The Transall Saga (18 page)
chapter
55
The heavy explosion rocked the quiet morning. Three men who had been sleeping too close to the fire when Mark had tossed his homemade bomb were hurled sideways by the blast.
Dust billowed and the camp came alive in seconds. One soldier spotted a tall running figure. "There he goes!" he shouted to the others.
"After him!" Mordo ordered. "A sack of tribute to the man who kills the outlaw."
Mark darted from tree to tree, allowing them only brief glimpses of him. When he was sure they had taken the bait, he headed straight for the dark jungle:
In one of the small clearings he heard a buffalo creature snorting. It had blood on its horns and face and was busy tossing what looked like the remains of one of the scouts in the air.
Mark shuddered and looked away. He had other things to think about. It made him uncomfortable to know that Mordo’s scouts were somewhere out in front of him.
Behind him he could hear Mordo’s men coming. He circled the clearing and waited on the other side. The army startled the buffalo creature. It pawed the ground and charged.
A dozen arrows sank into the beast’s head and sides but it kept coming. It gored one soldier and would have kept fighting if Mordo hadn’t thrust his sword through its heart.
The creature fell to one knee and then toppled over, dead. Mordo didn’t stop. He ordered the rest to keep searching for Mark.
Mark deliberately made noise in the brush and then slipped away. When he neared the red meadow in front of the dark jungle he stopped to watch and listen. There was no sign of the scouting party.
He crossed the meadow and waited in the shadows near his old tree house. He didn’t wait long.
Mordo and his men stepped out of the brush and scanned the trees. One of the soldiers began to scream. He had stepped on a colony of fire bugs. The warrior rolled on the ground, trying to scrape them off.
Mordo kept moving. Mark darted out of the shadows long enough to be seen briefly, then moved back inside the dark jungle.
He shimmied up a vine and swung to a tree branch. Mordo’s army marched into the darkness after him.
Using the vines, Mark swung from tree to tree until he could drop to the spot where he had left his dry tree bark. He quickly poured out some of his powder, placed the bark in two strategic places and swung back up into one of the tall trees.
The birds screeched loudly, announcing the army’s arrival.
Next came the clicking. The monkey-bears greeted the strangers with their usual bombardment of tree rocks.
Mark sat patiently on a tree branch with his crossbow loaded.
Mordo continued to lead his men through the dark jungle. He cursed and threatened Mark with what he would do to him.
Mark laughed scornfully and called down, "You have to catch me first, Mordo."
Mordo searched the treetops for the source of the laughter. Suddenly he and the men leading the column tripped on one of the vines Mark had tied. They fell face first into the swamp of quicksand.
It was so dark that several others behind them stumbled into the trap, not realizing where they were until it was too late. Their heavy armor made fighting their way out impossible.
The remaining soldiers scattered and tried to leave the way they had come in. Mark sent a fire arrow into the first pile of powder. It exploded and sent several men flying. Before the others had time to think, he shot a second arrow.
Only a handful of Mordo’s men were left. Mark imitated the chilling call of the Howling Thing.
They started running.
chapter
56
Mark sat under his old tree house, sharing tree rocks with Willie. Yesterday he had followed the frightened remnant of the Merkon’s army to make sure they left the jungle.
He felt free again. Now he could go back to his village and get on with his life. He patted Willie’s head. "How would you like to come with me, boy? Barow will love you."
Thinking about going home made him gulp down the rest of his tree-rock juice and gather his things. If he hurried he could make it to the valley in less than three days.
"Well, how about it?" Mark gave Willie the signal to climb up. "Are you coming?"
The monkey-bear clicked loudly and then jumped on Mark’s back.
"That’s more like it." Mark shifted his load and started across the meadow.
He was almost to the other side when he heard an awful whirring sound and something ripped into his arm.
It was an arrow. Pain tore through his body. Four of Mordo’s men stepped out from behind trees with their weapons aimed at him.
The scouting party. Mark had completely forgotten about them. They obviously didn’t know that Mordo was dead and the rest of the army was scattered.
Mark pretended to raise his hands in surrender and then abruptly dived into the cover of some trees. Willie rolled off as Mark hit the ground. The little monkey-bear climbed the nearest tree, clicking in terror.
Mark made it to his feet and started running. The scouts were right behind him. He crashed through the jungle, not caring which direction he was taking. His only thought was to get away.
He couldn’t shake them. His arm was going numb and he felt weak. He kept running, dodging to the right and left.
A loud clap of thunder crashed through the air. The sky lit up with flashes of lightning. Mark ran through the pouring rain with Mordo’s men now only yards behind him.
He spotted a boulder to his left and sprinted toward it. If he could just reach it he could use it for cover. He half fell behind it, reached for an arrow and slid his crossbow off his arm.
His wounded arm was too weak to pull the string back. The scouts were pounding toward him. With all the strength he could muster he dragged himself up on the boulder. He pulled out his sword and prepared to leap down on them.
Lightning struck the boulder, sending balls of electricity shooting in all directions. A tube of blue light enveloped Mark and brutally shook his body.
He could feel himself falling.
Mark could hear people standing over him, talking. He felt for his sword. Somehow he had to stand and fight. He was determined to take down a few more of Mordo’s men before he died.
Groggily he rose to his feet, swinging his sword. He heard screaming and the sound of people calling to him in a strange language.
He focused. In front of him was a strange little fountain. He was no longer in the jungle. Instead he was inside some type of building. The people staring at his clothes and weapons were not from Transall.
A small boy stepped out of the crowd. "Mister, do you need a doctor? I think there’s one here in the mall."
Mark pulled the arrow out of the fleshy part of his arm. There was no wound. He looked up at the people.
The little boy had spoken to him in English.
This was his time.
His world.
The blue light had brought him back.
EPILOGUE
Twenty Years Later
"Dr. Harrison. Dr. Mark Harrison, report to the second floor."
The voice continued to boom over the intercom.
Mark felt someone jostle his elbow. He looked up from his microscope. "What is it, Karen? Did you find something?"
The young lab assistant smiled. "They’re calling you again, Dr. Harrison." She pointed to the intercom.
Mark looked at his watch. "Oh, great. Looks like I’m late for the board meeting again. Get my briefcase, will you? And a copy of that data we were working on this morning."
"It’s all here." Karen handed him the case. "Don’t forget your tie."
Mark fumbled in his pocket for the wrinkled clip-on. "I hate these things."
"I know. But you are trying to make an impression."
Mark sighed. "Right. Maybe this time I’ll convince them." He headed for the door.
"Good luck, Doctor. We’re all rooting for you."
Mark waved and disappeared through the door.
A dark-haired young man in a white lab coat walked over. "Do you think he has a chance for the grant money?"
Karen shrugged. "I hope so. He’s obsessed with finding a cure. He’s already come up with several possible vaccines for the virus. But he has to convince the government that these diseases are a matter of global importance."
"He’s a strange one. Last night, when he did the final tests on the new Ebola virus inoculations, he looked at the ceiling and whispered, ’Megaan, this is for you,’ or something like that. I mean, what’s a megaan? Weird . . ."
"He’s all right," Karen said. "I think he just needs a break from work. Some friends of mine and I are planning a hike in the desert this weekend through the Magruder Missile Range. Maybe I’ll invite him to come along."
"The doc?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
"He’s such a bookworm. I doubt he’d last a day out there in the wild."
"I don’t know. I think he might surprise you. There’s something about him. Have you noticed? It’s a look he gets sometimes, almost like he’s . . ."
"What?"
"I can’t quite put my finger on it. But it’s like he’s . . . almost savage."
"Ha! The doc is as tame as they come. And if you decide to invite him to go, you guys had better take it real easy on him."
"He’ll be fine." Karen laughed. "It’s just a hike in the desert. What could happen?"
WANTED FOR WAR CRIMES DEAD OR ALIVE
THE WHITE FOX
The year is 2057. Endless wars have torn the USA apart and enslaved Americans to the evil CCR, the Confederation of Consolidated Republics. Growing up in wartime has made fourteen-year-old Cody Pierce wise in survival skills. Now he’s the White Fox, rebel leader of the children’s barracks in a CCR prison camp. Cody manages a terrifying escape and then plays cat and mouse with the CCR. Every day brings him closer to capture, but closer as well to his goal—to return and liberate the children he left behind.
Coming soon from Laurel-Leaf Books
GARY PAULSEN is the distinguished author of many critically acclaimed books for young people, including three Newbery Honor books: The Winter Room, Hatchet and Dogsong. His novel The Haymeadow received the Western Writers of America Golden Spur Award. Among his newest Delacorte Press books are My Life in Dog Years, Sarny: A Life Remembered (a companion to Nightjohn), The Schernoff Discoveries, Brian’s Winter (a companion to Hatchet), Father Water, Mother Woods: Essays on Fishing and Hunting in the North Woods, and the first three books about Francis Tucket’s adventures in the Old West. Gary Paulsen has also published fiction and nonfiction for adults. He and his wife, the painter Ruth Wright Paulsen, live in New Mexico and on the Pacific Ocean.
ALSO AVAILABLE IN LAUREL-LEAF BOOKS:
NIGHTJOHN, Gary Paulsen
SARNY: A LIFE REMEMBERED, Gary Paulsen
THE WINTER ROOM, Gary Paulsen
BRIAN’S WINTER, Gary Paulsen
THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen
A KILLING FROST, John Marsden
TOMORROW, WHEN THE WAR BEGAN, John Marsden
THE DEAD OF NIGHT, John Marsden
ANGELS ON THE ROOF, Martha Moore
BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE, Annette Curtis Klause
Published by
Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers
a division of
Random House, Inc.
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New York, New York 10036
Copyright © 1998 by Gary Paulsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted m any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address Delacorte Press, New York, New York 10036
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RL: 5.6
November 1999
eISBN: 978-0-307-43403-6
v3.0
