FLOOR 21: Judgement (The Tower Legacy Book 3)

by Jason Luthor

  “It’s every day, man. Every day, it’s like I hear something talking into my head, making me feel like I can’t do anything. I keep seeing the faces of my old teammates and I just start breaking. Feels like I was useless. Like nobody needs me around. Like I shouldn’t even be around.”

  I notice her hand on my leg. It makes her jump out of her skin to touch people, so I know even that gesture makes her nervous. Kinda makes me feel better knowing she’s less nervous with me. “It’s impossible for me to know everything you’re going through, but believe me, I know what it’s like to feel as if nobody’s around for you. I get it. I’ve been there. Don’t you remember all those times we used to talk back home, in the library?”

  “Yeah. ‘Course I remember.”

  “Don’t you get how much I needed those?”

  “Maybe . . . Never thought about it too hard, I guess.”

  “Mike, I felt like I had no one. When the whole world felt crazy, you were the only person I could talk to about living in the Tower.”

  “I remember that. We’d sit there and just drop an hour or two talking about the Creep and how we ever got stuck here in the first place.”

  “Yeah. You made me feel like I had someone to go to. Now you need to start realizing that you’ve got me, Mike. Me, and Tommy and Dodger. You’re not alone. I don’t know what it’s like to have to see what you saw, but the only reason you had to in the first place is because of Tower Authority. They never bothered letting you know what could happen down here. But, you’re with us now, you know? And, you should probably know that you’ve been holding up your own. Wasn’t it you who helped talk me down after we ran into David Marshall?”

  She has a point. “Yeah. Yeah, I did that.”

  “You’re a good guy, Mike. None of us really knew what we were getting into coming down here, but we won’t make it alone. We need each other. I needed that chat you gave me after Marshall showed up in the mall, and I’m here for you as much as you need me to be. If the Creep’s pushing hard to make you feel like you’re not worth anything, then I’ll help you push back. Okay?”

  “Yeah, Jackie. Okay.”

  Basically, that’s how it goes. Every day. I just can’t figure out why it was me, you know? Why I had to have this connection. Even if Jackie stays with me to help talk me through what I’m feeling, I know Dodger and Tommy think it’s weird that we go off by ourselves. Couldn’t blame ‘em. I need the talks though. Things just haven’t been normal since we left Abbott and Vick behind. At first, I really thought I could keep everything under control. Thought I could control my emotions. I mean, the Creep’ll kill us all if I let my psychic power, or whatever it is, start flaring up. I’ve already seen what it can do when I let loose, seen it nearly kill Vick and the rest of the old team. That’s how I got trapped by David Marshall in the first place. But seeing Jackie that first time, when she saved me? Guess I thought everything would be okay. I thought I’d be able to forget everything I’d seen. This isn’t a movie though. After Jackie walks away and the lights go out, I still see my old friends when I close my eyes at night. Keep telling myself there’s something I could’ve done. Could’ve saved lives.

  I know Jackie’s kind of the same way. She feels terrible about the people she killed to get to me, and she never forgets the day she killed Creepy Sally. Guess that’s why I was able to hold my own problems together for a while. I wanted to be that guy, you know? The one that’s strong for the girl. Couldn’t cut it though, not even for her. It’s funny too, ‘cause at first, I thought we’d be something. Thought maybe there was some spark there from when we were younger. There was, kinda, it’s just impossible to find it with everything I’m going through. I wouldn’t pressure her about it right now, anyway. She’s carrying everyone. Tommy. Dodger. Me. If she’s not saving lives, she’s keeping our spirits up. Problem is, saving lives means taking lives a lot of the time, and she keeps crucifying herself about having to hurt these Cultists.

  Vick and Abbott were both the same way, in different ways. Vick could brush a lot of stuff off and laugh when other people were terrified, but he killed himself about every person he lost. He loved to fight, but hated thinking about people on the team that wouldn’t be heading back with him. Abbott loved to fight, was really protective of his team, but man, did he talk a lot about the Cultists he killed. At least, from the time I spent with him, he was really big on remembering that just because the Cultists were his enemy, that didn’t mean they weren’t human. Thing was, Abbott knew how to professionalize it. Compartmentalize it. He separated that part of himself into the business side. Jackie hasn’t been doing this long enough to know how to do that.

  She might stress over all the people she’s killed, but look what happens when you don’t do anything. I didn’t do anything, and my friends died. All of them, except for Vick, of course. Everyone else on the team though? Gone, while I hid in closets and under bodies because I was too scared to stand up for them. Doesn’t matter if it was because the Creep makes it harder for me to control my emotions. Especially my fear. I should have done something. People die when you don’t act. Good people, people that were being hunted, that just wanted to go home. If she thinks it’s hard being responsible for the people she killed, I’d hate for her to know what it’s like to do nothing and see innocent people die. Maybe we’ve both got blood on our hands. Mine are covered with innocent blood though. She’s killed Cultists that put barrels to our heads first. She’s a hero. I was a coward. That’s the difference between us.

  Jackie’s Recording 15

  I always see Dodger using the private rooms we set off for recording, so she must be really taking it to heart. It’s cool though. I get it. It’s a good way to keep from freaking out, you know? Like, it keeps life feeling like everything’s peaches. I’m not sure the boys feel the same way about it. It’s literally like pulling teeth from Mike, but I keep telling him it’ll help him deal with his feelings. At least, that’s what used to work for me whenever I thought life was just insanely and utterly terrible. Tommy’s Tommy. He’ll do whatever I tell him. He likes to act like a tough guy, but he’s really just a big push over. Tommy the toolshed. I’ve got to say though, I’ve really come to like that idiot, and I hate admitting that. Well, at least I used to.

  I actually feel pretty bad about not talking to him recently. I know he’s worried. Dodger is too, but she just became my friend a few weeks ago. Me and Tommy went through training together, and we’ve known each other since we were little, even if I hated him for most of that time. I don’t have Allison around anymore, and I can’t just spend all day talking to this recorder, even if sometimes I feel like I want to. I need to be friendlier with Tommy and all them. I want to be, it’s just, I’m so busy taking care of Mike, you know? Some of the stuff he’s told me about what he’s gone through, about the people he saw die . . . It’s awful. He feels all messed up because he didn’t do anything to help. I tell him it was an impossible choice, that if he’d tried to act, he would have lost control of his power and made the whole Tower come apart. It helps calm him down, but by the time we’re done talking through his problems, I just feel exhausted. I’ve never been what you’d call emotionally well-adjusted, so trying to play therapist to someone else isn’t exactly something I’m an expert at.

  One thing I will say? I’ve literally never had so many people who wanted to talk to me in my life. I just . . . I keep struggling because I’m not sure I can actually be a real friend to any of them. This is the first time ever that I’ve felt like I’ve even wanted to try, but it’s almost impossible with all the stuff that’s happening around us. It’s kind of hard to be a real friend when I’m always scared something’s going to happen to them. With Mike barely holding it together, I’m scared he’s going to be a risk to us during a fight. Then you’ve got Dodger. She’s great, but she’s the worst shooter on the team. I’m worried all the time that she’s going to miss with her shot and get plugged by some Cultist. So, we can be in the middle of a fight, and
I’ll be distracted because I feel like I’ve got to watch her back. She’s dealing with being down here better than Mike, at least mentally, but she’s just so bad with a gun. The only thing that makes feel good at all about that situation is that she’s improving. So, at least I know she’s getting better. I don’t know that about Mike.

  But Tommy? Tommy’s great. He’s the best fighter we’ve got, but I’d be a liar if I said that’s the only reason I like having him around. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to know there’s someone else who’s not going to suddenly crack when things go bad. I like to think, if something happened to me, that he’d be able to look after Dodger and Mike. He’s so good at being there for everyone. I know he thinks of himself like he’s just the team clown or whatever, but you need someone like that. He keeps everyone smiling, including Mike, when Mike’s not in one of his super dark moods. So, yeah, Tommy’s cool. He’s the person I’m worried about the least. Maybe that’s why he’s the person I appreciate having around most, since worrying about Dodger and Mike around the clock’s been an emotional dumpster fire for me.

  Still, that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him. It just means I’m worried about him a little less. I mean, I go to sleep thinking about these people. I hate that feeling. It’s the first time that I can remember when I’ve felt like what I do could really have an effect on someone else. Of course, in my case, that means life and death for everyone. If I screw up, I’m scared the whole team will fall apart, and that constant feeling that they’re depending on me isn’t easy to shake. I mean, I’m the one who dragged them down this far into the Deep, and they all really think I can get them to ground level. We’re barely finding food anymore, so how the hell do we expect to make it out of here?

  If I’m not thinking about keeping them alive, I’m thinking about what David Marshall said to me. Yeah, I get it. Everyone says I’m their hero, that I’m the one who’s taking charge and saving the team. Maybe. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it when I see someone close their eyes for the last time. I feel like every time I have to defend the team, every time I have to . . . every time I have to . . . kill, someone . . . that it piles up on top of all the other bodies in my head. The worst part isn’t that I see them when I go to sleep. No, I think I’d prefer that. The worst part is I can’t see them anymore. There’ve been so many people I’ve had to kill that I’ve forgotten what they all look like. I remember the first guy I ever shot down here, but besides him, the only other person I really remember is Creepy Sally. Everyone else though? Gone. No memory of them. I remember the fights me and the team have gotten into, I remember the times I’ve had to kill, but specific faces? I just don’t remember those anymore. That scares me more than anything else.

  And what it does, what it really does that makes me burn up inside, is hate David Marshall. None of this would have happened if he wasn’t trying to get his revenge. I mean, he just keeps sending his men after us. Every day, I’ve got bruises running down my legs, scars on my arms from where I’ve been cut or had a bullet catch me, and I still don’t know when we’re finally going to find a way past him. I’m not sure how many men he had working for him, but at this point it feels like we’ve gone through dozens of Cultists. They just keep coming, over and over, trying to wear us down. It’s like he enjoys torturing us, which I wouldn’t doubt, considering he literally did torture Commander Vick. Plus, let’s not forget the small detail of him hunting down Mike and killing off the rest of his team. After everything Marshall’s done, I just want all this to be over. It’d be nice if I could wake up one morning and not have to worry about him coming after us. You know what would be even better? If he had to face up to all the killing he’s done. Anybody that’s done what he’s done should have to really think about all the lives they’ve ruined. People deserve justice.

  With all that said, I just can’t . . . I don’t want him dead. Whatever it is guys like him feel, I don’t have that bloodlust. I never came down here to kill people off, and I don’t care what he does to me; I refuse to be like him. I’m not going to start taking any joy out of all this killing that’s going on, even if it’s David Marshall that does the dying. Would I feel relieved? Yeah, I would, but do you know how terrible it feels to say that? If he wasn’t around, I wouldn’t have to worry about the next time we were going to get attacked anymore. I wouldn’t have to worry that Mike or Tommy or Dodger might catch a bullet. But would I feel happy? No. I’m not a monster like him. I guess that’s why I can’t understand why he would throw away so many lives just to get to me. I don’t understand how he can hate me so much. Because I fricked up his science experiment? An experiment that would’ve tortured Mike to death?

  That’s really what this boils down to. It’s thinking about my friends that makes me hate him more than anything else. Life would be so much easier if, just for a second, I didn’t have to worry about someone on the team biting it. I get so beat up trying to make sure they’re all okay. Then we get back here, and I have to sit through two hours of Mike borderline crying. I hate saying it like that. I sound . . . I sound like I’m the most selfish, horrible person in the world because, as much as I complain about Mike, I really want to be there for him. The truth is, I mean, I love him. Maybe not romantically, because it’s really hard to feel like that when I’m constantly exhausted from trying to take care of him, but I still love him. We settle down every night, and then I’ll sit there and listen to him until I pass out. You couldn’t have paid me to do that for anyone a year ago. Still, it’s still a lot to carry, you know? And maybe it would be different if he could talk to someone else just once in a while, but it’s not like he thinks he can trust anyone else. Out of everyone in the group, I was the only one he really knew back up on the top floors.

  That’s probably underselling our relationship. I mean, we used to sit and chat for forever in the library, and I still love thinking about those times we had together. We’d waste whole days dodging work duty and trying to figure out what was outside this place. That’s why I still want to be there for him, I just . . . I just wish I had a second to stop and breathe, you know? I feel monumentally selfish for saying that, but . . . I just feel like my bones want to give out underneath me half the time. Obviously, I’ll still do anything for Mike. For all of them. I’m just really tired. But, I brought everyone down here, so it’s my job to get them out. If I have time to be a normal friend after that, without worrying all the time about keeping them alive, then great. Despite the fact that I’m an insecure neurotic who couldn’t handle more than one friendship at a time when I used to live back on Floor 4, I really feel like, more than anything, I’d like things to just settle down right now. Maybe then I could connect with everyone more. I’d vastly prefer to have the laughs back instead of worrying all the time that the team won’t survive. I’ve just seen too many people lost already, and I really don’t need it to be one of my friends next time. It’s the absolute worst, sitting there, face to face with them and wondering if they’ll be around the next day.

  I’m talking a lot. I guess I just . . . Maybe I finally needed a break. I’ve never had to carry people like this, and with how bad things got today . . . I don’t know. Everything was a recipe for a slaughterhouse. I mean, it was a wide hallway, but it was the first time we’d seen apartments in forever, so I knew we had to keep an eye out for food. So, I’m leading the group, because of course I am, when, I don’t know, I just get this feeling. I’ve gotten really good with these hunches. Maybe not psychic good, but good enough. Anyway, something just doesn’t feel right. The lights are almost all out, but I can see a lot of crates and boxes ahead of us. Cover, basically. Then I hear something, a safety going off, and I literally grab Tommy and throw him through a door next to us. Everyone dives after him just as a bunch of rifles pull around those crates and start firing, and the next thing I know, the whole team’s hauling its way through an empty apartment. I’ve gotten used to the layout of these places, and I know there’s another room waiting on the other side
of the walls, so it takes me all of five seconds to plant some explosives while Mike and Tommy take potshots out the front door.

  When the wall blows open, I feel a rush as clouds of concrete fly past me, and I’m just screaming, “MOVE! MOVE!” as I hold my rifle up and spray bullets out of the doorway. The team’s through the smoking gap before I finally back out, but the last thing I do is drop one of my grenades. That holds off the Cultists just long enough for the team to push outside into a hall we’ve never seen. Not that it matters, since they all basically look the same at this point, so I immediately order everyone to run. Sweat’s rolling down my forehead in streaks that bunch up over my eyebrows, but I just keep barking at the team to keep moving. Soon, we’re out of the hall and heading toward a walkway ahead of us.

  The further down the Tower we’ve gone, the more the layout’s changed. The hallways down here empty into these huge central common areas. They’re basically massive halls with a gap running down the middle, and you can actually stare over the rails and down onto the lower floors. Bridges connect both sides of the commons, but the scary part about it are the long arms of Creep that drift up through the gap and just sway in midair. It’s like running through a forest of tendrils, but honestly, the gunfire trailing us is scarier. Everyone dives for cover behind a shielded railway on the other side of the bridge, and the next thing we know, we’re staring down something like two dozen Cultists that are coming for us. Out of nowhere, I’m listening to Dodger screaming as she holds onto her arm, which is all crimson by the time I get a look at it.

  Still, somehow she shoulders her rifle and gets back up. Everyone’s returning fire, and I uncork another grenade. Anything to give us a second to get some momentum, really. I turn to pitch it, but the minute I get my shoulder over the railway, I feel my arm jerk back as a bullet cracks into my upper chest. It’s like a river of heat and pain that dances down the side of my body, but as hard as I grit my teeth when I feel the hit, it’s nothing new. I’ve felt this pain before. I’ve been shot before, and I know what it’s like to catch a bullet to my tactical vest. My mind is racing, not because I’m scared I’ll bleed out, but because there’s a live grenade rolling around on the ground. “Tommy!” I scream, and he sees it. That guy. He doesn’t hesitate, just grabs it and chucks it over. Then he’s joining me on the floor as a shot takes him across the chest. He’s screaming as he hits the wall, but it’s almost covered up by the sound of the grenade exploding.