The Pilgrims of Rayne

FIRST EARTH

Courtney read Bobby’s journal, by herself, in Gunny’s lonely basement apartment in the Manhattan Tower Hotel. The pages were almond colored and perfectly square. Each measured about twelve inches across. Bobby had written them in black ink and placed them in a flat, watertight pouch that he rolled up and tied with a band. As the story on Ibara unfolded on the pages before her, Courtney realized again how much she missed Mark. Learning of Bobby’s problems alone was a lonely, torturous experience. She needed Mark. She needed a friend. She wanted to trust Dodger. But after what happened with Whitney Wilcox on Second Earth, she wasn’t going to put her faith in a stranger too quickly. So after the bellhop witnessed Bobby’s journal arrive in the garden outside the hotel, Courtney panicked. She swooped it up and hurried into the hotel to get away.

“Hey!” the bellhop yelled, chasing after her. “Where you going?”

“Leave me alone!” Courtney shouted without breaking stride. “That thing showed up out of nowhere!” he exclaimed, stunned. “How did you do that?”

“Magic. I’m a magician. Pretty good, huh? Show’s over. Go away.”

She hurried up the steps of the hotel. Dodger was right after her.

“You ain’t no magician,” he said. “There’s something else going on here. You’re not some kind of spaceman, are you? Or spacegirl?”

Courtney stopped again. “You’re kidding, right? You won’t believe it was phony magic, but you’d buy that I’m from Pluto?”

“I’m not buyin’ nothing. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dodger seemed to Courtney like an okay guy. Bobby trusted him. Gunny trusted him. In the past that would have been enough for Courtney. Not anymore.

“You’re right,” she exclaimed. “You got me. I’m from outer space. Keep it to yourself or I’ll vaporize you.”

She tried to walk off again, but Dodger took her shoulder. Courtney pulled away angrily.

“Look,” he said, backing off, “Gunny asked me to help anybody who showed up with one of them rings. How can I do that if you don’t level with me?”

Courtney wanted to trust the little guy. Badly. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s not your fault.”

She left him standing on the steps of the hotel, dazed. She hurried to Gunny’s apartment and spent the next hour pouring over every word of Bobby’s journal. Reading about Bobby’s adventures wasn’t new to Courtney, but this time felt different. Aside from her trip to Black Water, Courtney always felt as if she were nothing more than an observer. The events Bobby wrote about didn’t affect her directly.

Those days were over.

The territories were folding in on themselves. Dados had turned up on Quillan and the three Earth territories. They turned up in her home in the form of a mechanical cat. Courtney knew the events Bobby described weren’t about Ibara alone. The puzzle was getting more complicated. The battle with Saint Dane was suddenly less about the struggle for individual territories. It was now about Halla.

Sitting in that lonely apartment, Courtney knew that finding Mark wasn’t just about saving her friend. It could affect events on all the Earth territories. It could affect Bobby on Ibara. It could affect every being in Halla. Saint Dane was making his final push to bring the territories down. The realization staggered her. She was worried about Bobby and what he’d found on Ibara, but she also knew there was nothing she could do about that. She had to stay focused on her mission on First Earth.

She had to find Mark.

The telephone rang. Courtney jumped. The bell was loud and jangling, not like the soft tone of her kitchen phone on Second Earth. Gunny’s phone sounded like a fire alarm. She calmed herself and picked up the heavy, black receiver. “Hello?” she said tentatively.

“Don’t hang up,” Dodger begged.

Courtney didn’t, but she didn’t speak, either. She didn’t know what to say.

“I think I got it figured,” Dodger said. “Are you and Pendragon on the lam from the law?”

Courtney burst out laughing. “On the lam?” she echoed. “What are you, some kind of mob guy?”

“No!” Dodger said quickly. “I got nothin’ to do with them guys! Honest!”

Courtney forced herself to refocus. She knew she couldn’t look at this world from a Second Earth perspective. This was 1937. It was a different territory with different rules.

“Look, Dodger, I understand that what you just saw freaked you out.”

“It did what?” he asked quickly.

“What I mean is, you saw something… unusual, and it’s making you… nervous.”

“You can say that again, sister,” Dodger agreed.

“And stop calling me ‘sister.’ Or ‘skirt’ or ‘dame’ or ‘broad’ or whatever clever macho demeaning term you can think of.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, I wish I could trust you. I can’t. I’ve been burned before. I mean, I’ve been fooled before.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dodger said knowingly. “You’ve been dumped by some chump boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said. “You could say that.” Courtney laughed to herself, thinking that Dodger didn’t realize how close to the truth that was.

“Then there’s no problem!” Dodger continued. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I got no time for skirts, uh, girls. Sorry, that slipped out.”

Courtney was weakening. Dodger was getting to her, but she knew that was exactly the kind of thing Saint Dane would do. He was offering to give her what she needed most, friendship and help.

“Thanks, Dodger,” she said curtly. “But no thanks. Maybe someday I’ll get the chance to explain it to you, but not today.”

Courtney hung up. She barely had time to gather the journal pages and put them back into the waterproof pouch, when a knock came at the door. She looked around for a place to hide the journals and chose Gunny’s favorite hiding place… the oven.

“Who is it?” she called while quickly closing the oven door.

“Room service,” came a professional man’s voice.

“I didn’t order room service,” she called back.

Another knock. Courtney started to panic. There was no way out of this room. She ran to the door and put her eye to the peephole to see…

A smiling Dodger staring back at her through the fish-eye peephole. He had to stand on his toes to get up high enough.

“Compliments of the house!” he announced cheerily.

Courtney couldn’t help but smile. The guy was either a sincere goof, or Saint Dane was better than she imagined. She hesitated, then unlocked the door, and threw it open. Dodger stood there behind a dinner cart loaded with plates of food that were covered by silver warming domes. Courtney’s stomach rumbled.

“How did you get here so fast?” she asked suspiciously.

“I called you from the house phone in the laundry back there,” Dodger said, pointing to a door a few yards down the hall. “I figure you gotta be hungry after rocketing through the universe. Pluto, right?” He gave her an innocent, sincere smile.

“Come on in,” she said. “If you’re going to give me trouble, it might as well be on a full stomach.”

“Oh, no,” Dodger said. “It ain’t right being in a lady’s boudoir.”

“Ain’t that your, I mean… isn’t that your job?”

“Yeah, but I ain’t here on official business. I’m here on Gunny business.”

Courtney gave Dodger a good long look. The delicious smells rising up from the covered plates made her mouth water. “Tell you what,” she said. “If you’re telling the truth, I guess you’d call it being ‘on the level,’ I’m sorry for being so mysterious. If you’re not telling the truth, you know exactly where I’m coming from, so back off.”

“Jeez, you’re confusing me,” Dodger said. “You gotta understand. I owe Gunny a lot. I wasn’t the best kid growing up, you know. Gunny took me in and gave me a job. He trusted me. Nobody ever done that before. I think I did all right, too. All because Gunny gave me the chance. So if he asked me to swim over to Germany and give old Adolph a smacker on the lips, I’d be swimmin’ and puckerin’ up. The way I see it, helping you is easy-peasy.”

“All right! I give up! Jeez, you’re making me cry here… and now I’m starting to sound like you. Unbelievable.”

“I grow on people,” Dodger said with a sly smile.

“Look, it’s got to be on my terms. Don’t ask questions. Don’t follow me. And only do what I ask. If that’s okay with you, I welcome your help.”

Dodger let out a big, genuine smile. He tipped his bellhop cap and said, “I am at your service, ma’am. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. And don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ either.”

“What should I call you?”

“‘Courtney.’ No title. No colorful slang. Just ‘Courtney.’”

“Done. Nine o’clock it is. Meet you in the lobby?”

“Done.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Dodger. And just know that if you’re Saint Dane, I’m ready for you.”

“And maybe someday I’ll know what the heck that means,” Dodger said. “Until then, enjoy this delicious meal. I’ll see you bright and early!”

He tipped his cap again and left Courtney to pull the cart of food into the room. All thoughts of Dodger and Saint Dane and Ibara evaporated for the few minutes it took her to enjoy the feast. Dodger had brought her a fabulous dinner of sliced turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy, nut stuffing, cranberry sauce, and buttered green beans. Thanksgiving had come a few weeks early. Courtney was all set to chow down when the thought crossed her mind that somehow Saint Dane knew how much she liked Thanksgiving dinner, and this meal was another way to earn her trust. Was he that incredibly devious? She decided she was too hungry to care. She put her fear of manipulation-by-turkey out of her head, and tucked in. It was delicious. She ate too fast and ended up feeling totally bloated, but she didn’t care. Dodger had thought of it all, including the pumpkin pie and milk. Courtney decided to hold off on eating the pie until she digested a little. That held her back for a whole five minutes. It was too tempting. She downed the pie and enjoyed every last decadent crumb.

It was late. Courtney didn’t finish feasting until nearly ten o’clock. She knew it wasn’t smart to go to bed on such a full stomach, but she was dog tired and the tryptophan was working its magic. She could barely keep her eyes open long enough to brush her teeth and pull off her clothes, before she fell into bed and dropped off to sleep. One of her last thoughts before nodding off was that Dodger’s thoughtful meal had an added bonus. She was going to get a good night’s sleep without all the tossing and turning she usually had to endure while her mind raced and worried. She was on her way out. That was good, because she knew the next day would be busy. She was going to begin her quest to find Mark in this alien world.

The next morning she was woken up by the jangling telephone. She leaped up, ready to grab her clothes and run out of the building to escape from the fire. It took her a second to realize it was only the annoying phone.

“What’s with these old-time people?” she asked herself. “Are they all deaf?”

She answered the phone and heard Dodger’s friendly voice. “Change your mind?”

Courtney glanced at the bedside clock. It was nine thirty. She had slept nearly twelve hours.

“Yikes, sorry. I’ll be right there.”

Courtney didn’t bother with a shower. She her woolen pants and white shirt. She threw on socks, tied up the leather shoes, and slipped into the green sweater. The finishing touch was the floppy hat that she tucked her hair into. She had no idea what she’d find on First Earth, but there was one thing she knew for sure. She didn’t want anybody treating her like a “skirt.” Satisfied, she left the apartment and headed upstairs.

The hotel lobby was bustling with people. Courtney saw Dodger leaning against a big, marble column near the lounge. She watched him for a moment. He looked innocent enough, she thought. He wore plain black pants and a short charcoal gray cloth jacket. Without his bellhop uniform, he looked even younger. Being short added to that impression. He stood watching the hotel guests as they passed by, waving and smiling to those he knew. One elderly woman was having trouble getting the attention of the busy bellhops, so Dodger jumped in and helped her carry her suitcase to the front desk, even though he wasn’t on duty. There was nothing about Dodger that made Courtney think he could be Saint Dane, other than the fact that she thought everybody could be Saint Dane. She wasn’t going to let her guard down, but she needed help finding Mark. She decided it was worth the risk. She left the doorway, stuck her hands in her pockets, and walked toward him. When Dodger saw her, he brightened up.

“There you are!” he said. “Good afternoon!”

“Yeah, very funny,” Courtney said, all business. “Let’s go talk.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dodger said obediently, then winced. “I mean, yes, Courtney.”

Courtney led him into the lobby lounge. It was loaded with people chatting and socializing.

“No good,” she said, putting on the brakes. “Is there some place private?” She thought a second and added, “But with other people around?”

“You want private but with other people?”

“Uh, yeah.” She realized how ridiculous that sounded.

“Still don’t trust me? Even after the turkey dinner?”

“Especially after the turkey dinner,” Courtney said. “But thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome. Follow me.”

Dodger led Courtney through the opulent lobby. The short guy walked with a cocky strut, like he owned the place. He brought Courtney through the hotel restaurant and into the bustling kitchen.

“Hey, Dodger!” one of the cooks called out. “Ain’t this your day off?”

“Nah, I’m always workin’,” Dodger shot back quickly. Another cook whistled and yelled, “Dodger! Whose the Kewpie?”

“That’s ‘dame’ to you, pal!” Courtney shouted back.

The cooks laughed in mock fear. Dodger laughed too. Courtney could see that he was well liked. Would Saint Dane be well liked? She shook off the thought. It was making her nuts.

Dodger brought Courtney to the back of the kitchen, where the dishes were washed. It was hot and steamy, with only a few dishwashers at work.

“How’s this?” Dodger asked. “Quiet but not too quiet, nobody to bother us, and a couple of witnesses in case I do something you don’t like. All you gotta do is put up with a little steam and some dirty dishes.”

“This is fine.”

“Now, how can I help you?”

“If you are who you say you are, you won’t understand what I’m about to tell you. If you aren’t who you say you are, then you already know everything I’m going to say anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter if I tell you or not. Get it?”

Dodger gave her a sour look. “I lost you after This is fine.’” “Good. Here’s the deal. I’m trying to find somebody. He’s a friend of mine. And Bobby’s and Gunny’s.” “Is he on the lam too?”

“No! None of us are on the lam!” Courtney snapped.

One of the dishwashers turned from his work to see what the shouting was about.

Dodger yelled to him, “Relax, Tony. Everything’s peachy.”

Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.

Courtney continued, “It’s critically important that we find him. I’m not even going to begin to tell you why, because it’s too long of a story and you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“And I wouldn’t understand if I am who I am, but if I’m not who I am, then I should already know, but I have no idea what you’re talking about so what the heck does that make me?”

“It’s starting to make you annoying. This is serious.”

“Sorry. Tell me about this pal you’re looking for.”

“His name is Mark Dimond. He’s seventeen with dark curly hair and glasses.”

“Oh,” Dodger said. “Easy-peasy. Only about a million guys fit that description in New York.”

“He stutters when he gets nervous,” Courtney added.

“That narrows it down to a half million guys. We’re getting there.”

“Stop making fun!” Courtney barked.

They both looked at Tony. The dishwasher didn’t turn around this time.

“Sorry,” Dodger said. “Ain’t you got something a little more specific to go on?”

“There’s one thing,” Courtney admitted. “If I was home, I think I could use it to try and track him down, but I’m not. I don’t know how things work around here, and that’s why I’m talking to you in the first place.”

Courtney was getting worked up. Tony looked around again. Courtney yelled, “Hey! Tony! Mind your own business!”

Dodger led Courtney away from the dishwashers into a storage area that was surrounded by shelves loaded with clean plates.

“It’s okay,” Dodger said reassuringly. ‘Tell me about the thing.”

Courtney took a breath to calm herself and said, “On October sixth, Mark filed a patent application at the US Patent Office. I have to believe that when you do that, they ask for an address or something, where you can be contacted. I was hoping that if we look up that information, it might give me a lead as to where to find him.”

Dodger waited for Courtney to say more. She didn’t.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it.”

“That’s all we got to go on?” “Afraid so.”

“You’re telling me this mystery guy is some kind of inventor?”

Courtney was about to say no, but that’s exactly what Mark was. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s an inventor. If Gunny were here he’d tell you how important it is that we find him. But he’s not. It’s just me. Can you help?”

Courtney watched as Dodger frowned, deep in thought. He paced. He scratched his head. He paced some more. None of this looked good to Courtney. Her spirits sagged.

“I know,” she admitted, defeated. “It’s hopeless. There’s no way we can find somebody that way.”

“No!” Dodger said. “Finding him is no problem. I got friends who work for the government.”

“Are you kidding?” Courtney shouted, her spirits suddenly back up. “Why are you looking all concerned?”

Dodger said, “I can’t figure out what’s so important about some kid inventor that Gunny would want me to find him so bad.”

Courtney grabbed Dodger by the lapels and shouted, “Ask him when you see him. Right now, let’s find Mark. Got that Tony?”

Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.

A few minutes later Courtney stood outside a telephone booth near the lobby while Dodger made a call. The door was closed, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could tell he was doing a lot of laughing and gesturing. Courtney noticed that Dodger did a lot of gesturing with his hands when he spoke, for emphasis. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Dodger hung up and pulled open the glass door of the phone booth. He looked at Courtney without saying a word. He had no expression. There were no hand gestures.

“Well?” Courtney demanded impatiently.

“People think bellhops are just guys who carry around luggage and flag down cabs, you know? But we have power most people don’t see. For example, if somebody’s big-shot boss was coming to town and the hotel was booked solid, I could make that somebody look really good by getting his boss a room, because I know that some of the real special suites are saved for last-minute VIPs.”

Dodger smiled proudly at Courtney. Courtney stared blankly at Dodger.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because a friend of mine needs a favor, and I’m gonna fix his boss up with the best suite in this joint. Now that friend owes me a favor, get it?”

“Not really,” Courtney said.

Dodger stood up and combed his already perfectly combed hair. “This friend just so happens to work in Washington and has access to certain files that aren’t always open to the public, if you get my drift.”

“Just tell me!” Courtney shouted.

“Two forty Waverly Place.”

“And that is…?”

“It’s an apartment building in the village where your friend Mark Dimond lives,” Dodger announced proudly. “Now do you think I am who I am?”

Courtney threw her arms around Dodger and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who you are and right now I don’t care, because you might have just saved all humanity from total destruction!”

She let go of Dodger and ran for the exit. He stood there for a moment, basking in the glory. The smile dropped off his face. “I just did what?” he shouted as he ran after her.

(CONTINUED)

The cab ride from midtown Manhattan to Waverly Place was a short one. It seemed to Courtney that the deeper they got into the neighborhoods of Manhattan, the less it felt like she was in the past. The buildings didn’t look all that different from the buildings of Second Earth, especially as they drove through Greenwich Village. Most buildings were three- or four-story brick walk-ups. The ground floors had restaurants and cleaners and clothing shops. The upper stories looked like apartments. It was pretty much the same as on Second Earth. With no Starbucks. The only obvious, in-your-face sign that things weren’t like home was the cars. The streets were clogged with big, growling monsters with gleaming chrome grills. They had names like “Studebaker,” “Hudson,” and “Cord.” There wasn’t a single Honda, Volkswagen, or Volvo in sight.

The streets of Greenwich Village were narrower than the wide avenues of midtown. They crossed one another at odd angles and had weird names like “Bethune,” “Gansevoort,” and “Bleecker.” Courtney was happy to see that the cabbie knew exactly where he was going. In no time he made the turn from Bank Street onto Waverly Place and stopped In front of a quaint corner eatery called “Ye Waverly Inn.” Dodger wanted to pay the cab fare, but Courtney wouldn’t let him. This was her mission, after all. As they got out of the car, Dodger looked around at the narrow street and shook his head in wonder.

“Coming down here feels like taking a trip into the past,” he marveled.

“You have no idea,” Courtney said with a snicker.

Dodger put on a brown hat that made Courtney chuckle.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You trying to be Indiana Jones or what?”

Dodger shook his head in frustration. “You know what I’d like? Just once I’d like it if you said something that made sense.”

“Don’t count on it,” Courtney replied.

Next to the restaurant was the entrance to a four-story brick building-#240.

“This is it,” Courtney said nervously.

“Now do you trust me?”

“No.”

Dodger took a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “My friend said the patent was issued to Mark Dimond at this address. Apartment number four-A.” He put the paper back into his pocket and asked, “If you could get the patent number, how come you couldn’t get the address?”

“I don’t know,” Courtney answered as she started toward the door. “Computers aren’t infallible I guess.”

“There you go again not making sense,” Dodger said as he followed her toward the door.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Courtney said. She stopped at the bottom of the steps that led up to the black front door.

“Now what’s the problem?” Dodger asked.

“I’m debating about letting you come in with me.”

“Why?” he whined. “I got you this far, didn’t I?” Courtney nodded.

“So why don’t you trust me?” Dodger asked. Courtney looked him over, thinking, then said, “You can come. If you’re Saint Dane, I’d rather know where you are.” “Good. I think.”

Courtney walked up the stairs and scanned the door.

“What are you looking for?” Dodger asked.

“The panel with the security buttons so we can get buzzed in.”

Dodger gave her a strange look and opened the front door. It wasn’t locked.

“Oh,” Courtney said, and stepped inside. It was yet another subtle sign that she was in a different time.

The building was too small to have an elevator, so they climbed the marble staircase up to the fourth floor. It wasn’t a fancy building, but it was clean. The smells of cooking filled the stairwell. Good cooking. Courtney thought it was either spaghetti sauce or some yummy soup. It gave the building a warm, inviting feel. She was glad that Mark had landed in such a comfortable place.

Mark. With each step up, Courtney grew more tense. What would she say to him? More important, what would he say to her? Courtney couldn’t imagine any excuse for why he’d brought technology from home to a different territory. He knew how wrong that was. She couldn’t come up with a scenario that would explain it. As she grew closer to her reunion with Mark, Courtney wasn’t sure how she should feel. Angry? Hurt? Frightened? Sympathetic? All the above? The best thing she could do was take it one step at a time. First find Mark and make sure that he’s okay. After that, the way to go would be clear. Or so she hoped.

They arrived on the fourth floor, where they were faced with five doors leading to different apartments. Number 4A was to the far right of the landing.

“What do we do?” Dodger asked.

Courtney’s answer was to stride across the landing to Mark’s door. Before she could change her mind, she boldly knocked. No answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no answer. They waited a solid minute, knocking a few more times.

“Either nobody’s home or they don’t want company,” Dodger said.

“I’m not leaving until we find out who lives here,” Courtney said adamantly.

“That thing you said before? You know, about saving humanity from total destruction? That was a joke, right?”

Courtney gave him a serious look. She didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t scoff and say, “Nah! Just kidding!” either.

“Right,” Dodger said thoughtfully. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how huge it is,” Courtney finally answered.

“Right,” Dodger said again. “Just making sure.” He took a step away from the door, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, then suddenly ran for the door of apartment 4A.

“Hey!” Courtney shouted in surprise.

She had to jump out of the way or she would have been bulldozed. Dodger hit the door with his shoulder, hard. With a loud crack the door gave way, swinging in and smashing against the inside wall. Dodger tumbled inside, falling to his knees. Courtney ran to him.

“You’re crazy!” she exclaimed.

“A little.”

Courtney helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Dodger rubbed his shoulder. “Sure,” he answered casually. “Wasn’t the first time I had to break down a door. Won’t be the last. Being a bellhop ain’t all glamour.”

Courtney quickly closed the door. She didn’t want nosy neighbors peeking in to see strangers smashing into the apartment.

“Looks like we’re too late,” Dodger said.

Courtney saw that the place was empty. It was a small, clean apartment with white walls. The short front hallway led into a small living room. To the right was a door leading to a kitchen. To the left was another short hallway that led to a bedroom and bathroom. There were no pictures on the walls. No plants. No rugs. No clues as to who may have lived there. Courtney walked into the kitchen. There was a small stove and a table. That was it. She left the kitchen, walked through the living room and into the bedroom. She found a small bed with no sheets or blankets. The one piece of furniture was a wooden bureau. Courtney deflated.

Dodger said, “If he was here, he’s long gone now.”

They were about to leave the room when something caught Courtney’s eye. On the floor was a plain white piece of paper. Most of it was underneath a closet door. One corner stuck out, which was the only thing Courtney saw. She knelt down and pulled it out. The paper turned out to be a four-by-five-inch rectangle. Courtney turned it over. When she saw what it was, she started to cry.

“What is it?” Dodger asked.

“It’s an accident,” she said, wiping her eyes. “No way this was left on purpose.”

Courtney handed him the paper. Dodger took a long look and asked softly, “This him?”

Courtney nodded. It was a photo that could have been taken at a local drugstore on Second Earth. It had a cheesy fake background that looked like a Cape Cod beach. Courtney knew It was fake because she didn’t think Mark had ever been to Cape Cod and nobody in the picture was dressed for the beach. It was a photo of Mark and his mom and dad… the mom and dad who had been killed. It was the sudden, shocking death of his parents that catapulted Mark into the trouble he now faced, and the trouble he was bringing to Halla.

“He looks about fourteen here,” Courtney said. “He’s older now.”

“His parents?” Dodger asked.

Courtney nodded. She took the picture back. She wanted to see it again. She wanted to see the old Mark. The Mark who ate too many carrots and loved Japanese animation. The Mark who was Bobby’s best friend and had become her best friend once the doorway to Halla had opened. She wanted to see that Mark again. She wanted to hear him stutter. She wanted to know why the hell he had done what he did.

Courtney wiped her eyes and stood up, tucking the photo into her back pocket. She was in control again.

“So what do we do?” Dodger asked.

“We talk to the neighbors,” Courtney announced, all business. “Somebody here must have known him. Maybe they know where he went.”

They started on the fourth floor and worked their way down, knocking on doors and asking suspicious neighbors if they knew anything about Mark and where he might have gone. They pretty much got the same answer each time. Many people saw Mark, but nobody spoke with him. Nobody had a clue as to what had happened to him either. After a futile hour Courtney and Dodger found themselves back out in front of the building, not knowing much more than when they had started.

“At least we know he was here,” Dodger offered hopefully. “That’s something. Maybe I can call the city, or the post office, and see if he left a forwarding address.”

Courtney brightened. “That’s a good idea!”

“Thank you,” Dodger said. “Trust me yet?”

“No. No offense, but no.”

“None taken. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

As if on cue, a taxicab screeched to a stop at the curb next to them.

“See?” Dodger exclaimed. “Things are looking up already!”

The two got in the cab and settled in for the ride uptown.

“Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Dodger said to the cabbie. “Don’t take the scenic route.”

“No, sir!” the cabbie said brightly. “I’ll get you right where you need to be.”

Courtney froze. She knew that voice. It took her two seconds to process the information and make a decision.

“Get out!” she yelled at Dodger.

“Wha-?” he asked dumbly.

“Get out of the car!” she screamed, and grabbed at the door handle. It was locked. She went for the door lock. It was sawed off. She lurched across Dodger’s lap to the door on his side. It was just as locked and just as sawed off.

“What are you doing?” Dodger asked in confusion.

“Yeah,” the cabbie said. “What are you doing? Don’t want to take a spin with me?”

Courtney didn’t have to look at the cabbie to know who it was, but she looked anyway. A glass partition separated the front seat from the back, but she could still see the cabbie as plain as could be. Staring back at them, wearing the floppy hat of a New York cabbie, was Andy Mitchell.

“Saint Dane,” Courtney whispered.

“Who?” Dodger asked.

Mitchell snorted, smiled, and exclaimed, “Let’s roll!”

The cab lurched forward, throwing Courtney and Dodger back into the seat.

“Hey!” Dodger screamed. “Are you nuts?”

“If I had a nickel for every time somebody asked me that…,” Mitchell said with a laugh.

“Who is he?” Dodger asked Courtney.

“He’s the bad guy,” Courtney answered.

“Pleased to meet you!” Mitchell said, tipping his cap. “Mitchell’s the name.”

“I thought you said his name was Saint Dane?” Dodger asked Courtney.

The cab screeched around a corner, seemingly up on two wheels. Courtney fell into Dodger. The tires dug into the road. The car flew forward.

“Where’s Mark?’ Courtney yelled.

“You’re too late.” Mitchell laughed. “He’s a big shot now. He won’t be living in dumps like that anymore.”

Horns blared as the cab snaked through traffic.

“Hey, Mac! Slow down!” Dodger ordered, banging on the glass.

“What’s the matter, bellboy? Ain’t you up for a little adventure?”

Dodger yanked on the door. It was a waste of energy.

“How did you do it, Saint Dane?” Courtney snarled. “How did you get Mark to come here?”

Andy Mitchell laughed and gave a humble shrug. “Hey, it’s what I do.”

He turned the wheel hard, cutting off another car, sending it careening off the road and onto a sidewalk.

“Yeehaaa!” Mitchell shouted with exhilaration.

Dodger yelled just as loud. In terror.

Andy yanked the wheel the other way. They bounced off the sidewalk and screamed across three lanes of traffic. Cars spun out and skidded into one another to avoid the cab from hell. Dodger leaned back in his seat and kicked at the glass partition that kept them away from Saint Dane.

“Stop… the… car!” he ordered.

“Why are you doing this?” Courtney yelled. “If you wanted to kill me, you could have done it a thousand times over.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Chetwynde. I just want to have a little fun.”

“It’s below you to torture me,” Courtney said, trying to keep her voice in control. She was scared to death, but she didn’t want to let Saint Dane know that.

“Then consider this a favor,” he said.

“Favor?” Dodger shouted. He kicked at the glass. It was too thick to break.

Mitchell skidded into a turn. Courtney saw the Hudson River directly in front of them. The demon spun the wheel again and they were on the West Side Highway, headed south, parallel to the wide river.

“Why is this a favor, Saint Dane?” Courtney asked, trying to stay focused and keep the fear back.

“Your job is done, Chetwynde,” Andy Mitchell said. “You did exactly what I needed you to do. Now it’s time for you to toddle on home.”

“I can’t break the glass,” Dodger screamed.

Courtney barely knew Dodger was even there. She was focused on Andy. On Saint Dane.

“What did I do?” she asked.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Mitchell laughed. “Sorry you nearly died in Vermont but, hey, if that’s what it took, so be it. Nice to see you’re not crippled anymore.”

Mitchell laughed and jammed past two drivers who were going too slowly for him. They blasted their horns. Mitchell giggled and waved at them.

“What are you talking about?” Courtney demanded.

“Are you stupid or do you just look it?” Mitchell asked. “We came to your rescue. Dimond and me. It was a real bonding experience. After I helped save your life, I looked like a real hero to him. After that, he trusted me, and it was all thanks to you.”

Mitchell bashed into the traffic divider, blowing out the right front wheel. The car lurched to the right, but Mitchell kept in control and charged on.

“That’s why you ran me off the road in Massachusetts?” Courtney asked. “So you and Mark could come to my rescue?”

Mitchell turned all the way around, taking his eyes off the road. He looked right at Courtney and grinned. “Face it, Chetwynde. You delivered Mark Dimond. Now that I’ve got him, I’ve got Halla.”

“No!” Courtney lost it. She screamed and banged on the glass. Her fists were only inches from Andy Mitchell. From Saint Dane. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to bash his smug face. She wanted him to die.

“Look out!” Dodger shouted.

The cab flew down an exit ramp and off the elevated highway. Andy Mitchell casually looked forward and took the wheel, steering clear of a cement barrier.

“Whoa, that would have hurt,” he said calmly.

The flat tire was shredded but the car charged on. Sparks flew from the metal rim that was now the fourth wheel. They were at the bottom of Manhattan, where the river widened out to become a harbor. Long piers jutted out into the water. Traffic picked up, but Andy Mitchell didn’t slow down.

“Where is he?” Courtney screamed, banging on the glass. “Tell me where he is!”

Mitchell turned the wheel one last time. He flew off the road, cut off a car, and bounced over the sidewalk. They were headed for one of the piers that stretched into the river. People strolled along casually, enjoying the day and admiring the view. Not for long. At the sound of the oncoming cab, they dove out of the way to avoid being mashed. The cab charged forward, blasting onto the wide pier.

“Hey! Dead end!” Dodger shouted.

“Is it?” Mitchell asked innocently. “Oops.”

Courtney didn’t care. She was beyond caring.

“Go home, Chetwynde,” Mitchell said calmly. “See your parents. Cuddle up with your mechanical cat. You have a couple of older brothers, don’t you? Spend some time with them. The battle is over. There’s nothing left for anybody to do but sit back and watch me fly.”

Courtney became calm. It didn’t matter that they were hurtling toward the end of the pier. She sat back in the seat and folded her arms.

“You’re wrong,” she said calmly. “It’s not close to being over. Bobby won’t let that happen, and neither will I.”

Andy Mitchell whipped around to look into the backseat. Only he wasn’t Andy Mitchell anymore. His face had transformed into that of Saint Dane. His blue-white eyes flashed. The bloodred veins in his bald head flared.

“Then you’ll just have to die!” he hissed.

Dodger screamed.

The car crashed through a wooden barrier at the end of the pier and sailed into the air. Saint Dane melted into black smoke and blew out the window. Courtney and Dodger were alone as the cab sailed down and hit the water with a bone-jarring shudder.

(CONTINUED)

Cars didn’t come equipped with seat belts in 1937.

When the cab hit the water, Courtney and Dodger were thrown forward. They hit the glass partition separating the seats and bounced back like rag dolls being tumbled in a clothes dryer. Courtney hit her head, hard. She was knocked senseless.

“Courtney!” Dodger yelled. “Courtney, you all right?”

D. J. MacHale

The Pilgrims of Rayne

Courtney didn’t hear him. She was barely conscious.

“We’re going down!” Dodger yelled.

The car floated on its belly for only a few seconds. The nose tipped down quickly. That’s where the weight was. The engine acted like an anchor, pulling the vehicle under. Water poured in the open front windows. The heavier the front became, the steeper the angle became. Soon the car was floating near vertical, with the tail up in the air.

“Courtney!” Dodger yelled. He shook her. Courtney was totally disoriented.

“What happened?” she asked dreamily.

“We’re gonna drown!” Dodger screamed.

The back of the front seat was now the floor. Courtney and Dodger sat on the glass partition as water rose up around them.

“Where’s Saint Dane?” Courtney asked.

“Gone!” Dodger shouted. “He turned into smoke and flew out the window! I swear!”

“I believe you,” Courtney said, dazed.

The water was up to their waists and bubbling higher. In seconds the car would be submerged and on its way to the bottom.

“Move!” Dodger ordered Courtney.

He pushed her out of the way and slid toward one of the back doors. He pushed up off his bottom with his hands and kicked at the window, desperate to smash it out. The higher the water got, the tougher it was to get enough leverage to put force into his kicks.

“Help me!” he shouted at Courtney.

Courtney rolled over. Her head went underwater. She sputtered, coughed, and sat back up. The cold shock cleared her head. “What’s going on?” she shouted.

“We’re sinking,” Dodger shouted. “We’ve got to kick out the window or we’re done.”

He gave another kick, and another, but it was tough getting power because of the rising water. Courtney scrambled next to Dodger, put her arms down and started to kick the window on her own. The window didn’t budge.

“Together!” Dodger commanded.

They sat next to each other, up on their arms, their bellies pointed to the sky. The water was nearly at their shoulders.

“Ready?” Dodger called out. “One, two, three, kick!”

They both kicked the window with their heels, but not at the exact same time.

“Again!” Dodger ordered. “One, two, three, kick!”

They both pounded the window again, hitting it together this time. It didn’t budge.

“We can’t get enough force!” Dodger yelled. “Don’t stop!” Courtney ordered.

She shifted position, moving her hands so she was closer to the window, when something slipped, making her lose balance.

“Whoa!” Courtney exclaimed as her face slid under the water.

Dodger quickly pulled her back up. “What happened?” he asked.

“Something moved down there,” Courtney exclaimed. “I had my weight on my hands and it made something slide.”

Dodger looked down into the water, then ducked below the surface. A second later he came up, sputtering.

“The glass partition!” he exclaimed. “It’s not locked anymore. I can slide it open!”

As he spoke, Dodger pushed with his feet to slide open the glass partition that separated the backseat from the front seat. The water was now tickling their chins.

Courtney gasped, “Is the opening big enough to go through?”

“I think.”

“If we can get down there, maybe the front doors are unlocked.”

“What if they’re not?” Dodger asked.

“Dumb question.”

“Yeah, dumb question,” Dodger echoed.

The water was rising faster. Soon their heads would be bobbing against the rear window.

“It’s good the doors are underwater,” Courtney added hopefully. “It means the water pressure is equal, and the doors should open.”

“If they’re unlocked.”

“Yeah, if they’re unlocked.”

They looked at each other. Neither budged. Courtney saw the fear in Dodger’s eyes. “If we’re going, we gotta go now,” she said. “The car is sinking like a brick.”

“I’ll go,” Dodger said. “Give me time to get the door open.”

“Dodger?”

“Yeah?”

“I trust you now.”

Dodger smiled. “I guess I better not mess up.” He took a deep breath and ducked below the surface. Courtney watched as he went straight down through the opening in the partition, feet first. He pushed himself all the way down until his head was below the glass, then turned toward the front passenger door. He reached for the handle, twisted it, and pushed against the door. It didn’t move. He put his foot against the steering wheel and leaned into the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Come back up!” Courtney shouted down through the water.

He didn’t. He pushed away from the passenger door and went to the driver’s door. He grasped the handle with one hand and the steering wheel with the other.

Courtney took a breath to say something, and got a mouthful of water. Her head bumped the glass of the rear window. She was underwater. The car was nearly full and beginning its final plummet to the bottom. She had no choice but to follow Dodger down into the front seat. She found the opening in the partition with her feet, hooked her toes under the glass, bent her knees, and pulled herself down. She grabbed the opening with her hands and pulled herself down the rest of the way. The water was dark and green… and getting darker. They were headed for the bottom. Still, she could see the blur of Dodger. With her back to the passenger door, she watched the small bellhop make one last attempt to save them. He twisted the door handle and put his shoulder against the door. Courtney leaned into Dodger, adding whatever force she had. She anchored her feet against the passenger door for leverage and pushed.

The door moved. Dodger forced it open just enough that he could slide out of the car into open water. Quickly he turned back for Courtney. She was already after him. She pushed off the passenger door and swam, head first, out of the driver’s door. They were free, but not safe. Neither knew how deep they had been pulled by the car. Courtney gave a quick glance down to see the blurry yellow cab sinking quickly beneath them. She stared at the ghostly image, mesmerized as it slid into the murky green depths. The idea that they might have been in that car froze her.

She felt a strong hand grab her arm. It brought her back to reality. They had to get to the surface. Courtney was already feeling the strain of having held her breath for too long. They were out of the death car, but if they couldn’t hold their breath long enough to get to the surface, it wouldn’t matter. They’d be just as dead. Dodger tugged, pulling her up. Courtney kicked, and the two rocketed for the surface. With nothing around them for perspective there was no way to know how deep they were. All Courtney could do was focus on the light above and hope they’d hit it before running out of air. She kicked and kicked. Her lungs ached. She wanted to exhale, but feared losing the last remaining bit of air in her lungs.

Dodger kicked just as furiously. They didn’t look at each other. There was no need. They knew where they had to go. Up. Up was air. Down was death. Courtney wanted to scream. She wanted to breathe. She felt she could last a little longer, if only she knew how many more seconds she’d have to hold out for. Two? Five? Twenty? She knew if it were twenty, she’d be dead.

It wasn’t. They both broke the surface, gasping for air. Courtney looked for Dodger. He bobbed next to her, looking just as scared as he had when they were trapped in the sinking car.

The two laughed. They couldn’t help themselves. It seemed like the thing to do. Total relief will do that.

“Can you make it to the pier?” Dodger asked.

Courtney nodded. Now that she could breathe, she was fine. She didn’t even feel the bump on her head. They weren’t far from the pier. It only took a minute to swim to the base of the huge wooden pilings and a metal ladder that reached into the water. Courtney got there first. She grabbed the ladder and held tight. Dodger joined her a second later. The two of them clung to the ladder to catch their breath.

“Saint Dane,” Dodger gasped.

“What about him?”

“You said you thought I might be Saint Dane.”

“I don’t think that anymore. He can do a lot of things, but he can’t be two people at once.”

“So now that we’re square, maybe you could tell me what’s really goin’ on?”

Courtney chuckled. “Yeah, you earned it. But you’re not going to like what you hear.”

“I don’t see how it can get any worse than this,” Dodger said.

“This?” Courtney scoffed. “This was nothing.”

Dodger looked sick.

Courtney pulled herself up on the ladder and made the climb to the top of the pier. Dodger followed close behind. It was low tide, so the climb was a long one. Neither looked down as they made their way up to safety.

When Courtney got to the top, she saw that a group of people had already gathered to see what was going on. More came running along the pier from the street. They peppered her with questions. “Are you okay?” “What happened?” “Do you need an ambulance?” “Did everyone get out?”

Courtney ignored them. It’s not that she was being rude.

Something else had gotten her attention. The people on the pier might as well have been invisible, because the sight before Courtney was too incredible, too breathtaking for her to focus on anything else. Rising high above her, on the far side of the pier, was a vast black wall. The sheer size was enough to make her knees buckle. It stretched nearly the entire length of the pier and reached high into the blue New York sky. At first she didn’t register what it could be. A building? Buildings weren’t black. She gazed up at the monstrous sight, feeling like an ant next to a house.

Reality intruded when Dodger stepped up next to her. “She’s something, ain’t she? Fast, too.”

Along the top of this impossible black wall was a wide, white band. Courtney’s eyes followed this band the length of the wall until she saw two words. Two simple black words against white. The letters had to be three feet high, big enough to be seen clearly from the buildings of Manhattan. Seeing the words made Courtney gasp. Those two words hit her harder than the breathtaking image of the black wall itself. It was like seeing history come to life. It was like seeing the future come to life. Seeing those words told her exactly what she needed to do. They told her the wall wasn’t a wall. It was the hull of a ship. A huge ship. An impossibly huge ship. The words were near its bow, proudly displaying her name for the world to see.

“Queen Mary” Dodger said in awe. “This is the closest I’ll ever get to sailing on her.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Courtney said.

Dodger gave her a confused look. Courtney’s response was to grab his hand and run for shore. The two quickly escaped from the pier before the police showed up and started asking questions they wouldn’t have answers for. Or answers they wanted to give. They headed back to the hotel. On the subway. Neither had the stomach for getting into another cab. They traveled silently, both lost in thought. Courtney thought long and hard about what she was going to tell Dodger. She no longer thought he was Saint Dane. If there was anything good that came out of their cab ride from hell, it was that she now knew for sure that he wasn’t Saint Dane. She couldn’t ask him to ignore reality any longer. That wouldn’t be fair. No, she figured, Dodger was going to want the truth. The question was, how much of it should she reveal? She didn’t want to scare him off, but he needed to know what he had gotten himself into. His allegiance to Gunny aside, he nearly died in that cab. He deserved to know why.

By the time they got back to the hotel, their clothes were dry. Aside from a few scratches and a nasty bruise on Courtney’s forehead, they weren’t much the worse for wear. Both had lost their hats, but hats were replaceable. The two were walking through the garden toward the front door of the hotel when Courtney stopped Dodger.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For helping me even though you didn’t have to.” “But Gunny asked-“

“Yeah, I know,” Courtney interrupted. “But thanks just the same.”

“You’re welcome,” Dodger said sincerely.

“I’ve decided to tell you the truth. All of it.”

“You don’t have to,” Dodger said quickly.

“But I want to,” Courtney countered. “You deserve that.”

“Yeah, maybe, but still, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t get it,” Courtney said with a frown. “Before you were all about wanting to know what was going on. Now you don’t care? Why’s that? Are you giving up on me?”

“Who said anything about giving up? All I said was you didn’t have to tell me.”

“Uh… confused.”

“I’ll show you something, ” Dodger said with a sly smile.

He led Courtney into the hotel and down the stairs toward Gunny’s apartment. But they didn’t go to Gunny’s. Dodger brought her to the hotel vault, where a gray-haired guy in a bellhop suit sat behind a desk, reading the newspaper.

“Hey, Mike, working hard?” Dodger asked.

“Hardly working,” Mike answered grumpily without taking his eye off the paper.

“I need that strongbox you’re holding for me,” Dodger said.

Mike looked up at him, over his half-glasses. “You got some identification?”

“Yeah,” Dodger said. He held up his right hand with his fingers spread. “I got five friends to vouch for me. One, two, three, four, five.” With each number he curled a finger, until he ended up with a fist… and gave Mike a sharp but friendly punch in the arm.

“Ow!” the old guy winced. “Good enough.” Mike pulled himself off the high stool and shuffled into the large vault.

“What’s this about?” Courtney asked.

“Patience,” Dodger said. “It’s my turn to be mysterious.”

Courtney shrugged and waited. A few minutes later Mike shuffled out, carrying a gray, metal strongbox that looked about twenty-four inches square. He put it on the desk and slid it over to Dodger.

“I should make you sign for this,” Mike grumped. “But you won’t,” Dodger replied.

“What you got in there?’ Mike asked. “The family jewels?” The old guy cackled a laugh.

“That’s exactly what I got,” Dodger answered as he slid the box off the desk. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a prince.”

“So they say,” Mike replied. “So they say.” He was already back to reading his paper before Dodger and Courtney left the vault room.

“Let’s take this to Gunny’s apartment,” Dodger said. “It’s private.”

Courtney walked the rest of the way to Gunny’s door and used the key that was hidden overhead. Before going in, she said teasingly, “I thought it was wrong to go inside a lady’s boudoir unless it’s official business.”

Dodger answered without a trace of humor, “This is official business.”

Courtney’s smile dropped. She had never seen Dodger so serious. Courtney closed and locked the door behind them, while Dodger put the strongbox on Gunny’s kitchen table.

“So?” Courtney asked curiously.

“You said you wanted to tell me the truth. I figured I’d save you some breath.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a chain. Hanging from it was a silver key that he used to open the strongbox. “Thing is, I already know the truth.”

Dodger opened the box and took out a handful of papers. Some were rolled up and wrapped with twine. Others were typed sheets bound into leather volumes. Courtney stared, not sure what she was seeing.

“I know it all, Courtney,” Dodger said. “Or at least, as much as Gunny does. These are the journals of the Traveler from First Earth. I told you, I’m Gunny’s acolyte.”

Courtney was stunned. “Gunny’s been sending these to you through the ring?”

Dodger nodded. “I know it all. Pendragon, Third Earth, the Hindenburg. I gotta keep that one pretty quiet. It wouldn’t do no good for the cops to find out Gunny was responsible for bringing it down. I know about Eelong and Spader and the poison from Cloral and Black Water, and even about how Kasha died. It’s all here.”

Courtney was reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dodger chuckled. “Hey, I had to be careful. You weren’t sure if I was Saint Dane? I wasn’t sure if you were.”

Courtney punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What’s that for? It works both ways, you know!”

“I guess,” Courtney said insincerely. She didn’t like the idea that anybody could think she was Saint Dane.

Dodger pulled a single sheet of folded parchment out of the box. “Now that I know you’re legit, I can deliver this.”

Dodger held out the sheet to Courtney.

“For me?” Courtney asked, numb.

“Straight from Eelong, from Gunny and Spader… to you.”