Raven Rise

SECOND EARTH

Mark, Courtney, and Patrick stepped outof the mouth of the flume into the root cellar beneath the abandoned Sherwood house in Stony Brook.

Connecticut.

Second Earth.

The carpet of light and music quickly receded back into the flume, leaving them alone. At home. In the dark.

Courtney was the first to notice that something was wrong. “There’s nothing here,” she announced.

“Of course not. We’re underground,” Mark replied.

“I mean there are no Second Earth clothes. When Bobby and I left, we brought a bunch of things from home. Shoes, shirts, pants. They’re gone.”

All three scanned the small, dark cellar but found nothing.

“Maybe somebody discovered this place,” Patrick suggested.

“Not likely,” Courtney replied. “We’re in the basement of a mansion that’s been empty for decades. This isn’t right.”

“It’s okay,” Mark said. “If wearing First Earth clothes is the worst thing we have to do, we’re lucky.”

“I don’t like it,” Courtney groused. “It’s not a good way to start.”

“What should we do?” Patrick asked tentatively. He was nervous. Both Mark and Courtney sensed it.

“It’s okay, Patrick,” Mark said calmly. “Relax.”

“Relax?” Patrick echoed. “You didn’t go through what I did.”

Mark and Courtney exchanged looks.

“Yeah, we’ve all been on a picnic,” Courtney said sarcastically.

Patrick immediately realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that it’s been easy for any of us.”

“We’ll be fine,” Mark interjected. “We’re all a little stressed. Let’s just get out of here and back to my house. We can figure out our next move from there.”

Courtney went first, walking the few steps across the dirt floor to the ancient wooden door that protected the long-abandoned root cellar. She pushed it open slowly. There was a loud creek of rusted hinges that echoed throughout the cellar.

“Gotta oil that,” she said casually, and stepped into a pitch-dark basement.

Mark followed right behind her. “Looks like it’s nighttime,” he observed.

Patrick was right behind him, staying close. When they had all passed through, Courtney closed the creaky old door behind them.

“Check this out,” she said to Patrick while running her hand across the door’s wooden surface. “We watched this being burned into the door by the ring. It was incredible.”

The darkness made it difficult for Patrick to make out detail. He ran his hand across the wood to feel the scar of the five-inch star that marked the gate to the flume.

“What does it mean?” he whispered.

“It means it’s a gate,” Courtney answered. “Duh.”

“No, I mean the book cover. Ravinia. And the tattoos those men had on their arms. What’s the connection?”

Mark stood between the two and answered, “That’s what we’re going to have to find out.”

The three turned to face the empty basement.

“Wait for our eyes to adjust,” Mark suggested. “It won’t take long. Light from the street comes in through the windows over there and-“

The words caught in Mark’s throat. He stared straight ahead into the pitch-black empty basement…that wasn’t empty anymore. “Uh-oh,” Courtney gasped. “What?” Patrick asked nervously.

As their eyes adjusted, they were able to make out the forms of boxes stacked everywhere.

“What’s the problem?” Patrick asked, his panic growing. “What are they?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mark answered. “They aren’t supposed to be here. The house is empty.”

“Not anymore,” Courtney stated. Grrrrr.

The sound came from upstairs. Mark and Courtney stiffened. “Oh hell,” Courtney muttered.

“Did you hear that?” Patrick asked. “This place doesn’t sound empty.”

Courtney whispered, “Did anybody see a small silver canister back by the flume? About three inches long?”

“No,” Patrick whined. “What is it?” Grrrrrr. The growl was louder. “A weapon,” Courtney answered. “A weapon!” Patrick echoed loudly. “Shhhh!” Mark scolded. “Weapon?” Patrick whispered. “For what?”

Courtney’s answer was simple and direct. “For quigs.”

Bang! The basement door at the top of the stairs flew open, followed by the sounds of vicious barking and claws scrambling on steps.

“The d-door!” Mark yelled.

He took off across the basement, headed for the door he knew led up and outside. He remembered the door from long ago. He had never needed to use it. Until then.

“Owl” Mark screamed as he ran headfirst into a stack of boxes and fell backward. Boxes tumbled over, scattering onto the floor, tripping up Patrick. Courtney grabbed the Traveler before he could fall.

“Don’t stop,” she commanded.

“Find the door!” Mark ordered as he scrambled to his feet.

The animal continued barking and growling as it charged down the stairs. Mark caught a glimpse of the black beast. It looked big, but at least there was only one. Courtney reached the wall first and was faced with a barrier of boxes stacked up high, blocking off their only means of escape. The door was buried.

The barking echoed through the huge basement as the vicious dog hit the floor, heading for its prey.

“Is there another way out?” Patrick yelled desperately.

“Up those stairs,” Courtney answered. “On the other side of the quig.”

The three turned their backs to the wall of boxes and faced the charging black animal. They all knew there was no way to fight a bloodthirsty quig. At least Mark and Courtney knew. Patrick would soon find out.

Mark shouted, “Whichever one it goes for, the other two have to get out.”

He took a subtle step forward. Mark wanted to be the one the quig hit first. Courtney realized it, grabbed his jacket, and pulled him back, saying, “I don’t think so.”

The dog was almost on them. The barking was deafening. Nobody knew who it would attack first. The animal chose Mark. It leaped at him, hit his shoulders with both paws, and knocked him back into the cardboard boxes. Mark fell, the boxes fell, the dog was on top of him dripping slobber onto his face.

“Run!” Mark shouted. He held the dog off as best he could, waiting for the pain to come when its teeth ripped into his face.

Patrick and Courtney froze, not knowing what to do. They both looked down to see…

A big black Labrador retriever was standing on Mark’s chest, licking his face.

“That’s a quig?” Patrick uttered, stunned.

“Uh, I, uh” was all Courtney could say.

“Get him off!” Mark yelled.

Courtney grabbed the big dog and pulled him back. The dog spun and licked her right on the mouth. “Eeyew, stop!” she complained. “Sit!”

The dog obeyed. It sat down, eager to please. The barking was finished. He lifted his paw, expecting somebody to take it. Mark sat up, looked at the big goofy dog, patted him on the chest, and said, “Uh, good boy.”

“I–I don’t understand,” Patrick stammered.

Mark willed his heart to stop racing. The fear of a sudden, painful death had gotten him a little worked up. “This isn’t a quig,” he gasped.

“Obviously. He’s not much of a watch dog, either,” Courtney said, hugging the big, friendly fur ball. “What if we were here to rob the place?”

All three tensed up again. Their fear of the quig was replaced with another.

“Somebody lives here,” Mark announced, stunned. “We’re trespassing,” Courtney added.

“Does that mean things have changed again on Second Earth?” Patrick asked.

“We gotta get outta here,” Mark ordered.

He turned to the wall, pushing aside some of the cardboard boxes to try to get to the door. What he found instead was a solid wall.

“They cemented over the door,” he declared. “I don’t get it. How long have we been gone?” Courtney asked in wonder.

“Long enough. We’ve got to go up through the house,” Mark announced, heading for the stairs.

The others followed. The dog trailed behind, wagging his tail happily.

“Let’s hope they’re asleep,” Mark whispered. “Let’s hope they don’t have guns,” Courtney added. “Yeah, that too.”

They crept quickly and quietly up the wooden stairs. Both Courtney and Mark had been through the house many times before, yet they had no idea what to expect when they entered the living area this time. Patrick had no idea about anything. The dog probably knew something, but he wasn’t talking. The door on top of the stairs was still open, thanks to the black Lab. Mark reached the top step first, and he stopped to look back.

“If the barking didn’t wake anybody up, maybe the house is empty,” he whispered hopefully.

“Or maybe the police are up there waiting for us,” Courtney countered.

Mark gave her a sour look. He glanced down at Patrick. Patrick looked as if he were going to faint. Mark gave him a smile of assurance. He wished that somebody would give him one too. He turned forward and quietly stepped into the house. It was exactly as Mark and Courtney remembered it…

Except that it was fully furnished. The basement door led up into the grand foyer. From there a circular staircase led to the second floor. Mark gazed around in wonder at the opulent surroundings. He looked to Courtney and opened his eyes wide as if to say, “Wow.”

The place definitely deserved a “wow.” Mark thought that whoever now lived there had some serious money. A soft glow from the living room gave them enough light to see detail. A huge, ornate crystal chandelier hung overhead. Rich Oriental rugs graced the highly polished wooden floors. Oil paintings of idealized countrysides hung everywhere. Mark glanced into one room to see fancy, expensive-looking furniture, along with enough sculptures to make it appear more like a museum than a household. The wall paint was no longer chipped and scarred. Intricate wooden trim traced every corner. The stairs leading to the second floor looked like highly polished marble. It was a showplace.

The only detail that truly mattered just then was the front door on the far side of the foyer. Freedom was only a few yards away. The dog pushed past Mark and scampered deeper into the house, passing through an archway that led into the living room. Mark motioned for the others to follow him toward the front door. All three moved quickly and quietly across the floor, until Courtney stopped so suddenly that Patrick bumped into her from behind. Nobody said a word, nobody complained. Though Patrick did throw her an impatient look. Courtney didn’t notice. She was too busy staring through the archway where the dog had just gone.

Mark tugged on her sleeve to keep her moving. Courtney ignored him. She kept staring into the next room. Mark tugged again. Courtney’s silent answer was to point into the room. Patrick and Mark followed her gaze. Patrick gasped. Mark stared in wonder.

Beyond the archway, in the living room, a fireplace blazed. The fire in the hearth was the source of the warm, flickering light that was guiding their way. That wasn’t what they were staring at. Nor was it the dog, that had curled up in front of the fire to keep warm. What got their attention was hanging over the fireplace. In the dim light it wasn’t clear if it was a painting or a sculpture or even a photograph. It didn’t matter.

Looming over the fireplace, measuring about five feet across, was a huge, five-pointed star. It was the symbol that marked the gates. It hung in a place of honor, like a revered icon.

Mark’s knees went weak. He was getting too much information to assimilate in such a short time. There was no doubt anymore. Things had changed, and it wasn’t just that somebody had moved into the Sherwood house. The star symbol was now known here on Second Earth. It was out in the open. Did that mean the flumes had been discovered too? Mark forced himself to look away. He had to focus. They were in a bad place. They wouldn’t find the answers if they were stuck in jail for breaking and entering. That realization snapped Mark back to his senses. He pulled Courtney’s arm again, this time more forcefully. They had to get out of there.

The three moved quickly to the front door. A thick, dead-bolt lock sat just above the door handle. Mark put one hand on the handle, the other on the bolt’s turn key. He glanced back at the others and whispered, “We’ll go for the wall where we always climb over. Stay close to the house, in the shadows.”

Mark twisted the lock. They didn’t have to be quiet anymore.

The moment the lock was thrown, an alarm shrieked. The horn cut through the silence of the big house as loudly as if a fire truck were barreling through the living room. The dog started barking again. A red light on a keypad next to the door started flashing. It was the alarm control.

Courtney looked at Mark with wide eyes and said the only thing that made sense under the circumstances. “Run.”

The three bolted out of the door, ran across the wide porch, and jumped down the stairs to the gravel drive below. Floodlights burst on, lighting up the yard like a football field. Or a prison yard where a break was under way. Courtney and Mark took a sharp right and ran for the cement wall that surrounded the property. They knew there was a tree on the other side they could climb down. The trick was scaling the wall from this side. They’d done it enough times to know how. No words were needed.

The harsh alarm sound was even louder outside. Speakers were hidden in trees. Floodlights followed them as if powered by motion detectors. The once-deserted home of a chicken farmer named Sherwood was now equipped with some serious security.

“We’re okay,” Mark panted as they ran. “We’ll be long gone before the police show up.”

Bang!

A bullet whistled by. They weren’t alone anymore. “I think they’re already here,” Patrick whined. “No way,” Courtney gasped. “The police don’t shoot at you, even if you are trespassing.”

“Then who is?”

Two more flat cracks sounded. Bang! Bang! Grass and dirt kicked up around them.

“I’m on the bottom!” Markshouted. They were at the wall. Courtney didn’t argue. She knew what he meant. Mark put his shoulder to the wall and cupped his hands for Courtney to step into an “alley-oop” up. Courtney barely broke stride. She leaped into Mark’s hands, right foot first. Her momentum kept her going. Mark launched her upward as she pushed off her foot. She was airborne. Like a flying trapeze artist she grabbed the top of the cement wall and hoisted herself up, all in one smooth movement.

“Let’s go!” she called down before she was even settled.

Mark cupped his hands again, looking to Patrick. “C’mon!”

Patrick was unsure. “I can’t do that.”

Patrick needed inspiration. He got it. The sound of machine-gun fire cut through the alarm. To their right, the cement wall began to explode from rounds being pumped into it. Splinters of cement flew everywhere. The attack was getting closer. It was all the convincing Patrick needed. He jumped into Mark’s waiting hands, leaped up, and grabbed Courtney’s down-stretched hand. Mark pushed and Courtney pulled. Adrenaline helped. Patrick was up on the wall.

“Climb down the tree,” Courtney barked at Patrick.

Patrick didn’t need to be told twice this time. He scrambled for the tree. As the cement wall was torn apart by gunfire, Courtney leaned down and reached for Mark. Mark looked up to see that she was actually smiling.

“Welcome home,” she said with a wink.

Mark bent his legs and leaped straight up, grabbing both Courtney’s hands. Courtney leaned back, pulled hard, and a moment later Mark was on top of the wall. Without another word Courtney followed Patrick down the tree.

As Mark waited for her to climb down, he looked back at the Sherwood mansion. The clattering machine-gun fire stopped. Whoever was shooting must have realized that the intruders were gone. Mark allowed himself a few seconds to inspect the old house and wonder what had changed. Who lived there now, and why did they have the gate symbol over their fireplace? Mark couldn’t help but feel that whatever change in history had happened on Second Earth, the people in this house were part of it. The coincidence was too much. They lived on top of a flume.

He threw his legs over the side, and was about to slip onto the tree when his eyes caught movement inside the house. He glanced up to the second floor. A large window overlooked the front yard across which they had just made their escape. A lone figure stood in the window. It looked to Mark like a man. An old man. Maybe wearing a bathrobe. The light was on behind him, creating a silhouette. If the guy was upset about his house being broken into, he didn’t show it.

He stood at the window, looking out at the yard as calmly as if he were looking for deer. In the window next to him, with its front paws up on the window frame, was the black retriever. The old man had one hand on its head, patting the animal as they both gazed outside. To Mark it seemed as if they were looking at him. A cold shiver shot up his spine.

“Stop right there!” came a shouted command.

Mark looked down to the ground to see four people wearing dark clothes that could have been uniforms, sprinting along the front lawn toward him. One of them held the machine gun. Mark didn’t need to see any more. He jumped off the wall and climbed down the tree, landing by the other two.

“Let’s disappear,” he said, and the three ran into the neighborhood. Mark and Courtney’s neighborhood.

They were home.