The Never War

by D. J. MacHale

  “Shoot him!” ordered Rose.

  It took me a second to realize who he was talking to. It was me! I was sitting on top of him with the bodyguard’s gun in my hand. Max Rose wanted me to shoot his would-be assassin. I had never even shot a gun before, let alone one that was aimed at somebody.

  “Do it, Buck, shoot him!” shouted Rose.

  I was stunned and confused. I turned the gun toward the nervous gangster because that’s what I was ordered to do. The guy looked back at me and our eyes locked.

  In those eyes I saw something I had never seen before and never wanted to see again. I had his life in my hands. He knew it. It was up to me whether he would live or die. That was a power I didn’t want, under any circumstances. It was a frightening moment. This gangster was my enemy. He tried to kill us down in the subway. Worse, he was one of the assassins who killed Uncle Press. Nobody deserved my revenge more than this guy.

  But in spite of all that, there was no way I could take his life. That wasn’t something I had in me.

  So I dropped the gun.

  Instantly the gangster ran. You would think with so many people standing around, somebody would have stopped him. But all those fancy folks in tuxedos and gowns were in a state of shock. By the time somebody got their head together enough to shout “Stop him!” the gunman had already ducked out of a service door and was gone.

  I looked around and saw nothing but stunned faces. The band had stopped playing and people were now slowly circling us to see what had happened. It was eerie. Nobody said a word; they just stared. I realized I was still sitting on Max Rose’s stomach. I looked down to see he was staring up at me with razor-sharp eyes.

  “I told you to shoot him,” he said flatly.

  I was too stunned to say anything.

  “Did you hear me, Buck? I told you to shoot him!”

  This was a crucial moment. Not only for my own survival, but for the future of our mission on First Earth. I felt like the whole ballgame was right here, right now. I couldn’t screw it up.

  “Yeah, so what?” I said, trying to sound cocky.

  It was a bold move. Max Rose stared right into my brain. I didn’t look away. My adrenaline was still spiked way too high to back off now.

  “Wasn’t it enough that I saved your skin?” I asked. “I’m not hearing any thank-yous.”

  A moment passed. I felt the hot stares of Rose’s bodyguards on me as they waited for Rose to tell them what to do.

  After a painfully long few seconds, Max Rose…smiled. “Thank you, Buck,” he said. “Now would you please get off my stomach?”

  Things got pretty hectic after that. People were either scared and jumping over each other to get to the elevator, or pressing in on us to see what had happened. The band started playing again. I guess they were trying to calm everybody down. Isn’t that what the band did while the Titanic was sinking? I was getting shoved around by the mass of people. All I wanted to do was get out of there, but it was impossible to move. I thought I was gonna get crushed.

  Finally a strong hand grabbed my arm. I looked up to see who it belonged to, and was totally relieved to see Gunny.

  “Time to go,” he said calmly.

  He had my arm in one hand and Spader’s in the other. He quickly pushed the two of us through the crowd and back into the kitchen and away from the hubbub. But we didn’t stop there. He wanted us out of that place as fast as possible, before anybody could talk to us. Again, once the police showed up there would be a lot of questions asked. The less they knew about us, the better, so it was a good thing we got out of there while it was still a madhouse.

  A few minutes later, after a quick ride down on the service elevator, we were safely tucked back into our sixth floor suite, as if nothing had happened.

  “Don’t come out of here,” ordered Gunny. “And don’t come to work tomorrow. I want things to calm down first.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “We hear you, mate,” added Spader.

  Then Gunny smiled nervously. “You were right, Pendragon. We are just getting started.”

  “All in a day’s work, Gunny, my friend,” said Spader with a touch of his usual cockiness.

  Gunny then left and we were alone. My heart slowly stopped sprinting. Spader and I looked at each other. Neither of us knew what to say. Finally we both burst out laughing.

  “Hobey, Pendragon!” shouted Spader. “That was amazing!”

  “You were great!” I shouted. “You didn’t even stop to think before taking off after that guy!”

  “Good thing,” Spader said. “I probably would have run the other way if I gave it any thought. That was a natty-do, all right!”

  “Yeah, yeah, it was,” I said.

  The two of us fell into chairs, feeling proud of ourselves. We sat there for a while, enjoying the moment, enjoying the victory.

  It wouldn’t last.

  Spader took a final deep breath, blew it out and said, “It’s back on, isn’t it?”

  I knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah,” I said. “No more basketball.”

  As I drifted off to sleep that night, it was with the realization that after weeks of sitting around and spinning our wheels, the curtain was finally about to go up on this show. The scary thing was, we still had no idea what to expect.

  I really missed Uncle Press.

  The next morning we were woken up by a knock on the door. I figured it was Gunny, but when I looked through the peephole I was surprised to see Dewey.

  “I know you’re in there, Pendragon,” he said. “I know everything that happens in this hotel.”

  Busted. I had no choice but to open the door. Spader came up from behind me. “What do you want, Dewey?” he asked.

  “Did you two really think I didn’t know you were living here?” he asked. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  Spader and I shared a look. We didn’t want to answer that.

  “Look at this,” he said, and handed us a newspaper. The headline blared: NEAR MISS AT THE TOWER! It was an article about the shooting the previous night. And there was a picture. It was a shot of Max Rose, flat on his back, with me sitting on his stomach. I had no idea somebody had taken that picture. Luckily you couldn’t see my face. As far as this big news story went, Spader and I were mysterious waiters who disappeared right after the shooting, along with the would-be assassin.

  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting,” I said. “I wonder who those two hero waiters were?”

  Dewey gave me a sour look. “That answers my question. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  Suddenly the newspaper was grabbed out of my hand.

  “Morning boys,” said Jinx Olsen with a smile. “Some party last night!” She then turned to Dewey and touched his cheek. “Thanks, Dewey. You’re a peach.” Dewey turned all sorts of red. Jinx then pushed past us and into the room.

  I wasn’t sure of what to do, so I closed the door in Dewey’s face.

  “Hey!” he protested. Too late.

  Jinx strode into the suite, checking out the place. “Nice digs,” she said. “Must be tough paying for this on a bellboy’s salary.”

  Spader said, “Yeah, but there’s two of us.”

  “Ahhh!” said Jinx with a knowing smile. “Two bellboy salaries. That must make all the difference.” She was being sarcastic.

  “What can we do for you, Miss Olsen?” I asked.

  “It’s Jinx,” she said. “Sorry to barge in like this. I just wanted to tell you what a great thing it was you did last night. It was the highlight of my night. No, it was the highlight of my year.”

  I wasn’t sure of what to say. Should we admit it was us? She knew me and obviously saw the whole thing. What was the use of lying?

  “We’d just as soon you didn’t tell anybody it was us,” I said.

  “And modest, too,” said Jinx with a big smile. “You guys are the perfect heroes. You should be wearing white hats.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Spader.

  �
�Tell you what,” Jinx said. “I want to do something for you boys, seeing as you won’t take any credit for being heroes. I want to give you a reward myself.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said.

  “I know,” said Jinx as she strode to the door. “But I want to. Get dressed. We’re going for a ride. Dress warm.” She then blew out of the apartment as quickly as she entered. Spader and I stood there, a little stunned.

  “She wants to take us for a ride,” Spader finally said.

  “But Gunny told us not to leave until things calmed down.”

  Spader started pulling on his pants. “Pendragon, a beautiful girl just asked us to go on an adventure with her. You can stay here if you’d like, but as for me, I’d like to know what kind of ride she wants to give us.”

  I’d seen Spader like this before. There was nothing I could say that would talk him out of this. If there was a chance for adventure, then he was going to take it, no matter how irresponsible it might be. I had the choice of staying there by myself, or going along to make sure he didn’t get into trouble. To be honest, I liked Jinx and I was kind of interested in what she had in mind too. It took me a solid three seconds to reach for my clothes and start getting dressed myself.

  Whatever it was she had planned for us, there was no way I wanted to miss it.

  JOURNAL #10

  FIRST EARTH

  Five minutes later we were downstairs and climbing into a taxicab with the lady flier. I wasn’t totally irresponsible though. I told Gunny we were going out with Jinx. He didn’t like the fact that we were leaving, but then thought it might be a good idea for us to be away from the hotel for a while. Since the night before, the place was crawling with reporters trying to find the mysterious waiters who saved the life of the notorious Max Rose. Getting away from that circus was probably a smart thing to do.

  As we rode in the taxi, Jinx wouldn’t tell us where we were headed. She said it was a surprise, but guaranteed we’d like it. To be honest, the thought flashed through my head that she might have been sent by Saint Dane, or even worse, she might actually be Saint Dane. But nothing about her set my radar off. I was pretty sure she was exactly who she said she was: Jinx Olsen, an incredible flier for the Coast Guard.

  The taxicab took us over to the West Side of Manhattan and the Hudson River. That’s when we saw what Jinx had in store for us. When she said she was going to take us for a ride, she really meant it. There, tied up at the end of a pier, bobbing on the water, was Jinx’s airplane. Or maybe I should call it a seaplane.

  It was a wacky-looking contraption, not at all like the sleek planes of Second Earth. The silver ship floated gently on the swells, looking as if it wanted to be in the air instead of pretending to be a boat. It was a biplane, which meant it had two sets of wings, one on top of the other. Between the two wings was a big, single engine. But rather than the propeller being in front, it faced backward. Weird. There were two cockpits, one behind the other, ahead of the wings. They weren’t closed in, either. When you flew in this plane, you were going to feel it in your face, and probably in your stomach, too. Painted on the silver fuselage, just under the front cockpit, was the crossed-anchor emblem of the U.S. Coast Guard.

  “That’s my baby,” she said. “The V-one-fifty-seven Schreck/Viking. She may not look like much, but she’s a sweetie in the air.”

  She jumped aboard and began her preflight check. I was psyched.

  Spader pulled me aside so Jinx couldn’t hear and said, “Odd looking speeder, that one.”

  “It’s not a speeder,” I said. “It’s an airplane.”

  “A what?”

  “An airplane. A seaplane, actually. We’re going to take off on the water and fly up in the air.”

  For the first time since I’d known him, Spader looked totally dumbfounded. His mouth actually hung open. No kidding. Wide open. I might as well have said we were going to drink every drop of water in the Hudson. That’s how alien a concept flying was to him.

  “We’re going to fly? Up there? In the air? Like a bird? In that thing?” he asked.

  “Yup,” I answered.

  “That’s unnatural!” he exclaimed.

  “No more unnatural than putting a clear dome over your head and breathing underwater, but you do that on Cloral every day.”

  “Yes, but that’s simple,” he said. “Flying is…is…impossible.”

  “Want to bet?” I asked.

  Jinx handed us each a brown canvas sack with straps that looked like an old-fashioned backpack. I knew what it was, but I was a little nervous about explaining it to Spader.

  “Can’t go up without a chute,” Jinx said while putting on one of her own. “Just a precaution, like wearing a life vest on a boat.” She then demonstrated how to put on the parachute. Uncle Press had taken me skydiving a few times, so I was familiar with the whole deal. Even though this parachute pack was ancient, the principals were the same. I buckled in the way Jinx showed us. Spader did too. He didn’t ask what it was for, until we were all buckled up and Jinx did a safety check.

  “Looks good,” she said.

  “What is this for?” Spader finally asked. I looked to Jinx. I didn’t want to be the one to break the news.

  “It’s a parachute, of course,” Jinx said as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know. “If you fall out, pull on this metal ring. But try not to fall out.”

  She winked and headed for the plane.

  Spader looked at me with a sick expression, “If I fall out, pull this ring?” he repeated. “What happens then? I sprout wings and fly?”

  I laughed and said, “Sort of. Don’t worry about it. You won’t need it.”

  I pushed him toward the plane, and we boarded. Jinx was at the controls in the forward cockpit. I sat in the back with Spader. It was cramped, especially with the bulky parachute packs, but I didn’t care. Jinx gave us each some leather flight caps and floppy goggles to wear. It was a good thing she had warned us to dress warmly. If we were going to be flying around in an open cockpit, it was going to get chilly.

  “Buckle in!” Jinx commanded. Spader and I both found some cheesy leather seatbelts and strapped ourselves in. Good idea. Remember, the cockpits were wide open. We didn’t want to have to use the parachutes.

  “Ready?” she shouted from up front.

  “Hobey-ho, let’s go!” I shouted.

  Spader just grunted. I think he was already nauseous.

  Jinx turned over the engine, and with a throaty roar, the giant propeller behind our heads began to turn. Man, it was noisy. I’m not talking about loud. I’m talking about teeth-rattling, bone-jarring, makes-your-stomach-throb-and-your-ears-hurt noisy. At least the leather caps helped to cut some of the noise. I wished I had my CD Walkman.

  The whole plane rattled from the force of the engine. I had been in a lot of airplanes—mostly big jetliner-type planes. But Uncle Press had taken me in a few smaller planes. Remember, he was a pilot. So between the flying lessons and the skydiving lessons, I was pretty comfortable in the air. But this plane was rickety. It may have been new in 1937, but by my standards it was only a couple of steps ahead of Wilbur and Orville–time. Still, I trusted Jinx. She was a national poster girl for the Coast Guard, right? She knew what she was doing. At least that’s what I told myself.

  Spader was another matter. He was scared to death. He had never experienced anything close to this. He sat next to me as stiff as a tree. I could almost feel his heart thumping in his chest. But believe it or not, I knew he wanted to be here. He may have been scared, but he was always up for an adventure.

  I had never taken off in a seaplane before. It was a bumpy experience. The water on the Hudson was calm, but even on a calm day there was some chop. So when Jinx turned the plane into the wind and gunned the throttle, we were treated to nearly thirty seconds of bouncing, bumping, and rocking as the plane accelerated over the swells. Then, just when I thought my brain was going to break loose inside my skull, Jinx pulled back on the yoke and we rose
into the air. The ride became instantly smooth as we lifted up from the river and headed for the sky.

  What followed was an hour that I will remember for the rest of my life.

  Jinx treated us to an aerial tour of New York City. We flew up the Hudson and over the newly built George Washington Bridge. We rounded the northernmost tip of Manhattan and got a bird’s-eye view of Yankee Stadium. We flew down the East River, watching the barges slowly make their way from the ocean to Long Island Sound. We flew over the Brooklyn Bridge and into New York Harbor, where we were treated to a close-up view of the Statue of Liberty…at eye level. Jinx circled the statue four times, then turned back toward Manhattan. We flew north over the island until we got to the Empire State Building, where we did another four turns around.

  Somewhere between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty, Spader began to relax. Up until then he had been clutching the side of the cockpit so hard I thought he’d bend the metal. But gradually he loosened up and enjoyed the tour as much as I did.

  “What a great plane!” I shouted to Jinx over the roar of the engine.

  “Isn’t she?” Jinx shouted back. “We’ve been all over the country together.”

  “Isn’t it hard to always find water to take off and land?” I asked.

  “Don’t need it!” she shot back. “She’s got wheels for a runway. I can fly this sweetheart wherever the wind takes me. Or the Coast Guard sends me.”

  The trip ended with a perfect landing on the Hudson, where Jinx guided us expertly back to the pier. She killed the engine and we were treated to something unbelievably fantastic—silence. Once the plane was safely secured, the three of us stood together on the pier.

  “Jinx,” I said. “I don’t know what else to say but ‘thank you.’”

  “Double for me,” added Spader. “I never would have believed it was possible for people to fly.”

  “You’re kidding!” said Jinx with surprise. “Where do you live, under a rock?”

  “No,” answered Spader. “Under the water most of the time, but I’m not sure what that’s got to do with it.”