The Lost City of Faar

by D. J. MacHale

  As I finish writing this journal, I have to say how Uncle Press’s last words are really helping keep my head together. He said, no, he promised that we would be together again. I’m not sure how that’s possible, besides meeting up in heaven or something. But I don’t think that’s what he meant. The more I think about it, the more I realize he was talking about actually being together again. For real. In this lifetime.

  Of course, that raises the biggest question of all. Where exactly is here? For that matter, when is now? That all depends on what territory you happen to be on. For the first time I’m beginning to see some amazing possibilities. I wonder how many territories there are? Are they all like the ones we’ve been on so far, or is it possible to flume into a whole ’nother plane of existence? The potential is incredibly exciting, and makes my head hurt.

  This is where I will end it, guys. I’ll send this off to you and then get some sleep. Please know that I miss you both. I hope I can get back there soon. Thank you again for reading my journals and keeping them safe. You are the light of reality in my otherwise dark and confused new life.

  Hobey-ho.

  Bobby.

  END OF JOURNAL #8

  SECOND EARTH

  Mark and Courtney rode in the back of a black-and-white police cruiser on their way to the Stony Brook Police Station. They had been picked up at Mark’s house by a nice cop named Officer Wilson. When he showed up at the door, Mark half expected him to say: “You’re under arrest, slimeball!” and slap the cuffs on him. But that didn’t happen. He was all friendly and as they rode along he even offered to put the siren on for them. Mark had to fight back the urge to say: “Yeah, go for it!” The kid in him thought it would be cool, but this was serious business, not time for fun. It also didn’t help that Courtney gave him a sharp look that said: “If you say yes to the siren, I’ll clock you.” They rode in silence.

  Both were a little bit stunned. They had finished reading Bobby’s last journal and had just learned that Press was dead. They had met Press a few times and gotten to know him better through Bobby’s journals. Hearing about his tragic death was a shock. Of course it helped that Bobby and company had kicked some serious butt on Cloral. It took some of the sting away. They were already anticipating what they would hear from the territory of Veelox.

  But riding above these thoughts was the reality they faced in their own world, here and now.

  Mark had a pretty good idea why Captain Hirsch had called them. It was about the journals Andy Mitchell had stolen. He was sure that Mitchell had turned them in to the police to get the reward. Why else would Captain Hirsch want them to come in?

  Mark and Courtney had met the captain months before. They were the first ones to alert the police that Bobby and his family were missing. But since that meeting, they learned the truth about what had happened to Bobby through his journals. Though they didn’t have any idea where the Pendragons had gone, they knew now why they had disappeared. They were here to raise Bobby to become a Traveler, and their job was complete. That’s why they left to go . . . somewhere.

  Mark and Courtney never told the police what they knew. It was just too unbelievable. They were afraid they would be locked up in some hospital for the mentally deranged, or become suspects in the investigation they started themselves. Worse, they were afraid if people found out about the truth, it would make it harder for the Travelers to complete their mission—especially when it brought them here to Second Earth. So after lots of discussion and thought, Mark and Courtney decided to keep the truth a secret.

  But now, with Andy Mitchell bringing the journals to the police, it was possible this whole thing could blow up in their faces.

  Those were the worries going through Mark’s mind as Officer Wilson pulled into the parking lot of the Stony Brook Police Station. Both he and Courtney tried to act all casual, as if nothing were wrong. They had to be very careful about what they said to the police, or they could find themselves in deep trouble.

  Officer Wilson led them through the precinct and had them wait in the same conference room where they first met with Captain Hirsch months before.

  The room was empty except for two thick file folders sitting on the end of the long conference table. Both Mark and Courtney had a pretty good idea of what was in those folders. It was the reason they were here. They gave each other a look, but didn’t say a word. There was no way to know if they were being watched and listened to from behind the two-way mirror that ran the length of one wall. Mark wondered what was going through Courtney’s mind. She looked pretty calm. That was good. She would have to be calm for both of them, because Mark wanted to hurl.

  “Hi, guys. Thanks for coming in,” said Captain Hirsch as he walked quickly into the room. “Sit down, please.”

  Mark and Courtney took seats next to each other on one side of the conference table. Captain Hirsch sat down at the far end, in front of the two file folders. He was dressed in his usual gray business suit, with his tie loose around his neck. Mark wondered if he slept in that suit. Hirsch looked to Mark, then to Courtney, as if he wanted them to say something. They didn’t.

  “So, you both know Andy Mitchell?”

  “Yes,” they both said.

  “What do you think of him?”

  Mark wanted to say he thought Mitchell was an obnoxious slug, but he didn’t want Hirsch to think he had a negative attitude.

  Courtney said, “He’s an obnoxious slug.”

  Obviously, Courtney couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her attitude.

  Hirsch nodded. He then reached for one of the file folders.

  “This look familiar?” he asked, as he pulled something out and held it up for them to see. It was the first page of Bobby’s first journal. It looked very familiar. Courtney shot a look to Mark. Mark had to stay cool, even though his worst fear had come true. It was official. Mitchell had turned the journals in. Mark had kept the journals rolled up and tied with a cord, the way Bobby had sent them. Mitchell must’ve flattened them out and stacked them up so they could fit in a folder. Mark hated Mitchell all the more for being so disrespectful.

  “Yeah, it’s familiar,” said Mark, trying not to appear angry.

  “It sure is,” added Courtney, sounding a little bit more upset than Mark would have liked. He was afraid Courtney would go ballistic when she saw the journals, but thankfully, she didn’t.

  Captain Hirsch put the page back in the folder.

  “Andy Mitchell brought this in about an hour ago,” he said. “He’s still here. I’d like to have him join us.”

  “He’s here?” said Mark with surprise. “Now?”

  “Yeah. Is it okay?” Hirsch asked.

  “Sure,” said Courtney. “Bring the slime in.”

  Captain Hirsch nodded to the mirror, which meant they were being watched. That was a totally creepy feeling. A few seconds later the door opened and Andy Mitchell strode in looking like a guy who had just won the lottery. He walked all cocky and had a smug smile on his face. When he saw Mark and Courtney, the smile fell off. But he got his act back together quickly.

  “Man, that was fast,” he said with a sneer. He then said to Mark and Courtney, “You guys feeling the heat yet?” He snorted and gave an obnoxious laugh.

  “Sit down please, Andy,” said Hirsch.

  Mitchell threw one leg over a chair and sat on the far end of the table. Mark half expected him to spit on the floor.

  “Why’s this taking so long?” Mitchell asked. “You guys gonna buy me lunch or what?”

  Hirsch didn’t respond. He turned to Mark and Courtney, saying, “Andy brought these pages to our attention. He tells us they’re proof of what happened to Bobby Pendragon. If it’s true, he’s going to get a large reward.”

  “You got that right!” snorted Mitchell. “Twenty-five big ones.”

  Mark saw Courtney’s hand clench. He knew she was fighting the urge to jump over the table and pummel this weasel. Or maybe she wanted to pummel Mark. He wasn’t
sure which.

  “Andy,” Hirsch said with a friendly smile. “Could you tell me how you gained possession of these papers?”

  “I told you,” Mitchell answered, pointing to Mark. “He had ’em! The two of ’em were keeping them secret so nobody would know what was really going on. I figured it was my civic duty to bring ’em in.”

  Mark closed his eyes. This was horrible. Civic duty, yeah right.

  “That’s not what I asked you, Mr. Mitchell,” said Hirsch politely. “I asked how you gained possession of these pages.”

  “You mean . . . how did I get ’em?” Mitchell asked. Clearly he wasn’t sure of the meaning of the word “gained.” What a tool.

  “Yes,” answered Hirsch patiently.

  Mitchell began to squirm. He started to answer a few times, but stopped himself as if he wasn’t sure he was saying the right thing. Finally, he just blurted out:

  “I took ’em, okay? I just took ’em. But so what, man? You would have done the same thing! This kinda stuff shouldn’t be secret! People gotta know!”

  Hirsch continued calmly, “So you’re telling me you stole them from Mark Dimond?”

  It was clear that Mitchell didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah, I stole ’em. But that’s not the point!”

  Hirsch nodded. He then reached for the second file folder on the table. Mark and Courtney watched without saying a word or showing any emotion. Hirsch opened the second folder to reveal a thick stack of white paper with lines of typing on it. The lines were single spaced and traveled neatly from margin to margin.

  “I’m going to read something to you, Mr. Mitchell,” said Hirsch. “I want you to tell me if it sounds familiar.”

  “Knock yourself out,” responded Mitchell.

  The police officer looked down at the top page, and began to read aloud.

  “‘I hope you’re reading this, Mark.

  “‘Heck, I hope anybody’s reading this because the only thing that’s keeping me from going totally off my nut right now is getting this all down on paper so that—’”

  “That’s from the journal,” said Mitchell, a little confused. “The first one. That’s how it starts. What are you reading that from?”

  Hirsch held the thick stack of clean printed pages up for Mitchell to see. “Mark and Courtney brought me this story last week,” he said.

  “What?” gasped Mitchell, stunned. “I don’t get it.”

  Hirsch put the pages down and chuckled. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” demanded Mitchell in confusion.

  “This is a story they wrote,” said Hirsch, trying to hold back a smile. “A story. It’s fiction. Do you know what that means? They made it up.”

  Mitchell shot a stunned look at Mark and Courtney. The two sat there looking like innocent angels.

  “No. No they didn’t!” shouted Mitchell. “Pendragon wrote it! It’s all true!”

  Courtney shook her head and spoke to Hirsch, saying, “Like we told you, it may be childish, but it was our way of dealing with Bobby’s disappearance.”

  “Yeah,” added Mark quickly. “I even wrote it out in long hand on those brown pages, as if Bobby wrote it himself. It makes the whole thing seem more real that way.”

  “But we also typed it on the computer, so it was easier to work on,” said Courtney. “It’s just a fantasy, but it felt good to pretend that Bobby was on some big adventure instead of, well, instead of being wherever he really is. Now that we’re sitting here talking about it, it’s kind of . . . embarrassing.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” said Hirsch kindly. “People deal with loss in a lot of ways. You two were very creative about it.”

  “You gotta be kidding me!” screamed Mitchell as he jumped up from his chair. “They are lying! Ly-ing! I . . . I saw pages appear from nowhere in a big flash of light through . . . through his ring. Look at his ring!”

  Mark shrugged and held up his fingers. He had no rings.

  Mitchell was in full-on panic mode. Mark could see that he had gone from thinking he had twenty-five thousand dollars in his pocket to being treated like an idiot thief who believes in fairy tales. He desperately tried to turn it around.

  “Okay, okay,” he stammered. “Answer me this: Why did they bring you those printed-out pages? Huh? I’ll tell you. They were trying to beat me here and get themselves off the hook, that’s why.”

  “No,” said Hirsch patiently. “They came here to report their handwritten pages had been stolen. They brought the typed pages to prove the story was theirs. Quite frankly, I never thought the stolen pages would turn up, but then you walked in out of the blue. How very convenient!”

  “No!” shouted Mitchell in anguish. He was losing badly.

  Hirsch looked at Mark and Courtney and said, “Do you want to press charges against Mr. Mitchell?”

  Mark and Courtney looked at each other, then Courtney said, “No, just getting the pages back is enough.”

  “Yeah, in a way we feel kind of bad for him,” said Mark sympathetically. “We never thought somebody would believe our story was good enough to be true!”

  “Really!” added Courtney with a laugh.

  “But it is true!” shouted Mitchell, on the verge of tears. “Isn’t it?”

  “You’re free to go, Mr. Mitchell,” said Hirsch. “But I first want you to apologize to these two for what you did.”

  Mitchell flashed a look of anger and hatred at Mark that rocked him back in his chair. It didn’t seem to bother Courtney, though. Mitchell didn’t scare her. Mitchell got all red in the face, like he was in horrible pain, then he squeezed out a weak, “I’m . . . sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Andy,” Courtney said sympathetically. “Let’s forget this ever happened.”

  “Yeah,” added Mark.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. Now go away,” ordered Hirsch.

  Mitchell stood there for a second, desperately thinking of something he could say to turn this around. But he wasn’t smart enough to do that. He looked at Courtney. Courtney gave him a tiny little smile and a wink. That was it. Mitchell couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Ahhhh!” he shouted, and stormed out of the conference room.

  Hirsch said, “You’re right. He is an obnoxious slug.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Courtney in her most polite voice. “I knew you would be the right person to come to for help.”

  “No problem, that’s my job. I do have a favor to ask though.”

  “Anything,” said Courtney quickly.

  “Would you let me read this story? It’s really pretty good!”

  Mark and Courtney exchanged glances, then Mark said, “Sure, but could you read the printed pages? We’d like to hold on to the handwritten ones.”

  Hirsch quickly slid the folder with Bobby’s journals over to Mark.

  “Of course, here you go,” he said. “That Mitchell guy’s a piece of work. Did he really think this story was true?”

  All Mark and Courtney could do was shrug innocently.

  A few minutes later Mark and Courtney were out of the police station and walking down the Ave. Bobby’s first journals were safely tucked into Mark’s backpack. They had politely turned down a ride home from Officer Wilson, saying they’d like to walk. They said the whole ordeal was pretty stressful and they needed to cool down.

  They went right to Garden Poultry and bought two boxes of French fries, along with a Coke and a Mountain Dew. Mark did the Dew. They brought the food to the pocket park and sat on a bench to enjoy their feast. Neither one had said anything from the time they left the police station. They just kind of drifted toward Garden Poultry without even discussing it.

  Finally, as he finished his last crispy golden fry, Mark said, “I’m sorry, Courtney.”

  Courtney gulped down the rest of her Coke, then said, “Losing that page from the journal was an accident. It was as much my fault as yours. But not telling me right away that Mitchell found out about the journals . . . Mar
k, that was bad.”

  “I know, I know,” was all Mark could say. “I thought I could handle the guy. I . . . I was embarrassed to tell you how bad I screwed up. But man, when he wanted to see all the journals and started talking about how we were going to be famous when we showed the whole world what we had—I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You should have come to me before it got that bad,” said Courtney. Mark could tell she was angry.

  “Yeah,” said Mark guiltily. “But your plan was awesome.” He thought back to the moment when he finally fessed up to Courtney about what had happened. It was right after Mitchell demanded to see all of the journals. Courtney didn’t get angry. Instead she came up with the idea to turn the tables on Mitchell. She knew he would tell the police about the journals to claim the reward. That was a no-brainer. But they figured they could beat him to the punch by pretending they wrote the story themselves. It took Courtney three late nights of grueling typing to get Bobby’s first journals into her computer. Then they printed out the pages and took them right to Captain Hirsch. That’s when they told him the bogus story about their handwritten version being stolen. The key to the whole thing was showing the story to the police before Mitchell did. Neither of them liked to lie, but the situation was desperate. Mitchell had to be stopped from exposing Bobby’s story to the world.

  As it turned out, it became only half a lie when Mitchell came to Mark’s house and ended up stealing the journals after all. Still, if Mitchell had just read the journals and returned them, that would have been the end. But they knew Mitchell wouldn’t do that. He was too greedy. They knew he’d take the journals to the police—and walk right into their trap. The sting worked beautifully. They got Bobby’s journals back and Mitchell couldn’t demand to see them anymore by threatening to go to the police.

  It was a beautiful thing, but Mark still felt bad for not having been totally honest with Courtney.

  “You brought me into this when you showed me the first journal,” Courtney said. “If you want me to stay in, you’ve got to be honest with me, always.”