The Never War (25 page)

…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 strange 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.

On their way out of the bank, they didn't bother stopping to say good-bye to Ms. Jane Jansen. They didn't want to disturb her game again. They left the vault, walked through the lobby,
and were almost to the front door when—

“Children! One moment please!” It was Ms. Jane Jansen. She hurried up to them, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes flared.

“I want you two to understand something,” she said angrily. “You may be clients of this bank, but that does not entitle you to messenger service.”

Mark and Courtney looked at each other. They had no idea what she was talking about. “Translation, please,” Courtney asked.

Ms. Jane Jansen held up a brown paper bag, about the size of a grocery bag, with wet stain marks on the bottom.

“When you two went inside the vault, someone came in and asked that I give this to you,” she explained. “This is not appropriate, this is not a service the bank provides, and whatever is in this bag smells.”

Courtney took the bag with curiosity.

“Who was it?” Mark asked.

“I have no idea and I didn't ask,” Ms. Jane Jansen replied. “As I said, I am not a messenger.”

Courtney cautiously unfolded the top of the brown bag and looked inside. What she saw were three white containers, along with a Dew and two cans of ice teas. She showed the bag to Mark. He looked inside and was just as confused as Courtney. There was also a folded piece of paper inside. Mark pulled it out and read aloud, “Never too early in the morning for Garden Poultry fries. Meet me in the pocket park.” Mark looked to Courtney and added, “It's signed ‘B.'”

Could it be?

“Do we understand each other?” Ms. Jane Jansen asked.

Courtney reached into the bag, pulled out one box of fries and handed it to the cranky bank lady.

“Absolutely,” Courtney said. “Here, have a party.”

Courtney and Mark ran out of the bank, leaving Ms. Jane Jansen holding a greasy box of French fries. She was just about to toss it in the garbage, when the oily-delicious smell finally got through to her. She took a deep whiff, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then turned back to her desk with the greasy treat.

Mark and Courtney blasted out of the bank and ran down the Ave, headed for the pocket park. The Ave cut straight through the middle of downtown Stony Brook. It was loaded with small shops, restaurants, and bookstores. It was definitely the biggest kid hangout in town, but since it was so early, no kids were awake and around.

The pocket park halfway down the Ave was a familiar meeting place. At one time there had been a building where the park stood. Now it was an empty space between two other buildings that had been landscaped with grass, trees, and benches.

Courtney arrived first and looked into the park.

The place was nearly empty. There was only one person there, and it wasn't the person they wanted to find. Mark finally caught up to Courtney and saw the guy. His shoulders sagged. It wasn't Bobby. This guy was older and taller than Bobby. He had really short, spiky, blond hair and wore thin wraparound sunglasses. He looked like a hip-hop skateboard kid from New York, not Bobby Pendragon from Stony Brook. Courtney and Mark walked cautiously up to him.

“Did you send us this?” Courtney asked while holding up the greasy bag.

The guy was slouched down with both elbows on the back of the bench. When he spoke, he didn't even look at them. He was being very cool.

“I guess that answers my question,” he said.

“Wh-What question?” Mark asked.

“The question of whether or not anybody would recognize me around here,” he answered.

The guy then pulled down his sunglasses to reveal his eyes. He looked right at Mark and Courtney and broke into a huge grin. “Read any good journals lately?”

Oh yeah, it was Bobby.

Mark and Courtney were totally stunned.
Bobby jumped to his feet and the three of them clung to each other in a three-way hug. Nobody said anything. No words could add to the feeling. Finally Bobby pulled back.

“We gotta be cool,” he chuckled. “The last thing we want is to have people checking me out.”

“I swear I didn't recognize you,” Courtney said with excitement. “You're…older.”

“Yeah, well, you guys are too,” Bobby said. He gave Courtney an extra look up and down. “Like, a
lot
older.” Courtney wasn't sure if she should slug him in the arm, or blush. She did both.

“Ow!” Bobby shouted. He then smiled and said, “Man, it's been almost a year since I've seen you guys. Happy Birthday, Mark.”

“Thanks, man,” Mark said. “This is a pretty amazing present.”

“What's with the blond hair?” Courtney asked.

“I had 'em do this at the hotel beauty shop before I left First Earth. They thought I was nuts. It's not exactly a 1937
look. But I didn't want anybody recognizing me here.”

Mark said, “I've got a million questions.”

“Let's go someplace else,” Bobby suggested. “This is a little public.”

The three of them walked farther down the Ave toward Long Island Sound and a big, woodsy town park. There they could lose themselves in the trees and not be bothered. The three friends found a secluded spot in the shade and sat down to a picnic.

“Man, I miss these,” Bobby said as he chomped another mouthful of fries. “Best fries in the world.
Any
world.”

Courtney and Mark weren't interested in eating. They had Bobby, right here in front of them. There was too much to say to waste time chewing.

“How did you know we'd be at the bank?” Mark asked.

“I figured if you got my journals on your birthday, last Saturday, then this morning would be the earliest you could get back here to check them into the safe-deposit box.”

“Smart,” Mark said, impressed.

“Lucky guess,” Bobby said modestly.

“Why did you come home?” Courtney asked. “You wrote you were going to Veelox.”

Bobby didn't answer right away. It seemed to Mark and Courtney that the answer troubled him.

“That was the plan,” Bobby answered thoughtfully. “But at the last minute, I couldn't.”

“Did Saint Dane turn up somewhere else?” Courtney asked.

“No,” Bobby said. “I just thought that, well, to be honest, I need a break.”

“I don't blame you,” Courtney said.

Bobby continued, “But it's more than that. I'm afraid the more I learn about being a Traveler, the more I forget about being Bobby Pendragon. I feel like I'm changing. I guess that has to
happen, but I can't say I'm happy about it.”

The three looked at each other. It was true. Time does that. Bobby's memory of Mark and Courtney was absolutely solid, but the two kids sitting in front of him didn't quite fit that memory.

“I guess I needed a reality check,” Bobby said. “I didn't want to forget who I am, or where I come from. I thought maybe I could hang out here for a few days, just to chill. You guys know everything that's been going on with me. I want to know what's been happening with you. Is it okay if we hang out for a while?”

“Okay?” Courtney shouted. “It'll be great!”

“But risky,” Mark added. “There's still a big search going on for you and your family.”

Bobby laughed. “Yeah, I figured. But if you guys didn't recognize me, I don't think anybody else will.”

“Aren't your parents in Florida this week?” Courtney asked Mark.

“Yeah,” he answered tentatively.

“They leave you alone?” Bobby asked with a smile.

“Hey, I'm fifteen,” Mark answered defensively. “They trust me.” Then under his breath he said, “And my aunt lives two blocks away.”

“Then it's perfect,” Courtney declared. “Bobby can stay with you!”

Bobby looked at Mark. “Is it okay?”

Mark thought for a bit, then broke out in a big smile. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “I'm psyched!”

 

For the next week Bobby did his best to put any thoughts about being a Traveler out of his head. For these few special days he was going to pretend that he was simply Bobby Pendragon.

Most of their time was spent at Mark's house. Courtney would come over, and the three would sit for hours talking about
everything. They filled Bobby in on what bands were hot and who dropped off the face of the earth. They rented movies, and listened to music, and watched bad TV, and gossiped about who was going out with who at school.

Courtney told Bobby all about the softball championship she had been part of, and Mark gave him a demonstration of the killer battle robot that won him first prize in the state science fair. Mark told Bobby about his dreams to one day go to engineering school and maybe get into the space program.

They even went to the town library to do some research. Bobby wanted to know what had become of Jinx Olsen and Winn Farrow. The Second Earth library had about one zillionth the information that the library had on Third Earth, but it was enough. They discovered that Winn Farrow didn't live long enough to enjoy his victory over Max Rose. He was killed during a bank robbery in June of 1937. The secret of who really brought down the
Hindenburg
died along with him.

The news about Jinx Olsen was much better. Bobby was thrilled to learn that when World War II broke out, Jinx joined the Army Air Corps, pretending to be a man! She flew several bombing missions over Germany and received the Distinguished Flying Cross for heroism in flight. Jinx had lived her dream, and then retired to Maine, where she got married and had three kids.

And they ate. Pizza, spaghetti, Chinese food, ice cream, burgers, burgers, and burgers. At least once a day they got fried chicken and fries from Garden Poultry.

They went swimming at the Point, where Courtney was sure to wear the pink bikini Bobby mentioned in his journal. Bobby appreciated that. He also noticed that Courtney filled it out a little better than the last time he'd seen her wear it, but didn't say anything. That wouldn't have been cool. They also watched
Courtney pitch a two-hitter fast-pitch softball game. She hoped to go to a big college to play softball and soccer. Her true love was soccer though. She had dreams of getting on the national team.

When they traveled around, they took pains to make sure Bobby wouldn't be seen and recognized. There was only one close call. The three of them were riding bikes toward the beach and were stopped at a light when Lieutenant Hirsch, the guy who was handling the Pendragon missing persons investigation, pulled up in a car right next to them.

Mark's heart nearly stopped. Courtney was cool though. She smiled and waved. Bobby didn't know who the guy was, so he didn't know enough to be nervous. When the light changed, Hirsch drove on without a second look. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Bobby didn't look the same anymore.

The three friends packed a year of fun and friendship into one week. In all, they probably didn't sleep more than three hours a night. There was only one rule: Nobody was allowed to talk about anything to do with being a Traveler. No exceptions. There were a couple times when Mark touched on the subject, and Bobby pretended not to have heard him. Mark got the hint. Nothing more was said. They all pretended like there was nothing more important going on than deciding what DVD they should rent, or if the Yankees would whup up on the Red Sox again. It was exactly what Bobby needed. It re-charged his batteries and made him feel human.

But after several days, Bobby began to grow restless. It's not that he wasn't having fun—he absolutely was—but he knew it couldn't last forever. The change started when he reached the point where he was totally relaxed. That's when his mind started to turn the other way. As much as he tried to forget about it, he
always knew that Saint Dane was out there somewhere, plotting a world of grief.

Mark began to sense this in Bobby. It took a day or so for Bobby to relax and get back to his old, fun self. But then Mark noticed Bobby wasn't talking as much. It seemed like there were times when his mind was a million miles away. Mark didn't dare to ask him about it. He was afraid Bobby would close up again, or worse, it would somehow break the magic spell that had given them this great week together. Mark didn't want it to end, though he knew it would have to.

Then one night, while the two of them were trying to fall asleep in Mark's bedroom, Mark took the chance and brought up the taboo subject.

“Bobby?” he asked tentatively. “I want to become an acolyte.”

This caught Bobby off guard. “Whoa,” he said. “Where did
that
come from?”

Bobby didn't cut him off this time. It encouraged Mark to keep going.

“You know, the acolytes,” he said. “The people who help the Travelers. They live in the territories and bring the clothes to the flumes and help you get around and—”

“Yeah, I know who they are,” Bobby interrupted. “But I don't know anything about them. I never met one.”

“But they're out there,” Mark insisted.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bobby said with absolutely no enthusiasm. Reality had returned. Bobby knew he couldn't ignore it anymore. Vacation was over. Time to put the game face back on. He took a deep breath, hesitated one last moment, then clicked back into Traveler mode.

“Why, Mark?” he asked. “What makes you want to be an acolyte?”

“A lot of reasons,” Mark answered. “I want to help. It's hard sitting around doing nothing when there's some guy out there trying to bring down the universe and hurt your best friend. Reading your journals has changed things.”

Bobby nodded. He understood where Mark was coming from. “Funny thing,” he said thoughtfully. “In a couple of days you and Courtney are going to start Davis Gregory High, and all I really want is to forget about being a Traveler and go with you.”

“But you can't,” Mark said.

“No, I can't.”

“There's another reason,” Mark added. He took a pause before saying this, because he knew it was a tough subject. “I won't let you down. Not the way Spader did.”

Bobby winced. “Spader didn't let me down,” he said sharply. “He just lost sight of what was important.”

Mark realized he had touched a raw nerve. “I know that,” he said quickly, doing damage control. “I just want you to know that I'd always be there to cover your back. No matter what.”

“How does Courtney feel about it?” Bobby asked.

“We haven't exactly talked about it,” Mark answered. “But I guarantee, if we got the chance, she'd jump right in. You know Courtney.”

Bobby chuckled. Yeah, he knew Courtney. “Tell you what,” Bobby said. “I'll find out what I can. If there's a chance for you guys to do something, I'll let you know.”

That was good enough for Mark. He now had hope that he might join Bobby on his mission after all. He had trouble falling asleep that night because his mind was so alive with the possibilities.

Bobby had trouble getting to sleep too, but for a very different reason. He knew his time here on Second Earth was over. He
needed to be somewhere else, doing what he was destined to do. Tomorrow he would say good-bye to his friends one more time and jump back into the game. That's what rolled through his brain while he tried to get to sleep. But it wasn't easy nodding off to dreamland while one thought kept pushing all others away…

Where is Saint Dane? What is he up to? And when I find him, will I be strong enough to beat him?