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Then the white air parted—curling and recoiling as if it were expelling something violently in a cough. It expelled the Sentry.

He strode forward through the gap, impossibly tall and unnervingly wide. His eyes blazed with fury and aggression, and more than that too—though I wouldn’t have known what to call it.

I think he saw us, though he didn’t care and didn’t acknowledge us.

To my left was Benny, openmouthed and staring. He saw them, all the ghosts. He must have. He was breathing them.

To my right Dana was immobile too; but she was watching Green Eyes, and her own eyes gleamed. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, or horrified, or frightened; but the longer I looked at her, the more I thought she must be happy. It was a dismal sort of happiness, more of a vengeful satisfaction than joy. For all her talk of me being irresponsible to cut him loose, she was wishing him on more fervently than I ever could.

He didn’t need any unspoken encouragement from us. He stalked up to the tower, pushing a trash can over and knocking a stone bench onto its side with the merest brush of his knee.

A locked iron gate barred the tower entrance, but not for long. The shooter must have pulled it closed behind himself. It was a useless gesture, and it wouldn’t help him any.

Green Eyes planted two massive fists through the metal latticework and yanked the entire structure clear of the stone—hinges, locks, mounts, and all. He cast it aside and disappeared into the flawless blackness that filled the interior.

I ran after him. I left Dana and Benny where they were, though after a few seconds they opted to follow me. I heard them running through the grass behind me. One of them tripped over the removed gate, or part of a broken bench.

I didn’t wait. I didn’t glance over my shoulder. I wouldn’t have been able to see them anyway.

I followed the big black shape and his illuminated eyes through the portal and into the tall stone coil of the tower interior. I tripped over the first step, which surprised me with its immediacy, but I recovered myself and stumbled up the stairs. Above me I heard the heavy stomping footsteps of the Sentry, who needed no light.

I most definitely did need a light, but when I reached for my flashlight I fumbled it and it clattered onto the ground and down a stair or two. I gasped and dropped to one knee and one hand, but upon feeling around with the other set of fingers I couldn’t find it.

“Eden?” I heard Dana ask from outside. But I didn’t want to wait for her and I didn’t want to slow down, so I left the light and charged on up, knocking my shins on every third sharp stair edge.

I bruised my palms as I dragged them along the infinite spiral of the tower wall, its lumpy and rough-hewn surface beating my knuckles, or my wrists, or the occasional stray knee that collided with it. I had no other means of finding my way.

Every second cycle of circles, a small rectangular window with bars would provide a dim semblance of light.

It wasn’t enough. I fell anyway, battering my elbow, hip, and shoulder. A second fall, close behind, landed me collarbone-down on something sharp and hard—another stair. They came so close together. I couldn’t get a rhythm down to climb them; the corkscrew stylings of the Tower’s guts made it impossible to climb them blind without banging myself up.

“Sentry!” I cried, though whether it was to slow him down or ask his help, I hadn’t decided. Either way, he didn’t answer.

I clamored on, taking the bruises as they came and soldiering forward even as my thighs started to burn from the effort. I had no idea how tall the Tower was; from the outside it was only another phallic monument. From within it seemed to be taller than life.

On I climbed.

There were hundreds of stairs. My legs were aching in earnest. I slowed, catching my breath. Whoever was behind me—whether it was Dana or Benny, I didn’t know—slowed too. I didn’t hear any footsteps behind me.

Up again. Higher. More. How tall could it be?

I heard them talking before I could understand what they were saying. It wasn’t until I was nearly to the top that any of it made any sense at all. Then my head cleared the final hurdle and I could breathe, and I could see. The air above the battlefield was clear, and the sky above was absolutely empty of clouds. The moon was out in half, and it was enough.

I saw them clearly, all three of them.

Jamie was on the ground, clutching his shoulder and backing himself as far against the barricade wall as he could. He was moving slow, and his left arm hung at a funny angle. Back, and back, he scooted—like he was trying to crawl into the wall itself. He saw me, but didn’t say anything.

He tried not to look at me.

Green Eyes was walking the circle, slow and steady, treading his way around the parapet. His flowing hair was caught and teased by the cross breeze that gusted against us all.

And then there was the shooter. He was so much less than I imagined, so much more human than I’d feared. He looked every bit as scared as I would be if I were on the cusp of being trampled by something like the Sentry.

He scooted too, backwards like Jamie had, around the Tower’s deck and towards the stairs.

“You were supposed to leave!” he complained. “This isn’t your place anymore!”

It doesn’t have to be that way, Green Eyes corrected him.