J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

She sighed in relief, grateful for the reprieve, even though she didn’t know why it happened. She could feel the giant column of energy, feel it streaming upward, feel it gathering the weight of the world and absorbing it into itself.

It felt amazing. It felt like—

Zoey opened her eyes. Something was wrong.

The Gravity Well flickered in front of her, and not like before. It flashed violently, the hissing intensifying, cut off and then returned. Next to her she heard Max growl, but she was too focused on the Anomaly.

It flickered again—and this time it didn’t come back as bright.

Zoey took a step back, realizing the truth. The Well was about to die. She could tell, because the sensations around her were slowing and becoming fainter. It had been weakening before, but now it was doing it much faster. Somehow the Well was the source of the pain in her head, and that pain was lessening. In horror, she realized it had all started when she moved close to it.

The Well flickered again, seemed to fade, the hissing dimmed, it was almost indiscernible now. She heard the city above groan deeply as more weight settled onto its supports.

Zoey’s eyes widened in fear. “No…” she moaned. The idea of what she might be responsible for chilled her like nothing else in her life. If the Gravity Well went out the city would fall, and everyone on it would die, including Mira and Holt, and it would all be her fault. All of it.

“Please, no…” Zoey closed her eyes again. Maybe she could save it somehow, maybe she could stop it. She reached out with her mind and the Gravity Well was there, she could feel it like before, but it was noticeably weaker.

Zoey called out for the Feelings—and they rose from the recesses, filling her with confidence and strength, almost enough to forget what was about to happen. The Feelings blended and merged with the Well through her mind, and she saw what they intended, what they suggested. She knew what she had to do.

Zoey concentrated on the Anomaly, pouring her own energy into it.

Golden light flared and blossomed like fire all over her and streamed into the Well, filling it back up, replacing the color and light that was bleeding out of it. The pain in her head returned as the Well grew stronger again.

But it wasn’t going to be enough, she could tell. All she could do was delay the inevitable.

“Please…” she moaned again. She had to slow it down, give Holt and Mira and everyone else above time to escape.

The supports of the Spire groaned again. Max barked wildly in alarm, trying to get Zoey’s attention.

But Zoey didn’t move, as much as she might want to. She could run and escape, maybe, but she didn’t. Tears streamed out of her closed eyes as the pain slowly increased in her head.

Please let them escape, she thought. Please.

All around her the world began to fall apart.

HOLT WASN’T SURE WHAT HE’D HEARD, but whatever it was woke him from a deep, dreamless sleep that he would have much preferred to remain in. He glanced around, looking for any sign of—

It came again, the sound. A deep, mournful groan that filled the air outside the sheriff’s office. It sounded like metal bending and shifting under stress. A lot of stress.

“You hear that?” Ravan asked next to him. Her men were all stirring in their cells. “I think—”

A new sound, this one from hundreds of sources, and one Holt recognized immediately. Screams.

Everyone got to their feet instinctively, trying to peer through the windows at the other end of the building, but all they could see was the flickering, prismatic light from the Gravity Well outside.

The groaning again, but stronger, a deep, violent rumbling that shook the building. The Menagerie murmured nervously.

“The time is now.” Everyone turned to the lone White Helix in his cell. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms, preparing for something. As he did, he looked up.

Holt, Ravan, and the pirates followed his gaze. There was only the skylight and the old exposed air-conditioning ductwork along the ceiling—and it was almost thirty feet above their heads.

“You’re kidding. Right?” Ravan asked skeptically.

Chase didn’t answer. His eyes moved from the ceiling down to the cell bars, studying them, planning, then he grabbed two and scaled them like a spider, straight upward. Even without their rings, it seemed the White Helix were still very agile.

“Um. Yeah.” Holt’s eyes widened at how effortless he made it look.

When Chase reached the top there was no hesitation, he lunged backward into the air, spun and grabbed hold of the exposed ductwork at the top. It creaked badly, but it held. The Helix’s legs flew outward, swinging him back and forth on the ductwork, gaining momentum and speed. When he had enough, Chase swung one last time, flew upward…

…and crashed straight through the skylight, feetfirst, shattering it to pieces.

Seconds later another skylight broke apart, and Chase fell through it, landing outside their cells in a crouch that absorbed his weight.

Everyone stared, dumbstruck, as the Helix moved to the lockers at the far end of the office. He opened one and grabbed his things—his goggles, his mask, various pieces of equipment, the three glowing crystal rings, and finally his double-pronged weapon.

It was the first time Holt had seen a Lancet. It looked pretty much like how the stories described it, but it was still a hell of a sight. He could see the two glowing crystals on either end, one red and one blue, and the dual triggers on the shaft.

More rumbling echoed outside, and a violent crash filled the air. Screams followed.

Holt felt a desperation build in him. Whatever was happening out there, it was bad. And Mira and Zoey were right in the middle of it.

“Stand back,” Chase said as he approached, the double-pronged spear spinning in his hands in blurs of blue and red.

No one argued or questioned him, they just backed up. The weapon spun faster—and then gracefully struck outward straight through the lock on one of the cell doors in a shower of sparks.

The lock mechanism exploded. The door opened. The pirates inside were free.

Holt was impressed. Those doors were solid steel, and whatever those spear points were, they passed through it like it wasn’t even there.

Chase repeated the move for each cell in the office, plunging his weapon into them, blowing them apart. But when he reached Ravan and Holt he stopped. “We have to move fast, there isn’t much time.”

“Why?” Holt quickly asked.

“I can feel the Gravity Well fading outside. It’s going to die, and this place is going to die with it.” He stared pointedly at Ravan. “If you want to live, your men must do exactly as I say.” Ravan and Holt nodded without hesitation.

Chase punctured the lock to their door, freeing them. Ravan and the last of the Menagerie exited and moved for their things.

So did Holt. He slipped his pack over his shoulder, and it felt good there. He hadn’t had his things in a long time. Holt grabbed his shotgun and rifle, slipped them over his back, and reached for the Beretta.

From around the room came the clicking of a dozen guns being primed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ravan asked. Holt slowly turned to look at her, carefully slipping the Beretta into its holster as he did. Ravan’s gun wasn’t raised, but six or seven others were.

“Mira and Zoey are out there,” Holt said.

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s suicide,” Ravan replied. “It’s all about to come down, and you’ll be buried with everyone else. It’s survival. You know that.”