The Never War (19 page)

“First Earth!” I shouted at the mouth of the flume. A second later I kissed Third Earth good-bye and shot my way back to 1937.

A few minutes later we found ourselves surrounded by all the familiar sensations of First Earth—the smells, the noise, the people, the energy. It was a rude change from the quiet serenity of Third Earth. But I have to admit, I didn't mind it. It felt like going home.

Once Gunny and I got back to the subway platform, we
waited for the first train downtown and jumped on board. There weren't many subway stops in the Bronx that were underground, so we shortly emerged into rainy daylight. As much as I thought Third Earth was a perfect place, I was glad to see the buildings of old-fashioned New York again. Still Gunny and I didn't speak. We knew what we had to do.

We had returned early in the morning on May 6, 1937. We weren't too late. Our first goal was to get back to the Manhattan Tower Hotel, find Spader, and tell him what we had discovered on Third Earth. From there, we'd decide on a plan to make sure Winn Farrow destroyed the
Hindenburg.
That was a weird feeling. We had to help make sure that a killer succeeded in murdering thirty-six people. But I couldn't think of it like that. It was too horrific. I had to keep telling myself that we were making sure that history played out the way it was supposed to, and that Saint Dane wouldn't change things. That was our mission. That was why we were on First Earth.

As we rode on the subway, I kept my head down finishing this journal. Like I told you up front, this may be the most important journal I've written yet. If we fail, and Saint Dane prevents the
Hindenburg
from burning, the world will change, and this document will be the only proof of the way things were meant to be.

There's one last thing that happened that I should write down. It didn't really affect anything, but it's worth writing about anyway.

The subway car rumbled toward the bridge that would take us across the East River into Manhattan. But I wasn't watching. I was too busy writing. That's when Gunny nudged me. He didn't say a word; all he did was point out the window of the subway car, up toward the skyline of
Manhattan. I didn't know what he wanted me to see at first, but a few seconds later I caught sight of it—and it made me catch my breath.

It was just coming into view, high above the tallest buildings. It floated there like a quiet, majestic bird, lazily surveying the ground below. It was Luft Zeppelin-129. The
Hindenburg.
It had arrived in America. I watched the ship in open-mouthed awe. It was way bigger than I had imagined. I also couldn't help but focus on the bold logos on its tail. There were two giant black swastikas on a red and white background, the symbol of the Nazi Party. Seeing them gave me a shiver.

People pressed against the subway windows to get a look at the impressive blimp. They waved, as if expecting the crew and passengers high above to see them. Cars honked their horns, people cheered, other cars pulled over to the side of the street so their passengers could get out and watch. It was like a joyous celebration. People gazed at the airship in awe. To them it was a mighty symbol of the future.

Gunny and I knew differently. The future of the zeppelin was going to be a short one. It had to be.

We're almost at our stop, so I'll end my journal here. It's a horrible feeling. If we fail, this will be the last time I'll be writing to you two, Mark and Courtney. I feel like I want to say good-bye. But I can't think that way. I've got to get it in my head that in a few hours, the majestic zeppelin we just saw floating over Manhattan has to crash to the ground in a flaming ball of fire.

That's our mission. Our future,
your
future depends on it.

END OF JOURNAL #11

A
s I look back on this last, incredible year, I feel like I've gone through two huge, personal turning points.

The first was the moment I was pulled into a flume for the very first time. That was when I realized the rules of the universe weren't exactly what I thought they were. Ever since then I've had to struggle to keep my head above water in the scary seas of Travelerworld.

The second turning point came in that library on Third Earth. Up until then, the idea of an entire territory falling into chaos didn't really mean anything to me. It was all just theory. But when I saw the images of what Saint Dane had planned for the Earth territories…man. It was like everything suddenly came into focus. Saint Dane had to be stopped, now and forever. End of discussion.

Before that moment, I knew it in my brain. Now, I feel it in my heart.

The only people who have a chance of ending his evil campaign are the Travelers. It would be nice if we were a race of invincible superheroes with powers far beyond those of mortal men, but we're not. A stranger group you couldn't find, but
only because we're all so normal. It's scary to think that the only force trying to prevent Saint Dane from destroying Halla is a group of regular-old people.

More frightening is knowing I'm one of them.

When I saw those horrifying images of Saint Dane's Earth, something changed in me. It's hard to put this into words, because I'm not sure I understand it myself. Call it anger. Call it outrage. Call it fear. Definitely call it fear. But seeing the evil depths of Saint Dane's vision locked me in. I know I'm in it now, for good. I don't know if my being on this quest is right or wrong or someplace in between. All I know is, I'm here now, and that can't be changed. It's up to me and my fellow Travelers to stop Saint Dane. We're the ones on the spot. I accept that now. I don't like it, but I accept it.

I'm writing all this to you so you'll know where my head is, but also to explain some of the things I did over the past few days. To put it right out there, I messed up. Bad. And the thing is, I'm not so sure that if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't do the exact same
wrong
thing again. That's what has me so upset right now. Saint Dane must be defeated. Part of that responsibility is mine. But after what happened with the
Hindenburg,
I don't know if I'm up to the job.

The true events that happened on May 6, 1937, will never be reported in any newspaper. They will not be part of recorded history. They will live only in my journals and the journals of my fellow Travelers.

This is what happened.

It was a gray, cold May day. The sky was full of roiling clouds, rain showers, and occasional cracks of thunder and lightning. The
Hindenburg
was supposed to arrive in New Jersey early in the morning, but bad weather forced it to circle the New York area for most of the day. History was
playing out the way it was supposed to. So far.

The whole atmosphere had an ominous feel to it. I don't know if that was because of the weather or because I knew what was going to happen. Either way, there was tension in the air.

Gunny and I got back to the Manhattan Tower Hotel as quickly as we could.

But as soon as we got back to our room on the sixth floor, things began to unravel. Spader was gone. He'd left a note for us.

“He's on his way to New Jersey,” I shouted to Gunny. “I
knew
we should have stayed together!” I threw the note down in anger.

“It's early,” Gunny said reassuringly. “We've got all day to figure something out.”

“Yeah, but do you know what this means? Max Rose knows about Winn Farrow's plan. Spader told him, remember? History has already been changed. Strike one. Now Spader's on his own. He's going after Winn Farrow to stop him too. Strike two. Now we've got to stop Max Rose
and
Spader.”

“There's a lot that can happen before strike three,” Gunny said calmly. “I think the first thing we should do is go see Max Rose.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He trusts you. Maybe we can find out how he plans on stopping Winn Farrow.”

Okay, that made sense. At least one of us was thinking clearly. It sure wasn't me.

“We'll find out what we can,” Gunny continued. “Then we'll take Caplesmith's car and drive down to New Jersey. We might even beat Spader there.”

I nodded. This sounded like a plan.

“You all right now?” Gunny asked.

“Yeah, I'm cool,” I answered. My heart rate was dropping back down from three hundred beats a minute.

“A wise person once said that the only way we've got a chance here is if we keep our heads screwed on straight and work it through, together.”

I looked at Gunny and smiled. “I said that.”

“Was that you, shorty?” Gunny asked in fake surprise. “I knew I heard it somewhere.”

“Okay, I hear you,” I said. “My act is officially back together.”

We took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor to see Max Rose. I had no idea what we'd say to him, but it was the obvious place to start. We'd have to wing it once we got there. When we hit the elevator, Dewey looked all sorts of confused.

“What's goin' on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Gunny asked him.

“Men have been coming and going from the penthouse all day,” Dewey said. “Is Max Rose moving out?”

Gunny and I shared glances. Whatever Max Rose's plan
was to stop Winn Farrow, it was under way. The elevator arrived and Gunny and I jumped out. As usual, Dewey closed the door quickly. It was like he thought the floor was haunted or something.

As soon as we entered the hallway, we knew something was wrong. That's because the two thugs who worked security were gone. There was nobody around to protect Max Rose. Gunny and I ran for the door to the penthouse. We stopped, caught our breath so it wouldn't seem like we were as excited as we were, and rang the doorbell. No answer. We rang again. Nobody came to the door. Gunny then noticed that the door wasn't even closed. He gave it a push with his finger and the door creaked open.

“Hello?” Gunny called. “Bell Captain!”

No response. We took a chance and went inside. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except that nobody was around.

“Hello?” Gunny called again. Still no answer.

“Do you smell that?” I asked.

Gunny took a whiff. “Smoke,” he said.

We both looked around quickly and Gunny spotted it first. Smoke was creeping out from under the door to Max Rose's office. We ran for the door and I threw it open. Instantly billows of smoke blew out. The room was on fire.

“I'll get the hose,” Gunny shouted, and ran back into the corridor. A few seconds later he came back into the penthouse pulling a heavy fire hose. “Go turn it on!” he ordered me.

“Don't close that door,” I yelled. “It locks automatically.”

I ran back to the hallway, following the hose to the source. I quickly cranked the handle and the limp hose jumped to life. I sprinted back into the penthouse in time to see Gunny expertly killing the fire. Billows of smoke and
steam blew out from the room as he doused the flames. Seconds later it was over.

“Okay,” he announced. “Turn it off.”

I ran into the corridor and turned off the water, then returned to the office to check out the damage. What a mess. It looked like the inside of a barbeque grill. It didn't smell so great either. Luckily all the damage was contained in the one room. A few minutes more, though, and it would have spread.

“This was deliberate,” Gunny said. He kicked at a few garbage pails that were full of ashes and water. “Burning evidence is my guess.”

I saw that the file cabinets were open and empty. The desk drawers were empty too. Max Rose was covering his tracks. Every bit of paper in this room was now a charred memory. There was nothing left that might connect him with his network of spies, or with the Nazis.

“I guess this means everybody's gone,” I said.

“Probably,” Gunny said. “We should do a quick check though.”

We left the wet, smoldering mess and searched the penthouse for signs of life. We checked bedrooms, sitting rooms, the kitchen, and the dining room. Not only were there no people, all the drawers had been emptied too. Max Rose had definitely pulled up stakes and moved out. We knew where he was going, too. He had a date with a zeppelin.

The final stop on our search was the grand living room where I had set out lunch for Rose and the Nazi, Ludwig Zell. Nobody was in there, either.

Gunny said, “We're wasting our time here. I'll get Caplesmith's car so we can get down to—”

We then heard a sound that made the hair go up on the back of my neck. It was the steady sound of somebody clapping.
There was someone in the penthouse after all. Gunny and I looked at each other, then slowly turned toward the door. Standing there looking as beautiful as ever was Esther Amaden. Her friends called her Harlow. Her enemies called her Saint Dane. She was clapping in mock approval.

“Congratulations, boys,” the bogus woman purred. “I'm guessing you finally solved the riddle.”

“At least have the guts to show yourself,” I said defiantly.

The beautiful woman closed the door behind her. Gunny shot me a curious look. It was hard for him to believe that this movie-star-gorgeous woman could be the demon Traveler who was about to turn three territories into rubble. But I knew better. I'd seen it before.

“Whatever you'd like, Pendragon,” she said with a smile.

Esther Amaden then went through the transformation that I had seen too many times. Her body became fluid as she left behind the image of the beautiful big-band singer. Her body grew taller until it was near seven feet. Her rosy complexion turned the pasty white color of a corpse. Her short dark hair grew out into a long, gray mane. Her silky bathrobe turned black and changed shape into a black suit that, as I've written before, looked vaguely Asian. The final step was always the toughest to watch. It was the eyes. Harlow's soft, dreamy brown eyes turned razor sharp. They took on the icy blue fire of our nemesis—Saint Dane.

I sensed Gunny's surprise and fear. He took a step back. This was the first time hed witnessed this transformation. It was also the first time he was seeing Saint Dane in his true form.

“Better?” Saint Dane hissed through a twisted smile. “We really don't spend enough time together, Pendragon, do we?”

It took every bit of willpower I had not to scream.