The Babel Tower

by J. B. Simmons

  He turned back to see thunderheads growing from the west. They were dark grey, almost black at their base. He’d checked the weather this morning. A storm was supposed to come tonight. It was coming early.

  Jake picked up his pace. He still had a few miles to go. He did the quick math. Clouds on the horizon, swallowing the sun at 3 o’clock. He’d be home by 5, but clouds move fast. Big ones like this, racing with a storm, can travel 40 or 50 miles per hour. They’d already passed the Rockies. They had less than 200 miles to go. He should beat them home, but it would be close.

  He thought about the short man in the tower, and about Liz.

  Why do I love her?

  She was of the world and the tower. He belonged on the farm. He belonged to God.

  But so does she. He knew it was true. He wrestled the doubts. This wasn’t a whim. It wasn’t a fairytale, either. Challenges would come, but he would face them.

  She could change. He could change. A year on the farm together and they could move closer to each other. They were so different, but so much alike at their core.

  Would I want to change?

  Jake strode faster. It wasn’t about what he wanted. He didn’t go trying to find this girl. She showed up on his farm. She built her tower next door. It wasn’t choice that led to their encounter, their sparks. He would find a way to show her. He would change, too, if he had to. The little things, anyway. He’d talk more. He’d take a trip away from the farm. He’d shave.

  No, no shaving.

  They’d find a way. A compromise.

  God, please show us a way.

  He prayed more. He thought more, around and around in circles. He tried counting his steps for a distraction, but it was no good. He kept glancing back at the clouds, feeling the darkness there, sweeping toward him.

  The wind was picking up. The sky felt hollow, like the air was sucked out.

  He checked his watch. 4:23.

  He could see the farmhouse better now, but he still had half an hour.

  The first drop of rain tapped the back of his left ear. Then another on his neck. He turned again. The clouds still seemed a good ways off. Certainly not overhead. How could he feel rain already?

  Had to be the wind. It was starting to gust.

  He began to run. The rain fell harder, covering the road and making it slick. His boots slipped. He ran faster.

  A final half-mile stood between him and home. He paused to catch his breath, and turned to check the storm.

  Black and grey and boiling clouds filled the sky, stretching from heaven to hell, ripping a seam in existence. The funnel had no point at the bottom, only chaos.

  Jake’s mouth fell open as a huge twister ripped into the ground. Black at the top, brown at the bottom. Dirt and debris speckled the sky.

  And right in front of it, square in its path: the tower.

  Dear Lord, protect her.

  Jax had said she was alone at the top. Surely a tornado couldn’t knock down a building. It had steel rooting it deep into the earth. It had concrete frames, built to last. No storm, not even this, could topple it. Right?

  Jake shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the things under his control right now. His body, his home, his family. He turned and sprinted. Adrenalin firing, muscles pounding, storm chasing.

  The farmhouse was close. White walls, red tin roof, and still-blue skies beyond. The wind was wailing now. It hammered at his body, tugged at his shirt. Each racing step was a battle against the wind, trying to stay upright. Hail the size of peanuts started to fall.

  He had a couple hundred yards to go when he saw Pops, far to his right, far away from the house. He stood still, gazing at the approaching storm.

  “Pops!” Jake shouted.

  It was no use. The wind muffled the sound, yanked up a thousand feet. Lightning struck. Thunder an instant later.

  He needed to get his grandfather. Bring him into the house. He needed to make sure the rest of his family was in the storm cellar.

  It was a split second decision. Confirm the family was secure, then go for Pops. He charged into the house. It was oddly quiet. He went to the kitchen, lifted the heavy door over the stairs leading down.

  “Jake?” His mom’s voice.

  He bounded down the stairs to the cellar. His mom, Annie, and grandmother were gathered around a small table. Candles were lit.

  “You made it!” his mom said. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

  “Pops is still out there,” Jake said. “I have to get him.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Your grandfather knows what he’s doing. He’ll take care of himself. It’s no use putting yourself in more danger.”

  Jake couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know what to say.

  “He could die out there!” Annie cried.

  Jake sprinted back up the stairs and out the front door. He had to shove his whole weight into the door to make it through. The wind had whipped into a howling gale.

  He paused at the edge of the front porch. His gaze rose like a kid’s watching a balloon fly away. The storm had engulfed the tower in the distance. The biggest tornado he’d ever seen.

  He glanced to where Pops had been, but no one was in sight. There was nowhere to hide that direction. No cellar. No shelter.

  As he stepped forward, he glimpsed something huge out of the corner of his eye. He ducked just as a tree limb soared over his head. Wood and metal and everything else were in the air. The tornado fought gravity. It fought order.

  Jake turned back into the house, rushed to the cellar where the others were huddled. He sealed the door behind him.

  He sat at the little table, praying and watching the candle in the center. Its flame shook. The walls and the floor groaned at the pressure against them. It sounded like a threshing machine rolling over the house.

  Then light flooded the cellar. Shards of wood flew into the room. The door had been ripped off.

  Jake jumped to his feet and rushed the three women to the far corner. He wrapped his arms around them, his back to the gaping door and the cyclone. They held onto each other as the storm battered everything they knew.

  58

  Liz regained consciousness before her eyes opened. The first thing she felt was her heartbeat, steady. Then her shallow breathing, in and out, in and out. Next came pain. The worst of it was in her shoulder. It felt like someone had sliced it off. Her ankle and her head hurt, too. But all these things were okay. The heart, the breath, the pain, and life going on. It meant the tower stood.

  She slowly lifted her eyelids. She blinked once, twice. But the object was still there, beside her on the top floor of the tower. Half of an old, battered wood table. Glass shards were everywhere around her feet. But there had been no windows here.

  Her mind slowly put the pieces together, but the steady breeze made the answer clear. The tornado. It had shattered glass and sent it flying. It had thrown this table at her.

  It wasn’t much longer before the shouting came. “Liz! Liz!”

  Multiple voices.

  She turned her head and saw them hovering over her. The familiar faces looked worried, but relieved, too.

  “Hunter, go, get help!”

  He nodded and disappeared from view. But Jax remained. He will always stay, Liz thought, and it was a comfortable thought. The tower stood, and Jax was here. Things might be okay.

  “How…how bad is it?” she asked, surprised at how her voice croaked out.

  “I don’t know.” Jax held her face in his hands. He smiled. “You’re alive. I can’t believe it. The tornado hit us pretty hard.”

  “Any damage to the tower?”

  “It’s standing strong. Lots of windows broken, but seems like no structural damage.”

  “Thank God,” she said, trying to lift up on her arms, but failing. “Help me up.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He touched her temple, then her shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I want to get up.”

>   “Alright.” He crouched closer and slid her good arm over his shoulder. “On three, let’s stand together.”

  She nodded.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Her ankle screamed at her as she rose, but it held. Jax wavered a little under her weight until they found their balance. “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded to the edge of the room. “Over there. I want to have a look.”

  He glanced down. “You don’t have shoes.”

  “So?”

  “The glass. It’s everywhere.”

  “Just clear a little path. It’s not far.”

  Jax did it, swiping his feet in front of them, making a path just wide enough for her to walk through. The glass was shatterproof, so the shards clung together. No fragments pierced her skin as they shuffled to the side of the room.

  Liz peered over the edge, taking in the scene below. Everything was small, distant, as before. But something seemed out of place.

  “How bad is the damage?” she asked.

  “Hunter said the sensors weren’t showing any problems. It’s a miracle, really. He said it’s the largest tornado on record in Nebraska. Nothing around us is still standing. The worker camps, the trees—all flattened. We don’t have estimates yet of how many were hurt.”

  She nodded, studying the land again. Then her breath froze. The sun was behind them. Which meant they were looking east. The Conrad farm was to the east. But it wasn’t. There wasn’t a white farmhouse to be seen. The land was empty. The peaceful happy place, where she’d read Daddy’s note, where she’d met Jake…it was gone. Tears began to fill her eyes.

  By the time Dylan and others showed up, Liz was kneeling on the concrete floor, crying. Someone helped her lay back, then lifted her body to a stretcher, connected an IV, and wheeled her to the elevator.

  * * *

  Jax watched them cart Liz away. He knew what really tore at her, and the truth of it ripped at him, too. He had been with her when she learned that her dad died. He had seen her hurt before. But he had never seen her like this.

  Well after the others were gone, Jax sat alone at the tower’s top. His legs dangled off the edge, hanging over Nebraska and the world.

  Dangerous thoughts swirled in his mind, stoked into chaos like the storm. He’d lied to Liz, and to himself. The lies were coming back, wrapping around him.

  She will never cry for you like that. So why not slide off? You’ll never have her. You’ve failed.

  “No,” he muttered to himself. He still had time…maybe the farmer was dead.

  Stop kidding yourself. A six-foot goddess and a five-foot runt? You were made for different worlds. Maybe it’s easier to leave. To jump.

  He nudged forward an inch. Maybe it’s easier.

  59

  Dylan was tending the laceration on Liz’s shoulder when he got the text from Katarina.

  It’s time. Servers.

  There wasn’t much else he could do for Liz here. The medical staff had arrived. They had more experience than he did. Katarina must be thinking Liz would be distracted now. She’d told him it was almost time to put the plan into action.

  Before leaving, Dylan plucked a single, fine hair from Liz’s arm. A backup. He smiled down at her beautiful face. This is for you.

  He rode the elevator down to ground level, then he descended the stairs deep underground. He found himself constantly looking back, but no one was around. He stopped in front of the open metal door. The vault was unlocked. It was his last chance to turn back.

  Does Katarina know that it’s a trap?

  He stepped inside, and a gust of cold, metallic wind greeted him. The forever-long rows of servers hummed quietly. He didn’t see Katarina, so he walked down the center aisle. The humming surrounded him, settling into a rhythm, pulsing with his footsteps. Every twenty feet or so there was a thin gap, with the perpendicular rows of servers going to the far walls.

  The road of our future, Dylan thought. The servers stored enough conversations to know the heart of humanity. He could study that heart, he could learn it like he’d learned the body, and he could find the cures. But he couldn’t betray his friend, not any more.

  “Took you long enough,” said a woman’s soft voice.

  Katarina appeared. The blinking green lights of the servers gave her skin a sickly glow.

  “Is everything clear?” Dylan asked.

  Her full, pouty lips curved up in a smile. “It’s just us. And it’s time. Ready to give the data to the world?”

  “You picked an awful time for this. Liz is hurt.”

  “I heard. You have the key?”

  A rustle in the air made Dylan shudder. Just the cooling system, he thought. But he knew others should be coming soon. He needed to delay.

  He met Katarina’s eyes. “This whole thing has to be fair. The world gets the data. And nothing bad happens to Liz.”

  “Just the data.” Katarina shrugged, playful and far from innocent. “I’m starting to think Liz will thank us. She just wants the farmer, anyway.”

  Dylan glared at her. He didn’t trust himself to say much else. The sound of humming metal seemed to ring louder around him. His pulse pounded harder.

  “The hair?” Katarina asked.

  Dylan nodded, patting his coat pocket. “You think this is all you’ll need?”

  She held out a slender piece of paper. “Yes, I already have Jax’s password.”

  “So now we just combine the two?”

  “Exactly.” Katarina pulled out a slim device. She inserted it into the wall of servers and studied the small control screen. “Place the hair here.”

  “Then what?”

  She tapped her foot, impatient. “The data is released.”

  Dylan’s throat tightened. “Immediately?”

  “That’s what you wanted.”

  “Yeah…” But I thought someone would be here to arrest you by now. Once the data was released, there would be no going back. Someone could save it somewhere else. He hadn’t thought they’d have to go this far. “I just didn’t know it would happen so quick.”

  “No one will know where to find it unless we tell them.”

  True, but who have you told? This was the final decision. Let the data go to catch the spy? Or save the data and try to stop the Russian himself? He’d wanted the data free all along. But he couldn’t do that to Liz.

  “Okay…” He pulled the almost invisible hair from the case in his packet.

  “Yes.” Katarina sounded primal and ecstatic.

  Dylan kept his face blank as he handed the hair over. Katarina took it and turned toward the control screen.

  There was no time. No help.

  In moments the data would be released. Dylan’s base instinct told him he had to do something now. He had to stop her. So he did the only thing left to do.

  He tackled her. His body slammed against hers, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

  But she reacted fast. A knee crushed into his groin.

  As he crumpled, she twisted away.

  Then he felt a gun at his temple.

  “Don’t move.” She stood slowly, keeping the gun aimed at his head. She held out her other hand, smiling. “I have what I need. But nice try…”

  As Katarina turned to the control panel, keeping Dylan in the corner of her eyes, helplessness flooded over him. He had tried. He had failed. And now he had given Katarina what she needed to steal what Liz had always protected. Any attempt to fight her now would be suicide.

  “Kat,” he said, trying to think of some way to slow her down, some way to distract her.

  But she didn’t answer.

  “Just tell me,” he said, “were you using me the whole time?”

  No answer.

  Dylan’s voice came out weakly. “Was there really nothing between us?”

  This time her gaze turned to him, contempt filling her glare. “Nothing, Dylan. Idealists like you are always pawns. The world’s players are—”

  A blur of motion
passed between them. Something struck Katarina’s arm, knocking her gun to the ground. Suddenly she was down, pinned under a larger man.

  It was Hunter Black.

  “I’m placing you under arrest.” He clasped cuffs around her wrists.

  Dylan staggered to his feet, letting out a heavy breath. His part was done.

  But then Hunter rose and turned to him and was putting handcuffs on Dylan before he could even react.

  “Both of you,” Hunter said, “have questions to answer.”

  60

  Liz awoke and bolted upright, panting. It was just a dream. Jax and Jake fighting on top of the tower, with her tied up and forced to watch. Jax had taunted and lunged. Jake had dodged and, with a storm in his eyes, knocked Jax out. Then he’d come to her, put his hands to her cheeks, lips drawing closer.

  Liz shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She rubbed her wrists and her swollen ankle. Then she touched her lips, remembering the dream again.

  She noticed someone was asleep in the chair by her bed. It was barely light outside, leaving only a soft grey light over her old friend, Rachel. It was hard to believe she was here, in the tower. She seemed to be sleeping.

  Liz swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped down gingerly. Her sprained ankle protested but held. Pain pierced her shoulder, but it seemed to be working fine. She managed to take a step, then another one.

  “You’re awake,” Rachel mumbled.

  “Morning, Rach. I really didn’t expect…”

  “I know. I came as soon as I heard about the storm. A lot of people I care about were in its path.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Liz said. “Are the Conrads okay?”

  Rachel stood slowly and came to Liz’s side. “The damage was bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “Pops and Annie were both hurt. They’re recovering.”

  “And Jake?”

  “A few bumps and bruises, but okay.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “Now?”

  Liz expected some kind of protest. Rachel never just went along. But when Liz nodded, Rachel did too.