The Never War

by D. J. MacHale

  “Hobey-ho, Spader.”

  A second later he was gone.

  I don’t think I ever felt so lonely. Well, maybe once before. When I stood on the empty lot where my house on Second Earth used to be.

  My whole life I was used to having people guide me toward the right answers. First it was my parents. Teachers were there too. So were my friends like you, Mark and Courtney. Of course Uncle Press played a huge part. I didn’t always like being told what to do, but it was good to know somebody was always looking out for me.

  Now I felt like I was on a highwire without a net. If I was going to get to the other side, the only one who would get me there was me. I had two choices. I could stand here and feel sorry for myself, or move forward.

  I turned away from the now quiet flume and changed back into my First Earth clothes. Before doing anything else, I had to get back and let Gunny know what had happened.

  “First Earth!” I shouted into the flume.

  I then closed my eyes, looking forward to the few minutes of a flume ride when I wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

  JOURNAL #12

  FIRST EARTH

  When I walked through the front doors of the Manhattan Tower Hotel, Gunny was the first person I saw. He was at his Bell Captain post, dressed in his spiffy uniform, acting as if nothing had happened. The lobby was buzzing with people, all reading special-edition newspapers that had accounts of the Hindenburg disaster. It seemed like everybody had their own theory as to what had caused the explosion and crash.

  None of them were right, of course.

  Gunny and I took the elevator up to my room on the sixth floor so we could talk in private.

  “Everything’s cool,” I said to Gunny as we entered the room. “Third Earth is exactly the way we left it.”

  Gunny let out a relieved breath. “Where’s Spader?”

  “Back home on Cloral,” I said. “He needs some time to get his head around what happened.”

  “Does he understand?” Gunny asked.

  “About the Hindenburg, yeah,” I answered. “The big question is, can we count on him in the future?”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I hope so.”

  I sat down on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. I was suddenly very tired. I think I could have fallen asleep for a week. The tension was finally gone. We had been in overdrive for a long time, and now that we were done, I was ready to crash. But my mind wouldn’t let me.

  “Gunny, I’m scared,” I said.

  “About what? Saint Dane?”

  “I’m scared about what we had to do to stop him,” I said. I spoke slowly, trying to put my thoughts into words. “Letting the Hindenburg blow up was…”

  I couldn’t think of a big enough word to describe how horrible it was.

  “I hear you,” Gunny said.

  “And I’m scared of what might happen the next time Saint Dane tries to test me,” I added. “What if I don’t have somebody like you around to cover my back? Gunny, he didn’t care about what happened to the Earth territories. This was about proving he could control us. Control me! You know what that means? It means he won. I was going to kick over that rocket.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Only because you were there. Saint Dane proved his point. Gunny, I can’t do this.”

  Gunny sat back in his chair, nodding slowly. When he finally spoke it was with a calm, sure voice that I wanted so badly to believe in.

  “None of us asked for this job,” he began. “I’d just as soon live out my days here at the hotel, never knowing anybody named Saint Dane or people called Travelers. But that’s not the way things turned out.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “But there’s one thing I think about that gives me a little peace of mind. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

  “Go for it,” I said. “I’ll take anything.”

  “Ever since your uncle told me I was a Traveler, I’ve been wondering why I’d been chosen. Still do. Why us? We’re nothing special, just regular folks. But the more I think about it, the more I’ve got to believe there’s something bigger at play here. I think we’ve each been chosen for a reason. Like last night. I truly believe I was at the Hindenburg to do what I did. This may sound silly, but thinking that way gives me a little hope that maybe we just might be the right ones to be doing this after all.”

  “So, if we were chosen, who did the choosing?”

  “Exactly! That’s the big question. Who is it that has the kind of vision it takes to see how things should be, and play chess with a guy like Saint Dane? I haven’t got a clue. But whoever it is, he wants Saint Dane to fail. That means he’s a good guy. And I like the idea of a powerful good guy being on our side.” Gunny smiled and said, “Maybe your back is covered a little bit more than you think.”

  Could it be? Could there be some grand plan at work? Was there a guy out there who wanted to stop Saint Dane and chose us to be his soldiers? If there was, I’d sure like to know. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

  “You’re a smart guy, Gunny,” I said.

  “I’m nothing of the sort,” he said back to me. “I’ve just been around a while. I plan on being around a good while longer, too.”

  I rolled over, closed my eyes, and went to sleep. Right there on the couch. It was the first good night’s rest I’d had in a long time.

  The next few days were spent finishing this journal and saying good-bye. I tried to see Jinx, but she had already checked out of the hotel. Maybe it was a good thing. I wasn’t sure what I’d say if she started asking about the Hindenburg. Wherever she was, whatever the future held for her, I silently wished her luck.

  I said good-bye to my friends on the hotel staff. Dewey Todd was all sorts of excited because his father had just built another hotel out in Hollywood, and he was leaving New York to run the place. Can you believe it? Dewey was going to get his own hotel. I hoped he had learned more about running a hotel than he had about running the elevator. He wished me well and said if I was ever out in Hollywood to look him up.

  As soon as I finish this last journal from First Earth, I’m going to give it to Gunny to have them bound. I wish I could send them to you through my ring, but I’m afraid it’s gone for good. There’s no way I’m going looking for it. I’ve had my fill of gangsters.

  Tomorrow I’m going to take the train out to Stony Brook and put the journals in a safe-deposit box at the National Bank. This way, when the calendar comes around, you’ll be able to pick them up. After that, I don’t know what I’ll do with my journals.

  The next question is, where do I go from here? The logical answer would be to Veelox. Saint Dane said he was headed there. But was that to lure me into another trap? Even if it were, do I have any choice?

  I began this journal by telling you guys I had reached my own turning point. Part of that was because I had seen the kind of destruction Saint Dane was trying to cause on the Earth territories. You don’t see something frightening like that and shrug it off. If I didn’t fully realize it before, I do now.

  But maybe more important was the moment when I watched the fuse burning on the rocket that was about to destroy the Hindenburg. In that moment I knew what I was supposed to do, but I didn’t do it.

  When it comes right down to it, was my mistake any different than what I accused Spader of? I let my emotions control me, just as Spader did. As I’m writing this journal, I’m admitting that I have very real doubts about myself as a Traveler. Saint Dane put me at that rocket to prove a point. He knew I wouldn’t be able to let the Hindenburg crash, which means he knew how to control me.

  I can’t let that happen again. The stakes are way too high. I know that, now more than ever. If there’s anything good that came from my failure on First Earth, it’s that I have now totally given myself over to being a Traveler.

  One way or another, I’m in it to the end.

  As I’ve written so many times before
, I hope you guys are reading this. I have no idea when I’ll be able to write again, or from what territory. All I can say is, check the safe-deposit box at the bank every so often to see if there are any new deliveries. I won’t stop writing. I can’t. Writing these journals has kept me sane. It makes me feel as if you guys are here with me. So until the next time, have fun, be safe, and think about me every once in a while.

  Your friend,

  Bobby

  END OF JOURNAL #12

  SECOND EARTH

  …Your friend, Bobby.

  Courtney lowered the final journal and looked at Mark. They had been taking turns reading aloud to each other for the last five hours in Courtney’s father’s basement workshop. They ate turkey sandwiches and chips and carrots. Mark drank Dew, Courtney stuck with water. They only took breaks for the bathroom. It had been a marathon, and now it was over.

  Courtney slammed the journal down on the table in front of them. “I’m totally freaked out,” she announced.

  “Yeah, m-me too,” Mark said, relieved that Courtney admitted it first. “If Gunny hadn’t let the Hindenburg blow up—”

  “We wouldn’t be talking about it,” Courtney concluded.

  “Exactly,” Mark said. “No New York, no Stony Brook, no…us.”

  “I’m afraid to look outside,” Courtney said. “What if the world has changed?”

  “It hasn’t,” Mark said with authority. “The Travelers made sure of that.”

  “This is getting serious, Mark” Courtney said with rising panic. “I mean, this is too close to home.”

  The two stared at the closed journals, letting the thought hang there. Finally Mark said, “Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?” Courtney shot back with surprise. “You’re the one who said Saint Dane was going to show up here sooner or later, right?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Mark answered. “I’ve been worried the battle was going to land on Second Earth from the very beginning.”

  “And it almost did!” Courtney exclaimed.

  “But you know,” Mark continued thoughtfully. “After reading this last journal, I’m thinking there’s a chance we might be off the hook.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Think about it. If Saint Dane’s plan with the Hindenburg would have destroyed all three Earth territories, maybe he won’t come here after all. I mean, maybe he already took his shot.”

  Courtney gave a hopeful look to Mark. “You’re thinking there might not be a turning point here on Second Earth?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied. “I’m thinking the turning point for Second and Third Earth might have been the destruction of the Hindenburg. Kind of like three-for-one. There’s a chance we may have dodged a pretty huge bullet.”

  Courtney thought about this for a moment, then said, “That would be incredible! But, how will we know for sure?”

  Mark answered, “That’s the thing. We won’t.”

  The two let this hang for a moment. Courtney studied Mark for a second and then said, “You seem kind of disappointed.”

  “Me? No, what are you kidding? I’m totally relieved. I just hope I’m right.”

  Mark put the journals into his backpack. “I think we should keep all the journals in the safe-deposit box at the bank from now on. It’s way safer than the desk in my attic.”

  “Cool,” Courtney said. “I’ll come by your house tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. We’ll take all the journals in together.”

  When he got home Mark went to his bedroom and reread some of Bobby’s adventure. He was looking for clues that might prove his theory about Second Earth. The more he read, the more he felt certain that Second Earth was safe.

  And it bothered him.

  Courtney had read Mark right. He was disappointed. It wasn’t that he wanted there to be trouble on Second Earth; it was more that he was feeling left out. Bobby had a new life now. It didn’t help when Bobby referred to Spader as his best friend. That stung. He and Bobby had been inseparable since they were toddlers. Now they were growing about as far apart as possible.

  Though he never admitted it to Courtney, Mark had fantasized about the day when Saint Dane would make his move on Second Earth. It meant Bobby would come home, and they could all work together to outwit the demon. Now it looked like that chance would never come. If Saint Dane didn’t target Second Earth, Bobby would have no reason to come home.

  Mark went to sleep that night feeling as if his one shot at adventure had passed him by.

  First thing the next morning Courtney arrived at Mark’s house, and they loaded all twelve of Bobby’s journals into his backpack. It made them nervous to move them, but they felt sure it was worth it. The vault at the National Bank of Stony Brook was way safer than the wooden desk in Mark’s attic.

  As they walked to the bank Mark made a decision. He had to tell Courtney how he felt. The two had made a pact to tell each other everything about anything that had to do with Bobby and the journals. When Mark lied to her about Andy Mitchell discovering them, it had led to a total mess. After that Mark promised that he would share everything.

  So on the way to the bank, Mark admitted to Courtney that he hoped Saint Dane would still come to Second Earth, so they could join forces with Bobby and battle the evil demon together.

  He knew she’d understand.

  “Are you crazy?” she shouted back at him.

  She didn’t understand. Not even a little bit.

  “This isn’t a game, Mark. It’s easy to read those journals while we’re eating carrots all comfy on the couch, but getting involved is a whole ’nother ballgame.”

  “I know that—” Mark said.

  “It’s like watching reality shows on TV,” Courtney went on. “People do crazy stuff like jumping across buildings or living on an island with no food or eating bugs, and it doesn’t seem all that hard. But that’s because we can turn off the TV, and go to bed, and know breakfast will be on the table in the morning. If Saint Dane shows up here, we can’t turn off the TV and go to bed.”

  “I understand—”

  “Do you?” Courtney was getting worked up. “Really? I’ll tell you what I think. I think you sound like Spader.”

  “How’s th-that?” Mark shot back, tweaked by the comment.

  “Spader is more worried about Spader than about protecting Halla,” Courtney reasoned. “That’s why Bobby told him to go home. If you’re hoping Saint Dane shows up here so you can have an adventure with Bobby, then you’re thinking more about you than you are about Second Earth.”

  “Jeez, all right,” Mark shot back. “I get it. It’s not like I can do anything about it, anyway. I’m not gonna call Saint Dane up and invite him over for lunch.”

  The two looked at each other, and laughed. The image of Mark calling up Saint Dane was pretty ridiculous.

  “Sorry, Mark,” Courtney said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to go up on you like that. I’m just scared, is all.”

  “I am too,” Mark said. “But I wanted to let you know how I felt. We promised to do that, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry,” she said. “I get it. It’s tough reading about all this stuff and not being able to do anything about it. It’s like being on the bench during a big game.”

  Mark shrugged. He knew exactly what she meant. He’d never been anyplace but the bench during big games. It looked like he was going to have to ride the pines during this one too.

  They arrived at the bank just as the doors were being unlocked. Courtney went in first through the revolving door. Just as Mark was about to follow, he stopped. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he had an odd feeling. Was somebody watching them?

  He glanced around the Ave to see several stores were opening up for the day. Some shop owners were using squeegees on their windows, others were unfurling the colorful awnings that hung over the entrances. There was a policeman standing in the center of the intersection, directing traffic. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mark had no idea why he had the str
ange feeling, so with a shrug, he entered the bank.

  Mark and Courtney marched right up to the desk of Ms. Jane Jansen. The pinched woman was already hunched over her computer keyboard, looking busy…

  Playing solitaire.

  “Working hard?” Courtney asked.

  Ms. Jane Jansen was totally embarrassed and closed out her game. When she saw who it was, her face grew even more pinched. Mark thought if she squeezed her cheeks any tighter, her whole face would get sucked in through her mouth.

  “Can I help you, children?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “We’d like to get into our safe-deposit box,” Mark said politely.

  “But if you’re busy,” Courtney said sarcastically, “we can wait.”

  “I don’t suppose you remembered to bring your key?” Ms. Jane Jansen asked.

  Mark reached to the chain around his neck and pulled it out from under his shirt. There were now two keys on the chain. One was to the desk in his attic, the other to the safe-deposit box.

  “Surprise!” Courtney said.

  “Follow me,” Ms. Jane Jansen said as she pulled away from her desk. She looked totally bothered by the interruption.

  Mark and Courtney knew the routine. Ms. Jane Jansen led them through the big, round vault door, into the inner vault, and right up to the wall of doors that protected the safe-deposit boxes.

  “Would you like me to open it for you?” she asked with a snippy attitude, as if it were the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Nah, we can handle it,” Courtney said. “Go back to your game.”

  Ms. Jane Jansen wanted to say something back, but thought better of it. After all, they were clients. Instead, she scowled at them and left.

  “I love her,” Courtney laughed.

  While Courtney opened the door, Mark unloaded all twelve journals from his backpack and placed them into the big steel box. There was plenty of room left over for any new journals that might show up. He then slid the drawer closed, shut the door, and Courtney locked it. The key then went right back to the chain around Mark’s neck. The journals were now as safe as they could possibly be.