The Last Martin (23 page)

“Hold it!”

A husky voice yells from the fort and we freeze. The front gate springs to life with shouts and movement.

“Go!” Poole hisses. “Whatever you got to do, move quick.”

“But I don’t know where to look.” I glance around. “Some other fort. There’s some other fort, or there was or should be or —”

Poole shoves me behind a tree. “Move!” He jumps out and walks toward the Gatehouse. “Look by the river. They always built stuff by rivers. They were like roads or train tracks.” He pauses. “Learned that when you sent
me to school. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fort to attack.”

Julia helps me to my feet.

“Hallo, spooky soldier guys! I’m a little lost.” Poole calls. “Anyone seen the Midway train depot?”

His shadow disappears in a host of sentry shadows, who hustle him through the gate. The night outside returns to quiet.

Whatever happens to me, I’m thankful for you, Poole.

“Help me up.” I say.

Julia grabs me by the arm. “You’re cold. Really cold.”

“To the river.” I point to my sledgehammer. “You’ll have to lug that. I’ll manage.”

Together we stagger through the woods, twigs and brush snapping beneath our feet.

“Problem is …” I gasp for air. “Fort Snelling sits on two rivers. I don’t know which one to search along.”

“Minnesota.”

Julia screams, and I tumble to the ground.

“Didn’t think I sounded that frightening.” Squirrel reaches out a hand. “You don’t look so good. You should see Dr. Kearney in the infirmary.”

“I should not! I need to find New Hope Cantonment. Do you know where that is?”

“Where it was. We don’t need it anymore. We have Fort —”

“Squirrel!”

“Fine. I was just giving some history. You realize I didn’t have to listen to your friend or come find you.” He straightens. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Julia.”

“It’s a pleasure to —”

“Squirrel,” I gasp. “Please.”

He clears his throat. “Fine. We’ll proceed without proper introduction.” Squirrel takes the lead and veers to the right. “It’s a half mile from here. We should be there soon.”

“You’re going to make it,” whispers Julia.

I swallow hard and walk on. I feel less with each step. The branches that scratch me, the cool mist on my skin. I feel less. The world and me are saying good-bye. Only Julia seems more. I’m not in this alone. I glance at the hammer. She holds the handle with both hands and drags it behind her through the woods. She’s carrying my load.

Beep!

Squirrel whips around. “What in tarnation —”

“My cell. Sorry.” Julia digs it out, peeks from the phone to me. “It’s your mom. Charley must’ve caved under pressure. My foster mom probably found me gone, called his place and found out I was at your place, and your mom, well, what should I do?”

“Here.” I slide open the case and take a deep breath. “Hey, Mom, I can’t talk now. I’m okay. Well, not really
okay, but I’m not in danger so I’m okay that way but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want to tell you I love ya, ‘cause I do even if you’re kind of over the top sometimes or all the time. It doesn’t matter anymore. But I love you and I’ll see you — well, I love … Bye, Mom.”

I suck in a lungful of air as Mom’s voice cuts into the night. “Come home now! Landis called. Should be any —”

I slide the cell cover closed. Julia and I stare at the phone.

“Hurry, Squirrel.”

We pick up the pace, a lumbering, falling, fearsome pace. The sound of water rushes in front of us.

“Almost there.” Squirrel breaks out of the trees and runs for the bank. Julia lets go of me, hoists the hammer, and leaps out after. I shuffle out, my legs noodling. All sensations fire. Like in Mr. Halden’s Treatment.

“This is it.” Squirrel runs around the grassy field. “You are standing in New Hope Cantonment.”

“But there’s nothing here!” Julia grabs Squirrel and shakes. “Nothing but high grass.”

“I told you, we don’t need it anymore.”

Ring.

My replacement is coming. I feel energy drain from my head, then my shoulders. It drains into the ground. I
was wrong. I took a chance and listened to a stupid centipede and now Julia will have to watch another person die.

Ring.

That’s the call. Martin’s here. Answer the phone and I’m done.

“Martin! What should I do?”

“Don’t answer.” I step forward, my foot catches, and I fall face-first. My arms don’t even try to break impact. I smash into the earth. Funny, it doesn’t hurt. I’m glad it won’t hurt.

Ring.

The phone sounds like it’s a mile away. I’m on my back. Julia’s face is dropping tears onto mine. She’s speaking. It’s muddled. My head lifts. Both her and Squirrel lift my noodle and prop it on a rock. I blink. I tripped over a rock. I’m on a rock.

Inscription. Cornerstone. Rock.

“Anything … written … on this rock?” I wheeze.

Julia has the flashlight. She wipes her eyes and shines the beam over my face. It blinds me.

“It says … It says ONLY — Squirrel, what does that — It says ONLY —”

Ring.

“ONLY ONE. It says ONLY ONE.”

There will only be one Martin.

“Sword,” I rasp. “I need … to smash this stone!”

Julia lunges for it.

“Squirrel, get my head off this; prop me up. And Julia … the hammer.”

“You can’t hold it!” she yells. “Tell me what to do!”

“I have to do it. It has to be me.”

Ring.

I float, lifted slowly up into the fog. Below me, I watch myself kneeling down in front of the rock, my hands shaking violently on the handle of the hammer. Julia stands behind me, lifting the heavy end of the sledgehammer into the air. Squirrel stands back. It’s a nice view, but the figures are getting smaller. I reach into my pocket. The knight is gone.

I fear this was meant to be.
Mom’s voice echoes through my skull.

“Let. Go. Julia,” I say, my words floating up soft and muddled.

Far beneath me, the metal head falls. The rock explodes into shards of light, and I feel a fist, strong like gravity, squeeze the air out of me. I’m gasping. I can’t breathe, and I hurtle back down toward the earth. I land with a thud, a thud I feel, and the fist releases. Air fills my lungs, and the night fills with Julia’s sobs.

“Martin! It’s not fair. It’s not.”

Ring.

I crack an eyelid. “Answer it.”

“What? You’re okay? Answer it?” She flings open her phone, and her voice quavers. “Hello?”

“Wah!” One hundred percent pure baby.

“Ya hear that?” asks Landis. “Is Martin there?”

I slowly reach for the phone.

“It’s Landis. What do you think about these lungs? Here, listen!”

“Wah!”

“Pretty doggone impressive, and Jenny — she just pushed the little critter right — ow, honey! I was just tellin’ the boy about the process. Sorry, Marty. Jenny smacked me. But I figured you should hear the boy first. Didn’t want you to think you’d be the last Martin.”

I grin. And the grin turns bigger and then works its way inside, where it gathers momentum and bursts out in a laugh strong and free. I laugh and laugh and don’t know why I laugh but I can’t stop it. Landis laughs and in the background Jenny laughs and in front of me Julia laughs.

And faintly now, the next Martin cries.

I stand up, my body full of strength and my hands full of shattered stones. One by one, they skip into the river, which quickly carries away the ripples.

What do you do when someone hits the redo button on your life and you get a chance to start all over? What should you do first?

I stare at Julia, her tears falling across a smile, and I know where to begin.

Jonathan Friesen is an author, speaker, and youth writing coach from Mora, Minnesota. His first young adult novel, Jerk, California, received the ALA Schneider Award. When he’s not writing, speaking at schools, or teaching, Jonathan loves to travel and hang out with his wife and three kids.

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I unsheathed my sword and swung. The blade nicked the rock, and for a moment all was still.

Softly, like a series of snapping twigs, a thin crack snaked its way up to the peak, and then with deafening thunder, the gnarled stone mountain crashed to the ground. Dust settled and the air cleared.

The Black Knight and his followers had fled.

I stared at the mound that was to have been my tomb. I smiled. There would be no death for me today.

But Julia!

“Martin?” Her voice rang clear from the within the heap.

I scampered up the rocks, casting them aside and calling as I climbed. “Julia! Are you sound?”

“Yes.” Her words held no pain, and I scanned the castle grounds. “Jackal, Centipede, lend me a paw. And a foot. The princess lives!”

The centipede crawled into a crack in the stones and emerged moments later. “By rights, my Lady should be crushed, but she sits in a hollow, the rock domed about her.”

“Free her!” I shouted.

The ground shook and I stared at the jackal. “What evil comes?”

“None, sire. The Black Knight’s power is broken. And without his strength, the castle will soon crumble like the stone.” He paused. “Listen. The moat, it rises. Magic no longer contains the river that once flowed near this stronghold. Dig quickly!”

I threw rocks to the left and right as water poured into the courtyard.

“Hurry, Martin!” Julia cried. “The water; it rises.”

I can’t. There’s no way I’ll reach her in time.

I collapsed on the stones. “We’ve come so far. It cannot end this way.”

“And it shall not!”

From behind me, a trumpet blast. An army on horseback splashed over the drawbridge, with my father, King Gav the Brave, at the lead. He reached the mound and leaped off his steed. The king climbed to my side and I began to bow, but my father reached down and lifted my head.

“When last I saw you, perhaps a fitting gesture, but no longer. Stand straight, my son. I am proud of you.”

The jackal tugged at my father’s leg.

“Tas! My old friend.” My father knelt down eye level with the creature. “What strange fortune brings you—”

“If I may be so bold, we have not the time for greetings. Water rushes in, my lord.”

My father nodded and rose. “Martin, where is this girl?”

I pointed beneath his feet.

“Warriors!” he cried. “Barricade the gate. Divert the flood—”

“Wait.” I grabbed his arm. “Time has indeed changed me. Julia is mine to save.”

The king smiled and handed me his sword. “My army awaits your command.”

I raised the blade. “Clear the stone!”

As one, the men fell upon the rubble. They tossed chunks of stone into the torrent, now lapping their waists. I bent down on the pile and pushed slabs off the top. They tum bled into the rising water with a splash.

Suddenly, from within the pile, a beam of light pierced my eyes. Rock near my feet shifted and caved in on itself, leaving a gaping hole.

“Julia!”

I reached down through the opening, felt her hand grasp mine, and pulled. Soon she stood at my side, her face clear and whole.

Again, the ground shook.

“Away, men. Away!” I yelled.

Father’s men tried to mount, but the river, just released, held a fury of its own. King Gav sounded his trumpet. “Release your horses. We must climb!”

I grabbed Julia’s hand and we leaped off the mound, pushed through the current, and reached the stairs. We scaled and sputtered and soon stood atop the castle walls. I gazed into the courtyard. Only the crumbled peak remained above the water line.

Julia drew close. “Will we survive?”

I sighed. “I do not know how high the water will rise.”

“No, Martin. Now that your curse is broken. Will you and I survive? Or will you leave me to live life alone?” Worry creased her face. “You’ve done this before.”

I faced Julia and—

“Psst. Martin.”

I look up and smile. Poole’s head pops through my open window.

“It’s a beautiful night. In the mood for a stroll, friend? Hey. I thought you finished that story.”

I exhale hard and close my notebook. “I thought so, too.”

ZONDERKIDZ

The Last Martin
Copyright © 2011 by Jonathan Friesen

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EPub Edition © MARCH 2011 ISBN: 978-0-310-39968-1

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Friesen, Jonathan.

        The last Martin / by Jonathan Friesen.

                   p. cm.

Summary: Thirteen-year-old Martin Boyle struggles to break a family curse after discovering that he has only twelve weeks to live.

ISBN 978-0-310-72080-5 (hardcover, jacketed)

[1. Blessing and cursing—Fiction. 2. Emotional problems—Fiction. 3. Family problems—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F91661Las 2011
[Fic]—dc22                                  2010048275

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible,
New International Version
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