J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Evacuation is what’s going on.”

“Clearly a popular decision,” Holt observed.

“Clearly.” Echo studied Holt and Zoey a moment. “But it is what it is. Things are getting out of control. The Strange Lands are changing, Mira. And no one has the first clue why.”

“Changing?” Mira asked. “Changing how? ”

“Stable Anomalies are in place, they’re still where they were. The Mix Master, the Compactor, all of them. Though some people say they’re stronger. It’s the unstable ones that are the problem. They’re moving outside their normal rings. Been getting reports of everything from Ion Storms in the second to Quark Spheres in the third.”

Mira was stunned. Clearly this was serious news. “The Strange Lands have been the same for almost a decade, they don’t change. ”

“Well, they do now,” Echo answered darkly.

“What about farther in? What about Polestar?”

“Deckard’s not evacuating, but that’s no surprise. Polestar’s his life. He’ll hold on as long as he can, maybe longer. I just hope he doesn’t get everyone there dead.” He looked at Mira squarely. “I lied to them back there, you know. He ordered the Crossroads to stay open.”

“But you’re not doing it,” Mira said.

Echo shook his head wearily. “I’m moving everyone the hell out until it’s safe. If Anomalies are showing up in different rings, who’s to say they won’t cross outside the border altogether? If Deckard has a problem with it, he can come tell me himself.”

Mira’s gaze intensified. “We need to get into the Strange Lands, Echo. It’s important.”

Echo shook his head. “I closed Northlift two days ago. No one’s going in. If it makes you feel better, Ben wasn’t happy about it either.”

At the name, Holt stiffened.

“Ben’s here? ” Mira asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Echo replied. “Figured that’s why you were here.”

“Not exactly.”

“He got here right after I closed the lift. Another hour and he could have gotten in. Been trying to get him to leave with everyone else, but he’s got a whole expedition of Gray Devils down there, and they’re probably more than my guards can handle. He’s refusing to leave. If he keeps it up, I’ll have to push the issue, and that’s not something I’m looking forward to.”

“Can I see him?” she asked.

Echo thought it through. “I guess. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. You were the only one who ever could. But that’s all you’re going down for. No one’s using Northlift.”

They started walking, the shouts of the crowd fading behind them, and Holt finally saw why the road seemed to end so abruptly.

Ahead of them, the ground disappeared into a sheer drop off the edge of a cliff. Yet it was more than that. A giant, jagged hole stretched in a roughly circular shape outward, two lines of plummeting rock that met back together in the far distance. It was an old rock quarry, Holt saw, and it had been repurposed long ago as something else entirely. A junkyard, a very specific kind. Hundreds of old military planes—bombers, transports and fighters—from all eras and ages, most rusting and falling apart, sat at the bottom of the quarry and stretched into the distance.

The road didn’t just end, either. It took a sharp left and then banked steeply in a wide path that carved through the wall of the quarry. A big trail, but it would have to be to get these planes in here.

Near where the road turned away, a framework of steel and old railroad timber held a giant series of chains that ran through a complicated system of pulleys and cables, and several refurbished tractor engines that were loudly cranking something upward from below.

It was a huge box-shaped elevator, big enough to hold several dozen kids and their belongings. It was made of wood and sheet metal and plastic siding all hammered and blended together, with the chains running through the pulleys in the supports attached to each of its four corners.

What looked like the steering column from some old boat sat in the middle, with thick cables running from it up the walls, through the pulleys and over to the tractor engines.

An operator inside yanked a lever downward and the engines gurgled and shut off. The lift rocked badly, slamming into the edge of the cliff, but the kids inside seemed to expect it. They piled out just as angry as the others, all yelling and clamoring for Echo’s attention; but the lift also brought with it three more guards, and they shoved the group away toward the rest.

“When did you start evacuating?” Mira asked.

“About a day ago, but it’s been slow going,” Echo said. He seemed tired, Holt noted. “No one leaves until the guards force them to. Plus, using Southlift is taking forever. Going to have to make people use the old road.”

They got inside and Echo slammed a lever upward on the old controls. The lift jolted as the engines outside grumbled back to life and began to indelicately lower them down. Southlift, Echo had called it. Northlift, Holt guessed, was most likely a similar elevator at the other end of the junkyard that people used to enter the Strange Lands. With the cliffs all around them and the only road exiting to the south, if Echo shut it down he could definitely keep people from going in. They’d have to scale the quarry walls, otherwise.

Southlift rocked and swayed as it lowered, and Holt grabbed a strap from the ceiling for good measure. He felt Zoey cling to his leg, trying to balance. She didn’t seem scared, though.

“What’s up with you and Lenore?” Echo asked Mira. “Heard there was some kind of dustup? You in trouble?”

Mira and Holt looked at each other. Mira had basically killed Lenore Rowe, the leader of the Gray Devils, in their escape out of Midnight City. It wasn’t technically death, but using an artifact to spontaneously Succumb someone to the Tone was about as close as you could get.

“It’s… all okay now,” Mira said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, it was “okay” as far as Mira was concerned. But Holt doubted any Gray Devils they ran into would agree. “It’s one of the reasons I’m here, actually.”

“Well, like I said,” Echo replied testily, “if that reason involves going into the Strange Lands, you’re not doing it from the Crossroads.”

Before Mira could argue, the lift touched down with a jolt. Echo yanked another lever, silencing the engines up top, and stepped out the opposite side.

Holt and the others followed, and when they did the full breadth of the Crossroads came into view.

Airplanes of all kinds and types, in various states of disrepair, stretched into the distance, most of them laboriously repurposed into houses, stores, workshops, eateries, and warehouses, arranged all the way to the other side of the crater, parked and lined up next to each other long ago.

Bridges made of rope and wooden planks stretched between the tops of the old aircraft, making the place a city of two levels, the ground and the open air above. Ramshackle structures made of wood and fiberglass were attached to the tops of some of the bigger planes, and Holt saw what looked like a food court hanging onto an old green C-130 transport.

And there were people. Lots of people. Mostly teens, Holt noticed. There were fewer children here than in Midnight City or Faust, probably because this was a fringe location. It was more dangerous living here at the border of the Strange Lands.

They moved in and out of the planes and buildings, most packing and filling bags, getting ready to leave. More armed guards, Echo’s men, moved in between, making sure progress was being made, and Holt saw a line of kids a hundred strong stretching back and waiting to ride Southlift up to the top. Echo was right, it would take forever that way.