The Rivers of Zadaa (25 page)

“But it isn't,” Teek said softly.

“Of course it is!” Loor shouted. “Why else would the Rokador wipe out so many Batu? You want the city. How can they make such a cruel decision? The Rokador used to be our friends!”

Teek was in tears. “There's more,” he said.

“More than this?” I shouted. “More than genocide?”

“Yes,” Teek said. “I promise you, we did not know. Bokka, me, and most of the Tiggen guards. We weren't here. We didn't see it. We knew the elite were preparing for war, but we didn't know why. It wasn't until we returned that we saw the truth.”

“The truth,” Loor said. “Bokka said we needed to know the truth. What is the whole truth?”

Teek wiped his tears and said, “I will show you.”

We followed him through several more corridors until we had reached the far side of the large building. Teek stopped at a door and said to us, “Outside this door lies the truth, and the horror.” He took a deep breath to prepare himself, then walked out. I wasn't so sure I wanted to see what was beyond the door, but I had to.

We followed him onto a balcony that looked out over a vast, flat field. It must have stretched out a mile in front of us, and almost as far to either side. The only reason we could see it so well was that the entire field was covered with small, round white stones. Thousands of them. I'm guessing they were about a foot in diameter. They were equally spaced in perfect rows for as far as I could see. On each stone was a small light. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. There didn't seem to be anything horrible about this place at all.

I was wrong.

“It started slowly,” Teek said. “There was no warning. By the time there was serious concern, it was too late. We are not like you. We do not live our lives exposed to the elements. We do not have the same resistance to disease as you.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Teek looked out at the sea of stones and said, “We were hit with a virus that caused a sickness. A deadly sickness.”

I looked at Loor. Her eyes were wide, unbelieving. The two of us looked back onto the sea of stones. The thousands of lights had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.

“It is a graveyard,” Loor said softly.

It was too much to accept. There had to be some kind of mistake. There were so many! I asked, “Are you saying each one of those stones represents a Rokador who died from this sickness?”

“No,” Teek answered.

It was a brief moment of relief. Very brief.

“Each one of those stones represents a hundred Rokador who have died,” Teek continued. “Their ashes lie below those markers.”

I was rocked. My knees went weak. The extent of the tragedy was mind-numbing. We were looking out over the remains of hundreds and hundreds of thousands of people.

“My family is gone,” Teek continued. “Bokka's too. We didn't know any of this was happening until we returned. We had been gone for so long and it happened so fast. This is why there was so much secrecy. This is not just about the rivalry between two tribes. The survival of our entire race is at stake. We aren't running out of space. We're running out of people.”

“How many?” I asked, stunned. “How many are still alive?”

“Perhaps a few hundred,” Teek said, barely able to speak. “A thousand at most. The elite were protected. So were their families. The Tiggen guards were spared because we were not here. Many of the engineers survived who ran the remote control stations. Our ambassadors to Xhaxhu, as well.”

“Is the disease still spreading?” Loor asked.

“No,” Teek said. “The doctors were finally able to bring it under control. It had happened once before in our history. Thousands died before a cure was found. I don't know why it took so long to recognize it this time. It should have been stopped early, but it wasn't.”

I felt as if Saint Dane probably had a hand in there somehow.

“We were told that if the Batu discovered our weakened state, they would invade us. The elite decided to strike first. We don't want to live in Xhaxhu. Our home is here. Underground. All we want is to survive.”

“And who suggested this plan, as if I didn't know?” I asked.

“Saint Dane,” Teek answered. “He has been advising the elite.”

“It's perfect,” I said, reeling. “He's taken advantage of a natural disaster and gotten the Rokador all paranoid. Then he's played the other side and pushed the Batu into attacking, which is exactly what the Rokador feared. Unbelievable.”

“Why would he do this?” Teek asked.

How could I answer that? “Because he's a bad guy,” I said. It was the understatement of all time, but I wasn't about to explain how Saint Dane was a demon from another territory, who was doing his best to destroy the past, present, and future of everything that ever existed. Teek was having a bad enough day as it was.

“Many of the Tiggen guards do not believe this is right,” Teek said. “But when faced with extinction…” He didn't finish his thought. It now made sense why all the guards were looking at us with these long, sad faces. They were reeling from the horror they discovered on their return to Kidik. They had lost family, they had lost friends. Their entire existence was threatened. Bokka was right. It was a nightmare.

“There's something I don't get,” I said to Loor. “The Rokador are nearly wiped out by a horrible disease. They're afraid the Batu will finish the job, so they want to defend themselves by striking first. If it works, thousands of Batu will drown. It would be a double disaster of epic proportions. No question. But is it enough to throw an entire territory into chaos? I mean, where would it all lead?”

Loor leaned on the steel rail of the balcony overlooking the vast Rokador graveyard. Her mind went somewhere else, lost in thought, calculating the possibility. Finally she came back and said, “Zadaa is a violent territory. Many tribes fight to the death to defend their little piece of land.”

“The primitive tribes,” I said. “The cannibals.”

“Yes,” Loor said. “The cannibals. It is one of the reasons the Rokador went underground. It was safer. The Ghee warriors were created to protect Xhaxhu. In the past the Rokador have been our allies, so they fell under our protection as well.”

“I know all that,” I said.

“There is a fragile balance on Zadaa. Xhaxhu is one of the only civilized areas on the territory. The Batu and the Rokador are the future of Zadaa. If the Ghee are wiped out, along with most of the Batu, that balance would be thrown off. It would only be a matter of time before one of the marauding desert tribes attacked Xhaxhu. Perhaps more than one would lay claim. These tribes are barbaric. There would be no one left to defend the city. Generations of knowledge and progress would be wiped out. Zadaa would be sent spinning into turmoil.”

I swallowed hard and said, “And these marauding tribes are, are—”

“Yes,” Loor answered. “They are cannibals.” She looked at me with fear in her eyes and added, “Saint Dane is very close to winning his next territory.”

 

I'm finishing this journal deep within the core of the Rokador world—or what's left of it. Can it still be called a world if barely anyone lives in it? Teek has found a safe place for us. From here we must decide how to stop the Rokador. Which means stopping the Batu. Which means stopping Saint Dane. Which means we are in deep trouble.

I'm afraid things are too far along for us to do anything here that would help. It's all too huge. This isn't about changing somebody's mind, or stopping a small rocket, or even destroying a mine with explosives. It's about stopping an army. That's out of our league.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm beginning to think the best choice for us is to give up Zadaa. As I've said so many times before, this isn't about any one territory. This is about Halla. If Loor and I stay here, we may not survive. Saint Dane may not want us dead, but I can't speak for the rest of the Rokador. If they're willing to drown thousands of Batu, killing us wouldn't make them blink.

We've already lost Kasha. Spader and Gunny are trapped on Eelong. If Loor and I become trapped here, or worse, the Travelers would become so weak I'm afraid we'd have no chance of stopping Saint Dane. As I'm sitting here writing this, I truly don't know what we will do.

Before I finish this journal, there's one last thing I have to write. I told you what Saint Dane said about Courtney. I don't know if he was telling the truth, or just trying to upset me. The more I think about it, the more it's got me worried. There's always some small shred of truth in everything Saint Dane says. The details of what he meant about Courtney finding a beau, whatever that is, don't matter. What matters is that he would know anything about you guys at all. I'm not saying this to scare you. I don't think you're in danger. My biggest fear is that he may have come to Second Earth to begin laying the groundwork for his attack on our home.

All I can say is…keep your eyes open and watch your backs.

I miss you guys.

And so we go.

END OF JOURNAL #22

Mark jumped up from where he had been reading
on his bed and paced. Back and forth, back and forth, bed to desk, desk to bed. It was a totally useless activity, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. His palms were sweating so fiercely, he had to put Bobby's journal down for fear he would smudge the writing. A thousand random thoughts fought for control of his brain; none of them were good. Only one mattered.

Saint Dane was on Second Earth.

The demon wasn't taunting Bobby just for the sake of it. He was here. Mark was sure of that. Saint Dane knew about Courtney and that guy she met. What was his name? Wimpley? Whipple? Wittle? Whatever. How else would Saint Dane know about that if he wasn't here? Was this the beginning of his plot to control Second Earth? Up until that moment, Mark held out hope that by saving First Earth, the Travelers had saved all three Earth territories. That hope had just gone adios. Mark knew that if Saint Dane was here, it wasn't to sightsee and snoop on Courtney. He had plans. Bad plans. And Mark was the only one who knew it had to be true. Courtney was oblivious, and Bobby and Loor were trapped miles underground on an island of the dead where an assault was about to be unleashed that would wipe out the Batu—the tribe that was keeping the civilized people of Zadaa safe from barbaric cannibal marauders. Saint Dane was on the verge of winning another territory and turn his sights to Second Earth.

Mark's plan of watching
Comedy Central
and going to sleep was long gone. He wasn't sure if he could ever relax and sleep again. Or watch
Comedy Central,
for that matter. He felt as if he had to do something, but had no idea what. He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. Should he call Courtney? What would he say? “Hey, how's it going? How was your date? By the way, you didn't happen to see Saint Dane wandering around campus, did you? Bobby and Loor are about to die, and he told them he saw you messing around with that new guy. Sleep tight!”

Mark knew he had to get a grip. When he was excited, he couldn't think straight. To clear his head he went outside and walked around the block. A dozen times. Two dozen times. He had grabbed some carrots on the way out and gnawed on them nervously. Nobody was out that late at night, even the people walking their dogs. That was good. He didn't need small talk, he needed air. The walking helped him calm down and make a decision. He had to call Courtney. He felt sure that she sounded well enough over the phone to handle the news. The real question was, how much should he tell her about what was happening with Bobby? He couldn't lie about getting the journals anymore. That much was certain. How else would he say he knew about Saint Dane? It was going to be a tricky conversation.

It took Mark a solid few hours to figure out the exact right things to tell her. He decided not to go into detail about the hairy situation on Zadaa. There was nothing they could do to help, so he figured Courtney didn't need to worry about it. Besides, he was worried enough for both of them. He concocted a story that would let her know there was trouble on Zadaa, but didn't include all the gory details about the danger that Bobby and Loor were facing. He even decided to tell her a little about Bobby's feelings for Loor. He felt she had the right to know. After all, Bobby thought she was reading the journals anyway! Beyond that, he figured if Courtney started asking more questions about the Batu and the Rokador, he'd bring up Loor again and that would probably get her off the subject. It was kind of devious, but he figured it was the right thing to do to keep her anxiety level down and her antennae up.

Mark returned home with his story ready. He went to his bedroom, grabbed his cell phone and—his eye caught something. Could it be? No, it was impossible. Yet it was staring him right in the face.

His clock radio read 2:05.

There was no way he was going to call Courtney that late. He decided the best thing to do was wait until morning. Early morning. He dropped his cell phone back on his desk without looking at it and set his alarm for six o'clock. Courtney would be ticked about getting a call that early, but once she heard what was going on, she'd forgive him. Six was good. Anything earlier than six was still the night before.

Mark grabbed his cell phone again. He wanted it on his bedside table so he could make the call the instant the alarm went off. He placed it next to his clock radio. He was ready. He got into bed, fully clothed, and tried to sleep. It was impossible. His mind wouldn't shut down. He kept imagining what was happening to Bobby and Loor. Time seemed to slow down. He couldn't help but keep glancing at his clock radio.

2:44…2:45…2:46…

Time. The concept of the territories existing in different times was a hard one to understand. Did Zadaa exist in the future of Second Earth? Or in the ancient past? Was the war between the tribes on the verge of happening? Or had it been over for centuries? Or did it all exist simultaneously? That was the strangest concept, but the one that was most probable. Halla was explained to him as everything—all time all places all people. Everything that ever was, or will be, all existing in some way, together. It was one of the reasons the Travelers were able to arrive on a territory when they needed to be there. Whatever grand power was controlling it all, it knew how to manipulate time. Or more precisely, it knew how to control their movements through time. That was how Mark and Courtney were able to be on Eelong for a month, and return to Second Earth only a few minutes after they'd left. He figured it was also what allowed Saint Dane to bounce back and forth between territories, messing with one while lurking around another. It seemed to Mark that time was actually some giant sea that you could swim around in and travel any which way. It also seemed to Mark that the more he thought about the whole bizarre concept, the less chance there was of him getting any sleep.

3:58…3:59…4:00…

He wished he could take a couple of strokes forward in the sea of time and jump to 6:00. When the digital clock hit 5:00, Mark couldn't take it anymore. He got out of bed and decided to kill the last hour on his computer. He opened his Web browser and did a search for Stansfield in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts. He found the Web site instantly and took a virtual tour. He decided it was a pretty nice place and a cool way to spend the summer. He wondered if Saint Dane felt the same way.

Finally, when his clock hit 5:30, Mark had had enough. He had practiced his speech to Courtney a thousand times. He had to make the call. He got up from his computer and sat back on his bed. Now that he actually had to do this for real, he had second thoughts.

He picked up the cell phone…and put it back down again.

He had to convince himself again that he was doing the right thing. He picked up the phone. He put it down. He picked it up. It was time. Courtney was on speed-dial: #1. He finally looked at the phone to make sure it was on and—

“Message waiting?” Mark said out loud.

Mark had never gotten a message on his cell phone before. He had no idea who could have called him. And when? He almost always had his phone in his pocket, how could he have missed a call? He stared at the blinking words. He didn't even know how to retrieve a message. He had to rummage through his cluttered desk to find the instruction manual. By the time he found the manual, waded through the table of contents, flipped through the French, Spanish, and Japanese sections to the English instructions, and finally found the right buttons to push to get his message, it was nearly six o'clock. Mark actually laughed to himself. He had made it to six after all.

The prerecorded voice over the phone said, “Message sent yesterday at seven forty-five
P.M
.”

Mark realized he'd been downstairs eating dinner then. That's why he hadn't heard the ring. He continued to listen. There was a beep, followed by the message. What he heard made Mark want to fall through the floor.

It was Courtney. Her voice was weak, but it was definitely hers. In a frail voice she gasped, “Mark, he's here.”

That was it. Abruptly there was another beep, and the prerecorded voice came back on, saying, “End of message.” Mark stared at the phone, his heart racing. He played the message over and over and over again. There was no doubt in his mind. Courtney was in trouble, and he feared the reason why. He speed-dialed her number, but got the prerecorded voice saying, “The number you are trying to reach is not available.” Mark wanted to throw the phone across the room. Courtney always had her cell phone on, except in class. But it was six o'clock in the morning! No class started that early. Something was very, very wrong.

The police! He'd call the local police! Yes!

No! And tell them what? That he thinks his friend is in trouble? Trouble from what? An interstellar dimension-leaping demon who wanted to trash the universe? Yeah, that would go over real big. He thought about filing a missing person report, but how could he say he knew she was missing? And was she really missing anyway? He didn't know. They'd laugh him off the phone. At the very least, they'd ignore him. He thought maybe his parents could help. He was about to leave the room to get them, but stopped when he realized he had no idea what he would ask them to do, either.

The more Mark thought through his options, the more he realized there was only one thing for him to do. He had to get to Stansfield as soon as possible. He needed to find Courtney so they could work this through together. Nobody else knew what they knew. Nobody else could help. They needed to be together.

Now that he had a plan, Mark felt better. He went online to check bus and train schedules between Stony Brook, Connecticut and Derby Falls, Massachusetts. He planned on telling his parents that Courtney invited him up to visit for a few days. If they wouldn't let him go, he'd go anyway. He didn't like to disobey his parents, but there were bigger issues at stake. He'd deal with the consequences later. Whatever they were, they would be easier to handle than Saint Dane.

He struck out with mass transit. The fastest combination of bus and trains wouldn't get him to Derby Falls until late that night. Twelve hours! According to Mapquest, it was only a three-hour drive! Mark began weighing the possibility of getting his mother to drive him, when another idea hit. The concept made him physically shudder, but he was desperate. He grabbed his cell phone and scrolled through the list of phone numbers from incoming calls. He didn't get many. He easily found what he was looking for. Before he had the chance to overthink himself out of it, he closed his eyes and made the call.

 

Two hours later Mark was riding shotgun on his way to Stansfield Academy.

Behind the wheel was Andy Mitchell.