The Rivers of Zadaa

by D. J. MacHale

  “Look!” Loor said.

  Resting on the bottom of the flume, near the mouth was a brightly colored square box. It looked like an elaborate gift. It had bright red and yellow stripes and looked about the right size to hold a big pumpkin. The whole thing was tied up with a bright red bow.

  “I’ve lost my mind,” I said.

  Loor walked boldly over to examine the package. I was behind her, but without the same enthusiasm. There was a huge, yellow tag dangling from the bow. Loor looked at it, then held it out for me to see. There was one word written on the rectangular tag. In fancy letters was the word PENDRAGON.

  “Oh, great,” I said with absolutely no enthusiasm. “Is it my birthday?”

  Loor pulled off the tag and found that it was folded in half. She opened it to see what was written inside. Her face fell.

  “What?” I asked quickly.

  She turned the tag around so I could read it. It said: “With my compliments. S.D.”

  “S.D.,” I said. “Cute. Do I want to know what’s inside?”

  “Don’t you?” Loor asked.

  I didn’t, but I had to. I thought back to the time Saint Dane had made a present of Gunny’s hand in a bag. There was every reason to believe there would be something just as nasty in this box. I knelt down and pulled off the ribbon.

  “This might be dangerous,” I said.

  “There is only one way to find out,” Loor said.

  I grasped the sides of the lid, winced, and pulled it off. Instantly a jack-in-the-box clown popped out. It was a scary-looking thing, with a garish smile and a jester’s hat. It was on a spring, and bounced around while laughing over and over. I thought I recognized the laugh.

  “There is something else inside,” Loor pointed out.

  Sure enough, there was an envelope in the bottom of the box. It was bright blue and looked sort of like a birthday card. Again on the outside was the word PENDRAGON. I rolled my eyes and opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of heavy paper. It was bright yellow, with fancy, red writing. It read:

  Riggedy riggedy white

  Come and spend the night

  We’ll play some games

  Some wild, some tame

  Cause if you will, you might

  Your hosts on Quillan,

  Veego and LaBerge

  “What does it mean?” Loor asked.

  “It means I’m going to Quillan.”

  I’m writing this journal to you from the territory of Quillan, in very strange surroundings. More of that in a second.

  I reluctantly left Loor in the flume cavern on Zadaa, convinced that she was healthy, but clueless as to why. Did I bring her back from the dead? Do I have that kind of power? Do all Travelers have that kind of power? Loor raised a lot of good questions. I’ve never been sick a day in my life. If ever I was injured, it never lasted. My coaches used to call me the Terminator, because no matter what happened to me, I kept coming back. I never thought twice about it…until Loor died. Or un-died.

  Having the ability to heal quickly isn’t what’s got me freaked out. It’s more about why. Healing that fast isn’t normal. Neither is rising from the dead. Saint Dane is a Traveler with powers that defy the imagination. We’re Travelers too, but we don’t have those same powers. Or do we? I have to admit, I sat here trying to change myself into looking like somebody else. It didn’t work. All I accomplished was feeling stupid.

  Still, I can’t ignore the facts. Loor was dead. Then she wasn’t. Whether I did it, or she did it herself, or it was the combination of both of us, I don’t know. But it happened. That leads me to the biggest, most troubling question of all: Am I human?

  Don’t laugh. Humans don’t rise from the dead. Humans get sick. Humans don’t have the power of persuasion. And most of all, humans don’t shoot around Halla trying to stop Saint Dane. (I know, you guys did, but you weren’t supposed to.) It raises other questions too. What happened to my family? Uncle Press said my mother and father weren’t my real parents. Then who were? Where did I come from and why was I living in Stony Brook? How could all records of their existence have disappeared? That’s impossible, isn’t it? None of the Travelers know where they came from. They were all told that their parents weren’t their biological parents, but were never told who their real parents were. I have to admit, it’s got me all sorts of worked up again. I had put all those questions aside to focus on Saint Dane. Now they’re coming back to haunt me.

  And speaking of Saint Dane, he has led me to the territory of Quillan. Actually, he invited me. Or had me invited. I’m writing this journal from my room. It’s in this monstrous castle where a couple of characters named Veego and LaBerge live. The castle is right out of the Brothers Grimm, but this room looks more like I’m living at the circus. The walls are purple and yellow striped; the ceiling is covered with balloons; I’m writing on a desk that looks like a giant hand; and the bed looks to be floating in the air. I have no idea what’s holding it up. Oh yeah, there are hundreds of dolls in the room. Clown dolls. I hate clowns.

  I’m supposed to have dinner with my hosts soon, so I should finish this journal. I have no idea what’s in store for me here, other than some scary clown nightmares. But I feel certain this is where I should be. Saint Dane brought me here for a reason; I need to find out what it is.

  As I wrote before, please be careful. Whatever he’s doing on Second Earth, assuming he’s really there, I’ve got to believe it’s in the early stages. I don’t think you’re in trouble. That’s not his style. It’s not you he wants to beat, it’s me.

  The adventure on Zadaa has changed me in so many ways. I’ve learned some things about myself, and discovered some new and disturbing questions. Above it all, I still think we are closer to beating Saint Dane. He’s starting to sweat. No, he’s starting to panic. It’s my job to keep the pressure on, so that’s what I’m going to do.

  I miss you guys. I love you guys.

  And so we go.

  END JOURNAL #23

  SECOND EARTH

  “What are you reading there?” Andy Mitchell said. “Highlights?”

  Mark quickly rolled up the yellow pages of Bobby’s last journal. He had already read it three times.

  “N-No. Uh, what’s ‘highlights’?”

  Andy plopped down next to Mark with a bag full of burgers and fries. “You know, Highlights. That kid magazine they have in doctors’ offices where you gotta find the picture of the pencil hidden in the tree and whatnot.”

  “Oh. No. This is just, uh, something I’m working on,” Mark said.

  “Yeah? Another one of them stories about Pendragon?”

  Mark shot Andy a surprised look and asked, “What did you say?”

  “You know, like that one you wrote about, what was that place? Da-doo run run?”

  Mark relaxed. He had forgotten that Andy had seen Bobby’s first journals. In fact, he had stolen them from Mark. Mark and Courtney had to pretend that they had written the story themselves so Andy wouldn’t spread strange rumors about what really happened to Bobby…that weren’t rumors at all.

  “Denduron,” Mark corrected. “No, it’s just an article. Leave it alone.”

  “All right, jeez, lighten up.” Andy handed the bag of food to Mark. “Here, eat something. You look like hell. Sorry it took so long. Nothing’s close to anything up here in the boonies.”

  Mark took the burgers, but didn’t feel like eating. His mind was in too many different places. Courtney was lying in an operating room, near death, from an accident that might have been caused by Saint Dane. They still didn’t know if she would live or die. As horrible as it was, worrying about Courtney kept his mind from spinning to all the other things that had him so worried.

  Saint Dane was on Second Earth. Was he there to lay the groundwork for his attack on their home? As much as he wanted to think there was another reason, Mark couldn’t come up with one. His worst fear was about to come true. There was going to be a battle for Second Earth. That is, unless Bobby could
stop Saint Dane for good.

  That thought brought Mark back to the strange news from Bobby’s latest journal. Of course, Mark was thrilled that Zadaa was saved. But that also brought bad news. With so many losses, Saint Dane was getting desperate…and violent. He nearly killed Bobby out of sheer anger. He did kill Loor, which brought up some truly unsettling possibilities.

  Loor had returned from the dead.

  How strange was that? It was good news, yes, but disturbing news just the same. How could it have happened? Other Travelers died, and stayed dead. Mark saw one die himself, Seegen, the Traveler from Eelong before Kasha. What was different about Loor’s death? Was it Bobby? But Bobby was there when his uncle Press had died. The same with Kasha. Those two didn’t come back from the dead. Whatever the reason was, it brought something to light that could not be denied. There was something unusual about the Travelers. The simple fact that they healed so quickly was enough proof that they weren’t normal. Or at least normal by the standards of the territories they came from. That brought Mark around to the bottom-line question that disturbed him the most.

  Who was Bobby Pendragon? Really? They had been best friends since either could remember. Now Mark was faced with the possibility that Bobby wasn’t just randomly chosen to be a Traveler. He was different. More different than even he could imagine.

  “Mark?” a woman’s voice called. It was Mrs. Chetwynde. She entered the waiting room along with Mr. Chetwynde. Both looked tired and scared. Their eyes were red. They had been crying.

  Mark jumped to his feet to greet them. “You made it!” he exclaimed.

  “We’ve been here for a while,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “We’ve been with Courtney.”

  Andy stood up and joined Mark. Mark asked, “How is she?” He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  The Chetwyndes exchanged looks, as if they weren’t sure which one of them should answer. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Is she okay?” Mark asked more insistently.

  “She’s out of surgery,” Mrs. Chetwynde said. “She’s got problems. She lost a lot of blood. The doctors have done all they can; now it’s just a matter of time.”

  Mr. Chetwynde continued, “She’s really banged up. Broken ribs. Her left arm was broken in two places. She has a terrible concussion…”

  “Wow,” Andy said without even thinking.

  “The real damage was internal,” Mr. Chetwynde said.

  “There was lots of bleeding. That’s why the surgery took so long. They think they repaired it all but, they just don’t know for sure. The next twenty-four hours are going to be critical.”

  Mrs. Chetywnde said, “If you boys hadn’t found her…” She didn’t finish the sentence. The words caught in her throat.

  “What happened, Mark?” Mr. Chetwynde said, holding back tears. “The police said it was a hit-and-run. How did you find her?”

  Mark was prepared for that question. He knew it was coming. “It was luck, mostly,” he began. “Courtney called me yesterday to say she was riding into town to meet some guy named, uh,—”

  “Whitney,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “The police told us. Nobody can find the guy. He’s not registered at the school.”

  “Yeah, we found that out too,” Mark said. “This is Andy Mitchell, by the way. He’s a friend of mine; he gave me a ride up this morning.”

  The Chetwyndes smiled at Andy. Andy nodded. He wasn’t used to being polite.

  “Why did you decide to come up?” Mr. Chetwynde asked.

  This was the tough part of the story. Mark couldn’t say that he was warned by Bobby Pendragon in a journal from across time and space that an evil demon might have been stalking Courtney. That probably would have made their heads explode, along with Andy’s. Mark decided to be as vague as possible.

  “It was just a feeling,” he answered. “Courtney talked about hanging around with a new guy, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to me. I can’t explain why. I’d been planning on visiting her anyway. It was lucky we decided to come up when we did.”

  The Chetwyndes nodded. They accepted his reasoning. So did Andy. It was close enough to the truth. Mark continued quickly to get past that rough spot. “When we got here, we found out that Courtney didn’t make it to class this morning. She wasn’t in her room and her bike was gone. That got me thinking the worst, like she never made it back from her date last night. So Andy and I drove into town. We saw the fresh skid marks on the road, and when we stopped to look, I saw Courtney’s book in the bushes. That’s how we found her.”

  Mrs. Chetwynde started to cry. “Thank you, Mark. Both of you. You are both angels.”

  Andy shuffled uncomfortably. Mark felt a little awkward too.

  “It’s getting late,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “You shouldn’t drive home. We can put you guys up in a hotel for the night.”

  Mark wanted to stay in the worst way. If they wouldn’t know about Courtney for another day, he wanted to be here. He looked at Andy and said, “What do you think?”

  Andy shrugged and said, “Sure, what the hell.”

  Mark winced at his language in front of Courtney’s parents. He looked at the Chetwyndes and said, “That’s great, thanks. But, uh, I gotta call my parents and tell them what’s going on. They sort of don’t know we came up today. If you could talk to them for a second and tell them you’re here and all, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “What about you, Andy?”

  “I’ll call my parents,” he said. “No problem.”

  Mrs. Chetwynde said, “But first you should see Courtney. She wants to talk with you.”

  “Really?” Mark asked. “She’s awake?”

  “For now,” Mr. Chetwynde answered. “I don’t know for how long, though. She’s pretty drugged up. She’s in intensive care, just down the hall.”

  “Awesome!” Mark said, and started to walk off. He suddenly stopped and turned back to Andy to say, “C’mon.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. It’s you she wants to see,” Andy said.

  Mark walked back to Andy and said, “If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be here right now. She should know what you did.”

  Andy looked at the Chetwyndes. They nodded encouragement. Andy shrugged and followed Mark. As they walked along the corridor toward the intensive care unit, Andy scratched nervously.

  “Look, uh, Chetwynde’s not exactly a fan of mine,” he said.

  “I don’t want to bother her or nothing.”

  “She should know how much you helped,” Mark said. “Just say hi.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never seen a banged-up person before,” Andy said nervously. “What if I do something stupid, like puke.”

  “Don’t” was all Mark said.

  The two guys found the nurses’ station and asked where Courtney was. The nurses broke out into big smiles. They said that normally only family members were allowed to visit in intensive care, but seeing as Mark and Andy were the two heroes who saved Courtney, they’d be happy to make an exception. Besides, they said, Courtney had been asking to see Mark. The nurse led them through the corridor. There were only four rooms, and none of the others was occupied. Mark figured that in such a small town, it was a big deal to have somebody in intensive care. The nurse walked them to the last door at the end of the corridor and stopped.

  “How is she doing?” Mark asked her.

  The nurse frowned. That was a bad sign. “You’ll have to ask the parents,” she answered. “Don’t be long, okay?”

  Mark knew that was bad news. People were quick to give good news. It was time to see for himself.

  SECOND EARTH

  (CONTINUED)

  Mark tentatively entered Courtney’s hospital room. He motioned for Andy to wait a second. He wanted to see her first. When Mark rounded the curtain and saw her, he gasped. Courtney was a mess. Her face was black and blue. Her head was bandaged. Her left arm was in a full cast that was held in position by a steel rod that kept it away from her bo
dy. She was hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires, with bags of various colored liquids dangling over her and monitors spewing out graphs and data. Numbers flashed that had no meaning to him. There was an incessant beep…beep…beep coming from one of the machines that Mark figured was her heart rate. He was grateful that he couldn’t see the bandages from all the surgery. That would have put him over the edge.

  He walked tentatively up to the bed. He couldn’t tell if her eyes were closed because she was sleeping or they were swollen shut. That’s how bad she was.

  Mark leaned down and softly whispered, “Courtney?”

  Courtney’s eyes fluttered and she said with a weak voice, “You don’t have to whisper, dork. This isn’t a library.”

  Mark smiled, in spite of the fact that he wanted to cry. Courtney may have been hurting, but she was still Courtney.

  “We gotta talk,” she said with a raspy voice.

  “I know,” he said. “But first you gotta see somebody. I know this is weird, but if it weren’t for his help, you’d still be out there.”

  Mark gestured to Andy, who reluctantly walked to the foot of the bed. He stood there, looking uncomfortable.

  “Hey,” he said to Courtney. “You look good. Seriously. Considering.”

  Courtney moved her head a few inches and looked at Andy.

  Mark said, “Andy gave me a ride up here. That’s how we found you.”

  “What happened, Mitchell?” Courtney said. “You get visited by three Christmas ghosts who changed you into a human being or something?”

  Andy smiled. “That’s funny, Chetwynde. Glad to see you still got such a hysterical sense of humor.”

  Courtney gave him a thumbs-up with her good hand. Andy backed toward the door. “I’ll let you guys talk,” he said to Mark.

  “Hey,” Courtney called to him in a weak voice. “Thanks. Seriously.”

  Andy nodded. “No problem. Get better, all right?”