Church looked in Asher’s direction and considered. Susan may well be right. How many the times over these twenty one floors had their situation drawn particular focus to the young professor?
“The Adversary may have plans for our Professor Asher,” said Church. “At the very least, the gauntlet set before him may not be the same as that which the rest of us walk.”
§
Carmody and Johansen sat down opposite Sgt. Miller. The mess hall was almost empty, the dinner rush was past and most were now going about their evening duties.
“How’d the comm go?” asked Miller. He pushed his plate aside and took a drink from his water glass.
“Weird,” said Johansen.
“Really weird,” agreed Carmody. “They’re in Hell.”
“What’s so weird about that? Sounds par for the course.”
“No. Really,” said Carmody. “They’re really in Hell. Hell. River Styx, Ferryman, tunnels and devil’s minions and everything.”
“Wow. Weird.”
“Yeah.”
“Are they all right?”
“They got into it with a bunch of vicious little monsters or demons or something, but they came through it,” said Johansen.
They watched Banister and Lake enter the mess. Banister sat at a corner table as Lake went to the coffee counter and returned with two coffees. They both looked exhausted.
“Doctor Banister didn’t take the news too well,” said Carmody.
“He never does,” said Miller. “Processing data and dispensing advice from the outside is pretty weak duty after being inside.”
“It could save their lives one day,” Carmody said defensively.
“I’m sure it will,” said Miller. “Did it save anyone today?”
“That’s cold, Miller,” said Johansen.
Miller frowned and rubbed at his temple. “Yeah… this place is starting to get to me. I could use a vacation.”
“Hey, check it out.” Carmody nodded in the direction of Major Connelly, just coming into the mess. Seeing Banister and Lake, she went over to their table and sat down.
“I’m seeing ‘em hang out a lot together lately,” said Miller.
“That lady gives me the willies,” said Carmody.
“That’s no lady,” said Johansen.
“That is Major Connelly,” said Miller. “So long as General Wong says that’s who she is, then that’s who she is.”
“Yeah, I get that,” said Johansen. “That’s about how the Docs see it, too.”
“All right,” Carmody leaned forward. “I’ll play the game. Connelly. Major. Officer and a lady. But answer me this… when she’s not here, where is she? She’s got no cot in Officer’s Country, and she’s got no tent of her own. So where does she go? I’ll play the game. So why doesn’t she?”
§
“You need to make clear what you mean when you say we’re going to stay a while, Lieutenant.” Owen stuffed the last of her meager belongings into her small backpack.
“I do apologize, Doctor Owen,” said Lt. Quinn. He stood at the opening leading out to the tunnel, his arms folded across his chest. He was dividing his attention equally between the team preparing to leave and the tunnel beyond the small chamber.
Susan slipped an arm into one of the shoulder straps of her pack and walked over to Asher. He was on one knee, putting the last of his gear into his own pack.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked. She tried her best to make the question sound conversational, but it came across as anxious.
“Ready as I can be, I expect.” Asher closed his pack and stood up. Seeing real concern in Susan’s eyes, he nodded in Owen’s direction. “Liz has a sixth sense for these things. If there was something bad on the way, she wouldn’t be grumbling so dourly. The way she’s going on, I figure we’ll be on the next floor by bedtime.”
Susan shook her head and slipped the rest of the way into her pack and started toward Lt. Quinn. “Geez, Peter, you are so full of it.”
Peter managed a sad, fading grin and followed her.
§
The air in the tunnels grew warmer and drier with each passing hour. There seemed to be less oxygen and their breathing became more labored. Sgt. Costa continued to lead the way, Ramos and Lt. Quinn bringing up the rear. At each intersection, the team stopped and Quinn pulled out his notebook, expanded on a hand-drawn map that now spanned several dozen pages.
There was no sign of the minions that had attacked them earlier. Asher silently wondered whether even they dared not travel this deep into the Otherworld, but he kept that to himself. The thought had probably occurred to the others as well, but no sense getting Owen started again. She had been blessedly quiet for some time.
Susan walked beside Asher. They occasionally glanced at one another, occasionally spoke a clumsy word or two. Asher’s increasing melancholy made their exchanges all the more awkward, and neither was very adept at such conversation to begin with.
Following one particularly graceless exchange of meaningless one and two word sentences, Owen groaned “jeezus people, get a room.”
And thus concluded any further conversation for the foreseeable future.
Up at the front of the group, Sgt. Costa stopped. She wasn’t at an intersection this time, but rather a few yards from a bend in the tunnel. She was listening at something.
“What is it, Sara?” asked Church.
“Not sure just yet, Doctor.”
“Oh, god…” groaned Owen. “It’s not—”
“No, Ma’am,” Costa said softly. It wasn’t the minions.
“I hear it,” said Church.
“Me, too,” said Susan. It was a distant, haunting whisper; a hollow moan of wind that brushed across the soul.
Overwhelming despair…
Costa looked back at Dr. Church, at Susan Bautista. At the back of the group stood Lt. Quinn; the expression on his face was grim, hard.
He gave a short, sharp nod. “Continue,” he stated brusquely.
Costa steeled herself and started forward.
She led them into a small, round chamber, some twenty feet across. A pit twelve feet in diameter took up most of the floor, leaving only a narrow path running along the wall. They would have to traverse this path around the pit to get to where the tunnel continued on the other side.
Costa tried to keep herself as far from the open pit as she could; not easy, as there was less than four feet between the rough rock wall on her left and the lip of the pit on her right.
She glanced then into the pit for the first time. She had to reach out and grasp at the rock of the wall, or she would have fallen into the abyss.
Glowing a deep rust-orange, the pit grew darker and darker as it descended, yet never really seemed to end. It went on and on, deeper and deeper into the very bowels of the Underworld.
And clinging to the walls of the pit were dozens upon dozens of barely recognizable humans; naked, skeletal, their gnarled bony fingers grasping at the almost smooth stone, their faces twisted in torment and despair, all looking up, looking up toward the top of the pit.
Church stood beside Sgt. Costa. He sighed sadly as he looked down at the lost souls.
“They climb and they climb… but never make progress. The way out is always in sight, yet forever beyond their reach; for eternity.”
“Doctor…”
“I know.” Church lifted a hand and touched her arm. “Please, Sara. Take us out of here.”
It took almost everything she had for Costa to look away from the horror in the pit. Finally though, she was able to turn her attention to the dark opening in the wall up ahead... the tunnel that would take them from this terrible place.
She kept the palm of her left hand on the wall beside her and started forward again. She took slow, steady steps, each taking her a few feet closer to the tunnel and the way out. The others followed, Church right behind her and the others trailing after him. Costa could hear them; their hesitant, shuddering breaths, their feet dragging
across the rough stone…
The tunnel they entered was narrower than the one before the pit chamber, and the ceiling was much lower. It grew darker, much darker. There were no side tunnels; it wound and twisted without interruption.
Suddenly then the tunnel opened into yet another chamber. This one was lit only by a single torch hanging on the wall just to their left. It had come to life as Costa entered the chamber.
Visible in the faint light were twelve dark openings set in the walls about the cave.
Twelve tunnels to choose from.
“Oh dear,” sighed Church. He took off his pack and tossed it against the wall behind them.
“Crap,” grumbled Owen. “And you just know there’s only one right way out of here.”
“We can’t do this,” said Lisa. “We’re almost out of water. We’re almost out of food.”
“Oh, we will do this, Miss Powell,” said Lt. Quinn. “We will absolutely do this.” He stepped further into the cavern, stopped, turned slowly about. The others watched, waited.
Twelve tunnels.
It could be any one of them. There was no way to tell.
They would just have to check them out one by one.
Quinn looked at Sgt. Costa. He pointed at the nearest tunnel.
“That one.”
Episode Seven / Chapter Three
Sgt. Miller had taken to walking the base of the tower each morning after breakfast, following the same route as the watch. He didn’t expect to find anything, but you never knew. Maintaining a consistent routine, he would notice if there were any changes from one day to the next.
The two guards of the watch were well ahead of him, walking at about the same pace. They rounded the corner to what was generally thought of as the front of the tower, the side that had once held the only opening into the building, and the side where the command center had been set up.
Miller rounded the corner several minutes later. The two guards were midway along the base of the building. Further ahead and off to the left, far across the empty lot, sat the small Quonset hut that served as the command center. The door had been propped open and several people were sitting at one of the two picnic tables that were set out in front. Though it was still early, the day was already warm.
It was going to get a lot warmer. It had been this way for days now, cool at night but growing warm soon after the sun came up, and then hot by midday. By late afternoon the air would be stifling and it would be difficult to breathe.
Miller crossed the asphalt lot and approached the tables. Dr. Banister invited him to sit down with a wave of his hand. Dr. Lake barely gave him a nod, but then Miller and Lake had never really hit it off; no reason really, and he supposed they got along well enough, but Miller doubted they would ever go out together for a beer.
From their expressions, it looked to Miller that another communications window had come and gone with no contact with the team in the tower. That was the fourth straight with no contact, more than six days with no word. Considering the nature of this floor, this had everyone more than a bit anxious.
General Wong came out of the command center, paused a moment, and then walked up beside the pair of tables. He stood gazing up at the black tower, clasped his hands behind his back.
“There will be another opportunity in thirty seven hours, gentlemen,” he stated casually.
When neither of the doctors responded, Miller thought to jump in.
“Absolutely, General,” he said. “I’m not too worried. They’re a seriously tough bunch.”
“Quite so, Sergeant,” said Wong. “The silence is undoubtedly due to our Adversary once again playing games with us.”
“No doubt,” Banister said quietly. “No doubt.”
“As with this weather,” said the General. He lifted his gaze to the sky, breathed cautiously through his teeth. “It is already quite warm. Another very hot one on the way.”
No coincidence, no way, thought Miller. And he knew that Banister and Lake didn’t think so, either. Not for the first time, the conditions in the tower appeared to have had an effect on conditions out here. The last word before losing contact with the team had them descending ever further into the Underworld, and it had been getting warmer.
And that was when things started getting a lot warmer outside the tower.
Captain Adamson came out of the Quonset hut.
“All set, sir,” he said, stepping up beside the general. He looked over at Miller. “If Major Connelly shows, please ask her to meet us in the mess.”
A lot of meetings happened in the mess these days.
“Yes sir.” He watched the captain and the general start in the direction of the mess tent. Behind him, Banister and Lake had returned to the analytical back and forth on what the lack of communication might portend.
He left them to their thing and went into the Quonset hut.
Just another day at command.
§
The cavern was several thousand yards across, the ceiling overhead almost lost in great swathes of dark shadows streaked with golden rays of light. The floor was covered in a forest of towering rock spires that stood like majestic redwood trees a hundred feet tall, trunks ten feet and more in diameter.
And yet the great chamber felt eerily empty. There was a peculiar hollowness about it.
Quinn called for a halt a hundred yards in. Several dropped to the ground right there; others dragged themselves to one or another of the massive stone columns and sat with their backs against the rock.
No one spoke. There was nothing to say.
They had been wandering the tunnels for days. They were out of both food and water. They had been attacked twice more by the shadowy rat-like creatures, and it was during one of these attacks that the radio had been damaged. Ramos had so far been unable to repair it.
After ten minutes rest, Quinn paired off the team members and sent them in four directions across the cavern floor. Each was to go all the way to the wall and then return.
Asher and Owen left their nearly empty backpacks behind and headed out together, walking silently through this bizarre rock forest. They reached the cavern wall finding no sign of water or food. Owen insisted on taking a break before starting back. Asher didn’t argue. He was as spent as she was. It was taking all he had to keep going, and this little side trip had taken just a little bit more.
They sat in silence, staring out across the chamber. At times they could hear the others, their voices drifting across the great cavern, making the quiet all the more ominous.
“Crap,” Owen growled after a minute, and struggled to her feet. “Come on, damn it.”
She started back without another word, without waiting for Asher. After a few seconds, he rolled onto one knee, stood and followed after her.
None of the other search teams had found anything useful. Ramos was already hunched over his radio, trying yet again to repair it.
“Give it up, Corporal,” said Owen. She repositioned her backpack and sat on it. “Even if you could fix that thing, what do you expect them do? Record our demise into the daily log?”
Ramos did his best to ignore her.
“We’re not dead yet, Liz,” said Church.
“This radio is,” said Ramos. He sat back and held his head in his hands, ran his fingers through his non-regulation length hair. “It’s done.”
“Then we are alone,” said Lisa. “Really alone.”
I could deal with that, Asher thought. But they’ll never know what happened to us. They’ll never know whether we managed to get off this floor, or of our progress to the next floor and the next.
In the end, he said none of this aloud. In the end, it came down to just what Lisa had said. They were truly alone. However much or little command had actually been able to do to support the team in the tower, having that connection had meant something. And now that connection was broken.
Everyone watched in silence as Lt. Quinn lifted his backpack and slipped into it. At first, only Sgt. Costa
followed his lead, standing and picking up her gear.
“Let’s go,” she stated. Once she noted everyone making at least some show of getting up, she started out.
Seeing Ramos kneel beside the radio, Quinn moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Leave it, Corporal,” he said quietly.
“Sir?”
“It’s not worth the weight.”
“Who knows,” said Owen, following after Costa. “Maybe we’ll come across a Radio Shack on the next floor.”
§
The tunnel was long and straight, and it was the first level stretch they’d seen since leaving the stone forest chamber hours earlier. Until now they had been slowly descending ever further into the bowels of the Underworld.
The Acolyte walked beside Owen. He was dressed in a black robe, the hood thrown back to reveal long, flowing salt-and-pepper hair. He appeared content to walk in silence, and was quite comfortable in the silence of the others.
Owen glanced at him from time to time, seemingly unconcerned at his presence. She also did not seem to be surprised that clearly no else could see the Acolyte in their midst.
She had a pretty good idea what his being here meant, and the reason she could see him when the others could not.
After some time had passed, she stirred up the courage to push the issue along.
“So,” she said quietly. “You here to take me away from all this?”
“Oh, madam, I took you away three minutes ago.”
“I see.” She thought about that, tried to sort out what it might mean. No matter where her thoughts took her, it didn’t come out so good for her.
Still, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.
“It couldn’t have happened at a better time.” She mulled that over for a moment. “Well, maybe yesterday would have been better. Today’s been a bit of a drag.”
The team continued along this long stretch of straight, level tunnel. Sgt. Costa led the way, as always. Lt. Quinn and Cpl. Ramos brought up the rear, as was the norm.
There was no sign of the Acolyte. There was no sign of Elizabeth Owen.
No one noticed.
§
Sgt. Miller was halfway along his routine morning walk around the tower. It was already very warm out, and was shaping up to be the warmest day yet. As he rounded the corner he considered picking up the pace, thinking to get himself under a canopy and out of the sun before it climbed much higher. There was a box fan sitting on one of the tables over in the mess tent with his name on it.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 22