FLOOR 21: Descent (The Tower Legacy) Page 3

  “How can I forget our embarrassing dance offs?”

  She covers her mouth as she flirts with a laugh. “Hah. You’re right, Jackie. I forgot about that. Speaking of, we need to go to your place for another dance party. I’ll bring the CDs, you can trade for some soda. You know, we’ll make it a thing.”

  “Ugh,” I groan as my arms fall in piles over my head. “I’m not sure that going by my place is on my list of recommendations. Things are just weird there right now.”

  “Is that why you’re hiding out in my room?”

  I nod as my eyes do their best to avoid contact with hers. “We really don’t have to talk about it.”

  Her finger cuts through the air. “Hey, nuh uh. None of that. My room, my rules. You don’t just get to come over and not tell me what’s wrong. That’s like, best friend conversation 101. You’re supposed to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Like it’s anything new, Allison.”

  “Parental disturbances, I presume?”

  “Worse than ever,” I groan. “Is it just me or do I just screw up every relationship I have? It’s like I get everyone around me ticked off eventually.”

  “You are kind of annoying.”

  My face falls flat as I stare at her. “Thanks.”

  “You know I’m joking, dork,” she says as she tosses a pillow at me. My arms aren’t in position to catch it in time and it plows into my face.

  “Hey!”

  “You needed it! Stop sulking all the time and thinking you’re the Tower's awkward princess.”

  I shove myself upward and drive my head to a stop against her wall. “Do we seriously need to recount the many times I’ve managed to botch what really shouldn’t be a complicated situation? One, I pissed you off enough to stop talking to me, and that was just a few weeks ago. Two, I’m constantly making my parents nuts, which, by the way, I think I might have made my dad cry the other day. If that doesn’t make me a bad person, then I don’t know what does. And three, how about the numerous people I’ve annoyed that just didn’t bother trying again? I’ve never even been able to talk to a guy without making him feel like he had to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.”

  “Seriously, Jackie, shut up for a second,” she says with a wave of her hand. “If you think you’re the only person that doesn’t know how to deal with people, well, you’re wrong. I mean, you might be worse at it than others, but it’s not like you’re the first girl in the Tower to think she didn’t jive with her parents.”

  “I dunno, Allison. You’re pretty miss popular, so all things considered, I’m not sure you’re the one to give me advice on this particular subject.”

  “See, that’s your problem right there. You think you’re the only person that feels uncomfortable with their parents or with guys. I mess stuff up too, Jackie. Just the other day, I spent about twelve hours finding excuses not to come home because I knew that I was just going to get into an argument with the parentals. And as for people, well, I get angry at them all the time. People are annoying, and rude. Sometimes I even wish I could talk back to them the way you do.”

  “Wait,” I say as I rewind her with my hand. “You always seem to get along well with, like, everyone.”

  “Fake. All fake. We just deal with it differently. That doesn’t mean my way’s better. It’s not like I think half the people I know are my friends.” She shrugs, looking around the room. “I mean, how many of them care that I like all these musicians? Like, three people at best. You, Rosa, and . . . ”

  My eyebrow cocks and fires as she trails off. “And . . . ?”

  “Well, I mean, you don’t like me talking about him.”

  I really can’t stop my hands from sliding over my eyes. “Really, Allison? Still?”

  “What? Tommy’s a great guy, and he really likes classic music.”

  Through the wall of my fingers, my eye spies on her. “What?”

  “Yeah, seriously.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Because you don’t know people as well as you think. You can’t just judge someone by a few things you see.”

  “Oh, God, just stop,” I say, holding out my hands. “I can’t have that convo right now. I literally just went through a whole talk with my therapist about how I don’t know myself, so I can’t handle being told that I’m also terrible at making calls about other people. Apparently, I am actually just the least emotionally in-tune person around.”

  “Jackie. You’re not, so shut up with that dumb talk, because we all have those problems.”

  “Then why does it always feel like I’m the only one?”

  “Because you’re seventeen years old,” she laughs. “And you’re super emo about stuff. Just blame it on hormones. You’ll be fine.”

  I point to myself. “Incredibly socially awkward girl, right here.”

  “Not an excuse,” she sings before she grabs a stick of gum off the desk. “Want some?”

  “No. I know you got it from Tommy.”

  “Fine. Then, want to tell me about being a Scavenger? How about why they picked you, huh? You have to know by now.”

  “You know I can’t. It’s, like, top secret or whatever.”

  “If you say so. You’re sure this isn’t just you being reclusive or weirding out on me? Because, if that’s the case, I’ll just keep trying to pry it out of you.”

  I shake my head at her. “No, Allison. I’m being, like, for real for real.”

  “So, you’re serious for realsies.”

  “Yeah, I’m on like, an honor code with the Tower Authority about this. Seriously, now I know why Mike never talked about being a Scavenger.”

  The minute I say his name, I feel a thread snap in my heart.

  Recording Five

  So, Tommy’s a little more curious than normal today, and I’m not sure if I like it. He looks over at me as we plod through the halls and flashes me a smile that’s just asking to be punched. “You doing okay there, Jacko?”

  “What did I say about calling me that?”

  The edges of his lips stretch the skin around his face as I apparently just humor him even more. “Calm down now. Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you today, get it? You’ve got way too much tension in those shoulders.”

  “Huh?” My head pivots until my chin’s practically rolling over my back. “How can you tell?”

  “I know your posture, Coleman. Right now you’re carrying everything up here,” he says as he squeezes at the base of his neck. “Normally, you’re pretty relaxed, you know? Like you’ve got the whole world figured out, or like you just want to go back to bed. Whichever. Point is, today you’re walking like a military person.”

  “Except that, I kinda am now, right? That’s pretty much the whole point of being a Scavenger.”

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I still think you’re walking like there’s a broom down the back of your shirt, but if I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Right?”

  “That’s a really confusing way to ask that question, but I guess.”

  “Plus, the fact that your face looks like you took a punch from someone who never pulled their fist away.”

  When he says that, my hands fly to my cheeks, and I can feel them burning as I poke at my cheekbones. “What the hell, Tommy? That’s so not cool.” My hands plummet to my side as my face goes to the roof. “Today’s really not the day for this.”

  “Look. Sorry. I’m just trying to get you to talk. You know, if you need to.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” My legs start to drag as I put more distance between us and the group. “Look, I’ve just got things going on at home. With the parents. And, there’s this guy I like, that . . . God, why am I even telling you this?”

  He laughs as he pats his chest. “Because I’m a cool dude. At least Allison thinks so.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I order him, my finger jabbing at his jaw. “I’m onto your shenanigans with her.”

  “No shenanigans necessa
ry. Come on now. I’m just saying she trusts me, so you could at least cut me some slack.”

  “Fine, Tommy,” I say, giving up. “There’s this guy that’s sort of important to me who’s been missing since the last Scavenging and I’m freaking out a little about why our team hasn’t left yet. I thought we were only going to be getting, like, two weeks of training. Now it looks like we’ll be doing this for a month. Then my parents are stressing me when I go home and . . . ” My hands clap my hips as I flop them. “I dunno.”

  “Hey. If it’s any consolation, me and my old man don’t get along too well either. He’s kinda got a, you know . . .” He tilts his finger back at his mouth, like he’s taking a swig of something. “I mean, you get what I’m saying, right? He likes his bottle too much is all.”

  “Oh, geez, Tommy,” I reply, instantly hit by a regret for him I didn’t remotely know I could have. “Sorry, I just . . . I never thought you had anything like that going on. I hope it doesn’t suck too bad.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s cool most of the time. He’s chilled out the last couple of years, but, you know, every once in a while, he decides to go back to it. I’m not going to lie and say everything’s peaches back home, but things are better the older I get. I mean, I’m as strong as the old man these days, so he can’t really do too much to me.”

  “Yeah, but . . . crap.” Having considered Tommy the cartoon villain of my story for the last decade, it’s shattering my image of him to think he might actually have, you know, human problems. “Well, I mean, do you need to talk to someone or whatever? I know the therapist isn’t exactly what you’d call great for conversation, so if you want, I can talk if you need it.”

  “I think that’s my point, Jackie. If I ever feel stressed out about what’s happening back at my place, I’ll let you know. That way, if I’m having a bad day, you can get why I’m acting weird. Same with you, though. If you’re ever having a tough one, just, you know, open up a bit. You don’t need to go all waterworks on me or anything, but if you’re having a bad day, I’ll space you. Or, if you do need to talk . . .”

  “I got it, Tommy. Serious.” I sigh, and it almost hurts when I do. “So. Thanks.”

  “Really?” He genuinely seems enthusiastic that I said thank you, and it makes me feel infinitely more guilty about how I’ve been treating him. “Hey, you’re welcome. At least now we can be better friends.”

  Friends. Me and Tommy?

  I mean.

  Maybe.

  Anyway, we finally get to where we’re going. Tommy and I stand in a row with the rest of our team, watching as Commander Abbott paces back and forth while his eyes fire from one of us to the other. Abbott does a lot of pacing. Anyway, the commander said we had something fun to see and that we’d like it. I dunno, I don’t really trust Abbott’s idea of what fun is.

  The commander stops and his hand drops to something attached to his belt. It’s round, but not any bigger than his palm, and it’s got a blue button on the face that shines. “Those of you who have descended into the Deep Creep before know exactly what this is,” he says while his finger bounces on its smooth surface a few times. “Those of you who have not, well . . . ” Abbott chuckles, and even that sounds arrogant. His finger drifts upward and he points to me. “Cadet Coleman. Where do we live?”

  My face curls up like a retreating animal. “What? We live in the Tower.” My eyes jam against my eyebrow hard as they take a vicious roll. “Kinda obvious.”

  “Of course. Of course, so obvious. Now, tell me, what is the job of a Scavenger?”

  “Uh, to get supplies. From the Deep Creep.”

  “What sort of supplies?”

  I look over at Tommy, but his eyes are saucers as he stands at attention. It’s pretty obvious he isn’t going to give me any support. “Well, sir, our job’s supposed to be to get food, mostly. Sometimes other stuff. I mean, I’ve heard of everything from movies to computers getting hauled up.”

  Abbott nods as his hand sits on his hip. “Did you ever wonder how it is the Scavengers moved all that equipment?”

  “Uh. What?”

  “How does a team of people no more than fifteen in number move computers and large amounts of food, exactly? How are they able survive deep in the Tower, where their quickness and agility is vital to survival, if they’re weighed down by all that material?”

  “Well . . . ” My mouth locks up and my face gets all weird because I’m the girl that’s supposed to be figuring this stuff out. “Uh, I just thought they, well . . . ”

  “Yes?”

  That jerk’s smile loads and fires, shooting across his face because he knows he’s got me beat. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Very good. There’s no shame in not knowing, cadet, considering your rookie status. The people of the Tower are not to know about the method by which Scavengers carry material, and it is for a very important reason. What I am about to tell you is a secret that remains solely among the Scavengers and select members of Tower Authority. To reveal this secret would lead to not only you being subjected to Reinforcement, but also to everyone who learned that secret. Family, friends, everyone who ever heard whisper of this would be punished harshly. For that reason, you are never, regardless of circumstance, to reveal what you are about to learn. Is that understood?”

  Like a choir we reply, “Yes, sir!” as Abbott removes the device from his hip. “This, cadets, is what some of you call Sec Tech. Secret technology. Among our order and among Tower Authority, it is referred to as Pre-Tower Tech. It is the oldest surviving technology I am aware of, a product of whatever society existed in this building before the Darkness.” He sets the thing onto a white table and rests his finger on the button. “It is an incredibly special privilege to witness this. Few can make the claim.”

  He pushes down on the button, and I hear a low hum before, after a few breaths, thin bars of blue light start to flash from the front of the gizmo. The lights form a cone that expands just a few feet from the table and then start to spin, igniting until they’re alive with this intense hue. I feel my breath catch in my chest when the large end of the cone suddenly pops with a flash of light. There, just hanging in the air, is a blue disc. It’s like a window in midair that I can see through, and on the other side is a tornado of blue colors that look like they’re pushing and pulling each other.”

  My mouth drops. “What the hell . . .”

  “Impressed?” Abbott asks and, honestly? Hell yes I am. “This, cadets, is Pocket Space. Everything you see around you, all physical matter in our known universe, is part of only one dimension. Underneath it is another, a realm we do not fully understand. What we know is that these devices, which we call Pocket Space Generators, open up a small window onto that other dimension. Regardless of where you move in our universe, the window always opens onto the same point in the Pocket Space Universe.” He removes the sword from his side and shoves his arm into the portal, so that he’s masked by a glow for a second before he lets the sword go. It looks like it’s just floating there before he taps the button on the generator. With another flash, the window vanishes, and everything is, well, normal again. Can you even use that word after being told there’s an alternative dimension that we can just yank open?

  The commander slides the device to the other side of the table and aims it in the opposite direction before tapping the button again. Just like last time, there’s a hum, a blue cone that exists for a few seconds, and then a pop as the portal flashes to life. We’re all left staring as Abbott’s hand flashes into the window. When he yanks it back out, he’s holding his sword again.

  Awesome.

  Abbott tucks the sword away before turning off the device one last time. “We don’t know much about Pocket Space, and what we do know is gained mostly from documents scoured off of the lowest floors. We do know that reality seems to work differently there. At their most essential levels, items such as food and drink stop decaying. Their atoms seem to just freeze. In Pocket Space there is no aging, and there is
no movement. Because of these principles, all goods found on the lower levels are stored within a Pocket Space window such as the one you just saw. Each window is attuned to a unique point in the other dimension, so your devices will never overlap when in use. Of course, this should also solve the mystery as to how we’re able to continue to provide for our citizens. At one time, homes throughout the Tower had these very types of generators. Some still function, some do not, but the primary goal of a Scavenger is to identify these devices, access them, and retrieve any goods found within. Whether stored for days, months, or centuries, so long as the goods are in Pocket Space, they shall endure. Any questions?”

  My arm rockets into the air, like I’ve got no control of it or something. “Sir. Sir!”

  “Of course, you would be the first to ask a question, cadet.” He plucks the generator off the table and clips it back onto his belt. “What can I answer for you?”

  “So, do we have any ideas about how long ago these things were made or how Pocket Space was found?”

  “Good questions and, unfortunately, the only answer is no.” Abbot folds his arms as he moves into the middle of the room. “The truth is that we have not so much as a hint as to how this alternative dimension was found or originally accessed. The devices you will all be receiving are refurbished, some collected from the lower floors but the majority an inheritance from our ancient ancestors who originally fled to these upper levels.” His mouth halts and he raises a finger. “That brings up one, additional point. A very key one that you should all be made aware of. When you find these devices throughout the Tower, they will come in various sizes. Many of them will be installed into the walls of the homes you enter, or along the floor. It always varies. Your personal generators can be used to trigger and open the window into Pocket Space that these home generators access, but be careful. If there is any significant concentration of Creep, you must first safely clear it away. For reasons unknown to us, the Creep reacts strongly to the opening of Pocket Space windows. Doing so can set off a minor Creep Incident and lead to an all-out fight for survival. Again, we do not know why this situation exists. All we know is that it does, and so we must be vigilant and cautious. Many good lives have been lost when an overeager Scavenger, hoping to access a generator before his comrades could beat him to it, accidentally triggered a reaction. Don’t let your desire to win the games override your sense of self-preservation. Any small slip could mean your death.”