Raven Rise

SECOND EARTH

(CONTINUED)

“Bobby Pendragon is the Travelerfrom Second Earth,” Mark said with no emotion.

“He was.” Saint Dane sighed. “I’m afraid he decided the task was no longer to his taste. But I’m sure you knew that.”

Saint Dane turned and walked into the luxury suite. Mark ran after him. Courtney was right behind.

“How did you get off Ibara?” Mark called after him.

“I’m sure you’ll find that out soon enough,” Saint Dane answered without turning back.

Courtney asked, “Does that mean Bobby can leave too?”

“Pendragon quit,” Saint Dane spat at them. “Why do you think the Convergence has begun? He lost because he didn’t have enough faith in himself, or his convictions, to continue. He was flawed, which came as no surprise to me.”

“‘Flawed,’” Courtney echoed. “You make it sound like a crime.”

“Indeed,” Saint Dane agreed. “Pendragon was flawed. That is why he quit.”

“He didn’t quit!” Courtney shot back. “He blew up the flume to trap you on Ibara.”

Saint Dane held out his arms and smiled. “And you see how successful he was. Pendragon destroyed the flume on Ibara because he no longer had the will to continue the struggle. Paint that any way you like, but it is the truth. His weakness didn’t close a door, it opened one. For me. It’s a door that cannot be closed.”

“Unless Bobby wants it closed,” Courtney threw back at him.

“Why are you so concerned with Pendragon when such momentous events are happening right before you?” Saint Dane chastised. “Pendragon is history. This is what it’s all been leading to. The Convergence has begun. Accept it.”

“What does that mean?” Courtney yelled desperately. “What is the Convergence?”

“Weren’t you listening? It’s the creation of a new order, just as Naymeer said. My vision for a unified Halla is one breath away. It’s happening on all the territories. Each one is falling into line, just as I said it would.” Saint Dane walked to the kitchen area and looked over the tray of sandwiches on the counter. “This is quite nice,” he commented. “I may have to attend a sporting event here. What exactly is a Knick?”

“Why are we here?” Courtney demanded to know.

Saint Dane turned to them, but as he moved, he transformed into the character of Eugene, the clean-cut guy who escorted them to the suite. Mark and Courtney both jolted with surprise.

“I told you,” Eugene answered brightly. “You’re the special guest of Naymeer. He wanted you here.”

Mark fought to keep his composure and asked, “Why? He doesn’t even know who we are.”

“Naymeer is the Traveler from Second Earth now,” Eugene said with pride. “He needs acolytes. What better choice than you two? After all, you have loads of experience!”

“You can’t be serious,” Courtney spat out. “You expect us to give up on Bobby?”

With a quick move to his right, Eugene transformed into the character of Whitney Wilcox-the soccer-playing preppy from Stansfield Academy. He even had a soccer ball that he bounced off his knee.

“You’re a winner, Courtney,” Whitney said cockily. “The way I see it, you’ve only got one choice. Take it. Be a winner. You too, Mark. You can come along for the ride.” Whitney laughed, bounced the ball off his knee again and kicked it at them. Courtney caught it without flinching.

“Nice!” called Whitney.

“Not gonna happen,” Courtney said flatly.

“N-No, it’s not,” Mark echoed.

Whitney transformed. This time Saint Dane became Andy Mitchell. Mark’s nemesis. Mark’s partner in Forge. Mark’s nightmare. He looked as he did on Second Earth, complete with long, greasy blond hair and a dirty T-shirt. He hawked up a lougie and spit into the sink. Mark and Courtney didn’t blink.

“Guess what, Dimond? This one’s on you too!” Mitchell cackled.

“What does that mean?” Mark asked.

Andy Mitchell strolled over to the glass partition that overlooked the arena. The lights were back on. The Halla portion of the show was over. Naymeer was once again addressing the audience.

“Naymeer’s ring,” Mitchell said. “Look familiar?”

“All the Traveler rings look the same,” Mark answered through clenched teeth.

“I guess,” Mitchell agreed. “But that one. That one’s special.”

“Why?” Mark asked.

Mitchell smiled, showing a mouthful of yellow, nicotine-stained teeth. “Because it’s yours.”

Mark and Courtney stared back at Mitchell for a long, confused moment. It was Mark who first put it together. “Nevva,” he whispered, dazed.

Mitchell continued, “First you created the dados, then you offered up the one thing that kicked off the whole show. I pretty much owe you everything, Dimond. The least I can do is offer you a seat at the table. Chetwynde, too, so long as she keeps her mouth shut. She can be really annoying.”

Mark stood frozen. Courtney grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Mark didn’t move at first, but was too stunned to resist for long, and the two moved toward the exit.

“Hey, where you going?” Mitchell called. “There ain’t no place to go. No place to hide. It’s all over but the shouting.” He let out a scream. “Ahhh!” Then shrugged and smiled. “Oops. Guess now it’s over.”

Courtney kept pulling Mark toward the door. She backed into it, reached behind herself for the knob, and opened it up.

“Think about it!” Mitchell called. “You’re either with me or against me. I don’t think you want to be against me. Not anymore.”

Courtney pulled Mark through the door and let it slam shut.

“We’re outta here,” she said to him and pulled him toward the elevator.

Mark didn’t move.

“It’s my ring,” he said, as if in a trance. “That’s why Nevva wanted it. It wasn’t to isolate Bobby. It was to start the Convergence.”

Courtney jumped back and got in Mark’s face. “Saint Dane started the Convergence,” she snarled. “Not you. Not that slick old dude. Saint Dane.”

“If Bobby quit,” Mark said flatly, “I think I will too.”

Courtney shook him. Hard. “You are not quitting! We’ve been waiting for this moment for years. It’s the turning point of Second Earth, Mark. It’s not what we expected. Fine. So what? This is our time. It’s on us now, just like we always thought.”

“But it’s all my fault,” Mark said weakly.

Courtney wound up and slapped Mark across the face. She didn’t hold back, either. She really whacked him. Hard. Mark stared at her, stunned.

“Wake up!” she yelled. “As long as we’re still alive, it’s not over. But if you give up now, then it really willbe your fault.” Mark looked surprised, and hurt.

Courtney added, “I don’t know what this whole Ravinia thing is leading to, but after what happened to Third Earth, you know it can’t be good.”

“I wish Bobby was here,” Mark said meekly. “He’s not. We are. What’s it gonna be?” Mark’s pained look slowly turned to one of resolve. His eyes focused. He stood up straight and said, “What do we do?”

“We get Patrick,” she answered quickly. “And then what?”

“If Saint Dane is here, it must mean the flume to Ibara is open.”

“So?”

“So you’re right. We need Bobby. Somebody’s got to get to him and make him un-quit.”

Mark gave this a moment’s thought, then shook his head quickly. “Courtney, we can’t.”

“Yeah we can. We’re going to get out of here, get Patrick, and travel.”

“Hey!” came a shout from down the hall.

Mark and Courtney looked quickly to see two red-shirt guards running toward them. Both turned and ran in the other direction. They sprinted along the corridor past the photos of famous events. Mark wondered if one day there would be a picture of Naymeer hanging there. The thought made him angry. The anger made him dig in. They ran faster.

“The elevator,” Mark shouted. “No.”

They kept running. Halfway down the corridor they hit a fire exit, blasted through the door, and ran down the stairs.

Courtney said breathlessly, “We’ll get to Grand Central and take the train home to get Patrick.”

“No,” Mark argued. “They might expect that. We’ve got plenty of cash. We’ll take a taxi.”

“All the way to Stony Brook?”

“Why not? It’s KEM’s money.”

They landed on the next floor and ran through double doors that opened onto a wide, bright walkway that ringed the arena. There were hotdog stands, souvenir counters… and two red-shirt guards. The Ravinians were walking toward Mark and Courtney, about twenty yards away.

“They don’t know who we are,” Mark whispered. One guard saw them, pointed, and both started running after them.

“Or maybe they do,” Courtney countered.

The two turned and ran in the opposite direction, only to see two more red shirts coming toward them. They were trapped. Looking around desperately, they found themselves standing directly in front of one of the tunnels that led back into the arena. Both knew it was the only way to go and ran inside. They had only taken a few steps when a sea of excited people came pouring out. The show was over. The charged-up minions of Naymeer were headed home. Mark grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her headlong into the crowd. They were like two salmon swimming upstream, fighting their way through. Once inside the arena, Mark took a sharp right and pushed his way farther into the mass of people.

“We’ll get lost in the crowd,” he called back to Courtney. “Stay low. Go slow.”

They had to fight the urge to push faster. Both knew it would only make them stand out. They had to be patient and have the nerve to blend in with the moving mass of humanity. They climbed down a set of stairs and entered another tunnel that led to the outside. The crowd slowly made its way toward escalators going down. Mark and Courtney crouched low, trying to use the people to shield them from their pursuers. They passed a group of red shirts who were scanning the crowd. Courtney saw them first and pulled Mark lower. It took all their willpower not to break into a run. They finally reached the escalator and stepped on.

“Stop!” came a voice from above.

They looked up to see red shirts glaring down on them from two levels up. Courtney looked at Mark and said, “Does he really think we’d do that?”

The escalator dumped them out near a ramp that led farther down. The crowd had thinned and no longer offered cover. Without discussing it, they both ran. They only had to move one more level down before they hit a set of glass doors that led to the street. They pushed through the doors and leaped outside.

“We gotta find a cab,” Mark announced.

“Not around here,” Courtney offered. “Too much competition.”

They were no longer worried about getting caught. There were too many people outside. They walked as quickly as they could toward the sidewalk, but stopped when they saw that blue police barriers were strung along the curb, holding back hundreds of protesters. They held their signs and chanted at the exiting minions.

The same dark-skinned man in the suit and bow tie had moved his ladder into position so he could be seen clearly by the throng exiting the Garden. He stood above the others, pounding the air with his fist and bellowing into his bullhorn. The other protesters gathered at his feet, shouting along with him.

Mark listened and said, “They’re not chanting ‘Stop them here.’ It’s ‘Stop Naymeer.’”

Most of the people who came out of the show simply smiled at the protesters. Some even waved.

“Look at them,” Courtney whispered. “They don’t care. They’re the chosen ones. The protesters mean nothing to them.”

“Look out!” Mark yelled, and pulled Courtney back just as a protester hurled himself over the police barrier and attacked one of the minions. A brawl broke out. The barrier came crashing down as more protesters joined in. The Naymeer people defended themselves, but they were more about getting away than retaliating. Soon the New York City police showed up, complete with riot gear. They fought to pull people apart.

“This is ugly,” Courtney gasped.

Mark pulled her away, and the two ran a few blocks until they found a yellow taxi to pick them up. “Stony Brook,” Mark said.

The cabbie’s eyes went wide. “Connecticut? That’ll cost you.”

“Just drive,” Courtney commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” the cabbie replied. He hit the meter and they were off.

Mark and Courtney rode in silence. Both were trying to digest what they’d seen. It was the cabbie who spoke first.

“What side you two on?” the gruff little man asked.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked.

“You came from that meeting. You two Ravini-ites?”

Mark and Courtney exchanged looks and shrugs.

“We’re still deciding,” Mark answered. “What about you?”

“Nah! I think it’s all a lot of hocus-pocus,” the cabbie scoffed. “All that talk about other worlds and the origins of the universe. It makes my head hurt.”

Courtney snickered. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I’ll say this though,” the cabbie continued, “I think them guys are dangerous.”

“How so?” Mark asked.

“They’re trying to run the whole show. Now they got that thing going at the UN ‘cause they want to be some kind of international spiritual advisors. That’s just wrong. It’s what we got governments for. You may not always agree with politicians, but at least they pretend to be fair.”

“You don’t think the Ravinians are fair?” Mark probed.

“How can it be fair when they only care about the high falutin’?”

“What do you mean?” Courtney asked.

“Hey, I ain’t no dummy, but I couldn’t join them even if I wanted to. They only take you if you’re some kind of egghead. Or you got money. Or a business. I think you gotta have a big fat IQ just to qualify. They don’t want regular workin’ stiffs like me. I don’t know nuthin’ about their plans for the future, but it seems to me, they’re trying to separate the haves from the have-nots. If you’re one of the have-nots, you’re gonna have a lot less, if they have a say. It just ain’t right.”

Mark uttered aloud, “The elite. The strong. The enlightened.”

Courtney added, “It’s like they’re trying to weed out anybody who’s less than perfect.”

“Exactly!” the cabbie agreed. “I can’t get behind that, but a lot of people do. To be honest, it scares me. I’m just a regular guy. It ain’t right I tell ya.”

Neither Mark nor Courtney said another word until they were dropped off in front of Mark’s house in Stony Brook.

“Wait for us,” Courtney said. “Keep the meter running.”

“You bet I will. Hey, you’re not gonna stiff me, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Mark said. He dug into his wallet and took out two fifty-dollar bills for the cabbie. “That’s a down payment. Wait up the block, okay?”

The cabbie tipped his hat happily. “Whatever you say. It’s your dime.”

The cabbie put the car in gear, then gave a final warning. “Remember what I told you. Them people ain’t right.” With that last bit of wisdom, he took off.

“Them people ain’t right,” Courtney repeated. “Kind of sums it all up, doesn’t it.”

“Why did you want him to wait?” Mark asked.

“We won’t be here long. And I didn’t want somebody to wonder why there’s a cab outside your house.”

“Oh. Smart.”

The two circled around toward the back of the house, making sure that nobody saw them. Once inside, they found Patrick right where they had left him, sitting in front of Mark’s computer. The only difference was that he was surrounded by bags of Doritos and cans of Mountain Dew. He looked up at them with wild eyes.

“You okay?” Courtney asked.

“I’m fantastic!” Patrick exclaimed. “This sugary drink is incredible!”

“Swell,” Courtney remarked sarcastically. “He’s wired on Dew.”

“But we have problems,” Patrick continued, ramping down. He took another hit of soda. “There’s a fellow named Naymeer who is the leader of Ravinia.”

He stopped talking long enough to gulp down more Dew. Courtney pulled it away from him.

“Easy,” she scolded. “You don’t want to be up all day.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick asked, perplexed.

“We know all about Naymeer,” Mark interjected.

He went on to explain all that had happened, from being abducted at Courtney’s house to the rally at Madison Square Garden to the meeting with Saint Dane. Patrick listened, wide eyed, while stuffing Doritos into his mouth. When Mark finished, Patrick didn’t say a word. He stared straight ahead, digging back into the Doritos bag. Courtney couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed it away from him.

“You’re making me sick!” she exclaimed.

Patrick barely reacted. He was too busy processing the information. “Traveler from Second Earth,” he muttered. “That’s not good.”

“No,” Courtney said with mock patience. “I’d say that’s really bad. What did you find out about Naymeer?”

Patrick snapped back into focus and grabbed a stack of papers he had printed out.

“It wasn’t difficult,” he explained. “This thing you call the Internet is crude, but there’s plenty of information about Naymeer.”

He handed some printouts to Mark and Courtney.

“His full name is Alexander Naymeer. He’s originally from England. An orphan. Apparently, when he was young, he was knocking on death’s door, and then he suddenly had a miraculous recovery. The doctors couldn’t explain it. The nurses called it a miracle. Whatever it was, from that moment on, the guy started telling stories about other worlds and forces larger than anyone could envision. At first people chalked it up to youthful imagination…until he started sharing his visions. Literally. He showed people images of unique people and strange animals and places that didn’t exist anywhere on Earth. They would have locked him up except for the fact that nobody could explain how he did it.”

“We know how,” Mark interrupted.

“He started acting like some kind of prophet, telling of the potential for future glory, and how this world and all others could reach a kind of nirvana, as long as the right path was followed.” Patrick dug through the pages, looking for a particular sheet. He found it and said, “Here, this is a quote: ‘We must reward excellence and condemn those whose only contribution to society is to burden.’ He said that when he was nine years old.”

Courtney held up one of the pages and made a sour face. “Disgusting. You’ve got Dorito fingerprints all over these.”

“Stop!” Mark snapped at Courtney. “This is serious.”

“Like I don’t know that?”

“Patrick, what year was he born?”

Patrick dug through some papers. “They don’t know for sure, because he was abandoned at a foundling home, but the best guess is 1930.”

“And what year did he nearly die?”

Patrick scanned the pages. “That one’s definite: 1937.”

“First Earth,” Courtney said softly.

“In England,” Mark added. “It happened when we were there. That’s when Nevva gave him my ring. It saved his life, and started a revolution.”

Patrick said, “‘Revolution’ is the right word. He’s created a cult of excellence. Its members are all special people in one way or another. They’re leaders, scientists, athletes, successful business people, brilliant students, military leaders, mathematicians. All races. All nationalities. The one thing they have in common is that in some way, they are exceptional.”

“They’re flawless,” Courtney said, echoing Saint Dane’s words.

Mark stood and paced. “It’s like he’s trying to create a superclass of people to be the new leaders of Earth, and Halla.”

“What about everybody else?” Courtney asked. “You know, the regular people?”

Patrick answered, “He never comes out and says it, but from all that I’ve read, he thinks that the people he considers to be inferior have been the cause of all the world’s ills. According to his vision, they’ll be marginalized.”

“What the heck does that mean?” Courtney asked.

“I think it means that according to Ravinia, they’re irrelevant and shouldn’t be given the same rights as others,” Patrick answered.

“Yikes” was Courtney’s response.

Mark asked, “So Naymeer’s vision for the future says the poor, the sick, the handicapped, the people who need the help of society will be considered irrelevant and treated differently?”

“Not just the poor and sick,” Patrick corrected. “It includes anyone whom Naymeer doesn’t consider to be exceptional. That means your average person will be treated as a liability to society.”

“What about old people?” Courtney asked.

Patrick shrugged. “If they don’t contribute to society in some significant way, they’re not part of Ravinia and will be treated as second-class citizens.”

D. J. MacHale

Raven Rise

Courtney added, “Wasn’t that kind of what the Nazis were all about? Creating a Super Race?”

“Yes,” Patrick answered. “At the expense of several million people who didn’t fit the profile.”

“How can people buy into this?” Courtney complained. “It’s just…wrong.”

“Not everybody does” was Patrick’s response. “There’s a whole countermovement to Ravinia. They call themselves the ‘Foundation.’ They’re fighting the cause of the common man, saying how everybody has value, and to follow Naymeer would lead to destruction. Look at this.”

Patrick looked to Mark’s computer and announced, “Play Gastigian.”

On the monitor screen, a video triggered. They saw the image of a dark-skinned man speaking directly to the camera for a TV interview.

“That’s the guy from the protest!” Courtney exclaimed. “The guy with the bullhorn.”

“Shhh, listen,” Patrick admonished.

The man on the screen spoke with passion. “Naymeer and the Ravinians are putting us on a dangerous course. To disrespect the common man, upon whose backs this world was built, is not only a grave act of injustice, it will certainly bring about the downfall of modern society. If the United Nations votes to accept and perpetuate the teachings of Alexander Naymeer, it will mark the beginning of the fall of modern man.”

The video ended on the frozen face of the passionate man. “Strong words,” Courtney said. “He’s predicting doomsday.”

“Who is he?” Mark asked.

“His name is Haig Gastigian. A philosophy professor from New York University. He’s the leading voice against the Ravinians. From what I’ve seen, he’s a hero to many, and an outlaw to the Ravinians.”

Mark shook his head in wonder. “What he’s saying is just common sense. You’d think everybody would see that.”

Patrick answered, “Many do. But Naymeer’s philosophy is pretty appealing to a lot of people. People with power. I guess people like easy answers, and he’s promising them a better world. It’s great, as long as you’re on the right side.”

Mark asked, “What’s this thing with the United Nations? Ravinia is going to be recognized as the spiritual voice of the world? How scary is that?”

“The UN General Assembly is voting on it soon,” Patrick offered. “It could very well be the beginning of the end.” Mark asked, “What do you mean?”

Patrick sighed. “It means Naymeer’s vision is wrong and dangerous. The proof of that is on Third Earth. It’s created nothing short of chaos and despair. I’m sure he hasn’t shown that particular vision to anybody.”

“Could that be it?” Courtney asked. “Could that be the turning point for Second Earth? The acceptance of Naymeer’s vision by the UN?”

“This isn’t Naymeer’s vision,” Mark corrected. “This is pure Saint Dane. What happened on Third Earth could be the fate of every other territory. Saint Dane is revealing the existence of Halla through this Naymeer guy. This is the ultimate mixing of the territories. How can any society follow its own destiny when they’re aware that so much more is out there? Saint Dane is probably going to follow the same model on every other territory.”

“Then this is it,” Courtney said with finality. “This is the Convergence. Saint Dane is spreading this vision throughout Halla. He’s rewarding the strong and punishing the weak. If he succeeds, then what?”

The three fell silent, the weight of those words sinking in. Nobody wanted to ask the next obvious question.

Mark took the plunge. “What do we do about it?”

“I told you,” Courtney announced, jumping to her feet. “We travel. This is where it’s all coming down. Second Earth. We can’t handle this on our own.”

“Then why should we leave?” Patrick asked.

“To get Bobby. And anybody else who can help. Alder, Loor, Siry, Aja-“

“Aja’s dead,” Mark corrected.

“She’s dead on Ibara. Not on Veelox. If we went to Veelox, we’d find her.”

“And do what?” Mark asked.

“Bring them here! Saint Dane says it’s over. I don’t think it is. We still haven’t hit Second Earth’s turning point. Maybe this UN thing is it. I don’t know. But things are still happening. The Convergence might have started, but it isn’t finished. Naymeer is still gathering his power. We have to try to stop him. No way we can do it alone. The Travelers should be here. All of them.”

“What about Bobby?” Mark asked soberly. “What if he really meant it when he said he quit?”

Mark and Patrick looked to Courtney. She didn’t answer at first. She knew the importance of her next words.

“I can’t pretend to know what’s going through Bobby’s head after all he’s had to deal with, but you know him as well as I do, Mark. No, you know him way better than I do. He may have been frustrated. He may have been tired. He may have felt totally overwhelmed and needed a long rest. But in your heart, do you really believe that he quit?”

Mark and Courtney gazed into each other’s eyes for several seconds.

“No,” Mark finally said. “No I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” Courtney announced with confidence. “Let’s go get him.”

Mark looked up to Patrick and said, “Are you up for this?”

Patrick looked pale. “I’ve never been anywhere but the Earth territories. I–I’m not sure how I’ll do.”

“You’ll do fine,” Courtney said dismissively. “Besides, you’re a Traveler. We can’t use the flume without…” Courtney stopped in midsentence.

“What’s the matter?” Mark asked.

“I smell something.”

“Stop bagging on my room,” Mark whined. “I haven’t been here in months.”

Courtney frowned and walked quickly to the bedroom door. She felt the handle with suspicion, then threw the door open. Black smoke billowed into the room.

“Fire!” Courtney shouted.

“They found us,” Mark gasped.

Courtney tried to step through the door, but the smoke drove her back. She closed it quickly. “Can’t go that way,” she shouted.

Mark went for the door. “I’ve got to get my parents’ papers. And pictures.”

Courtney held her arm against the door, not allowing Mark to open it. “Are you crazy?”

“Courtney! My family’s life is in that room.”

“Your family’s life is on First Earth. They can’t come back, Mark. This place doesn’t mean anything to them anymore.”

Mark reached for the door again. “But I have to save-”

Courtney grabbed his arm. She looked him right in the eye and said with dead seriousness, “You have to save us.”

Mark thought and nodded. “You’re right.” He glanced around and ran for the window. “We can crawl across the roof and climb down the maple tree. I’ve done it a million times.”

“Wait!” Courtney shouted. “Whoever did this is probably out there.”

Mark weighed the problem, then yanked the window up. “I’ll see.” Quickly he ducked out onto the roof. Patrick didn’t move. “Go!” Courtney ordered.

The Traveler followed Mark. Courtney was right behind him. The shingled roof was sloped, but it wasn’t hard to maneuver. Rather than go for the maple tree, Mark scrambled up toward the peak of the roof.

“What are you doing?” Courtney yelled with a strained whisper.

Mark reached the peak and peered over the top in time to see a long black limo driving away. The loud blare of a fire-truck siren was heard in the distance. Help was coming. Mark quickly slid down the roof section on his butt, joining the others.

“It was the limo,” he said. “They took off, probably because the fire department’s on the way.”

“We’ve gotta be gone too,” Courtney said. “We can’t let them find us.”

Mark nimbly scrambled across the roof until he reached the edge, where the branch of a large maple tree jutted a few feet below. Using skills he hadn’t needed since he was a little kid, he grabbed on to the branch, swung his legs off the roof and over the top of the branch. He then shinned toward the trunk of the tree.

“Piece of cake,” he called back.

Patrick couldn’t move. “I’ve never done anything like that,” he complained nervously.

“You’re gonna do a lot of things you’ve never done before. Move!”

Courtney didn’t shove him, but didn’t back away from him either. Patrick gingerly followed Mark’s lead and made it out onto the tree. Courtney waited until he got to the center of the tree, then followed. Moments later all three were on the ground.

Flames leaped from the downstairs windows.

“I guess that’s the last of it,” Mark said sadly.

“Last of what?” Courtney asked.

“My life. Once the house is gone, there’ll be nothing left to tie me to Second Earth.”

Courtney started to say something, but stopped herself. Instead she put her arm around Mark with sympathy. “Gotta go,” she implored.

A loud horn told them the fire engines were almost there. The three rounded the house into the next yard and came out onto the street in time to see several red trucks flash by, headed for Mark’s house. They took a quick look back to see the place was an inferno.

“Why would they do that?” Patrick asked. “If they wanted to hurt us, they could have chosen a much more efficient way.”

“They didn’t want to hurt us,” Courtney said. “They wanted to scare us. It didn’t work.”

The cab was waiting for them, as requested, a block away. They got inside and told the cabbie they were headed back into the city. To the Bronx. To a subway station.

The cabbie shrugged and said, “Whatever you say. I was getting worried about you.”

“That makes four of us,” Courtney said.

Nobody spoke for the entire journey. Patrick stared out the window, wide eyed, at his home territory in-to him-the distant past. Mark and Courtney tried to nap. They knew they had to sleep when they could. Unlike Patrick, they had been to other territories beyond Earth. They knew the drill. It took nearly an hour to get to their destination. Mark nudged Courtney when they were a few blocks away.

“You’ve been to this flume, right?” Courtney asked Patrick. “On all three territories.”

“Then you know it’s dangerous. We’ve got to time the trains and get down onto the subway tracks without being seen… or run down.”

“What about quigs?” Mark asked.

“Oh, right,” Courtney said, deflated. “There’s that.”

“Stop the car!” Mark shouted.

The cabbie jammed on the brakes, making everybody nearly fly out of their seats.

“Jeez!” he shouted. “What’s the matter?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said with equal surprise. “What was that for?”

Mark reached for his wallet, pulled out a wad of bills and tossed them to the cabbie.

“Whoa, chief. That’s too much. You got change comin’.”

Mark didn’t wait. He jumped out of the car.

“Keep it,” Courtney said.

“Thanks! I knew you guys weren’t Ravinian creeps.”

Courtney crawled out of the cab, followed right behind by Patrick. As the car pulled away from the curb, they found themselves at the familiar intersection in a rundown section of the Bronx that Mark and Courtney had been to several times before. Mark stood staring. Courtney joined him and asked, “What is your problem?”

Mark didn’t answer. Courtney looked to where he was staring, and her jaw dropped.

“What?” Patrick asked, confused.

“It’s the wrong corner,” Courtney said.

“No, it isn’t,” Mark corrected.

“What’s the matter?” Patrick asked impatiently.

Courtney slowly looked to him and said, as if in a daze, “The subway station is gone.”

Patrick looked to where they were staring. “You’re right. That wasn’t there when I came through here with Press.”

Courtney asked, “So then, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “Let’s find out.”

He stepped off the curb, headed toward the corner where the green subway kiosk used to be. Everything about the neighborhood was the exact same, except for that block. In place of the kiosk was a tall stone building that looked like a medieval castle. Hanging from the second story was a line of flags.

Red flags.

Flags with stars.