The Black Tower: The Complete Series

by David R. Beshears

Banister was certain that whatever was happening could not be intentional. This didn’t look or feel like the Adversary’s doing. Quite the opposite; it was very likely a serious threat to what the Adversary had created.

  And by inference it was a danger to those within the tower.

  Sergeant Miller, Carmody and Johansen approached the Quonset hut, each carrying overstuffed olive-drab colored canvas bags. They set the bags on the nearby picnic table.

  “Doctor Banister, we’re eating well tonight,” said Carmody. She opened her bag and reached in, pulled out a couple of plastic MRE packages with one hand, a can of peaches with the other.

  “Wonderful, my dear.” Banister stood from the bench and walked over to the table. “I must say, I’m a bit surprised that you were able to find such treasure after all this time.”

  “We stood with our backs to the tower and just walked away. We walked until there was nothing but gray, and then we walked some more.”

  “We weren’t all that sure we’d find our way back, to tell you the truth,” said Johansen. “We lost sight of the tower; lost sight of everything.”

  “Are the others back yet?” asked Miller.

  “Not yet, Sergeant.” The second team had gone the other direction along the base of the tower, and Lake was inside monitoring the radio.

  “Right.” Miller turned and looked at the tower, noted the vortices. “Looks like another one on this side as well. We counted two more on the east wall.”

  “There they are,” said Johansen. He nodded at a group of three figures in the distance. They had come around from the far corner of the tower and were walking in the shadows along the base, were already a third of the way before they had been noticed.

  They stopped midway along the wall. From this distance, it looked to those outside the Quonset hut that a new vortex was forming directly beside the other team. This one though appeared a flat gray, without the shimmering, gleaming whorl of the others.

  “Oh my God,” said Carmody. “What are they doing?”

  As they watched, General Wong, Captain Adamson and Connelly stepped into the opening.

  §

  The general stood just inside the jagged opening in the wall, the outside world clearly visible on the other side. Adamson and Connelly stood to his left, Adamson mumbling something to himself, Connelly apparently at a total loss for words, mumbled or otherwise.

  Set before them was an expansive, empty floor; concrete walls, concrete pillars set in perfect rows forty feet apart.

  The dimensions of the floor matched those of the outside.

  It was a space waiting to be used.

  “What the hell?” came from behind them. General Wong turned half about and saw Carmody standing in the opening. Sergeant Miller and Doctor Banister were just coming into view behind her.

  “What the hell, indeed,” said General Wong, turning forward again.

  §

  Ramos wriggled his way through the crevice and crawled into the open. He stepped away as the others clambered out of the narrow fissure, studied the scene around him looking for signs of potential danger to the team.

  Behind them was a steep cliff rising up from a sandy beach. Directly ahead, a narrow promontory of rough, rocky terrain reached several hundred yards into the sea from the shore.

  Near the end of the rugged cape stood a tall lighthouse; the ocean beyond was a greenish blue, calm and quiet but for the steady roll of low, gentle waves upon the shore and foaming against the rocks.

  The clear sky overhead was a light blue and the single midday sun was warm but not hot. A slight breeze carried a thin, cooling mist.

  “It appears peaceful enough,” offered Susan.

  “Downright pleasant,” said Church. “Which I find to be most unsettling.”

  “I hear ya’, Doc,” said Ramos. “It always comes with a catch, and that’s for sure.”

  Costa looked up and down the beach, then to the end of the cape toward the lighthouse.

  “I don’t know about water and food, but at least there’s shelter.”

  “But what about the storms?” asked Lisa.

  “We have nowhere to go, Lisa.”

  “Very well, then. Let’s hope that was it,” said Church. “That they don’t follow us.”

  “Yes sir,” Costa sighed.

  A shadow then, danced across the rocks around them. Something overhead… they all looked up, searching. Not a cloud in the clear, blue sky.

  Ramos saw it first…

  “Oh, crap…”

  §

  Quinn stood near the center of the flat top of the thirty-foot diameter pillar. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was frowning.

  The Acolyte sat along the edge, his legs dangling over the side. He was wearing his demon persona, dressed in black, the nubs of a pair of horns on his pasty forehead.

  He had been there for some time, jabbering away about one thing or another, about nothing in particular. At first, Quinn had been glad for the company, whomever or whatever this creature might be. But as time wore on, he had been getting on the lieutenant’s nerves.

  Holy Jesus, this has to be another test…

  “Oh, Lieutenant… did I tell you? I was conversing with Doctor Owen the other day. A lovely lady, really. A dear, dear lady. I do believe she brings out the best in me. The same for you?”

  “Not exactly,” grumbled Quinn.

  “No?”

  “No.” Quinn folded arms contracted slightly. He was looking across the empty, black void to the column-lined corridor in the distance. It just hung there in space.

  “That’s too bad. It really is.” The Acolyte was leaning out over the abyss, hands planted on the pillar, legs swinging absently. “A lovely lady.”

  “How nice.”

  “She was concerned about you. No idea what happened to you after she directed you from the floor some ways back.”

  “And what did you tell her?” Quinn was wondering that himself.

  “That you were well.” The Acolyte leaned just a bit further out, looked curiously down into the black emptiness below as he tapped his heels together. “Oh, hey, I think I see your friends,” he said chirpily.

  That caught Quinn’s attention. He unbound his arms and looked now directly at the Acolyte.

  “The team?”

  “Yes, yes… the team.” The Acolyte was carefully eyeing the void. “I’m certain it is them. Yes, yes.”

  Quinn took a single step closer. “Are they all right?”

  “They are arriving on another floor.”

  “That’s good,” Quinn said hopefully.

  The Acolyte said nothing for a few long, drawn-out moments. He pursed his lips then and shook his head slowly, sadly.

  “Geez,” he sighed. “Can’t they ever get a break?”

  ~ end of episode nine

  Episode Ten

  Lighthouse

  Prolog

  The lighthouse stood at the end of a long, rocky outcropping that jutted out from the thin strip of beach into a blue-green sea. Ramos stood watch on the catwalk outside the lantern room near the top of the lighthouse. The lantern inside was dark.

  The ocean was calm, the low waves foaming amongst the rocks of the cape, pushing gently onto the sandy shore on either side of the promontory. The shoreline ran along the base of a steep cliff, the cliff wall high enough that even from the catwalk Ramos wasn’t able to see what lay beyond.

  For them, the world was the lighthouse, the rocky cape, and the narrow bands of sand to the north and the south.

  Asher stepped out onto the catwalk and up next to Ramos. He was there to relieve the corporal on watch.

  “A little early, aren’t you, Professor?”

  “Maybe a minute or two,” said Asher. He looked out at the horizon, then glanced down at the rocks a hundred and fifty feet below. “Anything interesting?”

  “Nothing to speak of. Our feathered friend was here a bit ago. Checked us out, then headed back north.”

  As
her looked up the north beach. But for the gently rolling waves, there was no movement, land or sky.

  “Did he look hungry?” he asked.

  “Seagulls always look hungry.”

  “True enough. I expect a gull with the wingspan of a condor must look downright ravenous.”

  “He looked that way to me.” Ramos had stood by the open door, ready to head inside should it come at him. He hadn’t dared to leave the doorway until the giant seagull was well out of sight.

  Clicking sounds, the scrambling clacking of hard shell on rock, rose up from the rocks below. Asher leaned over the rail and tried to identify the source.

  “What the heck is that?”

  “Crabs,” Ramos stated calmly.

  “What?” Asher didn’t see anything.

  “Crabs,” Ramos repeated. “Bunch of ‘em. Shells gotta be three feet across. Showed up about twenty minutes ago.”

  Asher straightened. “When I asked about anything interesting, crabs with shells three feet across didn’t come to mind?”

  “Okay,” shrugged Ramos. “Nothing ‘cept for that.”

  Episode Ten / Chapter One

  Sgt. Miller stood at the table unpacking the few supplies they had recovered during their latest search, handing the items one by one to Carmody, who was taking them and storing them away in the nearby cabinet.

  There wasn’t much left to find, and the only items they came across these days were out in the gray, well beyond the shadow and sight of the tower.

  The only other person in the Quonset hut was Johansen. He was leaning against the coffee station counter, cup in hand.

  “Where are the others?” Miller asked him.

  “I think some of ‘em went back over to the tower,” said Johansen.

  “That place is creepy,” said Carmody.

  When an opening into the first floor had appeared in the side of the tower, everyone had expected to see the alien jungle that had covered the floor so many months earlier, and for it to extend far beyond the outer dimensions of the tower, just as it had before. What they had found instead was an empty space, concrete floor and walls and ceiling, support pillars set in rows, the individual posts spaced forty feet apart.

  It looked more than anything else like an empty parking garage.

  “C’mon, Carmody, it’s not so bad,” said Miller, half-smirking. “A few well-placed lamps, toss down some throw rugs…”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Johansen cleared his throat. “Seriously, though. I was thinking maybe we should move in there. It’s probably safer.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Carmody thought it had to be more sarcasm, but it didn’t sound that way. “We have no idea what that floor will look like five minutes from now. It could change into anything, take us anywhere; or just disappear.”

  “And? You think it’s any different out here?”

  §

  Banister and Lake were far into the cavernous expanse that had been the first floor, near the farthest wall. They each had a flashlight, the fuzzy beams stabbing into the gloom, occasionally dancing across the ladder that was mounted on the wall and led up to nowhere.

  “Just what are you expecting to find today that we didn’t find yesterday, Banister?” asked Lake.

  “Things change, Lake,” mumbled Banister. Unfortunately, the ladder and its lack of destination were just as they had been the day before. His retort fell flat.

  He swung the focus of his flashlight around and back out onto the floor.

  Empty. Empty and yet more empty.

  He ran the beam of light up the nearest support pillar, taking it from the floor base up to the ceiling.

  “Most peculiar,” he said.

  “Peculiar. Yes. But just at the moment, I don’t see how that helps us. No answers. I don’t even know what question to ask.”

  “I have a question for you, my friend,” said Banister. “Query… what does this say about the Adversary? I mean, this can’t be the natural state of the floor.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, my dear Doctor Lake, there is no actual floor, as there is no tower. All is generated illusion, created to give us a landscape upon which to traverse. Therefore, what we see before us is as much a creation as what it replaced. Yes? Yes? So… why this?”

  “It looks incomplete. Unfinished.”

  Banister shook his head. “What I see is a placeholder. I do not believe this was planned. The Adversary was confronted with something he hadn’t expected. This was his response.”

  “And the opening?” asked Lake. The portals that were appearing all over the walls of the tower were gateways, similar to those taking the team from floor to floor, but the opening here into the first floor was an actual hole in the wall; whether that wall and that opening be real or illusion.

  “Most odd,” said Banister. “The implication is that the Adversary intended for us to enter. If that be true, then why?”

  “That should have been your first question, Banister.” Lake focused his flashlight back to the ladder, lifted the beam up the sixteen feet to the ceiling. “There’s nothing here. Nothing.”

  §

  Church came out of the stairwell and down into the ground level room of the lighthouse. Susan was sitting at the heavy wooden table. Light shone through the few narrow windows and through the open doorway leading outside.

  “Our room is much roomier than I expected,” said Church. The lighthouse had two bedrooms. “Yours?”

  “Comfortable enough.” Susan was sharing a room with Lisa and Costa.

  Church went over to one of the counters set along the curved walls and began opening cabinets. He rummaged through the team supplies and took down a cup. He filled it from one of the canteens that were sitting on the counter.

  “I hope we have the opportunity to take advantage of those rooms.” Church sat opposite Susan. “Oh, to have real beds again. It takes me back to that quiet neighborhood, houses and bedrooms, that little café; so many floors ago, now.”

  “That was the floor where we first saw the storm.”

  “Ah… yes.” Church lost the smile he had been wearing and a frown formed. “There was that, wasn’t there?”

  Costa appeared in the open doorway, stepped through and into the lighthouse.

  “You two interested in doing a little exploring?”

  “Absolutely, Sara,” said Church. “Where are we headed?”

  “North. Follow the beach.”

  “That shouldn’t take long,” said Susan. “We can see where it ends.”

  That was true. The beach ended well within sight of the lighthouse, where the cliff wall met the water.

  “I want to take a look at the cliffs en route.” She also wanted to see if there was a way to get beyond the beach.

  Susan started toward the stairwell. “Just let me get my jacket.”

  “No rush.” Costa sat on the corner of the table. She looked down at Church. “Were you two taking a trip down memory lane?”

  “More a casual stroll,” said Church. “How about you, Sara? Has this quiet locale generated any pleasant reminiscing? Brought back any mind-repairing memories?”

  “Not as yet, I’m afraid. I haven’t sat still long enough for anything to take hold.”

  “Oh, you must, my dear. Doctor’s orders.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Costa. She smiled warmly at the elderly doctor. Doctor Church gave her a comforting pat on the leg.

  Sgt. Costa had done well as the leader of the team, taking over after they lost Lieutenant Quinn more than twenty floors back, the storm right on their heels every foot of the way.

  Church could see that the marathon over these score of floors had begun to take their toll on the sergeant. She was an incredibly strong person, but the responsibility must weigh heavy. She looked very tired.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Costa,” he said, breaking a long silence.

  “Sir?”

  “I appreciate all that you’ve done for us.”


  Costa looked uncomfortable. “My pleasure, Doctor.”

  She stood then as Susan returned from upstairs.

  “Okay, we’re off.”

  §

  Ramos and Lisa had finished their search of the south beach and were working their way back. Ramos walked with a five-foot staff, an item that he thought might come in handy should that giant seagull make another appearance.

  Ramos had an uncomfortable suspicion the big bird had it in for him.

  Here the strip of beach was forty feet from the water’s edge to the base of the cliff. The fine sand was dry and didn’t look to have spent any time under water. Either they were at high tide or there was none.

  They approached the rocky promontory that divided the shore into north and south beaches, climbed twenty feet up the rocks before starting toward the lighthouse. As they got nearer, they could hear the native crabs scrambling about just out of sight.

  “Home, sweet home,” said Ramos.

  They worked their way around the lighthouse and met Sgt. Costa, Church and Susan Bautista coming out.

  “Excellent timing, Ramos,” said Costa.

  “Hey. I am just that good.” He handed her the staff. “Nothing to see to the south, ‘cept some nice scenery.”

  Costa weighed the staff in her hand. It was heavy but had a comfortable balance.

  “Not bad workmanship, Ramos.”

  “I’m not finished.” In truth he had done little more than cut the heavy stick to length and peel off the bark. He indicated the north. “The gull went that way.”

  In answer, Costa held the staff at the ready, then gave a quick nod and started away. Church and Susan followed. Ramos and Lisa watched them work their way down the rocks to the sand and then start north up the beach. They could hear Dr. Church saying something to the others, but couldn’t quite make it out over the muffled background noise of the waves rolling up onto the beach and foaming against the rocks. There was the whisper of breeze coming in from the sea.

  That and the click-clack sound of the giant crabs scrambling about amongst the rocks and small tide pools.

  Lisa put a hand on her belly. “I’m feeling mighty hungry, Jerry. Dinner will come none too soon.” Lisa was the only member of the team to refer to Ramos by his first name.