The Crystal Tower

by Liam Donnelly

  The four friends looked up as a whirring sound came from the drones; their weapons were now armed, and green laser points appeared at various positions on each of their torsos. Jane glanced down at one of the bright dots, which was resting in the center of her chest. Then she looked back up at Lucas. Her palm was getting hotter. Her jaw trembled, and she shook her hand a little. For a moment, the pain diminished, and she was able to concentrate again. Jane continued staring at Lucas, at this point ready to throw him into the side of the nearest building.

  “Say his name,” she said, raising her voice.

  “Go to stage two,” Lucas yelled in response.

  The men and women armed their weapons. Clicking sounds filled the street ahead of them.

  Having momentarily lost her concentration, Jane did not notice that Ciara was moving away from the group. Slowly, seemingly in a confused fashion, she had taken a few steps toward the road from which they had come.

  Ciara! No! Don’t move yet! Jane yelled at her.

  “On your right,” Lucas yelled.

  Jane heard a click and something swished near her. She heard the impact, and she frowned in confusion, as it sounded like bubblegum popping. She heard Ciara yelp and saw her react quickly, pulling the tranquilizer dart from her arm. Then her eyes rolled back, and she sank to her knees.

  They all rushed to her side, but Lucas’s voice bellowed from across the street.

  “Don’t move!”

  Half turned toward Ciara now, Jane slowly turned back to face him, a look of vitriol spreading across her fine features.

  Jane, I’m fine. I managed to get the dart out in time. I’m just slightly sedated.

  Jane nodded her head. Good, she replied.

  “Say his name,” Jane growled as she held Lucas’s gaze. In that stare was a final warning. This was a stalemate from which she was not going to walk away.

  Jane! We don’t have time for this. Turn it on! Mike yelled in her mind. I’ll take care of them, but I need your power. He looked over at her, glaring. JANE!

  Reluctantly pulling her gaze away from Lucas and his large contingent of subordinates, Jane looked at the ground. She clenched her fists, ignoring the searing heat that still throbbed in her right palm, and reached inside herself. Finding the power, she turned it on. Strengthened by the anger coursing through her, Jane felt a wave spread out from her body, encircling her friends.

  In unison, they stared at her in awe.

  Whoa! What the heck was—? Forget it. Mike gritted his teeth and lifted his hands into the air as incredible light poured from them. Shut your eyes now! he yelled. Jane closed her eyes and knelt low to the ground, but kept her psychic senses open, so that she saw everything happening on the street as Mike worked his newfound power. He slammed his hands together over his head, and a tremendous boom echoed off the buildings. Light exploded from the impact point of his palms and spread across the street in front of them in a rapid shockwave, a piercing, near-blinding blaze. It was almost pure white, tinged with small streaks of blue-hued electrical energy. With her psychic vision, Jane watched as Morris dropped to the ground, not realizing how powerful the blast of psychic light would be. Across the distance that separated them from Lucas and his team, she heard bodies dropping to the ground.

  When Mike had done all he could, he let out a breath and dropped his hands to his sides, leaning over. As he did, the light retreated into his palms and disappeared. Jane opened her eyes. As Mike’s light—whatever it was—had spread out, Jane had covered her face with her right arm. Now, she uncovered her eyes and stood. Glancing across the street, she saw that some of the energy from Mike’s blast was still rippling like mist across the walls of the buildings in the distance, but then that, too, vanished.

  As Jane looked back at Lucas, she saw that he’d at least had the sense to duck behind a door frame, and now he appeared staggered, dazed by the effect of Mike’s psychic light. Tentatively, his jaw trembling and his frantic eyes betraying his shock, Lucas stepped forward and glanced around to see that 70 percent of his contingent was now lying unconscious on the ground. The remainder were stunned—many of them on the ground and struggling to return to their respective positions. The others, who had taken up positions on Madison Avenue at both ends of the junction, had been completely wiped out, and were sprawled across the street on both sides.

  Lucas looked at Jane. He stood up straight and stared into her eyes.

  “Say his name, Lucas,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

  Lucas stepped forward and lifted his arms, leveling a weapon directly at her.

  Jane didn’t know what type of weapon it was; at this point, it was of little consequence to her.

  “If you don’t say his name, I can’t bring him to you,” she said, toying with him.

  No immediate response came from Lucas, who merely blinked.

  “What is it? Are you afraid of him? Are you afraid of the name of the man who lifted your entire fleet of vessels out of the sea?”

  Lucas gritted his teeth. “Max!” he screamed. “His name’s Max!”

  Something dropped onto the center of the road, moving so fast it appeared to be nothing more than a wisp of black. A thunderous sound resounded from the impact point. Cracks in the concrete appeared there and spread outward, rocking the ground beneath them.

  Jane immediately knew who it was. Max had landed with one clenched fist having impacted the concrete. Now, as he stood, he turned toward the contingent of men and women—those who were left standing. Watching from behind, Jane could only presume he was staring at Lucas, as the man first watched motionless in astonishment. Then he reeled back a few feet before coming to a stop near the front of the heavily armored vehicle in which he had arrived. Lucas placed his hand on the black-colored front section as though it offered some form of mystical protection.

  Slowly, Max pulled his gaze away from Lucas and turned around to them. As his face turned, Jane immediately felt a pang of fear. He appeared to have aged at least ten years since she had last seen him. For some reason, memories of her father tried to surface—in particular, the one in which she had so recently seen him as he worked on his vehicle at his house in Bordeaux. She couldn’t allow any more of this recollection to come through, and she remained focused on the moment as much as she could. Max seemed to recognize her reaction. He nodded at her with a confident gaze, which alone renewed her strength. Then, he turned toward Ciara and his brow creased.

  Are you all right? he asked. His telepathic voice was strong enough for all of them to hear it clearly.

  I’m all right, Max, thanks. Just a little bit stunned, Ciara replied, still slightly crouched over.

  Max turned to Mike. Nice going, Michael, he said.

  Mike smiled nervously.

  Jane wasn’t smiling. As Max turned to her, he gave her one brief glance, which was accompanied by an expression that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace. She could tell that he recognized the problem she was having.

  Max sighed and turned back toward Lucas. His torso rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Then his clear voice radiated across the street.

  “It appears you’ve been laboring under a misapprehension, Mr. Johnson. I see you’ve come here to contain me, instructed by this misguided Committee, of which you are an employee. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to oblige, as there are more urgent matters for me to attend to.”

  Lucas stared at the man, still in shock, motionless. He didn’t respond.

  “Are you aware that a massive object composed of a crystalline substance has formed five miles off the coast of New York City?”

  Lucas frowned and blinked a few times; apparently, the answer to that question was “no.” He shuffled, seeming unsure of how to proceed. He had not lowered his weapon, and Jane watched now as his hands drifted a few degrees to the right, so that the weapon was pointing directly at Max. Jane took a step forward and to her right so that she could get a better look at
Max’s face as he spoke. His eyes narrowed to slits, and she knew he was reading each of their minds like open books.

  “Don’t bother me with this, please, Mr. Johnson.”

  Lucas was staring at Max’s face now, unable to conceal his fear. He took deep, labored breaths. “Stage three, now!” Lucas yelled.

  A split-second hissing sound came from somewhere in the distance as a projectile was launched into the air. Jane watched as it flew toward them in an arc that reached seventy feet off the ground. A high-pitched ringing resonated around them, and Jane winced and covered her ears. She saw her friends react in the same way, but she noticed that Max didn’t move an inch as he watched the object fly toward them. When it had crested in its arc and was halfway across the distance that separated them from Lucas’s contingent, he raised one arm, palm facing forward. The spherical device—whatever it was—stopped moving immediately, caught in the grasp of his power. The high-pitched ringing continued until it reached a crescendo, and then the object exploded into a blaze of light. At the same time, Max’s hand glowed with white light and a sphere of energy surrounded the object, sealing in whatever force it was supposed to release upon them.

  Jane glanced toward Max’s arm, watching as he casually held the object and its energy in place. The road once again returned to its original light level as the illumination from the explosion diminished. Jane let her hands fall to her sides and watched as Max slowly closed his fist. The sphere of energy, which he had created to contain what Jane now knew was some kind of psionic shockwave intended to render her and her friends unconscious, began collapsing on itself, growing smaller with each passing second.

  After several more seconds, the shield, which appeared to be a white-hued bubble in the fading daylight, was only a few feet in diameter. Then the inner edges of the energy sphere reached the object and, as Max clenched his fist even tighter, the device began collapsing in on itself and was crushed. There was a brief flash of light, and then the sound of crushing metal as the grenade was destroyed. A brief hiss sounded as the bubble of energy disappeared. Then the sky was clear and the object was gone.

  Max looked away from the sky, slowly lowered his fist, and gently clasped his hands in front of him. A gust of wind picked up on the street, blowing his cloak sideways. Jane glanced at Lucas, who caught her gaze. She couldn’t help but smile in a mocking fashion.

  Max glanced at the ground, shook his head gently, and then glanced back up at the man. “Lucas. Please don’t do that again,” he said flatly.

  Lucas glared at Max, his jaw taut. Evident fear now poured from his eyes. Jane saw his chest rise and fall rapidly. She noticed that what remained of the contingent was stepping backward, showing signs that they were terrified of this man and what he had just done. Jane knew Lucas wouldn’t quit; however, she also knew he was a stupid, stupid man for continuing.

  “Again,” he yelled eventually, managing to spit the words out of his mouth. Jane saw one woman on the far left glare at Lucas in astonishment; she could tell by the woman’s nervous gait that she wanted to drop her weapon and run. At least she knew this was an exercise in absolute futility.

  Jane heard Max sigh. Then, before they had a chance to launch another one of the projectile devices, Max raised his hands to his sides, palms facing upward. Jane frowned as, for a moment, nothing happened. Then her mouth gaped open when the back of the truck on which Lucas stood rose off the ground. The only sound it made was that of discordant, heaving metal. Lucas recoiled and backed away quickly, watching as the front end followed. Then the entire vehicle was levitating off the ground and floating into the air. When this first truck was ten feet above them and still climbing, the others followed. Lucas’s subordinates—the ones who had managed to remain conscious—watched, transfixed, as the fifteen or so other cars and larger, tank-like vehicles rose off the ground and out of their control—gone.

  Jane’s eyes grew wide at what she witnessed next. One by one, they began floating, too. Jane watched the same woman—the one who had initially glared at Lucas—rise upward; it seemed as though her legs had been gently pulled from beneath her, and her hands grasped out for something to hold on to, but the ground rapidly receded away from her. The woman had let go of her weapon, which was now floating away and out of her reach. As Jane looked around, she saw that every man and woman with whom Lucas had arrived was lifting off the ground. After a moment, the immediate sky, from one side of the street to the other, was filled with more than a hundred people (many of them still unconscious), floating weapons, and the various armored vehicles they had brought with them.

  Jane glanced at Max’s palms and saw the two points of light that had grown there. Light was brimming from the corners of his eyes, too. Jane squinted. It reminded her of the light she had seen coming from the eyes of the rogue Ethereals they had already encountered, though instead of the eerie blue she remembered, Max’s light was a dazzling white. Dismissing this, she looked back up again, and a smile crept across her face. The scene transfixed her. The sky was literally filled with the entire contingent. Some of them had been waiting in their vehicles for further instructions and were now trapped, either banging their fists against the windows or pressing against the ceilings for support.

  When they had reached the height of the tallest buildings surrounding them, Max slowly turned his palms over. Moving in motion with the direction of his hands, the vehicles and people floated outward toward the rooftops. They split into four separate streams, moving closer to the buildings on either side of the street, which drastically differed in height. Then, when the entire contingent, now separated, was hovering directly over the rooftops, Max turned his palms downward. Slowly, the lot of men and women, along with their vehicles, floated down and came to rest.

  Jane could only smile as she heard the suspensions in the trucks squeaking distantly from far above and people grunting as Max released his hold over them and they fell. After a few moments, everything had settled, and all was quiet. Then, a few people appeared over the top of the tall building to her left. At first, she saw a man, whose head and shoulders appeared above the top of the wall. He was followed by a woman, and then another man. They intermittently ducked below the cover of the wall, seeming afraid to look completely over the top.

  ***

  Lucas felt his body go light, and as he looked at the ground, he saw it recede. Then he floated upward, and the world began spinning as he tumbled slowly. In this movement, he caught perplexing glimpses of the spinning cars and people as they all rose into the air; his vision became a mélange of reflections of the windows of high-rise buildings, spinning black trucks, the road below, and the sky above. He reached for his weapon, but it was gone—floating away from him and already out of reach at a distance of twenty feet. As Lucas spun one more time, he caught a glimpse of the other weapons; they had been drawn together near the ground, suspended in midair, but not moving upward along with them. He took quick glances at the men and women around him—his own subordinates, who were now just as powerless as he was—and saw that they had been disarmed. Not a single one of them he could glimpse had a weapon of any kind.

  Not much rational thought went through his mind as the sight of window frames and turning vehicles passed him by, but after a moment, the duration of which he could not discern, there came a sudden jolt as his body stopped moving. They were high up—at least two hundred feet. His body was held in a lateral position, and he was facing the ground. He glared down at the man he knew was doing this, a man whose name he’d had the courage to say exactly two times. Lucas was terrified of him, but his fear was so deeply buried that it manifested as a laughable kind of bravado. Now, for the first time, something constructive happened for Lucas: his fear turned to true rage. Until that point, his anger had been a mere defense—a cover for his cowardly actions during the Atlantic incident, and his previous failures involving Jane Connor. Now, for the first time, he was truly, horrifyingly—dangerously—angry. He gritted his teeth as he
stared at the man’s upward-facing hands, squinting. Even at this distance, he saw the points of light that beamed from them.

  Then, Lucas’s body was pulled left, and as he glanced in that direction, he saw that he, along with several large vehicles and thirty or so members of his contingent, were moving toward the top of one of the buildings. They moved closer to it, and Lucas watched in awe as he floated over the perimeter of the wall lining the small section of rooftop. Slowly, they were lowered onto it. When he was a couple feet off the ground, the invisible grip that held his body disappeared without warning, and he dropped the remaining height straight onto the concrete.

  Lucas yelled out in pain as his face hit the surface. He turned over, sitting up. Reaching for his nose, he rubbed beneath it and felt a wetness there. Drawing back his hand, he saw blood and scowled. Lucas checked the surface of his nose for breaks, but found none; it was OK. Still, some blood was streaking down his nostril, and he wiped it away on his fatigues, leaving a small smudge that ran across his lip. Getting his bearings, Lucas scrambled toward the edge of the wall, where two of his subordinates were already looking down. Placing his back against it, Lucas slowly peeked his head over and looked at the ground.

  As he did, he saw the man’s psychokinetic grip release from the weapons, which dropped onto the road with a clatter. Lucas ducked back beneath the edge of the wall and stared at the thirty or so people, many of whom were now getting to their feet and dusting themselves off, though some were still lying flat with their eyes shut, unconscious. Those who were awake looked extremely disoriented, but Lucas was not; he felt nothing but anger. In his disturbed mind, Max had violated him.

  “Does anyone have a weapon?” he asked, raising his voice just enough to be heard by everyone.

  They all glanced at him with looks of confusion, as though this was the first voice they had heard in a long time.

  ***

  Jane walked toward Max and reached for his hand. She placed her left palm in his and gripped it tightly. He turned slowly and glanced down at her. She was happy to see him, and that he was OK, but as she got a clear view of his face, she saw more clearly the new lines that had formed around his eyes. He looked as beautiful as she had ever remembered, and there had been times in the past when he had appeared to her as a non-corporeal being, when his emotions had colored his appearance, making him appear older or younger depending on how he felt or, indeed, the context. This was different, though; he was human now. She couldn’t yet imagine what the implications of this would be. How and why was he aging like this?