Read Atherton #3: The Dark Planet (No. 3) Online
Authors: Patrick Carman
Tags: #Science fiction, #General, #Action & Adventure - General, #Children's Books, #Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, #YA), #Action & Adventure, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Ages 9-12 Fiction, #Children: Grades 4-6, #Young Adult Fiction, #Science fiction (Children's, #Adventure and adventurers, #Orphans, #Life on other planets, #Adventure fiction, #Social classes, #Science Fiction; Fantasy; Magic, #Atherton (Imaginary place), #Space colonies
"What do you mean he's not back yet? He shouldn't even be
gone
yet!"
"How could they do this?" Isabel went on. "It's like they tricked
us--tricked Edgar!--so they could get what they wanted."
"Try to stay calm," reasoned Samuel. "We don't even know for
sure what's going on yet."
The two of them were standing in a grove of second-year trees
tying strings around clusters of figs along with a number of other
adults and children who might be able to hear them. Samuel
was trying to keep her from giving too much away.
"How can you say that?" said Isabel, her words like a storm
against a door that might break free at any moment. "They sent
us away. They knew we wouldn't let him go to the edge alone,
without support... without us
there
for him. It matters, Samuel.
You know it matters to Edgar."
Samuel couldn't deny that Edgar was doing something that
might very well get him killed. For all his strength and skill and
courage, he was still only twelve and without parents to protect
him.
"Do you think Edgar is easy to fool?" asked Samuel. "I mean,
do you think he would let this happen if it wasn't what he really
wanted?"
"He wouldn't do that--not without at least telling us first."
"I heard them talking," Samuel revealed. Isabel had agreed to
let Samuel secretly go back to Dr. Kincaid's cave, and he'd
arrived just as Vincent returned to the cave. He'd heard
everything they'd said.
"What did you hear? Tell me!" Isabel shouted.
"Only if you keep your voice down," cautioned Samuel.
"Everyone on the tree line is listening."
Isabel let out a grumbling sort of sigh. "Just tell me what you
heard," she whispered.
Samuel didn't have the will to hide anything from her piercing
eyes, framed with those thick black brows.
"Vincent and Edgar went together, but Vincent returned alone. I
crept in between the giant rocks to listen. I didn't understand at
first because he started speaking to Dr. Kincaid about things on
the Dark Planet. But they weren't talking, they were arguing. Dr.
Kincaid sees things differently from Vincent."
"How do you mean?"
"It seemed to me that Dr. Kincaid would... I don't know... risk
more in order to reconnect with the Dark Planet. You know how
Vincent is always protecting everyone? Well, Dr. Kincaid
seemed to think it was time to start protecting people on the
Dark Planet. Vincent wasn't so sure it was worth the risk."
Samuel was trying to hold back the truth, but his resolve was
crumbling before Isabel's very eyes.
"There's something you're not telling me, Samuel. Spill it or I'll
load a fig in my sling and go see Dr. Kincaid myself. I'll
make
him tell me."
"You wouldn't," said Samuel, knowing what a good shot Isabel
was with her sling.
"I would!" insisted Isabel.
"Okay, just calm down. I just think it's a lot more complicated
than we realize. I mean, what if we really could save a lot of
people? How much risk is that worth? I don't think Dr. Kincaid
wants
to risk losing Edgar. I think he feels he has no other
choice."
"He's willing to sacrifice Edgar to reconnect, isn't he?"
"I'm not sure it's fair to say it that way. Dr. Kincaid is trying; it's
just not that simple."
"Of course it's simple! We're talking about Edgar!"
Isabel's voice had risen once more and this time one of the
adults was walking toward them.
"What's the matter, Isabel? Is Samuel not doing his share of the
work?" It was Lars, a good friend of Isabel's father. The last
thing she wanted was her parents finding out about this.
"He's keeping up just fine," said Isabel, trying to muster a
convincing smile. "We were just talking about my reading
lessons--it's very hard, and I've been getting frustrated."
This was a good lie if ever there was one. Samuel read better
than most in the grove, because he had long been a citizen of
the House of Power before its collapse. The formerly illiterate
population of Atherton, including Lars, Isabel, Edgar, and all of
the former residents of Tabletop, had struggled mightily with the
effort to learn to read, and many eventually gave up improving
their skills in favor of a simple life of work.
"I know exactly how you feel," said Lars. He glanced at Samuel
and secretly wished he could read as well as the young boy
from the Highlands. "Reading's not for everyone."
"Oh, I like to read," said Isabel. She wasn't willing to feign
laziness for a second. "It's just that Samuel is trying to teach me
some
advanced
reading, and it's challenging." Lars frowned,
already turning to go.
Samuel glanced down the row of trees and then out toward the
blue lake. "I think we should get out of here. If we leave now
maybe we can get to the crevice before he comes back. We
could be waiting there for him. He'd like that."
"Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't."
She decided she'd like to be there when Edgar returned so she
could tell him how mad she was that he had gone off alone
without telling his two closest friends.
"Let's finish this row. When we come to the end we'll sneak
away and find him."
Thick veins of yellow and gold glowed soft and warm along the
stone walls where Edgar stood. He had come to the end of the
passageway. It was slightly wider here, but other than that, it
had the appearance of a dead end.
Edgar was suddenly gripped with the alarming realization of his
own hunger and thirst. Could he die in here? The thought
scared him, more because he was alone than anything else.
He touched one of the walls and found it trembling ever so
slightly. Looking back, the passageway was entirely empty.
There was nothing but walls to touch, a floor to walk on, a
ceiling to look at.
"I wonder what Isabel and Samuel are doing. I bet Isabel is
mad." Talking to himself made Edgar feel better, less hungry
and afraid. "She's going to kill me if I ever get out of here."
Lifting his heavy feet with great effort, he closed the final
distance to the wall at the back of the chamber. When he
reached it, he touched it, he pushed against it, and then he
kicked it.
Nothing happened.
This is a disaster,
thought Edgar. He was really trapped this
time. There was a gigantic monster blocking the way out that
spewed molten rocks and firebugs. And even if by some miracle
he could make it past, it wouldn't matter, because there were
seven more monsters waiting for him on the outside of Atherton.
He ran his hand over the surface of the passageway and,
overwhelmed by a feeling of total despair, he punched the wall.
Edgar crumpled to the ground, holding his throbbing knuckles.
And then, in the dim yellow and gold light of the room, he spied
a hole near the floor about twice the size of his closed fist. It had
blended in at first, but there was no doubt of its existence now. It
was black as night inside as he peered down the gullet of the
hole.
Why are there always holes? I hate holes!
thought Edgar,
shaking his hand until the pain started to go away. He was
imagining what might happen if he reached inside. Something
might eat his hand. Something might grab his hand. Or maybe,
just maybe, a treasure of some kind would be hidden inside,
like the book he'd once found on the cliffs leading to the
Highlands.
Edgar looked all around the room one last time for other holes.
None. He crouched in front of the hole and imagined what might
be inside. A minute passed. Then another. Finally, he put his
fingers a little way inside the hole.
The wall inside was smooth as glass, which he hadn't
expected. It felt alive with slickness, and Edgar was sure his
fingers would be wet when he pulled his hand back out, but
they were not.
He put his hand back in, a little deeper this time, and his heart
raced at the thought of having his fingers bitten off. He took a
series of deep breaths and tried to calm down, then he shut his
eyes tight and reached deeper still.
His fingers touched a handle. Surprised, he quickly pulled his
hand away, but then he wrapped his fingers around it and
pulled. It wouldn't move, so he tried to turn it. The handle spun
and clicked to the right. He tried pulling on it again, and this
time the handle moved toward him.
Should I keep pulling?
he wondered. It seemed the only natural
thing to do. He had to pull hard on it, but eventually the handle
came flush with the wall. When Edgar let it go it wanted to slide
slowly back into the hole, so he pulled it back and turned it to
the left. This locked it into place, where it stayed.
Edgar had no idea what he'd just done. He turned toward the
back wall, once so hard and immovable, and saw that it was
changing before his very eyes. The thick yellow veins of light
had turned molten red. The veins widened more and more, until
there were no veins at all but a throbbing wall of heat.
"What have I done?" said Edgar, his voice trembling and
unsteady. The place seemed to have come to life and he feared
for his life all over again.
Edgar scrambled for the handle and tried to turn it back, but it
had locked into place. Whatever Edgar had set in motion would
continue whether he liked it or not. He could wait and let the
room dissolve into lava or run down the passage and face a
monster waiting to tear him to pieces.
The center of the back wall began to melt. Edgar expected it to
flow across the floor and overtake him, but instead the section
of wall slid down into the ground. It appeared to be hollow
below the back wall, so that the liquefied stone simply fell away
and left a wide opening that could be passed through. Under
the opening lay a wide, bubbling orange cauldron of lava.
Edgar approached the opening cautiously and felt the heat
grow with each step. It became so hot he could barely stand it
and thought his clothes would ignite into flames. The thin hairs
on his forearms shrank and twisted as if beaten down by the
destructive power of heat. A charred black rim surrounded the
opening, and whatever lay on the other side was hidden by a
layer of hissing steam.
Edgar stepped back, away from the heat, and tried to think. If he
jumped through the opening he might well be leaping into an
open oven on the other side. Or, just as horrible, the weight of
gravity might pull him down as he tried to cross over. He didn't
even want to think about what it would feel like to sink into a
boiling vat of melted Atherton.
Edgar looked in the direction from which he'd come and knew
he couldn't get out. He gathered all his courage, took two deep
breaths of hot air, and ran as fast as his legs would go.
I can't turn back! I can only jump with every thing that's in me.
And so he did.
Station Seven was a metal and glass building that hovered over
a lifeless, rock-encrusted cove on the Dark Planet. A web of
entangled steel beams suspended the station in the air, where it
was safe from the toxic sludge that drifted in and out each day.
At the vast window of Station Seven sat a woman looking at the
shadows of a forsaken wood outside.
"It's quiet tonight," she concluded. "Too quiet."
The woman brushed a hand across her brow and returned her
arm to rest on the rail of her chair. There was a coldness about
her, as if the Dark Planet had made her heart turn to stone. She
held a vacant but powerful stare into the night beyond the
window.
"What will you do?" she asked. As usual there was no one in
the wide open room to hear her. She had long ago fallen into
the habit of speaking to herself. There were few others for her to
hold a conversation with, and besides, she preferred to be left
alone.
The woman was having one of her frequent recollections of a
conversation with Dr. Luther Kincaid. Eight years ago--had it
been that long? Eight years of silence, and in those eight years,
the Dark Planet had grown much darker still. And Station
Seven? It was but a shell of its former significance. Almost
everyone had fled with the arrival of the Spikers.
"You will bring him back," the woman said forcefully, replaying
the words she'd said in that distant conversation. "You will find
a way."
There was a visible change in her face--a cringing of hate and
regret--as the face of Atherton's maker came into her memory.
The madman Dr. Harding. She could not think of him for a
single second without being overcome with anger. For a long
time she had gone every day down one of the three passages
to visit his laboratory.
"He'll come back and finish what he started," she would say.
After a year of waiting she grew bitter. She had trusted Dr.
Kincaid. Every resource at her disposal had been freely given,