Up The Tower (19 page)

Leaping up, taking the stairs two and three and a time, she shuffled down on the ground, sliding hard against Gary. He clutched out toward her. She moved away.

“Toss me that jacket!” Ore called up. “My vest, it ain’t much good for this.”

“I can toss it down,” said Ana, “but I don’t know that it’ll reach you. I can’t throw it around the corner.”

“Just toss it!”

Ana stood and tossed the jacket, waiting. Before very long, Ore screamed, thumping up the stairs, just like Gary and Ana screamed. She appeared through the haze of the steam, and Ana caught her, so that she wouldn't trip. Her skin was red in places, blisters sprouted on her neck. Ana could feel them on herself as well.

Up the stairs ahead of them was more steam. They all looked at it for a minute.

“I don't know about you guys, but I can't do that again.” He shook out his shirt, wet and hot. “There’s no way. We’ve got to go around.”

Ana tried to open the door—locked.

“Could you...” she looked at Ore. “I don’t know how to kick a door down.”

“And I do?”

“Don’t you?”

Ore sighed, pushing in with her tech hand and ripping the door off its hinges. Beyond, the floor seemed half-finished. Boards covered most of the floor, wobbling still from the aftershock. Two-by-fours, sheets of plywood, none of it steady. Ore picked up a piece of concrete rubble and tossed it out into the middle of the room. A collection of boards shook and then tumbled down, echoing into the building.

Ore shook her head. “Screw. That.”

“If you got a better idea, I’ll do it,” said Gary. “But for now, we gotta go around that steam.”

“Around, around! I’m tired of this around crap! That elevator is right up there,” Ore pointed, “and I’m getting there right now.”

“We can’t do that steam again.”

“Maybe you can’t. My brother is right there, you understand that? He's
right there,
and all I gotta do is get hurt. So, I’m going.”

Her grip on Ana’s jacket was tight, unshaking.

Ana liked that jacket—or she had. Raj had given it to her, not so very long ago. They were out shopping in the mall, and she pointed it out. In less than five minutes it was around her back and her property. She wore it on most of their dates since then, trying to show her appreciation. Men appreciated appreciation; it was one of the few things Ana depended on.

“You’re going alone, then,” said Gary. “It’s no sense getting out of here if we don’t have any skin left.”

“We’ll be Citizens! They fix that kinda thing all the time! I heard one fella had a cancer taking up half his body. They just replaced it with tech, he’s good as new.”

Ana shook her head now. “I don’t want any tech skin. I’m sorry. I don’t like criss-crossing either, but we’ve got to do it.”

“Fine then. I’ll see you up there.”

Gary and Ana entered the room, leaving Ore to stare up at the steam, daring it to get hotter.

The steam heated up the stairwell as well. Ana had not noticed it until she stepped into the twenty-ninth floor, all the boards and empty spaces. Some brisk, cool air sweeping up from underneath them. It was hazy in the room—the breeze pushing some chemical around, maybe. She guessed it was coming up from underneath them, though she did not know from where. Maybe an A/C unit had been knocked out of the wall, still kept on, that sort of thing. In any case, she was grateful for it.

She and Gary stepped around the room, looking for a way across. Beneath the boards, Ana saw the other unfinished rooms beneath them—large holes in the floors. Like stacked, concrete chess boards portioned with empty squares.

“Here,” said Gary. “Let's try here.”

He pointed to a short board that led across to a sort of concrete island in all the gaps. Ana nodded and followed him across. The boards creaked, shook—but they crossed. It was quick. Easy enough.

After that, they moved without speaking—using hand signals and nudges to point out the best path. If they went down all this way, they could cross easy using that sturdy beam, and if they took this longer path here—a little wobbly—they could cross on solid concrete for more than thirty feet. At one point, Ana looked back to see if Ore had left—and could not see her through the steam pouring in through the doorway.

Ana worked toward a safety zone—a concrete section around a pillar in the room. Suddenly, wood clanked underneath her and then snapped—but not all the way through.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded slow, picking up her foot carefully. “Yeah. It’s just rotted, is all.”

“Hey!”

It was Mike's voice.

“Hey, news! You all okay after that aftershock? There's more—”

The ear, bloody and wet, slipped out from Ana's grasp. Twisting, she tried to grab it and then her slab pushed out from her belt, following the ear into the darkness below. She heard the slab shatter beneath them. The board shifted, groaned.

Her foot in front was keeping the board in place—she hopped forward, and the board drifted down, knocking hollow against the pillars on the way.

“Damn,” said Ana.

Citizenship...there and gone. She could not tell if she felt empty or weighed down.

Gary rushed back, trying to help her, and tripped, landing hard on the beam and then bouncing off onto the concrete.

“Damn!” Ana rushed to him. “Are you all right?”

He spat down blood on the ground, shaking his head. “Yeah. Busted my lip, is all.”

“I lost my slab.”

“I saw. I lost mine too. It's back down there with those dogs.”

“Goddammit. They'll still take us, right? They have to. After all this.”

“Ore has hers.”

“She's dead. And you know it.”

The blood on the ground, Gary's blood, drifted quickly toward the far end of the their little concrete safety zone.

“Damn,” said Ana. “I think we’re leaning again.”

“What?”

“Your blood, it’s moving so quick. We can’t be level anymore. The aftershock, if it straightened us out...it must be pushing us the other way even more now.”

As if on cue, some of the boards around them began to shift, knocking against each other, against the concrete, or just floating down to the floors below.

“Goddammit,” said Gary. “We gotta move.”

Ana followed him across the boards—but they both tried not to put their weight on the wood. Taking big jumps, falling to their knees on the landings. They had another twenty feet or so to the far wall.

“Coming up behind you.”

It was Ore. Her dark skin reddened, blistered. Her hair plastered on her face and neck. She still had Ana’s jacket. She worked fast, balancing and shuffling on the beams they had already crossed—the narrow few that Ana nearly fell through. Ana's heart leaped at the sight of her—she had her slab still! Citizenship! It would be theirs. It
would
be. She had earned it.

Gary, huffing, rested against a pillar for a moment. “Steam got you, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ore. “You were right, okay? Don’t get up your ass about it.”

Ana joined Gary on the far side. The door was not far off.  They had to wait—at least for her data slab. That was everything to Ana now.

Crying out, Ore stumbled and then tripped. Ana's heart wrenched, her guts bouncing. Her hands swung down hard on the board, cracking it. Like sometimes you do with death and dread, Ana saw it all happening before it did. She tried to force out some kind of warning, but there was nothing she could say. Ore’s hand clanged and whirred, trying to establish her grip, and she snapped the board in half.

And then she was gone, down through the dark and steam beneath them. A series of crashes sounded out, and it was impossible to tell what was Ore and what was the boards.

Ana got down on her belly, peeking over the edge. “Are you okay?”

Ore groaned back up at them. Ana felt relief work through her.

“How's the data?” she called down. “Is it intact?”

“Yeah.” Ore's voice was weak. “Yeah, I got it.”

Triumphant, Ana punched Gary on the arm.

“We have to go on ahead, okay?” Gary peered down through the steam and smoke. “We’ll try and leave a path—we’ll try and make it easy where we can, okay?”

“All right,” Ore shouted up, “all right. Go on. I'll be up soon.”

The next floor's door had another one of those panels to get inside, and Gary took care of it, pulling and tugging on the wires like before.

“You know,” he said. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. You ever do something like that? Finally get the hang of something that’s critical, but only useful in those moments. Never use it again.” He laughed.

His high-pitched, self-effacing laugh was the sort of thing that Ana didn’t like about some men. There was no part of it that was attractive or appealing. Not that a man always had to be appealing, but good lord, don’t make it a regular process to turn others off.

The floor was mostly complete. There were a lot of hallways and doors, a lot of offices, inside of which were piles of stolen tech, synthetic drugs, full liquor bottles. Like a customs office.

At the far end—a light shining down on it—was the elevator. Ana didn’t really believe it, walking through the door, but there it was. A few guns and knives were on the ground in front, abandoned maybe in the heat of the guards taking off earlier. The elevator door, closing and opening, was caught on an overturned stool.

Ana guessed there had been some kind of process for elevator entrance—probably guards stood in front of it, only allowing certain people through the door, and then even less through the elevator. Now in front of it, she crossed her arms.

Mike had been trying to deliver some kind of warning to her, she was certain. Was it another quake? How much time was there? Would one more aftershock ruin the elevator? Should they go up now and take their chances by leaving Ore behind? But, they needed the data slab...

She pressed the button, and the elevator started dinging, traveling down the spine of the Tower.

Gary shut the door behind them. “Now we’re alone. Finally, huh?”

“What?”

And then he grabbed her and kissed her.

It was unpleasant. Ana, taken aback, tried to be cordial about the affront, but it was hard. His tongue slipped up against her lips, looking for a way in. She wondered if he had ever kissed a girl. His teeth grated uncomfortably along her outer lips, almost gnashing in a weird, broken rhythm.

He seemed to let up after a moment, and then Ana pushed him away.

She could not tell from looking at him whether he was relieved, embarrassed, or angry. There was some kind of emotion swirling up in him, though, pushing his head and shoulders down, following him like a cloud. “I was looking for...I wanted a way to tell you. A time, I mean. When no one would interrupt. I’ve been wanting to say it for a while.”

“This isn’t really the time for that, Gary.”

“It’s exactly the time!”

His face twisted. Ana, for the first time, really realized he had locked the door. Her with him, alone, and him between her and the way out.  She pressed the elevator button behind her. Then again. Again. More.

“There’s so many times, Ana, lots of times. When I just wanted to tell you how much I liked you, and every time I would talk myself out of it. But it’s
important
to tell you. You should know, you
deserve
to know. And I deserve...”

His hands, gesturing wildly as he talked, calmed a bit and landed on her arms.

“I feel like I’ve helped you a lot. And I deserve to know how I’m doing in that beautiful head of yours. Don’t I?”

A diplomatic route seemed like the best way to handle this.

Ana pressed her hands together. “Oh, listen, Gary...I think you have been really great—”

His face started to fall and twist again, and Ana knew she had taken the wrong path. His fingers formed scoops, digging into her shoulders. He grabbed her then, fingers biting into her shoulders, intent on saying or doing something, and Ana was sure it would be awful.

Three holes burst through the door, laying out circular sections of metal at their feet. The door banged open, and there was Victor, covered in blood. His jaw, metallic, worked around slow and strange, like an ape at a rotted log, trying to test out if there was food inside. There was a gun in his hand—smaller and sleeker than the one he had before.

“Mama,” he grunted. “No. No.”

Victor took Gary by the neck and threw him against the wall, several times. Gary’s eyes looked gone after the first toss. Then again, again, again—all very fast, so that it seemed almost one motion, pummeling him into the wall. Ana didn’t notice at first, but Victor was shooting Gary in the chest the whole time. Thup thup thup. Pockets of garyflesh pattered to the floor.

Victor turned to her and fell to his knees, the gun hanging loose in his spread-out hands. Slowly, head-first, he leaned into her.

What do you do? What do you say? She took his head in her hands, and—trembling all the while—stroked what hair remained on the deformed remains of his skull.

––––––––

I
must admit to being as lost as you are when it comes to making sense of this whole horrible mess. When this project started, high ambition had taken ahold of me. I would present my findings and my report to the Forum, and hope for some kind of honorific, perhaps even a corner office in the Halls of History.

But it is more difficult than that, isn't it? Often we say that within our worst times, human beings find themselves at their best. But we can only be our best within the confines of the situation, and sometimes even our best decisions within insanity still become just the lowest (or perhaps highest) forms of insanity.

Take for instance the rescue efforts for the several million who died within the scant few hours of the quake. Rescue efforts began immediately, of course. St. Louis was a center of economy for much of the Midwest, and even if Tri-American didn’t care about saving people, it did care about saving itself.

Everything that could be used, was used. Hoverchoppers, de-weaponized drones, even some old helicopters were pulled out from flight schools. In one effort to stop the flooding, tons of powdered concrete were dropped into the water. This, of course, only served to create enormous blocks of floating ruin with which to destroy more property and lives.