloodcurdling cackle.
Above her, the black shadows continued to circle.
§
Sgt. Costa was poking around in one of the stalls that were set along one wall in the stable. She kicked at the fresh straw on the floor, ran a hand experimentally along the back wall. Asher entered the next stall, pitchfork in hand. He tapped at the back wall using the end of the handle.
The floor throughout most of the barn was covered in straw. The feeding boxes all held fresh hay, and there was a sack of feed grain leaning against the opposite wall. One glance up at the loft and he could see a good supply of hay. Despite this, Asher was certain this stable had never seen a horse.
Sgt. Costa rested her forearms on the top rail between the two stalls. She was back in uniform and appeared comfortable that way.
“I’m not getting anything, Professor,” she said.
“Nor I.” Asher finished his own search, used his feet to brush away the straw as he stepped up to the fence opposite Costa. “Perhaps someone else is having better luck.”
“I hope so. The Count sounded like he was ready to make good on his th
reat.”
“He sounded downright giddy about the possibility.” Asher turned and looked curiously at Costa. “The Count?”
“It’s what I named him.” Costa broke into a half-embarrassed half-grin. “He just, you know… it was like I heard Dr. Owen saying… he’s like a low-level nobleman come out to the American West to play at being a gunfighter. He even has an accent.”
“The Count?”
“He didn’t come across like that to you?”
“Oh, I think you nailed it.” Asher clasped his hands together, studied his interlaced fingers. “I suppose he needs a name.”
“We gotta call him something. ‘Humble Servant of the Adversary’ seems a bit longwinded.”
“The Count it is,” said Asher. He smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “And I believe you are right, Sara. Whatever form this threat may take, the danger should we remain is most certainly real.”
“Too bad, really. I wouldn’t mind spending a few days here. We could all use a breather after the last two floors.”
“Even with the, uh…” Asher waved a hand in the air, implying the shadowy creatures that were constantly harassing them.
“The Adversary’s little minions? Annoying to be sure, but they seem harmless enough, don’t you think?”
“I would never assume anything we find in here to be harmless.”
“You’re right, of course.” Costa frowned, let out a quiet sigh. “I still think this could’ve been a great place to—”
She stopped in midsentence. They both turned and looked to the center of the barn.
“D’you hear that?” asked Asher.
“The scraping noise? Maybe a shuffling, sliding sound?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“No sir. Not me.” Costa stepped cautiously out of the stall. She saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then noticed the horse tack stowed on the opposite wall moving slightly. It shifted to one side, then the other.
“Professor?” she called behind her.
Asher was already coming up beside her.
It wasn’t just the tack. The tools at the far end of the barn were moving, shifting, sliding. There was no obvious cause. Everything was just… moving… in tandem. Everything was shifting first in one direction, then another.
Asher placed a hand on Costa’s arm and guided them both back several steps toward the front of the stable, stopping a long step from the closed double-doors.
“Do you feel that?” asked Costa. She held out a hand. There was a light breeze, and it was slowly growing stronger.
“No, ma’am. Not me.”
The dry straw on the floor of the barn began to stir; several seconds later it was in the air before them, more being drawn from the stalls and into the spinning vortex that had begun to form in the center of the stable. Tools and tack mounted on the walls shook noisily, were threatening to come free and get pulled into the increasingly intense whirlwind.
“We have company.” Costa was looking up at the loft; several shadowy minions had appeared.
“And there,” said Asher. He nodded toward the dark in the back of the stalls. There were shadows within the shadows.
One came rushing out and darted about the vortex, playing in the draft surrounding it. Another joined it, and then a third. They circled round and round, two in one direction, the third in the other, somehow managing to avoid running into one another. The vortex continued to increase in intensity, drawing in more straw and dirt and dust. Tools and tack clattered. The minions in the loft danced joyously about as the three circling the vortex flew faster and faster.
Without warning all three suddenly hurled themselves directly toward Asher and Costa. They both stumbled backward, arms flailing and feet stomping as they tried to regain balance.
Costa managed to recover, planting one foot behind her and then pushing forward as she leaned in to meet the three onrushing inky masses.
Asher continued stumbling backwards, crashing through the doors and out into the barnyard. He found himself laying face up in the dirt, staring up at the sky.
The pale blue above the town had gone dark, and it was streaked with jagged, blood-red lines. As he watched, the lines slowly spread out like expanding cracks in a glass dome.
Asher scrambled to his feet and marched back into the barn.
Episode Three / Chapter Four
Lt. Quinn knelt beside Ramos, helped him to sit up. He had found him lying on the ground halfway between the back of the saloon and the well.
“Corporal? Are you all right?”
“Yes sir.” Ramos rubbed at his temple, turned abruptly to the lieutenant. “Did you see her?”
Quinn looked about them. A group of the minions were hovering above the well, but there was no her anywhere.
Ramos started to his feet and the two men rose up together. Ramos turned around in a half circle. The ghostly creature was gone. “Never mind,” he said.
“Let’s get inside,” said Quinn, looking anxiously up at the sky. It had turned a deep, dark blue, and there were jagged cracks the color of blood.
Strange things were happening.
“Come on,” he said.
They came into the saloon just as Sgt. Costa entered from the front.
“Sir, we have to get to the stables,” she said. There was a definite urgency in her tone.
“What is it, Sergeant? Where’s Professor Asher?”
“The stables. He’s at the stables.”
“Have you found something?”
“Yes, sir. You could say that.”
§
General Wong, Captain Adamson and Dr. Lake were seated around one of the two tables in the Quonset hut. On the table were papers and folders, ceramic mugs, half-eaten sandwiches on little paper plates; everything in disarray. Dr. Lake was leaning forward, elbows on the table, trying his best to make a point. Adamson was shaking his head slowly, mumbling in a low, hushed tone, and General Wong sat with his back straight, arms folded across his chest, frowning darkly.
Corporal Johansen stood at the back of the room. He was leaning against the coffee counter and watching the three at the table as he absently sipped from his cup.
Staff Sergeant Miller came into the command center, glanced in the direction of the group at the table as he walked across the room.
“Good evening, Sergeant,” said Johansen. He kept his attention on those at the table, watching them over the rim of his cup as he took another sip.
“Hey, Johansen.” Miller served himself some coffee, leaned against the counter beside the corporal. He pointed to the group with his cup. “What’s going on?”
“Ramos came face to face with a really scary ghost.”
“Wicked. He’s all right?”
“Yeah. Shook him up pretty good.”
“Gonna happen to anyone, it’s gonna happen to Ramos.” Miller nodded to the group at the table. “That’s got them all stirred up?”
“Nah. After scaring the bejeezus out of Ramos, this ghost insinuated that it was really looking forward to this evening. And this was after somebody called ‘The Count’ gave them a deadline of tonight to find the portal and get on to the next floor.”
“The Count?”
“So Costa tagged him.”
“Yeah, sounds like Sara,” said Miller. “So there’s a lot going down. Like… going down right about now.”
“Yeah, with everything else, those minions are all stirred up about something: and to top it all off, Quinn says the sky is breaking.”
“Breaking? Actually breaking?”
Johansen shrugged. “That’s what he said. Gone all dark, and a bunch of bloody cracks in it. Called it the eggshell from Hell.”
“Jesus.”
“Weird, huh? And just before we lost contact, Quinn was saying something about somethin’ goin’ on at the stables and how his team was scattered all over town.”
§
Lt. Quinn approached the stables with Ramos, Church and Banister. He had sent
Costa to find the others, to make sure they were all right. He and the corporal had crossed paths with Church and Banister coming out of the general store.
The sky overhead was midnight blue; the jagged bloody cracks continued to spider out and were growing wider.
And now there was something more: a low, rumbling hissing sound. It wasn’t coming from any one direction, had no single source. It came from all around them, from everywhere.
And it was growing louder minute by minute.
Susan and Carmody came out of the laundry across the street. The small, squat structure was the last building on that side of the street, and the last building at this end of town. They started across toward the livery, both with an anxious eye to the ominous sky overhead.
Church clasped his hands together in a silent thank you. He grasped Susan’s hand.
“Susan, are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” Susan furrowed her brow. “What is it, Doctor?”
“We’re not quite sure, my dear. It would appear that Professor Asher has found something.”
“The access?”
“We do not know.” Church glanced up at the sky, then to the double doors of the stable. “One can hope.”
“It wouldn’t be a moment too soon,” said Banister.
The town itself was growing dark, the darkness reaching out from the alleyways between the buildings and into the street. The menacing shell of sky seemed to be drawing lower and lower, the cracks ever wider and more jagged.
Looking back up the street, Quinn could just make out Costa coming out of the sheriff’s office at the opposite end of town with Dr. Owen and Miss Powell in tow.
“All right, then.” Quinn turned back to face the barn. “Everyone stay behind me.” He started forward and the others fell in behind him.
Stepping into the barn, Quinn quickly held out his arms for the others to stop. They moved in beside him.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 10