Raven Rise

JOURNAL #36
(CONTINUED)
SECOND EARTH

I whirled to Saint Dane.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

Saint Dane was smug. I hated smug. I’ve mentioned that before, right?

“You predicted that the enemies of Ravinia would try to stop the movement,” he declared. “Once they understand the consequences of their opposition, their will to rebel will disintegrate.”

Mark and Courtney were gently, yet forcefully, pushed into the group. The twelve stood huddled together directly in front of the flume. What they didn’t realize was that a group of red shirts was moving in behind them. Circling them. Cutting off any chance for escape.

Naymeer stood in the center of the flume, facing them. “I am sure you’ve heard rumors about the worlds of Halla,” he announced to the newly arrived group. “It’s true. The people in this room have witnessed the wonders. Now, tonight, you will be given the same privilege.” He raised his hand. Light flashed from his ring. The people huddled closer as the flume activated.

Naymeer continued, but when he spoke, his benign grandfatherly tone took on a firm, dark edge. He stared the group down and declared, “When those who oppose us learn of what transpired this evening, they too will realize that the rise of Ravinia is inevitable. There can be no opposition.”

With that, Naymeer stepped aside to reveal the light that had appeared deep in the recesses of the tunnel. The group stood together, transfixed, staring into it like deer caught in the headlights. Mark and Courtney tried to move away, but were forced back into the group by red shirts who were ready for them. Mark looked concerned, but Courtney was clearly scared. The people in the audience whispered to one another. They were just as clueless about what was going to happen as I was.

I take that back. I wasn’t totally clueless. I feared that we were about to witness the Bronx Massacre.

“Stop it!” I shouted to Saint Dane.

Saint Dane remained calm, with his arms folded. “Now why would I do that?”

These people were about to become victims. Whether it was to be exiled somewhere in Halla or to be executed, they would never see this life again. They were to become a warning to the world not to challenge the Ravinians. Naymeer promised his own people Utopia. He was about to promise something much worse to those who opposed him. They were about to be sacrificed in the name of Ravinia. This was the beginning of Ravinia’s reign on Earth…

And Mark and Courtney were caught in the middle.

I ran for a table that sat against the far wall.

“Guards,” Saint Dane called out, barely concerned by my move.

The red shirts ran for me. Too late. Alder launched himself at the dados, laying them out flat with his body parallel to the ground. I picked up the table and hurled it at the glass. Saint Dane dove out of the way. That was okay. He wasn’t the target. I wanted to break glass. The table hit the window, creating a spider web of cracks without breaking through.

Alder took on both the red shirts, keeping them away from me. His hands were tied, which made it more of a fair fight. I didn’t know how long he could keep them occupied. I didn’t need long. Saint Dane stepped directly in front of the cracked glass and faced me. The growing light from the flume filled the huge room below, casting him in shadow.

“Must you always prolong the inevitable?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered.

He was in the perfect spot. Right in front of the damaged glass. This was going to feel good. I sprinted right at him. His eyes opened in surprise. He didn’t have time to react. I nailed the demon dead on, driving my head into his chest, knocking him back into the glass. The already damaged glass shattered, and the two of us launched into space. We fell through a blizzard of glass, plummeting toward the poor people who were directly below. I grabbed on to Saint Dane’s jacket, determined to keep him between me and the ground. If anybody was going to get hurt, I wanted it to be him. Not that I had thought it through, but I suppose I had a flash of hope that we’d land on some unsuspecting, soft Ravinians who wouldn’t be able to get out of the way in time.

I don’t know what or who we landed on, but we did land. Hard. I was aware of a jumble of arms and legs and screams as people dove out of the way. I was shaken, but okay. I landed squarely on Saint Dane and was thrown against the backs of some chairs. When I looked to him, he was gone. No, that’s not right. He was still there, but he had changed. Transformed. He had become a clean-cut-looking guy with short hair and a red golf shirt. He sat up, not hurt in the slightest.

“Stop him!” he shouted while pointing at me.

Nobody listened. They didn’t want any part of me. They backed away as if I were radioactive. Saint Dane may have considered them perfect. I considered them cowards.

Crash! I looked up to see one of the red shirts had been thrown through the window. Alder was back in charge. The guard plummeted down, along with the shattered glass. He landed against the back of a chair and bounced. Seriously. Dados bounce.

Bedlam was breaking loose. Between the flume activating and bodies crashing down from above, the Ravinians wanted out. They starting pushing their way toward the stairs.

Bright light filled the room. I didn’t have much time.

“Courtney!” I shouted. “Mark!”

I climbed up on a chair to see the red shirts pushing the group of frightened people toward the flume. Courtney heard me and turned.

“Bobby!” she screamed.

Her eyes were wild. She was terrified. She tried to fight her way back, but a red shirt grabbed her by the waist and pushed her forward. Closer to the flume. By this time the other people in her group knew something was wrong. They tried to resist, but the ring of dados closed on them, forcing them toward the light. I jumped down from the chair, pushing my way through the fleeing Ravinians, desperate to help these people. To help Mark and Courtney. It was impossible to move. There were too many people pushing against me, moving the other way. I was stuck. The music from the flume grew louder. I climbed back up on a chair just as the group of people were shoved into the tunnel, along with several red-shirt dados.

Mark fought his way out of the crowd. For a second I thought he was going to get away, but he turned back and tried to grab Courtney’s hand to help her. He was more worried about her safety than his own. That was Mark. The move cost him. A red shirt ran up from behind and pushed them both back into the pile of victims. The light enveloped them all. The music was deafening. A moment later it ended. The light disappeared. The music died. The last sound I heard was the faint echo of Courtney’s voice calling, “Bobby!”

The Bronx Massacre.

They were gone. But to where? Were they dead? Or exiled to some unknown location? Whatever the truth was, Naymeer had sent a message. Don’t mess with the Ravinians. Or else. I couldn’t let myself believe that Mark and Courtney were dead. I had to tell myself that they were just…gone. Thinking any other way would have crushed me. Knowing that they were out there somewhere, needing my help, gave me new strength. That was good, because I was still in the thick of it.

Naymeer was gone. So was Saint Dane. The red shirts weren’t. From my perch on the chair I saw several of them pushing their way through the crowd to get to me. I was about to jump down when I felt my legs go out from under me. The dado that Alder had bounced down from above was still in play. He flipped me to the ground, but I went down kicking. I nailed his knee. Hard. It may have been a dado, but feeling his knee give way was gruesome. It didn’t stop the dado from coming after me. After all, it was a robot. He reached down, and was about to grab my shirt when he was suddenly picked up and thrown aside like a puppet.

Alder stood over me. His hands were untied.

“We must go,” he said.

I bounced to my feet and looked around to find the best way out. I thought of going for the flume, but there were too many Ravinians and red shirts between us and the tunnel. The only logical way to go was with the flow of people who were desperately pushing to get to the stairs that led up out of there.

“Go with the crowd,” I instructed Alder.

We pushed our way through the mass. The dados were after us. Our best hope was to keep as many Ravinians as possible between us and them. I didn’t think the dados would hurt the Ravinians to get to us. After all, they were the chosen people. They were the future. All I cared about was that they would be our shields. Politeness didn’t count. I barged past them, not caring if they were offended or bruised or angry. We fought our way to the stairs and climbed to the top. I kept glancing up and around, to see how close our pursuers were. They were all still at the bottom of the stairs and having just as much trouble getting through the crowd of Ravinians as we were. I actually thought we were going to make it, until we reached the top of the stairs and ran outside.

The line of red-shirt dados that was holding the crowd back was still there.

The Ravinians were quickly funneled off to the side of the building, where two columns of red shirts formed a clear alley for them to hurry past the angry protesters. A line of buses was fired up, and waiting to take them away from the madness. We couldn’t go that way. The corridor of dados was too narrow. They’d spot us for sure. Even if we made it to a bus, we’d be stopped before we got on. No, we had to break free from the crowd and take our chances on our own.

The protesters on the stairs crowded against the line of red shirts. There were thousands of them, all wanting to break through and storm the conclave.

“Pendragon, look,” Alder shouted.

A group of red shirts had climbed up and out of the flume room, headed for us. We were trapped between them and the line of red shirts below us on the stairs. We were moments away from being swarmed. I could only think of one thing to do.

I started a riot.

“They’re not coming out!” I shouted to the angry mob of protesters. “Naymeer killed them all!”

Under normal circumstances, shouting something like that would have been a totally irresponsible thing to do, like shouting “fire” in a crowded movie theater. These weren’t normal circumstances. The effect was instant. The crowd turned violent. While some ran off in fear, most of them pushed past the line of red-shirt dados to storm the conclave. The guards Tasered a few, in a futile attempt to keep them back. No go. There were too many. The red-shirt dados were stampeded. Now the crowd was headed toward us. We stood frozen on the stairs as the mob came our way. I glanced back up to see the dados who were chasing us had decided it was more important to protect Naymeer than to recapture Alder and me. They fled back inside the building and were quickly shuttering the large doors. The conclave would survive intact. I wasn’t so sure I could say the same for Alder and me.

Alder grabbed my arm and took off to our right. I felt like a tailback running behind a pulling guard. Alder picked a spot that wasn’t so dense with people and bulled through. I tripped down the stairs, banging into people as I went. Frankly, there were so many of them, it kept me upright. I kept bouncing off of people like a pinball. Alder didn’t do much bouncing. It was more like mowing. I don’t know how many people he ran over. Too many. These people were victims. They had only begun to live a life of misery, thanks to the Ravinians. A life they didn’t deserve. I hated to have to start it with violence, but we had to get away. It only took a minute for us to land at the bottom of the stairs and the backside of the surge of people. I grabbed Alder’s arm as a signal for him to stop. We both looked back up the stairs to see the crowd banging on the doors of the austere building, desperate to get inside and learn the fate of their friends.

“We gotta get away from here,” I said to Alder, and took off running.

The farther we got away from the conclave building, the sparser the crowd became. We made it. We got away. But our night was only beginning. I saw a subway entrance and led Alder down. I didn’t know where to go other than to get as far away from the Ravinians as possible. We didn’t have any money, so we both jumped the turnstile and walked out onto the platform to wait for a train. I had to give Alder credit. He followed me through this strange world without question. I couldn’t begin to imagine what must have been going through his head as he experienced the alien world that was Second Earth. Or maybe he wasn’t shaken by any of it. After all, there were bigger issues to deal with than learning what a subway train was.

Thankfully, a train pulled into the station quickly. The

D. J. MacHale

Raven Rise doors opened and Alder followed me on. We took seats at the rear of the near-empty car. It was the first chance we had to catch our breath since I saw Mark and Courtney being led to-I won’t even finish that sentence.

“What do you believe happened to them?” Alder asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t believe they were all just…executed. What would the purpose be?”

“To eliminate their enemies and intimidate those who remain,” Alder answered.

“Yeah, but Patrick wrote that Naymeer exiled his enemies. I said before, exile isn’t execution.”

“Then why was it called the Bronx Massacre?”

I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. What I wanted was to have Mark and Courtney back. I think I was in shock. That’s the only way to explain how I could keep going without being crushed by the events we had witnessed. We were traveling downtown into Manhattan. With each stop, the subway car took on more passengers. I didn’t know what to do. After having bounced around between territories for so long, it was a strange feeling to be home and not know where to go. I had to think, but the memory of Courtney and Mark being tossed into the flume kept invading my head. If nothing else, I swore to myself that I would find out what happened to them.

The train made a stop at a busy station. I didn’t know which one. The platform was crowded and people jockeyed to get off and on before the doors closed. At the far end of the subway car, I saw a cop get on. A regular old New York City cop. Nothing strange about that, except that he seemed to be looking for something. Or someone. Or two someones… us. That wasn’t the worst part. The cop wasn’t alone. With him was a Ravinian red shirt. They were both searching the faces of the people on the subway car. That meant the Ravinians and the New York City police force were working together. The implication was huge. The Ravinians were already working their way into positions of power with the government.

“We gotta go,” I whispered, and pulled Alder toward the door. The bell rang. The doors began to close. I threw my arm out and pushed the sliding doors back open. There was no way I’d let us get trapped on a moving train. We weren’t going to make it that easy for them. It was my turn to get Alder through the crowd. We couldn’t be as bold as we’d been in the Bronx. We didn’t want to attract attention. We were being hunted by the Ravinians and now the police. We were fugitives here, just as we were in Stony Brook. It was going to be easier melting into Manhattan than the suburbs, but still, eyes were everywhere. We were going to have to find somewhere safe to hide.

I led Alder up and out of the crowded subway station, to discover we were in the middle of busy Times Square. Alder finally balked. I guess being bombarded by the lights and sounds of one of the busiest intersections in Halla was a little much for a knight from a primitive village. He stood frozen, staring up at the noisy spectacle. I didn’t push him. The chances of us being seen by the police were slim. The sidewalks were packed with tourists. No way we’d stand out.

At least that’s what I thought, until my eyes settled on the giant video screen that loomed over the crossroads.

“Pendragon, it is you,” Alder said with surprise. He saw it too.

It was a still picture of me that must have been taken from the surveillance cameras at the Sherwood house. It was a grainy blowup of a video freeze-frame, but it was definitely me. As stunning as that was to see, the words superimposed under the picture were even worse. Beneath my admittedly guilty-looking face were the words “ROBERT PENDRAGON — SUSPECTED DOMESTIC TERRORIST.”

It was a news report. A warning. There was no sound, but the words that ran along the bottom of the screen saidit all.”

WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH ATTACK ON RAVINIAN CONCLAVE. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. IF SIGHTED, DO NOT APPROACH. CONTACT POLICE.”

My picture was replaced by another. Alder’s. Alder gasped. It was also taken from the surveillance footage. Similar words crawled beneath his picture, warning people to contact the police if these two dangerous terrorists were sighted. The feeling was hard to describe. We were standing in the middle of a thousand people, yet I suddenly felt alone. Naked even. It was like one of those dreams where you find yourself out in public in your underwear. Only we were being accused of a lot more than walking around in boxers. I was a fugitive in my own home.

“They are hunting for us,” Alder said in a small voice that was not like him.

“It’s worse than that. It means they’ve gotten to the media. There’s no report about a dozen people disappearing in the Bronx, only about us. The Ravinians’ influence is everywhere.”

“Then we are truly too late,” Alder said, defeated.

The image of Alder on the giant screen was replaced by another. It was the man we had seen on TV that morning in Naymeer’s office. Again there was no sound to the report, only words that crawled across the lower part of the screen. He was identified as: “HAIG GASTIGIAN — NEW YORK UNIVERSITY.”The scrolling

words read: “PROFESSOR CONDEMNS IMMINENT UNITED NATIONS DECISION. CALLS FOR WORLDWIDE PROTEST AGAINST ALEXANDER NAYMEERAND THERAVINIANS.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “That guy’s the leader of the opposition. What’s it called? The ‘Founding’? No, the ‘Foundation.’”

“What about him?”

“He may be the only person with any power who’s left on our side.”

An hour later Alder and I arrived in Washington Square Park at the bottom of Fifth Avenue. We walked the whole way, for fear of being spotted on the subway. The park was the center of New York University, the college where Gastigian was a professor. It was pretty simple to find him. I looked in the white pages of a phone book. Duh. There weren’t a whole lot of Haig Gastigians listed. In fact there was only one, and it was in Greenwich Village, near the university. The address was on Sullivan Street, a quiet, tree-lined street of brownstones. Finding the address was easy. Getting to see Gastigian wasn’t. I knew we had come to the right place when we turned onto Sullivan Street and saw a group of scary-looking guys camped out in front of Gastigian’s address under a streetlight.

“Guards,” Alder said, reading my mind.

“Smart move. It’s not healthy to mess with the Ravinians.”

We saw more men stationed at every street corner, watching for trouble. They were ordinary-looking guys, but not the kind you’d want to mess with. They were big and they were serious. They must have heard what had happened at the Ravinian compound. These guys looked like the type to want revenge.

“Act unintimidating,” I said as we walked toward the building.

“How do I do that?”

“Smile and don’t take a defensive stance.”

“What if they attack us?”

“Let them.”

We had only gone a few steps whenIsensed that we were being followed. I didn’t have to turn around to know there were a couple of big goons shadowing us. I was pretty sure that Gastigian didn’t have high-tech surveillance cameras like Naymeer, but his security was just as effective. Before we could step up to Gastigian’s door, a ring of thugs closed around us.

“Remember,” I whispered. “Unintimidating.” Alder put on a totally false smile that looked more creepy than friendly.

“Lose the smile,” I said quickly. “Just don’t hit anybody.”

“CanIhelp you fellas?” said one of the larger characters, who stood between us and the door.

“We’d like to see Professor Gastigian,” I said in my most polite voice.

Two other thugs joined the first. They exchanged looks. It was pretty clear that they had no intention of letting us see him.

“Really?” the first guy said sarcastically. “What for?”

“We have information about the Ravinians he’ll want to hear” was my honest answer.

The thugs exchanged looks again. They didn’t look like rocket scientists. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Tell you what,” the guy said while pressing closer. He had to be six inches taller than I was, which made him even taller than Alder. I stood my ground and hoped that Alder wouldn’t pop him. “Make an appointment. The professor’s a busy guy.”

“I’m Bobby Pendragon,” I blurted out.

The guards looked at me blankly.

I took a breath and added, “We’re the ones who attacked the Ravinian conclave tonight.”

The big guy raised his eyebrows in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead we heard a man’s voice coming through the security speaker in the door. “Send them up.”

Apparently Professor Gastigian had electronic eyes and ears after all.

Professor Haig Gastigian lived in a simple, neat apartment that had a cool view of Washington Square Park. It was exactly the kind of place I expected a professor of philosophy to live. It was small and full of books. Alder and I had to move several volumes off the couch so we could sit.

Gastigian entered the living room carrying a tray with a teapot and three cups. He treated us like welcome guests. The guard who sat at the door, though, let us know we weren’t completely accepted. Gastigian looked to be in his sixties, with dark skin and a head full of pure white hair that he combed straight back. He wore big, square glasses right out of the seventies that made his eyes look twice their size. He wore a buttoned-up sweater, a blue bow tie, and walked with a kind of stoop and shuffle. If I were making a movie and had to cast a guy to play a philosophy professor, Gastigian would get the nod.

“Is it true what they say?” he began. “Are you terrorists?”

“Depends on your definition,” I answered. “Are we trying to spread terror? No. Are we trying to stop the Ravinians?

Absolutely. So to them we’re terrorists. I guess that makes you a terrorist too.”

Gastigian gave me a sly smile. “Call me Haig,” he said. I think he liked me. That was good. People who liked me were in short supply lately. He poured us tea. I was never much of a tea guy, but I was starving. Alder was too. We didn’t waste any time in downing our cups and polishing off the stale cookies he put out.

Haig took his own cup and sat back in his easy chair, totally relaxed. “It never ceases to amaze me how gullible people can be. The promises that Naymeer feeds the world on a daily basis are shameless. He tells people what they want to hear, like a politician running for office. It would all be laughably harmless if people weren’t actually listening, and if his ideology didn’t involve the persecution of so many. Those are the people I speak for. The people who will be left out of his grand scheme. There are plenty of us, I’ll tell you that. We aren’t going to sit still and let this fascist consume us.” He took a sip of tea and continued, “So tell me, gentlemen, how is it that you found yourselves giving Naymeer a run for his money, hmmm? I must say, I’ve never had terrorists to tea before.”

I hadn’t thought about what I would say to Haig. He might have been the last person in the world who had any kind of hope of slowing down the Ravinians, but I was afraid that when he heard what I had to say, he’d throw us out. Still, we had to take the chance. I decided that the only way to go was to tell him the truth.

“You’re not going to like what we have to say,” I began.

“I don’t like much of anything I hear these days. Try me.”

“Okay. The trouble is, the things that Naymeer is saying aren’t fantasy. You may have trouble believing it, but it’s all true. Halla is real. There are other worlds besides our own. You said you speak for the people who will be left out of his grand scheme? You have no idea how many people that really is. What’s happening here is going to happen everywhere else. If he isn’t stopped now, it will be the end of it all.”

Haig held the teacup to his lips but didn’t take a sip. He stared at me for a long moment, placed the cup back onto the saucer, put the saucer back on the table, then sat back and folded his arms across his chest.

“You have my attention,” he said.

Alder and I spent the next hour telling Haig the highlights of what we thought he needed to know. We skipped over many details of the struggle with Saint Dane. In fact we skipped over Saint Dane altogether. What we concentrated on was Naymeer, and his use of the flume to show his chosen people the other worlds of Halla, and how he planned on creating a superrace of achievers to control all that exists, at the expense of those who might have less to offer. Haig listened intently. More so than the guard at the door, who I think fell asleep. Haig never took his eyes off us. Besides trying to digest what we were saying, I figured he was also trying to judge if we were crazy or not. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he decided we were.

I ended by saying, “What happened tonight at the conclave was the beginning of something evil.”

“The Bronx Massacre,” Alder added.

“There’s no other way to say it,” I continued. “If given the power, Naymeer will do the same to anyone who threatens him. The fear of being shipped up there and tossed into the flume will get his enemies to back down. I think that if the United Nations accepts Ravinia, there won’t be anything stopping Naymeer. That’s why we came to you. You have the ear of the opposition. You are the voice of the Foundation. The voice of reason. Something must be done to stop Naymeer. Now. Today.”

I grabbed my cup of tea and remembered it was empty. I didn’t care. I had to do something other than look into Haig’s questioning glare. The man sighed and stood up. He ran his hands through his white hair. He was sweating. He was shaken.

“I know,” I added. “It’s impossible to believe.”

“Not so impossible,” Haig said. He stood before us and pushed up his sleeve. On his arm was the Ravinian star tattoo. Alder sat up straight, as if he had been hit with another Taser. I probably did the same thing.

“I–I don’t get it,” I gasped.

“I have seen many of the things you speak of,” Haig said. “I have sat in that conclave and witnessed sights from throughout Halla. I am a believer.”

“But…” was all I managed to croak.

Haig pushed his sleeve back down and returned to his chair. He sat forward, leaning his hands on his knees, speaking with passion. “Knowing that we aren’t alone in this life is both frightening and thrilling. But instead of treating this reality as an opportunity to enrich everyone’s lives, Naymeer and his people have used it as a weapon to further their own elitist goals. Yes, I was a Ravinian. Was. I’m a professor of some note. I was selected. Once I realized where it was all leading, I left. I couldn’t be part of it. Instead I used my knowledge and influence to build the Foundation. I was the first to raise a negative voice against the Ravinians. I’m sure they want me dead, or to throw me into the flume as they did those poor people this evening. Why do you think I need the protection of these guards? If not for them, I’m sure I would be gone by now. So yes, Pendragon. Alder. I believe you.”

I wanted to jump across the table and hug the guy. We had an ally. A true ally. With power.

“So maybe there’s still hope,” I exclaimed.

Haig shook his head gravely. “Hope? That’s a fragile concept. For all that I’ve done, I’m afraid we’re tilting at windmills. Ravinia has become very powerful. Naymeer is spoken of in the same breath as respected world leaders. People believe in him. They don’t want to hear the downside of his vision.”

“So that’s it? We’re going to roll over and give up?”

“No,” he said adamantly. “There is one last opportunity. Call it my last hurrah. The United Nations is voting tomorrow evening. Of course we have organized a protest to take place outside their headquarters in midtown. But the truly impressive display will happen at the same time in another venue. The Foundation has reached out to people from all over the world who fear the Ravinians. I’d venture a guess that there are more people out there who are against Naymeer than with him. Call them ‘the silent majority.’ I’m anticipating a showing that is seventy thousand strong. The eyes of the world will not only be on the United Nations, they will be on us. The common people. We will not be ignored. We will not be silent anymore. Our numbers are strong and we will prove it, in force.”

“That’s incredible,” I said. “Do you think it might sway the UN vote?”

Haig shrugged. “Who’s to say? At the very least, it will be seen by people all over the world. Perhaps it will convince them to think twice about Naymeer and all that he stands for. Your coming to see me could help with that.”

I looked to Alder. He shrugged. “How?” he asked.

“Your name is known, Bobby Pendragon. A few years ago you made national news when you disappeared along with your family. It’s a fascinating mystery that has never been solved, until now. Your return, and the story you can tell of Halla, might open the doors of possibility for all people, not just the Ravinians. Naymeer has guarded the truth about Halla, keeping it for himself and his minions, excluding those who were deemed unworthy. You can change that. You can offer up the truth to the world. The whole world. Present Halla as a wonder for all to share. You’d be empowering the common man. Who knows? Armed with the truth, it might give them the will to reject Naymeer and his cult of the elite.”

My head was swimming. Haig wanted me to go before seventy thousand people, no, the entire world, and reveal the truth about Halla. How could I do that? It was a huge request. A huge responsibility. On the one hand, given what was happening with the Ravinians, Haig could be right. It might actually help. Still, my first thought was to say no. In my gut it felt like the exact opposite of what Uncle Press said was one of the most important responsibilities of a Traveler. We were not supposed to mix territories and their natural destinies. Explaining the nature of Halla to the people of Earth felt like I would be doing exactly that.

But things had changed. With the Convergence, was that no longer an issue? There were plenty of people who knew about Halla already. Heck, the Ravinians were traveling to other territories, thanks to Naymeer. The flumes had become busy highways. Maybe keeping silent about Halla was actually giving the green light to Naymeer. If his people knew the truth, why shouldn’t everyone?

It was a bold step, but I decided that Haig was handing us the one tool we didn’t think we had. He was offering us a platform to speak to the world. I had told Alder that world opinion was much too vast and complicated for us to influence. I told him we had to think small. I was wrong. With Haig, we were able to think as big as Earth. That was worth the risk. We had to take the chance. Besides, we had nothing to lose.

“All right,” I said. “I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’ll try.”

Haig reached out and gave me a friendly slap on the knee. “Good man,” he exclaimed. “Who knows? Perhaps your mission as a Traveler was always about this one moment. Seize it, Pendragon. Your words to the world might be the deciding factor in saving Halla.”

I looked to Alder. He smiled, but uncertainly.

“If we’re not arrested first,” I said, half joking.

“You won’t be,” Haig answered. “You’ll be my guests tonight. Sleep here. Order pizza… or whatever it is you eat on-what’s the name of your home, Alder? Denderoon?”

“Close enough,” Alder answered, actually having fun with it.

Haig jumped up. He was excited. “Boys,” he said, “for the first time in a very long while, I’m thinking we might actually stand a chance.”

Alder and I did exactly as instructed. We ordered pizza. Pepperoni. It was delicious. Alder drank Coke for the first time and didn’t like it. I didn’t know why. Maybe he’s a Pepsi guy. Haig set us up in his guest room, where there were twin beds. It was a luxury compared to the places we’d been crashing lately. Ispent a few hours writing this journal, to try and get my thoughts down. Writing this one has been tougher than most, becauseIdon’t know if Mark and Courtney will ever get the chance to read it.

You know what? Lose that. I have to be positive. Mark, Courtney, you will read this someday. Since day number one, writing these journals as ifI’m talking to you has helped keep me sane. I’m not going to stop now. When you read this, know that I’m worried as all hell about you right now, but I have faith that you’re all right, and someday we’ll see one another again. Count on it.

Alder and I went to sleep that night with the faint hope that in spite of all that had happened and all that had gone wrong, there was still a slim chance that the people of this territory, of Second Earth, would see reason. We had to find hope somewhere. As someone once said, without hope, you have nothing.

It took a while for me to get to sleep. As exhausted asIwas, I couldn’t get the image out of my head of those poor people being thrown into the flume. Of Courtney. Of Mark. I tried to think ahead to what we would do if Haig’s rally failed and the UN passed its resolution, but I couldn’t. It was too much. One major hurdle at a time.

Once I finally conked out, I slept like the dead. I think we both did. We didn’t wake up until almost noon. Haig had breakfast waiting for us. Or maybe it was lunch. Whatever. It was a delicious feast of bacon and eggs and pancakes and so many other delights I hadn’t had since I lived at the Manhattan Tower Hotel. Haig was off making preparations, so Alder and I watched TV. We saw news reports of the members of the General Assembly arriving in New York for the vote. Those images were countered by footage of people arriving from all over the world for the Foundation’s rally. It was like Super Bowl Sunday, with planeloads of people flooding out of the airport. It was a welcome change to see the other side of this drama. There were people out there who cared. Who didn’t buy into Naymeer’s elitist cult. They were regular people who feared what their lives would become under this new and frightening way of thinking.

We also saw news bulletins about the hunt for the terrorists. Us. There were stories about the strange disappearance of Bobby Pendragon and his family. The newscasters actually speculated that since my disappearance, I had been training in terrorist camps in Asia. Unbelievable. Naymeer’s propaganda machine was in high gear. I took it as a good sign. People were being reminded about Bobby Pendragon. That could only help when I went before the world that night to tell my true story.

Yikes.

Finally, at around three o’clock, Haig returned to his apartment.

“Ahh!” he exclaimed with a smile. “I see that you were not arrested.”

“So far so good,” I replied.

“It’s time to go. I have two cars waiting outside. You will follow me.”

Alder and I got up and grabbed our sweatshirts. “Hey, you never told us where this rally is going to be,” I said.

Haig smiled proudly. “I managed to secure one of the most hallowed venues in all of New York. Arguably in the entire world.”

“Really? Where?” I asked.

“Yankee Stadium,” he announced with a sly wink.

“We’re going to the Bronx! Tell me that won’t get noticed!”

With a spring in his step, Haig left the apartment.

Alder and I didn’t move. Haig’s words were like a shot to the gut.

“What is a Yankee Stadium?” Alder asked uneasily.

“A sports arena,” I answered, numb. “Home of the most famous team in baseball.”

“It is a large venue?” Alder asked.

“Huge. Think of the battle arena that was part of the Bedoowan castle. You could fit ten of them inside Yankee Stadium.”

“And it is in the Bronx?”

I nodded. “Seventy thousand people. All together in the same place. All enemies of Ravinia.”

The two of us stood there; we were both thinking the worst.

“Pendragon,” Alder finally said with caution, “is it possible that the horror we witnessed last night at the Ravinian conclave…was not the Bronx Massacre?”