J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Bingo,” Mira said. It was a big, blue rubber button, and Ravan dug out as much of the dirt and grime as she could. The button clicked as she pressed it in. Mira looked back out to the launch tube hopefully.

Nothing happened. “Damn.”

“Wait,” Ravan said, blowing more dust off the control board, revealing two different colored lines running from the launch door switch down through the maze of buttons and knobs. She brushed more dirt away, following the lines to where they ended—at two key slots.

The keys still stood in their holes. The girls looked at each other.

A sound came from behind, like something dragging itself toward them.

They spun, shining their lights. It was gone. There was nothing.

“Shine behind me,” Mira told Ravan. “I’ll shine in front. I turn my key, then you turn yours.”

“We have to turn them at the same time, idiot,” Ravan said, watching the darkness behind them warily.

“How do you know that?”

“Didn’t you watch any movies growing up? They always turn the keys at the same time. Do it on three.”

Mira frowned but didn’t argue. “One… two… three .”

They turned their keys. The panel sparked violently. Then it lit up in bright colors underneath all the dust.

Ravan and Mira looked at each other triumphantly. Ravan hit the launch door button again. From the huge room beyond came a crash, then a massive shuddering and the rumbling of hydraulics. Dirt fell in a torrent from the ceiling as a sliver of sunlight lit up the top of the old silo.

“It’s working!” Mira shouted.

“What if the Ion Storm’s still up there?” Ravan asked.

“I’ll take an Ion Storm over Dark Energy any day.”

Then an explosion of sparks erupted from a corner of the huge ceiling, spraying outward in a vicious arc. As it did, the sounds of the opening door cut off, the whine of hydraulics faded. The door shuddered… and then collapsed back down. The daylight disappeared.

Ravan screamed in frustration and punched one of the windows.

Mira looked back up at the ceiling through the control room windows. It was just as dark as before, with the exception of the sparks shooting out from up top now.

She stepped back into the launch tube and shined her light up. The sparks were coming from a large metallic box at the edge of the door, with large cables running out of it.

“It’s a junction box,” Ravan said behind her. “Big one. Runs that door, I bet.”

“Can you fix it?” Mira asked.

“Sure. Probably just needs a few cables resoldered, but how am I supposed to get up there?”

“I think I have an answer for that.” Mira turned to Ravan. “You’re probably not gonna be a fan.”

“Well, isn’t that a big shock,” Ravan said wryly.

Both girls noticed something then. Ravan’s flashlight was dimmer. It was starting to die.

“That’s the opposite of good, isn’t it?” Ravan asked.

Movement from behind them—back in the control room. The girls spun.

Mira had a fleeting image of two featureless, smooth black figures reaching for them… then they vanished under the fading flashlights.

“Polar opposite,” Mira said.

MIRA AND RAVAN BURST THROUGH A DOOR and slammed it shut, then lit it with their flashlights, staring as if they expected something to explode in after them. Nothing did.

“Keep your—” Mira began.

“Eyes on the door. Got it.” Ravan put her back to the wall. “What are you going to do?”

“Make an artifact combination,” Mira said. “If I can find what I need.”

She flashed her light around the room. It was what she’d hoped—a storage closet full of all sorts of things—bottles, tools, nuts and bolts, chains, brooms, cleaning supplies, spare linen, rubber bands, office supplies, brushes, and disused furniture.

And it was all artifacts.

Mira stared at the stocked shelves lustfully. If she had more time to spend here, this place would be profitable, but time was something she was running out of fast.

The closet had its own sink. That meant they could do what they had to right here, which was good news. Assuming, of course, she could find the right components.

“What does this artifact do?”

“It’s called an Amplifier,” Mira replied. “Magnifies any element it touches. In our case, it’s going to be water. ”

“Magnifies it by how much? ” Ravan asked suspiciously.

“A lot. We’re going to flood the silo and ride the water up to the top. Then you fix the junction box. Doors open. We swim out.” Even to Mira it sounded crazy. “Easy.”

“What if we can’t get the doors open?” Ravan asked angrily.

“Then we’re both in a lot of trouble. Look, it’s this or nothing. I can’t think of any other—”

The door to the room rattled and Ravan spun her light back to it. It stopped instantly.

“Ravan, you have to keep your—”

“I know!”

Mira looked back to the shelves and shook her head. It was getting harder and harder to think. In about fifteen minutes they’d be lucky to remember their names. She tried to remember what she needed, and it was like trying to think while half-awake.

Mira unslung her Lexicon and set it on the floor. When she unlocked it she opened it to the artifact combination section and flipped through the pages there. They were alphabetical. Aleve. Ambient. Amplifier. Android. Anr—

Amplifier. She open the pages and studied them, and at the top was a summary.

Name: Amplifier.

Effect: Amplification of element: air, water, heat, cold, electricity, possibly others.

Effect Time: Immediate.

Area of Effect: Must physically touch element.

Power Effect: Power source dependent; larger coins = more amplification. See Note 2.

Duration: Power source dependent; larger coins = longer duration. See Note 1.

Multitier?: Yes. Two tiers.

Underneath the summary were diagrams and charts, notes Mira had made about the combination’s use with different elements. But she ignored all that, looking down to the list of ingredients at the bottom, and then compared it to what she had in her pack.

She still needed a Focuser for the first tier, as well as a vial of water, and, ideally, a nine-volt battery.

Mira quickly scanned the stuff on the shelves. There was a box of drywall screws. One of those would be fine for the first-tier Focuser. She was hoping for something spherical, and she remembered the pool balls in the rec room, but that meant going back into the hall with those things.

No, a screw would have to work. She also saw a box of Duracell D batteries.

D batteries could work in a pinch. They produced almost the same effect—but the phasing would be off, which meant it would be more powerful. That wasn’t going to matter, either—more power in this case was probably better.

But what about the vial of water? That was going to be tougher.

Mira studied each shelf but saw nothing. She looked to the floor piled with boxes of different things, and shone her light on them, flipping through each one.

After the fourth one she found something. A case of tonic water, all in separate glass bottles. Would tonic work, Mira wondered? Did it have to be plain water? She’d never researched it, she didn’t know.

What other choice was there?

Mira sat her pack down and started rummaging through it. She pulled out a toothbrush and a tube of some kind of paste, as well as the other components she would need for the combination. She opened and squeezed the tube, and a thick, gray substance squirted out onto the brush. She quickly started spreading it on the drywall screws in the box.