The Never War

by D. J. MacHale

  “Hobey!” exclaimed Spader when he got a glimpse. “What a spiffer!”

  Gunny had made an amazing transformation. The dark woolen coat he had been wearing made him look like everybody else on the street, but the outfit underneath was spectacular. The jacket was a deep, dark red with shiny brass buttons that went all the way up to the collar. The collar stood straight up and had two lines of golden trim running all the way around his neck. On each cuff of his sleeves were four golden bars. On his left breast was a fancy logo with the letters MTH for Manhattan Tower Hotel. On the other breast was a name tag that read “Vincent Van Dyke, Captain.” The pants were black, with a gold bar running down the outside of each leg. To finish it off, his shoes were shined to within an inch of their lives. The whole package had a military feel, like he was ready for a parade.

  Gunny stood up straight and proud as we admired the uniform. He was a big guy, I’m guessing at least six foot four. But in his uniform, he looked seven feet tall. I think he knew it too. He had a little smile on his face. That was cool.

  “Be honest, Gunny,” Spader said. “You were kiddin’ us before. You’re really a royal prince, right?”

  Gunny laughed. “Don’t I wish,” he said. “Come here, Pendragon.” Gunny held up his woolen coat for me to put on. “Can’t have you guys walking through my hotel looking like Martians,” he added.

  The coat was about a dozen sizes too big. The sleeves were so long you couldn’t see my hands and the bottom dragged on the sidewalk.

  “Now I look like a Martian wearing my father’s coat,” I complained.

  Gunny took off the coat and put it on Spader. It looked a little better on him. At least the bottom only skimmed the ground.

  “It’ll do,” Gunny said. He then turned to me and winked. “We’ll take our chances with you looking like a spaceman, shorty.”

  “Gimme a break, I’m only fourteen!” I said defensively, but I knew he was just giving me a hard time. I was beginning to like Gunny Van Dyke.

  Before we could head into the hotel, a big limousine pulled up to the curb near us. I didn’t think anything of it, but Gunny got tense.

  “Stay right here,” he said to us under his breath.

  The two front doors to the limousine opened at the same time and four guys in suits jumped out. It all happened so fast it was almost funny. All I could think of were clowns jumping out of a car at the circus. I wondered how many other guys in suits were packed inside. One of the suits hurried to the back door and opened it up. The others stood around, scanning the sidewalk like Secret Service agents. A second later a guy pulled himself out of the back of the limo.

  I knew instantly that this was “the man.”

  He wore a suit like the others, but that’s where the similarity ended, because he was big. I’m talking massive. Everything about this dude was huge. His hands, his head, his feet, his body. He wasn’t fat. He was just big. His suit was light gray, and I could see he had a big gem stuck in his dark blue tie. I’d bet anything it was a diamond. His hat was the same color as his suit, with a dark blue band around it. A perfectly folded handkerchief that was the same color as his tie poked up from his breast pocket. He had a couple of rings on his fingers that looked pretty expensive too.

  This guy seemed like someone who pretty much got whatever he wanted. He stood up, adjusted his suit so everything looked just right, then turned toward the hotel. The other guys gathered around him, forming a protective shield. As they walked, they kept scanning the sidewalk for any threats.

  No question. They were bodyguards.

  “Who is this guy?” I asked. “Some foreign president?”

  “I wish,” answered Gunny under his breath. “Most foreign presidents aren’t killers.”

  Uh-oh. Not a good answer.

  The guy caught sight of Gunny and broke out in a big smile. “Gunny, my friend!” he bellowed. He changed direction and headed right for us. That meant all of his bodyguards had to adjust and follow. It was like a big cargo ship had suddenly changed direction and all the little tugboats around it had to hurry to keep up.

  Gunny tried to look casual. Spader and I didn’t move.

  “You working the street now, Gunny?” the guy asked with a big smile.

  “No sir, Mr. Rose,” answered Gunny politely. “Just taking a break. Wanted a breath of fresh air.”

  “Good man,” the big guy exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and pressed a dollar bill into Gunny’s hand. “Don’t work too hard now, understand?” he said, and gave Gunny a friendly cuff on the shoulder.

  “Only when I’m working for you, Mr. Rose,” Gunny replied.

  The guy let out a laugh that was bigger than necessary. But that was okay. If he was a killer, then I wanted him to be in a good mood. It seemed like he thought Gunny was okay. That was good too. But then he looked down at me and stopped laughing.

  Uh-oh. Was I in trouble? What should I do? I had this image of King Kong—gazing down on all those poor natives who were running around—getting ready to choose one to pick up and swallow.

  “Howdy there, Buck Rogers,” he said. “Little late for Halloween.”

  I wasn’t sure of how to react, so I pretended he had made a really funny joke and forced out a laugh. It was the right move because the guy laughed with me. He grabbed my hand and stuck something in it.

  “No offense, pardner, just making a joke,” he said. “You look real cute.” He then walked toward the hotel with his boys scrambling to follow. I looked down at my hand to see he had given me a dollar bill too.

  “The spaceman comments are getting old,” I said.

  “Who was that guy?” Spader asked Gunny.

  “Name’s Maximilian Rose. He’s a businessman who lives in the penthouse here at the Manhattan Tower. He’s got more businesses than Heinz got pickles.”

  “And?…“I asked.

  Gunny took a quick look around to see if anyone was listening. He continued in a whisper, “And he’s about as crooked as a rattlesnake in an accordion factory.”

  I looked at Spader. Spader shrugged. “Who’s Heinz and what’s an accordion?”

  Gunny continued, “What I’m saying is he didn’t make all his money being an honest businessman. He puts up a respectable front, but he is a very bad individual. Trust me on that.”

  “Those gangsters in the subway,” I said. “Do they work for Rose?”

  “No, they’re from a whole ’nother gang downtown.”

  “Is there anyone in this town who isn’t a gangster?” Spader asked.

  “I know three for sure,” said Gunny. “You, me, and Pendragon.”

  “Swell,” said Spader sarcastically. “It’s your basic tum-tigger.”

  “Tum-what?” asked Gunny.

  “Let’s just go inside, all right?” I said. Hearing these guys confuse each other was getting almost as old as the spaceman comments.

  A few moments later, a doorman wearing a uniform similar to Gunny’s held open a heavy, glass door for us and we stepped into the lobby of the Manhattan Tower Hotel. The place was even more spectacular inside than out. It gave me the feeling that I was in some huge, rich-guy mansion. The ceiling of the lobby soared up three stories and was decorated with stained glass scenes of a beautiful green forest. The sun shone down through the glass and sprayed colored specks of light all over the room like a kaleidoscope.

  We walked on thick, oriental carpets under giant crystal chandeliers that looked as if they’d come from a European castle. Several sitting areas had red-leather furniture where people sat chatting or reading newspapers. Nobody spoke above a whisper. It was like being in church, or a library. It was pretty obvious that you had to have bucks to stay here. This was no cheapy hotel like the one my parents took me to at Niagara Falls. That place was skuzzy and smelled like b.o. Here you could eat off the floor. Not that you’d want to. Everyone I saw looked as if they had just stepped out of an old-fashioned department-store window. All the men wore suits and hats. The women had on dresses.
/>
  There were only two people in the whole room who looked totally out of place—me and Spader. I was feeling pretty stupid wearing a bright blue suit with shoes to match. Spader didn’t look much better in Gunny’s big coat.

  “We’re out of our league here,” I whispered to Gunny.

  “Nonsense,” Gunny replied. “You’ll fit right in.”

  Yeah, right. If we were circus people here to juggle for the good folks.

  “Come with me,” Gunny said, and walked off.

  We followed him, staying close, hoping nobody would notice us. Gunny walked through the lobby like he owned the place. He had a slow, smooth walk that said, “This is my house and I’m proud of it.” Several people nodded and smiled at him as they passed. Gunny knew everybody’s name and had a little something personal to say to each of them.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Galvao, see you again next month. Hello, Mrs. Tavey. I see you’ve been to our beauty salon. Very lovely. Mr. Prevett, your luggage has all been sent ahead, just as you requested.” The guy was good. He knew every guest by name. No wonder he was a captain.

  We made it across the lobby and up to a bank of shiny, brass elevators. Gunny hit the button.

  “Where are we going?” asked Spader.

  Gunny glanced around casually to make sure nobody could hear him. “They’re doing a big renovation up on the sixth floor,” he said softly. “Nobody will know if we have a couple of spacemen staying there.”

  That sounded pretty cool to me. We were going to be staying in the swankiest hotel in New York, with a whole floor to ourselves. Not bad. The elevator door slid open and Gunny motioned for us to enter.

  There was a guy inside. He was a little dude, about my size, with wire-rimmed glasses, who wore the same uniform as Gunny. The only difference was he only had two gold stripes on his sleeves and wore a round cap with a flat top.

  “Going up!” he announced professionally.

  “Sixth floor, please, Dewey,” said Gunny.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Van Dyke,” he said with a squeaky voice. “Sixth floor.”

  The little guy was the elevator operator. He slid the elevator doors closed, pushed the handle, and the elevator immediately started…down. “Oops, sorry,” he said. He pushed the handle and the elevator jolted to a stop. He struggled with it and the elevator shook. He finally found the right gear and we started to go up. Phew. The operator gave us a sheepish look of apology. I didn’t get his problem. Up, down, start, stop. Not a whole lot of options. I had the strong suspicion that this guy might be a nimrod.

  “This is Dewey Todd,” said Gunny. “His father built this hotel.”

  That explained a lot.

  Dewey looked up at Gunny with a scowl. “I asked you not to tell people that, Gunny. I don’t want people treating me different. I want to make it in the hotel business on my own.”

  “Well, you’ve almost got the elevator part, mate,” said Spader, trying to hold back a smile. “That’s a good start.”

  Dewey smiled proudly. He didn’t get the cut.

  “Sixth floor!” he announced, and slid the door open. We all made sure the elevator was safely stopped and everything was cool before stepping out.

  “Enjoy the costume party,” Dewey said. “Those are great circus outfits!”

  “We’re spacemen,” I corrected.

  “Oh, sorry.” He closed the elevator doors and we were alone.

  “He really is a fine boy,” Gunny said, chuckling. “Just a little confused sometimes.”

  “I know the feeling,” I said.

  The sixth-floor hallway was definitely being worked on. The walls were bare and there were painting tarps spread out all over the place. As Gunny led us down the corridor he explained, “This was the first floor they finished when the hotel was new, so it’s the first they’re going to modernize.”

  Modernize. What a joke. They were trying to make this floor look like 1937. Not exactly “modern” by my standards. We reached the end of the corridor and turned left into another long corridor. Gunny walked up to room 615 and used a key to open it up.

  “Welcome home, gentlemen,” he said.

  The room was huge. Actually, it was a couple of rooms. I think they call this a suite. I could imagine that when the work was finished, this was going to be a pretty fancy place. But right now, while they were doing the renovation, it was being used as a storage area for chairs and sofas.

  “You sure this is okay, Gunny?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he answered with confidence. “It breaks about eighteen different hotel rules, but I’ve been here long enough to pull the right strings. Just don’t go ordering room service.”

  There were a bunch of sofas lined up in a column along one wall. They were up on their arms and reached almost to the ceiling. All we had to do was bring two down and we’d have a comfortable place to sleep. There were big cushy chairs, along with a bunch of stacked tables. There was only one thing missing.

  “Where’s the TV?” I asked.

  Gunny gave me a curious look. “The what?”

  Duh. TV wasn’t invented yet. “Never mind,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “How about a radio?”

  “I’m sure there’s one around here someplace,” answered Gunny. “Are you two hungry?”

  “Absolutely,” I answered.

  “I could go for a kooloo fish and some sniggers,” said Spader.

  Gunny gave him the same curious look he gave me when I asked about the TV. “I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “You two make yourselves at home. I’m going to get you some clothes. Is there anything else you might need?”

  “Something to write on,” I said. “We’ve got to keep up with our journals.”

  “Right,” answered Gunny. “I’ll be back.”

  Gunny ambled out of the room, leaving Spader and me alone. I walked to the far side of the room, where fancy doors led to a balcony. I opened them and stepped outside. It was close to sunset. From our sixth-floor landing, I got a pretty good view south and west, where the sun was headed down.

  “Is this where you grew up?” asked Spader. He was standing right behind me. I hadn’t heard him coming.

  “No, about thirty miles from here,” I answered. “And more than half a century in the future. How weird is that?”

  It really was. This was home, but not really. I had an idea that maybe I should try to find my grandparents. They were around in 1937. But then I remembered that my family had disappeared. Did that mean our whole family history disappeared along with them? I had to stop thinking about it. It was making me homesick.

  “It’s a scary-do,” Spader said while gazing out at the city. “I’ve never seen anything so busy.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” I assured him.

  “I suppose so,” Spader added. “But I’m thinking about Saint Dane. There’s a lot of natty-do that monster could get into in a big city like this. How are we going to find him?”

  Good question. Saint Dane loose in New York City was a scary thought. “Something tells me he’ll find us,” I said. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  The bathroom was almost as big as the living room. This was definitely a suite for hotshot guests. The whole room was covered with white tiles. The bathtub was huge and stood on feet. There was a giant silver showerhead that sprayed enough water to wash a horse. I cranked up the shower, got it good and hot, and stood underneath the spray to let it massage my head.

  As I stood there trying to get brain dead, an odd thought hit me: I wasn’t going to school anymore.

  I know. Weird thing to think about all of a sudden. Maybe it was because I was sort of home. Part of me was psyched. School was important and all, but it wasn’t exactly something I looked forward to. On the other hand, school was important. It was where you learned stuff. What your parents didn’t teach you, school did. As I stood in that shower, I actually started to get nervous. All my friends were going to pass me by. They were learning things that I wasn’t.

  Then I th
ought of all the places I’d been that day. Hmmm. Maybe I was getting a pretty intense education after all. I wasn’t going to Stony Brook Junior High anymore; I was a full-time student at Traveler U. Maybe that was all the education I was going to need. After batting these ideas back and forth in my head, I came to one solid conclusion:

  All this thinking was ruining my shower.

  I stood there for another ten minutes, then found a stack of thick white towels, dried off, and left the bathroom to Spader.

  A few minutes later I was in the living room, settled into a cushy chair with my feet up while Spader washed away his own thoughts. I was so dog tired, my eyes started to close. It was the first time since we got here that I could let the air out, and it felt great.

  Then an urgent knock came at the door.

  My eyes shot open instantly. I wasn’t asleep anymore. I wasn’t even tired. So much for letting the air out.

  Spader poked his head out of the bathroom. He shot me a questioning look that said, “What do we do?”

  I had no idea. We were busted. It looked like our stay at the hotel was going to be a short one.

  JOURNAL #9

  FIRST EARTH

  This looked bad. How could we ever explain who we were and why we were hanging out on a closed floor of the hotel? In bathrobes. I didn’t want to get Gunny in trouble, but I didn’t want to get arrested, either.

  I snuck quietly over to the door, desperately trying to think up a story that would get us off the hook. None came. I peered through the peephole to get a look at who we would have to deal with and saw…

  “Room service!” announced Gunny with a big smile.

  Phew. Talk about relief. I opened the door and Gunny came in wheeling a big cart that was loaded with those silver domes they put over plates to keep them hot.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I am now,” I answered. “We gotta get a secret knock or something so we know it’s you.”

  “Secret knock. I like that,” Gunny said with a sparkling smile. “Like G-men.”