Raven Rise

JOURNAL #36
(CONTINUED)

“Hi, Bobby,” the policeman said warmly. “I’m Jim Hirsch. Lot of people have been worried about you. And your family. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

I was in a brain freeze. This couldn’t be happening. Of all the odd twists that had been thrown at me, this was the most surreal. I looked to Courtney for help.

“Captain Hirsch is the guy who’s been investigating your disappearance from the beginning,” she explained. She looked at the cop and boldly asked, “It is you, isn’t it?”

Hirsch gave her a confused look. “Who else would I be? Except it’s Chief Hirsch now.”

Courtney gave me a concerned look. She thought the same thing I did. Saint Dane. There was no way to know for sure. At least the guy seemed genuinely confused by the question.

Mr. Chetwynde explained, “We got a call from the Ravinians. They said you had broken into their compound along with Mark and Bobby and another young man. They didn’t want the police involved, but we said there was no choice in the matter. That’s when we called Chief Hirsch.” Courtney said, “And you figured we might come here.” The Chetwyndes nodded.

“So where is Naymeer and his red-shirt clowns?” Courtney asked.

“They are good people, Courtney,” Mrs. Chetwynde said quickly. “They don’t want to cause any trouble. They left it up to us to decide what to do.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Courtney said sarcastically. “They’re swell.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Mr. Chetwynde admonished.

“Courtney, where have you been?” Mrs. Chetwynde asked with concern. “Why did you break into the home of such an important man? Did you steal a car from them?”

Mr. Chetwynde added, “And where’s the other fella who was with you?”

Hirsch said, “I think it’s best we all get out of the cold and go somewhere to talk about it.”

Mark interjected, “You mean somewhere like the police station?”

Hirsch answered with a shrug.

Time slowed down for me. It was a standoff. We were on the end of the dock, at least thirty yards from shore. I had to assume there were more policemen waiting onshore near the floodlights. Fighting our way off the dock wasn’t an option. Not when policemen had guns. As of that moment, I didn’t think we were considered dangerous. Fighting through the police would change that. But we had to make a move. Who knew what the police would do with us? Did they think I had done something evil to my family? Would they actually arrest us? The only thing we were caught dead to rights on was car theft. Maybe breaking and entering. Even if no trouble came from that, we’d be tied up with the police for a long time. The glare of public scrutiny would shine brightly. On me. And what about Alder? How would we explain him? If we went with the police, any chance of derailing Naymeer and his cult would be gone. Second Earth would be lost. Halla would be lost. It couldn’t end this way. There was only one thing to do.

“Alder?” I called. “Come on out.”

Alder had been waiting below the hatch. As soon as I called him, his head popped out. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynde took a surprised step back and watched him move, as if he were an alien from another planet…which is exactly what he was. Alder was a big guy. A warrior. With clothes that were too small, he looked even bigger and more formidable. Hirsch tensed up. I don’t think he expected to see a guy looking like a defensive lineman rise out of that boat. He shot a quick glance back toward shore, as if he wanted to call for backup. He didn’t though. The situation was too fragile. Alder stepped off the boat and onto the dock, beside me.

“Listen,” I said to him. I didn’t care that everybody else could hear. It would make absolutely no difference if they knew what I was thinking or not. It was more important that my friends and I were all on the same page. “The police want to take us into custody to talk about the disappearance of my family. They’re the good guys. They don’t want to hurt us. But if we go with them, they’ll take us out of play.”

“Understood,” Alder said calmly.

I turned to Mark and Courtney. “Guys, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to handle this situation on your own.”

“Got it,” Mark said with confidence. “Not a problem,” Courtney added.

Hirsch took a step forward. His eyes darted between us nervously. “Let’s…let’s all be cool and head for shore, all right?”

I put my hand up. It stopped him. “Jim, I know you might not believe this, but we are not criminals.”

“I’m not saying you are-”

“I know. I get it. You don’t know what’s going on, and you’re going to want to talk all about it and solve all the mysteries. I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for that.”

Hirsch shook his head quickly, as if not believing what he was hearing. “Wha-you don’t have time? I’m sorry, son, but four people have been missing for a long time and-”

We didn’t give him time to finish the sentence. Alder and I dove off the dock into the cold waters of the river. I could only imagine the stunned looks on everyone’s faces. I hoped that would translate into a few frozen moments of inactivity before Hirsch triggered his cops into action. Alder and I both swam for the next dock over. When we hit it, we hung there to take a few seconds to form our plan.

“We’ll split up,” I gasped. “Swim underwater as much as you can. Hide under the docks. Take your time. Don’t splash. Make your way as far away from the lights as you can before hitting shore.” I pointed upriver and added, “On the far bank of the river, beyond the highway, is a rope swing. It’s not far beyond the road, on a steep hill. I’ll meet you there.”

Alder didn’t waste time with a response. He took a gulp of air and dove underwater with nothing more than a wink of reassurance. The guy was a pro. I had no doubt he’d make it. I wasn’t so certain about my own chances.

“Bobby!” Hirsch called out. “Don’t do this! You’re not in any trouble.”

“Yeah,” I thought to myself. “Not yet.”

I dove below the surface and dropped under the dock. It was dark. And cold. It was going to be harder than I thought. Visibility was next to zero. I’d been around docks like this all my life. They were each roughly six feet wide, with boats tied to cleats on either side. I knew there was airspace below. I surfaced to find myself looking up at the rows of wooden planks that ran the width of the structure. My hope was to zigzag from dock to dock, swimming underwater and resting underneath, slowly making my way toward shore. The docks were built like fingers, stretching out in all directions like a floating maze. I fought the urge to stay under the dock where I was and make my way toward shore beneath it-I was afraid that would be the first place they’d look. I needed to get to another dock to make the chase impossible. Alder had gone downriver, so I chose to go upriver. I took a few deep breaths, filled my lungs, and pushed myself down, headed for the next dock over. It was hard to see how far it was. I didn’t want to surface short. I’d be seen for sure. I kept one eye looking above, trying to see the shadow of the float. The floodlights helped. They cast the wooden docks into sharp relief. I made it to the next dock and surfaced beneath it with no problem.

“Spread out!” I heard Hirsch yell to his men. “Two on each dock.”

He knew exactly what we were doing. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. But knowing what we were doing and actually finding us were two different things. As I wrote before, there were a lot of docks and many, many boats. I gulped air and dove below again. It was risky, because I had to maneuver between the keels of a few big sailboats. There were many places to hide, and just as many places to bash my head. I had to be fast, silent, and cautious. The shadow of a shallow-draft cabin cruiser loomed ahead of me. I swam beneath it and surfaced below the dock…

To hear footsteps directly above. The sound echoed through the airspace over my head. Did they know I was there? I looked toward shore to see the beams from flashlights shining down through the spaces between boards.

“Slow, slow!” a voice said. “Don’t miss him.”

“I can’t see anything,” another shouted back.

Yelling was good. So long as they were yelling at one another and clomping around on the wooden boards, they wouldn’t hear anything below, and I’d know where they were. I waited until they were nearly on top of me, then took a breath and dove straight down. I figured depth was good. No light could penetrate more than a few feet into that murky water. I forced myself to hover below without moving. Light would catch movement. I waited until my lungs felt as if they would burst, then drifted slowly back up. When my face broke the surface, I fought to keep myself from taking a huge gulp of air, for fear they would hear. Keeping my teeth from chattering was almost as hard. I was freezing. I sensed a flash of light behind me, and turned to see they had passed over me and were now farther out on the dock. I didn’t want to risk having them walk over me again, so I gulped air, dove down, and pushed off, to head for the next dock over.

It was getting harder to see, because I was getting beyond the throw of the floodlights. There was less chance of them spotting me out there, but there was also more chance of me finding the hull of a boat with my head. I lost all sense of direction. I didn’t know which way was up or down, let alone where the next dock was.

The only thing I could do was surface. I stopped swimming, and let the air in my lungs float me to the surface. When my head broke out of the water, I found myself between the hulls of two big sailboats, a few yards short of the dock. “There he is!” came a shout.

The voice seemed far away. I wasn’t sure if I should dive under the dock and swim for it, or climb out of the water and fight for it. I figured that if they had spread out over all the docks, odds were good that I’d only have to deal with one or two cops. My chattering teeth told me to go for the fight. At least that would keep me warm.

Before I officially made the choice, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. It wasn’t me they saw. It was Alder. I pushed off of one boat and swam out into the open to see that Alder was onshore about fifty yards from me. He wasn’t alone. The police were closing on him. I could see that cops were spread out all over the docks to search for us, which meant only a few were left onshore, which meant they didn’t stand a chance against Alder. It would take more than two policemen to take him down, unless they started shooting, which I didn’t think would happen.

Alder made short work of both the cops who got to him. They had no idea what they were up against, but found out fast. The fight was short and violent. Within seconds both cops were on the ground, either unconscious or wishing they were. Alder didn’t wait for the others. He disappeared into the shadows. I would have shouted “Yeah!” in victory, if I hadn’t been still floating in the middle of the marina. I had to find my own way out of there.

I dove underwater and kicked the rest of the way toward the dock. I surfaced below its planks and waited. It didn’t sound as if any cops were overhead, so I cautiously swam beneath the dock, toward shore. I heard the sounds of far-off yelling. Orders were being thrown out. The police were getting desperate. I was sure that some had taken off after Alder, which meant there were fewer looking for me. My hopes rose. I had a chance.

After a few minutes of winding my way beneath the wooden floats, my feet touched bottom. I was almost onshore. It was time to come out of the safety of the shadows. I dove down, pushed off the bottom, and surfaced to find that I was faced with a rock wall. The dock I was under was built parallel to a sheer wall that rose up out of the water and ran along the shore for about thirty yards on either side of me. I knew where I was. It was a retaining wall, on top of which was built the dockmaster’s hut. The tide was low, so the dock level was several feet below the top. If I wanted to get out this way, I had to climb up the slick wall of rocks. It was a stroke of luck, and a total pain. Climbing those wet, barnacle-covered rocks wasn’t easy. Still, it shielded me from shore and hunting eyes. It was all I could do to keep from slipping off and falling back into the water. I wouldn’t have gotten hurt, but the splash would have given me away for sure.

The climb was torture. Between the slick seaweed that clung to the rocks and the slime from the salty water, it was like climbing up a vertical Slip ‘N Slide. A couple of times I slipped back down into the water and held my breath, waiting to hear if anybody noticed the splash. It was totally frustrating. The cold made it even worse. I was having trouble convincing my hands to grip. I actually started to think that maybe turning myself into the Stony Brook police wouldn’t be such a bad idea. They were the good guys, right? Maybe I could somehow convince them of what Naymeer was up to. The idea of us stopping him on our own seemed impossible. Maybe I could appeal to the police. Maybe I could tell them everything. As I stood in that freezing water, feeling very alone, the idea of looking for help started to appeal to me.

I tried one last time to make the climb and struggled to the top. It wasn’t graceful, but I had made it. When I finally gripped the top and peered over, I saw something that knocked any thoughts of turning to the police out of my head.

The cop named Hirsch stood maybe thirty yards from me, under a streetlight in the parking lot of the marina. This was the guy who had been searching for me on Second Earth since the day I had disappeared. He was the local police chief. He was one of the good guys. Yet he stood next to a long, black limousine, talking to somebody who sat in the back. Police didn’t drive limousines. Attached to the hood of the car, above each headlight, was a small red flag with the star symbol. I didn’t want my paranoia to spin too far out of control, but if whoever was in that limousine was part of Naymeer’s cult, why was Hirsch talking to them? Could it mean that Hirsch was part of it? Worse, could the entire police force be part of it? I wanted to scream. It was looking like even the good guys weren’t the good guys anymore.

I waited until Hirsch’s back was turned and quickly threw my legs up over the side and ran stiffly for the dockmaster’s hut. My legs were so cold I could barely bend them. I crouched behind the small building and scanned the area for an escape route. Several policemen were still out on the docks, searching. A few others were helping their fallen friends who’d introduced themselves to Alder. I had to assume that others had taken off into the woods that surrounded the marina, searching for him. That wouldn’t be a smart way for me to go. I didn’t want to end up running into the policemen who were running after Alder. My best choice was to keep to the bank of the river, using as cover the sea of boats that were still in dry dock.

I crouched and ran. In seconds I was among hundreds of boats. I knew it would be like trying to find me in a hedge maze. They would need incredible luck. Each time I rounded a boat, my confidence grew. I was going to get away. The next challenge would be to reconnect with Alder. The river flowed under a high bridge that was the New England Thruway. The marina continued beneath it. That’s how high the bridge was. It was perfect cover. I was about to run under the bridge when I heard sirens. Looking back, I saw several police cars with lights flashing and sirens blaring turn on the road that led into the marina. One of the cars was an ambulance. I hoped it was for the downed policemen and not for Alder. Either way, they were going in the opposite direction from me. I was free.

The next trick was to get to the far side of the river. For that I had to climb out onto the road. No way I was going back into the water. The road ran along a dam that was the changeover point of the river between fresh and salt water. The road was wide and well lit. Too well lit. It was a major thoroughfare. I stood on the edge, ready to come out of the bushes, wondering how best to make the crossing. Should I run and risk standing out to cars driving by? Or walk casually? It would take longer, but there would be less chance of being spotted. I decided to jog. Simple as that. People in Stony Brook ran all the time. It wasn’t odd to see somebody running along any road, anytime of the day or night. So I put myself in the mindset of one of those guys who lives to train for the local 10K races, and jogged along the road to the far side.

Nobody stopped me. I got to the far side and ducked back into the bushes. Iwas now on the same side of the river as the rope swing whereIwas to meet Alder. I don’t like to be negative, butIwas worried that he had been captured. After he took out those two policemen, I had to believe that the effort to bring him in would intensify. He may have taken the heat away from me and allowed me to escape, but what if they got to him? What would he tell the police? Would they turn him over to the Ravinians? There were too many horrors to consider, so I decided to put them out of my head and hope he showed up.

Idon’t know who first put up the rope swing on the bank of the Signet River, but it was there for as long asIcan remember. It was on a steep bank that allowed you to get decent height when you swung out, and a rush of a plummet when you let go. It was a great way to spend a hot summer afternoon. It wasn’t a great way to spend a cold March night, but I had no intention of using it. I pushed my way through the bushes, wondering how long I should wait there before giving up on Alder.

I shouldn’t have worried.

“I thought you would never get here,” Alder said as I broke into the clearing near the swing. He sat beneath the tree as casually as if he were kicking back and thinking of taking the plunge. I actually felt dumb for worrying about him.

“We need to find a warm place to spend the night,” I said. “I’m totally beat.”

It had been an impossibly long day that started on Denduron. We needed some downtime to recharge our batteries.

“Your territory is very busy,” Alder commented. “How are you able to live in such confusion?”

I’d never thought of it that way. He was right. Compared to the simple world of Denduron, Second Earth was like living inside a frantic video game. For all its busyness, it was going to be tough to find a safe place to hide out. There would certainly be a manhunt on for us. Where could we go for the night? We could break into a store, but there might be alarms. We could find a dark house and hope nobody was home, but what if they came back? I thought of stories I’d heard about escaped convicts. Where were they always found? Churches? Their girlfriends’ houses? Hiding in a ditch somewhere? We couldn’t go anywhere that was remotely associated with me or my friends, because they would be searched for sure. I knew this town inside out and couldn’t think of a single place we could go that would be safe.

Except for one.

“Where should we go?” Alder asked. “To the absolute last place they’ll think of looking for us.”

We stayed on the far side of the river for nearly two hours, wet and shivering. From that perch we could see through the trees over to the marina. At first there was a flurry of activity as the ambulance took away the policemen that Alder had clocked. Shortly after, we saw the long limousine pull out.

Alder asked, “I thought the local soldiers were the good guys?”

“So did I. Things have changed.”

Finally a long line of police cars drove off. They knew we were gone. The manhunt was on. Alder and I waited another half hour to be sure that they were definitely gone, and quickly made our way back to the marina. Yes, back to the marina. A few minutes later we were resting comfortably, and warm, back in the Chetwyndes’ boat. We even finished our tuna and crackers. Why the heck not? I figured they’d never expect us to go back there. We took off our wet clothes and hung them in the bow to dry. After eating our fill and wrapping ourselves in blankets, Alder and I settled down to get some sleep. We decided on taking two-hour shifts. Somebody had to stay awake in case my idea proved to be idiotic. Alder slept first. He was out and snoring before I had the chance to say good night.

It was a strange feeling. I was a fugitive on my own territory. In my hometown. Our task of trying to stop Naymeer was already tough enough. Now it seemed we had to watch out not only for Naymeer’s people, but the police as well. As I lay on that bunk, rocking on the waves, I had no idea what we were going to do.

I spent my two-hour watch writing my journal. I found a pad of paper in a waterproof pouch that I figured Mr. Chetwynde used for, well, for a journal. That’s where I finished my Journal #35. I took the pages and stowed them in a compartment beneath some navigation gear. I figured it was safer there than on me. One more dunk in the water and the journal would be gone. I figured that at some point the Chetwyndes would find it and give it to you, Courtney. Okay, maybe that’s a long shot, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I then began my Journal #36. Why not? There was nothing else to do but worry.

By the time I was tired of writing, my shift was almost up. I was looking forward to putting my head down and getting some long-overdue rest…

When my ring came to life.

My first thought was to wake up Alder. No, I take that back. My first thought was: Ican’t believe this is happening now! My second thought was to wake up Alder. I didn’t. Whatever was coming in, there would be time to share it with him later. At least one of us would be well rested. I took off the ring and placed it on the bunk beside me. I wanted to shield the light, so as not to disturb my friend. The ring grew; light flashed from the depths while the sweet musical notes drifted out from the pathway between territories. A moment later the event was over. The ring was back to normal. Lying next to it was a torn piece of paper with writing on it. It looked as if it were smudged with something, but it was too dark to tell. I held the note up to the porthole to allow moonlight to shine on it. As soon as the light hit it, I saw the smudge for what it was.

Blood. Wet blood.