FLOOR 21: Descent (The Tower Legacy)

by Jason Luthor

  “Okay, well, shoot then. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

  “I just mean, you completely bailed me out of that situation with the Creep, and you haven't said a thing about it. I haven’t because I didn’t know what to say, but dude, you saved my life. I mean, what do I even tell you?”

  Tommy smiles. “I think it’s pretty normal to say thank you.”

  “Tommy,” she says as she rolls her eyes at him. Of course, they come rolling right back to me. “But, yeah, so totally, from every inch of me, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I would’ve been a chewed up meat bag if you hadn’t ripped right through that tentacle.”

  I shrug and look away. “Yeah, man, you know. I mean, it’s not like it was that big of a deal or anything.”

  “Not that big a deal? Jackie, seriously. Come on. It was my life you saved.”

  I can hear Tommy pipe in again. “Jackie’s just cool like that. She did the same for me when I was losing it inside that tight Creep tunnel we had to squeeze through a while back. Remember that?”

  “You really think I could forget that?” She laughs. “I felt like I was squeezing through someone’s tonsils.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “But it’s so true!”

  “Well, that’s why I started having my panic attack. Lucky Jackie was there to play hero.”

  I dunno, all the banter finally annoys me enough to look over at them. “Yeah, I get it guys. I’m just, you know, looking out. Don’t call me a hero, Tommy. That’s just stupid. I just did what I had to. It’s not like I want you two to die or anything.”

  Tommy nods and gives me a mild salute. “I’m being totally serious, Jackie. I don’t know how you do it, but you keep a real cool head when you need to.”

  “Nah, just, blame Abbott or whatever. It’s just the training. It’s the only thing keeping my head on straight.”

  “Maybe, but we all went through it. You just know when to make the right move, especially when you need to help someone else out.”

  “I guess.” I shrug and lean back against one of the only dry parts of the wall. “I mean, dad did always try and teach me to make the right calls. Of course, that was for basketball games, so it was a little different.”

  “Sports is pretty good for that. It does help if you’ve got a good guy like your dad doing the teaching.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, he was a good guy. I guess it kinda makes sense. He was always saying that, on a team, you have to look out for each other, or you’ll lose. I mean, he was basically my personal coach for years.”

  “Sounds like he taught you some good lessons. Like I said, sounds like a pretty good guy.”

  My eyebrow twitches as I think about Tommy’s dad. “Um, so, you been . . . feeling okay? I mean, we haven’t really talked about your situation. Not that I want to put this all out there.”

  “Situation?” He laughs, then looks over at Dodger. “Just so you’re in the know, my dad’s a little too hard on the bottle. I never got any coaching from him like Jackie got from her dad.”

  The happiness she had a second ago washes right off her face. “Oh that . . . that sucks.”

  “Yeah, well, what’re you going to do, right? You can’t pick your parents. Besides, he tried to clean up when I got older. Not that he’s been successful with it all the time.” He looks over at me and just kinda shakes his head for a second. He’s actually serious for once, and it makes my chest hurt just looking at him. “But, uh, yeah. I’m doing okay. I’m actually glad you asked, though. I don't think about it if I can get away with it because why, right? Just a bunch of memories I wish I didn’t have. Down here though . . . I don't know, it just feels like certain thoughts pop into my head out of nowhere. It’s like someone else is talking into my brain sometimes. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I mean, we are in the Deep Creep.”

  I just nod at him and go quiet. He keeps talking with Dodger, and it’s weird just looking at the two of them. Tommy’s always trying to put on that brave face and act like nothing bothers him, which I guess is just a part of that whole confidence thing he likes to project. I get it. We all have a ‘thing’ we do. It rubbed me the wrong way for forever, and I guess that’s why I like the Tommy I know more than the Tommy I thought I knew from before we were Scavengers. Talking to a person, like, really talking and listening, is apparently a quick way to learn just how many assumptions you made about them that were wrong. Anyway, I’m so wrapped up in this that I almost don’t notice the clicking of the door as Utada stealths into the room. I'm not even aware of her until she starts talking.

  “Our target is two hallways down and around one corner,” she says, trying to map it out with her hands. “There are six men at the door and four walking the halls. I almost was found but was able to sneak into a nearby room. Their patrols are persistent, and each time two of them take a break, another two begin to walk. In this way, they are constantly circling the halls. We might be able to take out any patrol, but we would surely risk alerting the guards at the door. In addition, we do not know the numbers of those inside the room or its size.”

  Sunny nods. “That’s my point. There’s too much we just don’t know.”

  Abbott agrees. “My thinking was similar. We need more intel before we move.”

  “What we need is a plan.”

  “Anything you might suggest?”

  Sunny’s smile has been nonexistent for a while now, and the sound of his voice hurts, like there’s a razor in it. “You’re the head officer, right? That’s why they keep you stowed away on Floor 2. I thought it was your job to put this all together.”

  He’s been sounding angrier and angrier, but even the commander sounds like he’s barely able to restrain himself these days. Maybe it’s just the Creep getting to everyone? Anyway, Abbott pulls out his tablet and just says, “Thank you for the reminder, captain. Let’s map the area and come up with our approach.”

  While they’re talking it up, I take the spare time to breathe, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to soon. I’m already stressing out over what’s about to happen, and I guess Tommy notices, ‘cause he looks my way and asks, “Hey Coleman. You okay?”

  “Yeah, Toolshed,” I say as I throw him a smirk. “Just, you know, appreciating life while I’ve got a chance. I don’t know if I’ll be able to after this.”

  “Don’t be such a downer.”

  “God. I know, I’m terrible.” The least I can do is give him a smile. “I’ve had things on my mind.”

  “Mike?”

  “Well, that’s one thing. I keep wondering, with all the stuff we’ve seen, if they’ve done anything to him. Like, what if they’ve tried to bond him with this Creep stuff? What is he actually going to be like if we do manage to find him?” My hands slide over my head as I look at the ground. “But a lot of it’s the killing. I don’t care if we trained for it. I don’t want to do it. Then we lose Jamila? What if things get worse? I mean, with all the guards out there, we don’t have a lot of choices. Maybe we’ll come up with something, but right now we’re kinda . . .” I rock my hand back and forth. “Unsure? Unstable? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know the commander’ll figure out a plan.”

  “You know, you could offer some ideas, right? That might help get your mind off some of this stuff. I mean, when you’re not busy kicking butt, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

  “Me?” My finger jabs at my face. “Please. I think I’ve done more dumb stuff in the last year than some people will do their whole lives.”

  “Like that thing you told me about . . . ?”

  He’s talking about Creepy Sally but keeping it quiet so the commander doesn’t know, which I can appreciate. But, he’s right. “Yeah. I guess something like that.”

  “Jackie, all I know is that if you were involved, there had to be a reason. I know you didn’t tell me the whole story. Hey, I’m cool with that. But honestly? Everyone knows who your parents are, and we all know you’ve got an impressive one of thes
e,” he says, tapping at his skull. “So, you should stop acting like you’re not supposed to be here.”

  God, I hate Tommy. My breath evacuates my lungs as my eyes roll away from him and over to the side of the room. That’s when I see it, and I’m not sure why I didn’t think about it before. It’s a grate, part of the ventilation system in the Tower. The same system I’ve used over and over again to get around, to get away from the Creep, and to sneak onto Floor 1. “I suck.”

  “Well, we know that. But why?”

  “Nothing, Tommy.” I blow him off as I get to my feet. “Commander Abbott?”

  The commander looks up from his tablet and over his shoulder. “Coleman?”

  “Yeah, sir. I think I might have an idea.”

  Recording Thirty

  A vent’s a vent and being in the Deep Creep doesn’t make that any different. Well, that’s not completely true. As I’m sliding around, I can feel the slick saliva from the Creep gliding under my arms and sticking to my hands, plus it’s so humid I’m barely able to breathe without feeling like someone’s shoving a sweaty sock down my throat. To be totally honest though, as disgusting as it is, I’m actually glad I’m doing something to help the team that doesn’t involve a gun.

  Happy to help the team?

  God, when did that become a thing?

  So, I pull myself along and make sure to stay super quiet, as always. I’m usually a ghost when I’m crawling around, although the fact that I’ve never mapped the lower floors of the Tower leaves me running on instinct. My flashlight wipes away the darkness as my legs push me along. It’s been about a half hour since I started crawling, so I’m happy when I reach a sharp turn in the vent and see light washing the wall. It’s not bright, but it’s enough to let me know I’m actually getting somewhere. Even though I can feel my body surging because it wants me to hurry, I use all that training I’ve had to keep my breath calm. At least those breathing exercises are doing something. No, really, it’s weird how just keeping your breath under control can actually make you feel less nervous. Either that or I’m lying to myself. Well, it works either way, because I don’t feel like butterflies are going to burst out of my stomach.

  Which is a pretty creepy idea, if you think about it.

  My body turns at an awkward angle, and I shuffle down a new path, my hands pulling and my legs pushing as I inch along to a light. It’s streaming through a grate, and I’m starting to hear something. It’s all click clackey, like fingers at a keyboard, so I slow down so I won’t make any outstandingly loud noises. Still, I’m having to pull along, so I can feel my fingers digging into the soft tissue growing inside the vent. It’s all squishy, and I cringe as I feel it tearing away under my hands. The thought of it beneath my fingernails . . . ugh. It wasn’t too long ago that I couldn’t imagine getting too close to the stuff. Now look at me.

  Whatevs. What’s more important is what I see, because it can’t be anything else but a lab. There are guards standing around on the other side, and even if it’s impossible to see all of them, I know there are a few walking circles around the room. Then you’ve got a few docs in lab coats walking back and forth, tapping at controls and apparently doing science. That’s all avoiding the point though, because off to my left is something . . . I dunno, different. It’s a big glass container that runs to the roof, like the kind I’ve seen used to grow Creep, with all sorts of tubes and wires sticking out of it. Except it’s not just Creep inside. The thing’s almost entirely filled with liquid, like water, but there are masses growing in it. What really gets my attention though, is the guy floating inside. He’s just suspended there with his head above the surface. Anyway, long tubes run down from above him and into a mask strapped around his face. That must be how they’re keeping him from drowning.

  I can’t see him too well from where I am, even if I turn my head at the most painful angle, so I give up, but I still have to think this is who we’re after. Thing is, I don’t know what they’re soaking him in. I mean, I get that there’s Creep in there, so what’s the fluid? I ask this as my hand flattens with a squelch into the surface below. I flinch and yank my fingers away but find long streams of almost transparent gunk trying to anchor me to the vent. That gets my attention, and, for a long second, I look at the stuff covering my fingers, then look back at the tube. God. Is that what they’ve stuck him in? Is he just, like, body deep in Creep saliva?

  What I’m not expecting is the voice that breaks out from the container, and I nearly slam back against the vent wall as the man asks, “So, what is this, guys? Day forty? How long do you think you’ll keep me in here? I’m only asking because this seems like a pretty big waste of time. For the record.”

  Some guy steps into view, and he’s different from all the rest. He’s got no mask and he’s not wearing a lab coat. Instead, he’s just got this thick hoodie he’s wearing over a pair of slick black pants. The hood’s pulled up over his head, and I can see long strands of hair as they swing beneath its edge. “You’ve been quite resistant to our efforts, Mr. McGill.”

  When I hear the name, the muscles in my chest all lock up until I can barely breathe. McGill. Vick McGill. Commander of Scavenger Team One. The guy I used to call Vicious Vick. Holy crapsack. We’ve been looking for these guys for so long, and now . . . this is it. I’m here, half a room away from him, and there’s nothing I can do to help. I’ve barely digested this info when the commander starts talking back from inside his glass container. “I hate to break it to you, David, but it’s not that I’m holding out hope. I’m actually okay with the situation. You’ve had me in here for forever now, so I don’t think this bond’s going to happen any time soon. It’s actually getting pretty boring.”

  “Yes, well, that may be simply a matter of us not applying enough pressure,” he says with a chuckle. “And while I cannot hurt you too much while you’re in there, I can assure you, I have no problem removing you from the tank and having my guards apply some additional, emotional distress. If it will provoke the Creep, of course. This is, after all, a scientific endeavor.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself to ease your conscience? Listen, guy, there are a lot of things in this world that I’m not what you’d call fond of, but if there’s anything I know, it’s that anything’s better than being one of your test subjects for bonding. So, you can talk about hurting me all you want, but I’m still going to prefer being alive and myself to becoming one of those monsters you’re trying to create.”

  “I wonder. Would you say the same thing if we broke a finger? A leg? Suppose we were to run a thousand volts of electricity through your body. Would you prefer living then?”

  A third voice cuts in from one of the masked men at the computers. “Elevated heart rate detected, sir.”

  “Good.” He gets face to face with Vick, or at least as close as he can through the glass. “All your bravado means nothing. Like every other person alive, it seems you actually do worry. I am sure that we can help elevate your tension further once we’ve moved on to phase two of our little experiment.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be out there trying to hunt down someone? Seems to me like you’re just sticking around here because you like my company. Or maybe you just don’t have enough men left to babysit me while you go hunting?”

  “I have enough men to do both.” I freeze up as I think about what that could mean. Do they know we’re here? Is this guy out looking for us? How fast should I head back? I’m thinking up a bajillion questions that hit me so fast, I have to remind myself to keep listening. “You may be correct, though. It may be time for me to take a more hands-on approach to finding our target. After all, as they used to say in the old world, ‘if you want something done right, then you have to do it yourself.’”

  “Maybe you should get out there, then. While you’re at it, you could try throwing yourself into the Creep. That might help you find a solution to your little science experiment.”

  The guy stands there for a second and just stares at Vick from bene
ath his hood. “You know, my old friend, before I go out on the hunt, I feel like I require a breather. Something to relieve the stress I’ve been under. Surely you, of all people, can understand just how critical it is for us to keep ourselves stress free down here in the Deep. The repercussions for not doing so can be . . . tremendous.” He walks up to the glass container, and I see Vick’s head tilt backward, like he’s allergic to the sight. “So, tell me Vick, how does this feel?”

  He taps at some panel, and I watch as the lights in the lab dim for a second. A thundering whining starts to gallop into the air vent as blue arcs travel across the gigantic cables attached to the container. It takes all of a few seconds before the glass tube’s surging with light, and I watch Vick’s body go thrashing as the air around him cracks blue with sparking pulses. I can see the clear goop he’s in bubbling and popping as the glass fogs up, and he jerks around in inhuman motions, like some puppet being yanked around on strings. It’s almost enough to get me to look away, but some part of me needs to see what’s happening. As the droning noise keeps rising, Vick’s body keeps jamming back and forth in his restraints before his head shoots up, and he just screams so loud that my heart starts to hurt. I clamp a hand over my mouth and watch the blue energy fade before the commander’s body slumps over in his prison. Outside, one of the lab doctors just reports, “Subject shows signs of extreme pain and anxiety. Creep activity has been elevated significantly.”

  The guy running this torture show laughs as his gloved hands tucks into his pockets. “I’ve enjoyed our talks, Mr. McGill. Pity that soon you won’t be of the right mind to have any more conversation. At least, once you’ve reached that level of pain, you won’t be able to resist the bond anymore.” He takes a step away toward one of the lab techs. “Make sure that he’s secured before you lock up for the night and make sure you prepare the devices for tomorrow. Our guest must apparently be made to feel the dire nature of his circumstances. At least, if we’re to have any chance of producing a mood conducive to bonding.” He doesn’t stick around long after that, and when he leaves, I can barely make out a few guards standing around in the room outside. It all happens too quick to count them, but it’s probably a safe bet that they don’t leave these places without some security.