Raven Rise (27 page)

“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.

(CONTINUED)

The three stood on the opposite corner,
staring at the mysterious structure. It looked to Mark like a library. There were high arches and heavy marble columns. Wide marble stairs led up from the sidewalk to the many entrances.

“I've seen this before,” Patrick announced.

Mark and Courtney shot him a surprised glance. “Where?” they said in unison.

“Third Earth. Everything changed, remember? When I went to the gate, instead of the underground complex I found this. The flume was inside.”

“So this thing is going to last for three thousand years?” Courtney said in awe.

“It wasn't the exact same,” Patrick pointed out. “I guess changes were made over the years, and it was crumbling, but it was essentially the same structure.”

“What is it?” Mark asked.

“I don't know,” Patrick answered. “All I cared about was getting to the flume.”

“Look at the flags,” Mark announced. “Obviously this is all about the Ravinian cult. Maybe it's headquarters.”

“We gotta check this out,” Courtney said, and walked toward the strange new building.

All three walked closer with trepidation, while scanning around for any Ravinian red shirts. The street was busy with people, but not crowded. If somebody was looking for them, they'd be seen. They walked up the marble stairs to a long row of glass doors that was the entrance. Courtney tried a door to find…it was open.

“This doesn't change anything,” she said. “We still have to flume out of here. Whatever this is, we'll have a better shot of getting to the flume here than sneaking into Naymeer's house back in Stony Brook.”

Patrick and Mark nodded in agreement. Courtney pulled the door open and stepped inside. Just inside the entrance was a large open area with a marble floor.

“Slick,” Courtney said, impressed.

Fresh flowers in vases were placed along the walls. The star symbol was prominent on the wall to the right, a portrait of Naymeer faced it on the wall to the left. Directly ahead was an archway that led farther into the building.

“Doesn't seem like anybody's here,” Mark commented.

Courtney walked to the archway to find a wide set of stairs leading straight down. She stood on top and stared toward the bottom. There was no clue as to what they might find below.

“What are the chances of this being some fancy new subway station?” she asked over her shoulder to the others.

“No chance,” Mark answered.

“I didn't think so.”

The three started down slowly, shoulder to shoulder. With each step they saw more of the floor below. It seemed to be one big room. A few more steps down revealed a long row of green theater-style seats that stretched out to either side, facing away from them. It was followed by another row and another and another. A wide center aisle separated the seats into two halves. Left and right.

“This is no subway station,” Courtney muttered.

“It looks like a big theater,” Mark replied.

The room was huge. There looked to be enough seating for several hundred people. The rows of seats all faced the same direction. When they reached the bottom, Courtney saw why.

“This is no theater,” she gasped.

There was no stage. No movie screen. No performance area. Mark, Courtney, and Patrick stepped down onto the floor and saw the truth. On the far side of the vast space, facing the seats, for all to see, was the flume. To the right of its mouth was a red star flag on a pole in a stand. On the opposite side of the mouth was a U.S. flag.

“I can't swallow,” Mark croaked.

“It's like some kind of shrine,” Courtney murmured.

Mark walked to the first row of seats and picked up a thick book that was all too familiar. “Or a church,” he said, holding the book up for the others to see.

The cover was deep read. The word “Ravinia” ran vertically down one side in gold letters. Next to it was the star symbol. It was the exact same cover that Patrick had brought from Third Earth. The cover that Richard, the librarian, was willing to die to hold on to. Every other seat had the exact same book.

“I guess the mystery is solved,” Patrick commented. “It's the Ravinian Bible.”

“Yeah,” Courtney quipped. “The Bible according to Naymeer.”

“According to Saint Dane,” Mark corrected.

Mark tossed the book back onto the seat. The three slowly drifted down the wide center aisle. Far ahead of them, the flume loomed large.

“It wasn't out in the open like this on Third Earth,” Patrick commented. “A similar structure was aboveground, but the flume was behind a series of doors.”

“Like they decided to hide it again,” Mark commented.

“Exactly,” Patrick agreed.

Courtney asked, “What's the point? Do they all sit here staring at a tunnel, reading about Naymeer's twisted philosophies?”

“Maybe it's like what we saw at the rally,” Mark offered. “Maybe Naymeer somehow produces images of Halla.”

“Yeah, like a movie,” Courtney agreed. “Unbelievable.”

“It's gone further than we thought,” Mark concluded. “If the Ravinians know about the flume, they know everything.”

They heard a voice from the top of the stairs call to them. “Indeed. There are no secrets.”

All three spun and looked back up to see a man standing on top. He no longer wore his deep red robe. Instead he had on a gray business suit with a red tie. Embroidered into the tie was the star symbol.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said warmly. “My name is Alexander Naymeer. This is my conclave.”

To either side of him was a red-shirt guard. Unlike the guards at the Garden, these men were armed with pistols in hip holsters.

“I'm so glad you've come to visit,” he said kindly as he strolled casually down the stairs. “We have so much to talk about, and plan.”

“I don't think so,” Courtney shouted. She looked to Mark and said, “We are so gone.” With that, she turned and ran for the flume.

“Stop!” a guard yelled. Both red shirts pulled their pistols and started to run down the stairs.

Mark ran after Courtney.

“Let's go!” Mark shouted back to Patrick.

Patrick hesitated a moment more, then ran to catch up.

“Where to?” he asked breathlessly.

“Doesn't matter,” Courtney shouted back. “Zadaa, Denduron, Quillan. Anywhere but here.”

Bang!
A shot was fired.

“Down!” Mark yelled, and pushed Courtney to the side, between two rows of seats. They were still over thirty yards from the mouth of the flume. Thirty long yards.

Patrick jumped the other way. They were on opposite sides of the aisle, both far from the flume.

“We can't let them trap us here!” Courtney hissed.

“We can't let them kill us!” Mark countered.

“They won't! He wants us to be acolytes.” Courtney jumped up and started for the flume. Another shot was fired, kicking up a splinter from the chair in front of her. Courtney screamed and dropped back to the ground.

“You can't travel without me,” Patrick called to them. “Follow me!”

“Patrick don't!” Mark yelled.

Patrick didn't listen. He jumped up, ran into the center aisle, and sprinted for the flume.

“C'mon!” he yelled back to the others.

He got only a few steps when another shot was fired.

Courtney screamed in horror.

Patrick stiffened instantly and spun back around in surprise. The look on his face said it all. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

Patrick had been shot.

“Get down! Lie down!” Courtney yelled on the edge of hysteria.

Patrick staggered backward, stumbling toward the flume. He twisted his arm up to try and touch his back, as if to swat away an annoying bee. Mark and Courtney peeked over the tops of the chairs to see the Traveler from Third Earth twist and stumble as though he were drunk. A red patch of blood spread on the back of his shirt. His eyes rolled in his head.

“It hurts,” he cried, more in surprise than pain.

Courtney jumped up to go to him. Another shot was fired, hitting the seat in front of her. Mark grabbed Courtney and pulled her back down for protection.

“Stay down. They'll shoot us all!” Mark cried.

Courtney was in tears. “Patrick! Sit down! Don't move.”

Behind them, the red shirts hit the bottom of the stairs. Both had their guns drawn.

Patrick's heels caught on the edge of the flume. He stumbled and fell down flat on his back, hard. Mark and Courtney clutched each other. Mark was ready to scream with anger and frustration…

When the flume came to life.

“What?” Mark gasped with dismay.

“He activated it,” Courtney whispered.

“Where is he going?” Mark asked.

“Who cares?”

“Get him out of there!” one of the guards yelled. The two took off running, sprinting up the aisle toward the flume.

Light began to shoot from the tunnel and fill the immense room. Patrick's crumpled body became a silhouette on the floor of the flume.

“He won't make it,” Courtney sobbed.

“Yeah, he will,” Mark said, and leaped from behind the seats, into the aisle, throwing himself at the first guard as he was about to pass them. Mark's feet were off the ground as he nailed the guy in the ribs, knocking him into the opposite row. The musical notes grew louder. The second guard stopped. He knew he wouldn't make it in time. Instead he raised his gun and took aim at Patrick. The wounded Traveler was in his sights for one second. The second after that, Courtney was in his sights. She stepped right in front of him, the barrel of the pistol pointed at her nose.

“Too late,” she said with a smug smile.

Brilliant light and music filled the massive room. The guard blinked. He didn't know what to do.

“Put it down,” Naymeer's calm voice said from the bottom of the stairs.

Reluctantly the guard lowered his pistol.

Courtney kept her eyes locked on the guard's. Her back was to the flume. A moment later the light disappeared. The music ended. Patrick was gone.

“I do so abhor violence,” Naymeer said wistfully. “It is a tool of the ignorant.”

The guard stepped away from Courtney, revealing the elderly man as he strolled up the aisle. The first guard got to his feet, grabbed Mark, picked him up by the collar, and shoved him toward Courtney. The two stood together, facing Naymeer.

“We should be introduced formally,” the man said. “I am the Traveler from Second Earth.”

“No, you're not,” Mark said quickly.

Naymeer raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Of course,” he said with a knowing smile. “I respect your loyalty. Won't you please accept my humble offer and join me for dinner?”

“No, thank you,” Courtney answered.

Naymeer took a tired breath. “Really? I would think you two would be interested to hear about all the wonderful work I've been doing here.”

“She said ‘No, thank you,'” Mark said adamantly.

Naymeer shrugged. “It would be so much easier if we did this on my terms.”

Mark and Courtney didn't budge.

“Easier for who?” Courtney asked in defiance.

“Please!” Naymeer said jovially. “Let's not be contentious. I'm sure you'd enjoy seeing what I've done to my house in Stony Brook.” He leaned into them with a sly wink and added, “After all, I didn't get the chance to give you a tour the other night.”

He smiled, turned on his heel, and strode back down the aisle toward the stairs.

“The car is waiting outside,” he called back.

Mark and Courtney didn't move. The two guards had to grab them by the arms and shove them toward the stairs.

“Where do you think Patrick tried to go?” Courtney whispered to Mark as they were pushed along.

Mark shrugged. “It doesn't really matter…if he's dead.”