“Riding. Not driving. She said riding?” Mitchell asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
“There wasn’t a bike in her room,” Mitchell offered.
“Right,” Mark said. “Then she had an English class this morning, but her books were still on her desk.”
“So you’re thinking she rode her bike to meet this guy last night and never made it back to her room?” Mitchell asked.
“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “There’s more. Later last night I got a phone message from Courtney. She sent it around seven thirty, right around the time she was supposed to meet Whitney. She sounded bad, like she might have been hurt. I didn’t hear it until this morning. That’s when I called you.”
“What did she say?”
Mark had to lie. Her real message wouldn’t have made sense to Andy. “I couldn’t tell. It was garbled. But it was definitely her and she sounded bad…like she may be hurt.”
“Are you serious?” Mitchell screamed, genuinely upset. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? Never mind, it don’t matter. I’m the last one to be saying this, but we gotta tell the cops.”
“You think?” Mark asked.
“If she was riding her bike to meet some mystery guy and right about that same time she called you sounding like she was hurt, I’d say there’s more going on here than a date for pizza.”
Mark had to admit that Andy was making perfect sense. Right now this had nothing to do with Saint Dane’s plan to rule Halla. Courtney was in trouble, for real, here on Second Earth.
“You’re right,” Mark said. “Let’s drive into town and find the police station.”
They both hopped into Andy’s car and drove off campus, headed for town. Mark was grateful that Andy had actually taken charge. His mind was in so many different places, worrying about so many things, that he couldn’t see the obvious. After what they had found at Stansfield, Mark felt certain it was time to report Courtney missing. He didn’t think anybody would laugh at him now.
They drove along the quiet country lane that led through the beautiful farm country and up into the Berkshires. Mark stared out the window, in a trance, thinking that this would have been the same route Courtney took the night before. He didn’t even register how lovely the countryside was. He was too busy thinking about Courtney. And Saint Dane. And doomsday. The road grew steep as it left the pasture and snaked along the side of a craggy mountain. Off to the right was a dense pine forest. Mark turned his gaze to the road in front of them. They were headed toward some blind curves. Mark’s palms started to sweat. He thought that if another car were coming around the curve ahead, and took the turn a little too wide, there would be a head-on. Without thinking, he gripped the elbow rest of the car.
That’s when he saw it. “Stop!” Mark shouted.
Andy jammed on the brakes, skidding to an abrupt stop. “What?” he yelled. “What happened?”
“Look!” Mark said, pointing ahead. Andy looked forward and said, “Look at what?”
“The road,” Mark said. “Look at those skid marks. There was trouble here.”
Sure enough, there was a set of dark skid marks that started in the opposite lane, crossed over the center line into their lane, and stopped just before the steep edge that dropped off into the pine forest below.
“Whoa,” Andy said when he registered the skid marks. “Those are fresh.”
Andy pulled the car as far over to the side as possible. The two got out to examine the skid. Mark saw that the marks led to the shoulder just off the road, where there were two imprints from the front tires of a car.
“Looks like the car came down from above, hit the brakes, and skidded to a stop right here,” Mark said.
“Lucky guy,” Mitchell added. “Two more feet and… banzai!”
Mark walked to the edge of the road and looked out over the forest below. There was a short, steep clear section before the pine forest began. Mark saw what he thought might be a gouge taken out of a tree several yards below them. It looked fresh.
“What’re you thinking?” Andy asked.
“Nothing,” Mark said. “We should keep going before we gethit.”
Andy started back for his wagon. Mark hesitated a moment. Something was keeping him here. He had no idea what it was. He was starting back toward the car when his eye caught something. It was off the side of the road, a few yards farther up the hill, stuck in a bush. The only reason he saw it was that it was bright red against the green foliage. He was ready to ignore it and get going, but something about it bugged him. Looking around, Mark realized that it wasn’t so much that there was a piece of bright red trash on the side of the road, as that it was theonlypiece of trash. Living in a heavily populated area, Mark was used to seeing garbage strewn along the sides of the roads. It was a sad fact of life. Glancing around here, everything was as clean as Disneyland. Not a single piece of trash littered the road, except for this bright red something.
“What’re you doing?” Andy asked. “Let’s go!”
“Hang on,” Mark said.
He carefully stepped down off the shoulder onto the steep pitch of the hill. He walked to the bush, tripping over rocks and getting thorns caught in his jeans. He reached into the bush and pulled out the piece of trash. As soon as he lifted it, he saw that it wasn’t trash at all. It was a book. A textbook.
An algebra-trig textbook.
Mark’s eyes went wide. His adrenaline spiked. He looked out onto the forest and screamed, “Courtney? Courtney?”
“Are you crazy?” Mitchell asked.
Mark threw the book to Andy. “She’s here,” he said breathlessly. “There was an accident. She’s here!”
Mark tripped down the hill, headed for the forest and the tree with the gouge taken out of it. Andy Mitchell shrugged and followed. It was so steep, Mark nearly took a header. But he kept going. He got to the tree and saw that the gouge was definitely fresh.
“Courtney!” he yelled.
He looked around the silent forest, scanning for any clues. He got a big one. A few yards farther down the hill was a bike. Mark ran to it and quickly realized what had made the gouge in the tree. The bike’s handlebars were bent into a right angle.
“Is it hers?” Andy asked as he ran to meet Mark.
“Yeah,” Mark said, his panic rising. “If she was on this when it went over the edge, then she-“
The words froze in Mark’s throat. A few yards to his left he saw a hint of something that was dark green. Courtney had a dark green backpack. Mark leaped for it, picked it up…and came upon the body of his friend Courtney Chetwynde.
“It’s her!” he shouted. “Call nine-one-one!”
“Holy jeez,” Andy said, stunned. He fumbled to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. He nearly dropped it. Twice. “What’s the number again?” he stammered nervously.
Mark shot him a look. Andy nodded, feeling dumb. He dialed.
Mark bent down to Courtney. Her long brown hair was a tangle over her face. Her left arm was bent back at a strange angle. He could see that her right hand was on her cell phone. He now knew how she’d made the call to him. He bent down and brushed the hair out of Courtney’s eyes.
“Is she…” Andy asked. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Mark summoned his courage and put two fingers to her neck, looking for a pulse.
“C’mon, Courtney,” Mark whispered. “You’re there. I know you’re there.”
He felt around. There was no pulse. Her skin felt cold to his touch. Mark’s heart sank. If only he had gotten her message earlier! He began to cry.
“I’m so sorry, Courtney,” he said softly.
“Yeah, this is an emergency,” Andy spoke into the phone. “We’re on a road between the fancy Stansfield school and the town. Derby Falls. There’s been an accident. A girl is hurt off to the side. Bad. You can’t miss my car-it’s parked on the side of the road. We’re down in the woods. Hurry, all right?”
He disconnected
the call and looked at Mark. “What do you think?”
Mark was in tears. “I don’t know. I can’t fee! a pulse.” Andy Mitchell bent down next to Courtney. He gently picked up her hand.
“Be careful!” Mark said. “If she hurt her back-“
“I know, I know,” Andy replied.
He grasped Courtney’s hand in both of his. Mark was surprised at how gentle he was. Andy Mitchell was definitely full of surprises. Andy held her hand in his for several seconds while looking at Courtney. He then moved his fingers toward the underside of her wrist. He placed two there, and waited.
Mark’s heart was ready to burst.
“I got it,” Andy said softly. “It ain’t strong, but it’s there.”
Mark was stunned. There was hope!
“Keep her warm!” Mark said while taking off his sweatshirt. He gently placed it down over Courtney. “We gotcha, Courtney,” he said. “Help is coming. You’re gonna be okay.”
Within minutes a fire truck and ambulance arrived from Derby Falls. The EMTs dove into the woods and went right to work. They quickly checked Courtney’s vitals to find she was indeed alive. They expertly immobilized her by putting her onto a fracture board. With Mark and Andy’s help, they carefully pulled her out of the woods and got her into the ambulance. Fifteen minutes after Andy put in the 911 call, Courtney was on her way to the hospital.
The next few hours were like a blur to Mark. He and Andy answered a ton of questions from the police, and made sure that Courtney’s parents knew what had happened. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynde were on their way to Derby Falls minutes later. Mark told the police about the mysterious guy Courtney was supposed to meet, Whitney Wilcox. He knew the police would question people at the school. He knew they’d find people who knew Courtney was hanging out with Whitney. He knew it would all be a waste of time. They would never find him, because he didn’t exist. At least, not in the normal sense. He may not have been a student at Stansfield, but he was very real. And he was out there.
Throughout this ordeal, there was one question that was more important than all the others. Nobody could say for sure if Courtney was going to survive. The only information Mark and Andy got was that she had some broken bones, but her real problem came from internal injuries. There was a lot of bleeding. She was in surgery, and it would be a while before anybody knew if she would live. All they could do was wait and hope.
Andy Mitchell wanted to get something to eat. Mark didn’t want to leave the hospital, so Andy volunteered to bring something back. Throughout, Mark thought, Andy had been terrific. He was turning out to be a good friend. How strange was that? Once Andy left on his hunt for food, Mark was faced with a long wait before Courtney would be out of surgery. He sat in the quiet waiting lounge with nothing to do…
Except read the next journal from Bobby Pendragon. He took a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, and pulled the journal out of his pack. He expected to see the familiar, crusty brown roll of parchment paper that all the journals from Zadaa had used. He didn’t. This roll of paper was bright, lemon yellow and tied with a purple bow. It looked like something you’d get at a kid’s birthday party. When Mark unrolled it, he saw that Bobby’s writing was done in bright purple ink. He had no idea what the significance of any of it was, but didn’t spend too much time wondering about it.
It was time to read.
JOURNAL #23
ZADAA
I’ve now written twenty-two journals to you guys. I’ve described the amazing things I’ve seen and the impossible truths I’ve learned. This journal will be nodifferent. I’m going to tell you about the invasion of the underground. It happened. We couldn’t stop it. Zadaa has been changed forever.
Obviously, I survived. As I’m writing this journal, my hand is shaking. Nervous energy, I guess. I think it’s because I’m having trouble understanding the truths I’ve learned since I last wrote. I don’t know what to think. It’s all so confusing. The battle may be over, but I’m more scared than before. It’s because I’m afraid to face the person I’ve become. The frightening truth is that I’m not the same as when I left home with Uncle Press. I guess that goes without saying. Nobody stays the same forever, especially after having gone through what I have. But understanding that in my head, and accepting it in my heart are two different things.
What’s actually bothering me more is that in reality, I may not have changed as much as I think. I know, I’m contradicting myself. Let me explain. The way I’ve always thought about what’s happened to me is that I was a normal kid who, for reasons I have yet to figure out, was chosen to be the Traveler from Second Earth. Nobody ever told me what those reasons were, but the decision was made and off I went.
Now I’m beginning to think it didn’t exactly happen that way. Since I wrote you last, I’ve learned some things about myself that I can’t explain. There are things I’m able to do that aren’t exactly normal. At least they aren’t normal for a kid who grew up in Stony Brook, Connecticut. I’m not just talking about the ability to be persuasive. Compared to what I’ve just done, that’s about as impressive as a card trick. There’s more. A whole lot more. That’s why my hand is shaking.
I’m confused. But I’m also upset. Take my word for it, it’s a strange feeling to realize you aren’t the person you thought you were. One of the things that’s kept me going this whole time has been my base. My home. You guys. Stony Brook. And of course, the hope that I will one day find my family again and get back to normal. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I truly belong on Second Earth. Or ever belonged there. What makes it worse is that if that’s true, I have no idea where Idobelong.
I don’t mean to sound so sorry for myself. I think you guys know that writing this all down helps me sort it out in my own head. I wish it would help me find some real answers. So far those have been few and far between. All I can do is look ahead, and keep searching.
I’ve got to tell you what brought me to this point. I suppose I should stop whining about my own pathetic state of mind and be grateful that I’m still around to write at all. I’ve got to reset my head, back to where it was only a short while ago, so I can get this all down. I finished my last journal when Loor and I were hiding with Teek, the Tiggen guard. The fuse was lit. There was about to be an invasion that would determine the future of Kidik, the Batu, the Rokador…and the entire territory of Zadaa.
We were safely hidden in a remote room deep below the main building on Kidik Island. No Tiggen guard would look for us there, and if the Batu attacked and the water was released, we would survive. Hopefully. Teek was off trying to get more information about the elite’s plan. That left Loor and me to regroup and plot our next move.
“We’ve got a couple of choices,” I said. “We can warn the Batu that they’re headed into a trap and hope they back off-“
“It is too late for that,” Loor interjected. “They were preparing to attack when we left Xhaxhu.”
“Okay. Then we can try to convince the Rokador elite that by wiping out the Batu, they would doom the rest of their tribe, because killing the Ghee warriors would leave them exposed to attack by the cannibal tribes of Zadaa.”
“That is not likely either,” Loor said. “Their hatred and fear of the Batu runs too deep.”
“I agree,” I said. “Which leaves us with the third option.”
“And what is that?” Loor asked.
I hated to say what I was about to say. It went against all we had been doing to defeat Saint Dane, and against my nature. It definitely went against Loor’s nature, but it seemed to be the only choice.
“We can leave,” I said.
Loor shot me a surprised look. “Leave? I do not understand.”
“I think Saint Dane has won,” I said. “I don’t know how we can stop this.”
“You are suggesting we abandon Zadaa and allow the territory to crumble?” Loor asked.
I didn’t answer right away because that’sexactlywhat I was suggesting, and it sounded rotten. This w
as tough. We were talking about Loor’s home.
“I’m sorry, Loor,” I said. “But we have to look at the big picture. We’ve already lost Kasha. Spader and Gunny are trapped on Eelong. The battle here on Zadaa is going to happen-“
“It will not be a battle; it will be a mass execution,” Loor said coldly.
“You’re right,” I said. “But whatever happens here on Zadaa, you and I must survive to continue the fight against Saint Dane. We have to think of all of Halla, not just one territory.”
Loor showed no emotion. She looked me square in the eyes. I wanted to be able to read her mind to know what she was thinking. Or maybe I didn’t. She might not have had such a hot opinion of me just then.
“I understand, Pendragon,” she said calmly. “Protecting all of Halla is of more importance than saving one territory. Your decision is a wise one. I will get you back to the flume.”
“Good,” I said, though I wasn’t happy about it. “I know how you must feel-“
“I am sure you do,” Loor interrupted. “That is why I know you will understand when I say that I cannot leave Zadaa.”
“Why?” I asked in surprise. “You can’t stop this.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “But I could not live with myself if I did not try. I agree that losing you would be a crushing blow in the fight against Saint Dane. I, on the other hand, would not be missed.”
“You are so wrong-“
“Please, Pendragon. My mind is made up. Perhaps I can stop some of the Batu from descending into the underground. Saving even a few lives would be worth the effort. Whoever is left alive will be needed to defend Xhaxhu from the marauders.”
I knew it was useless to argue.
“Come,” Loor said. “We must not waste more time.”
Ifelt like a coward. Though my brain told me it was the right move, my heart wasn’t so sure. I had never given up before. Iguarantee Loor had never given up. Ever. She wasn’t giving up now, either. Ididn’t feel as ifIhad a choice. Ihad to force myself to think of all of Halla. Losing a battle wasn’t the same as losing the war. Itried to convince myself thatIwasn’t running away, Iwas running toward the next battle. Ihoped that by the time we made it back to the flume, ifwe made it to the flume, Icould convince Loor to leave with me.
The Rivers of Zadaa tpa-6 Page 27
