The Pilgrims of Rayne

by D. J. MacHale

  I didn’t have to explain. He jumped at the chains and worked to unhook them so we’d have enough space to squeeze out a skimmer. I jumped onto the first skimmer in line. I held my breath. If there was no power, our trip would be over right there. I looked to see the first group of Flighters had landed on the walkway behind us, and they were running forward. I had to stay focused and hope I still knew how to drive a skimmer. One by one I flipped the toggle switches that were lined up on the console. I was rewarded with the high-pitched whining sound of the skimmer coming to life. I wanted to scream, “Yeah!”

  Siry was struggling with the chains. If we couldn’t get enough of them down, it wouldn’t matter how much power the skimmer had. We’d be trapped. I toggled the last two switches. The pontoons, which jutted out on either side of the skimmer like wings, began lowering toward the water with a steady hum. They both needed to be in the water for us to have full propulsion, but these skimmers were so jammed in, it looked like they would hit the skimmer to my right and the walkway to my left, stopping their descent. We were going to have to push the craft into open water so they could fully extend, but the chains still kept us back.

  “Help!” Siry called in frustration.

  I jumped off the skimmer to help with the snarl of chain. The Flighters were fifty yards back and closing fast.

  “Pull!” I ordered. We both grabbed the chain that ran through a loop attached to the side of the pier. It was heavy. It needed all our combined strength. Together we pulled hand over hand, yanking the chain through the loop as quickly as possible. The metal sang as it zipped through the loop. The Flighters started screaming. I didn’t know what they were saying, but it definitely sounded angry. They were fired up. If they got to us, there was no telling what they’d do.

  With one final yank we pulled the chain out of the loop. It fell into the water. The way was clear. Siry jumped onto the walkway and looked back at the Flighters.

  “Hurry!” He shouted and boarded the skimmer.

  I leaped back aboard. The engines were whining high. The pontoons were pushing down on the walkway and the next skimmer, straining to go lower, but that wouldn’t happen until we moved forward.

  “Sit down,” I yelled to Siry.

  I grabbed the motorcycle-like handlebar controls and twisted the throttle. Slowly, painfully, we moved forward. We wouldn’t have full power until the ends of the pontoons dipped into the water.

  “C’mon, c’mon!” I coaxed. The skimmer wouldn’t listen. We were moving too slowly.

  “Pendragon!” Siry called nervously.

  I didn’t have to look to know what he meant. The Flighters were almost on us. The ends of the pontoons scraped against the walkway and the next skimmer. Only a few more feet. I feared they’d get caught up on something and not be able to get into the water. That would be the end of it.

  The first Flighter arrived. He jumped onto the skimmer, headfirst, and tackled Siry. Siry hit the deck at my feet. I turned, grabbed the grungy little guy, and heaved him over the side. More were on the way. I looked right at Siry, who was lying on his back, staring up at me with wide, fearful eyes.

  “Hold on,” I commanded.

  He rolled over and grabbed on to the side of the skimmer. The two pontoons dipped into the water. I grabbed the handlebars and bent my knees.

  “Hobey-ho, let’s go,” I said, and twisted the throttle.

  The next Flighter leaped onto the skimmer just as we launched. He didn’t stand a chance. No sooner did his feet touch the deck than he was thrown off balance by the force of the skimmer rocketing forward. His stay on board lasted about a second then he fell over backward, into the water.

  “Whoaaaaaa!” Siry yelled as the skimmer flew ahead.

  We sailed over the water as smoothly and effortlessly as I remembered skimming over the waters of Cloral. I didn’t even look back at the pier and Rubic City. We had jumped the next hurdle. We were on our way back to Ibara.

  I’m going to end this journal here, Courtney. I’m finishing it while sitting in the Jakill clearing on Ibara. We made it back, no problem. Okay, maybe there was a little problem. As far as the people of Rayne are concerned, we’re outlaws. We had to find a quiet stretch of rocky beach and land the skimmer without being seen. That was fairly easy, because we didn’t get back until after dark. I’m guessing this was exactly how the various scouting parties of Flighters traveled from Rubic City to Ibara.

  The trip was much quicker than on the pirate ship. Skimmers are fast. Part of me didn’t want the people of Rayne to even see the skimmer. I guess I’m still holding by the rules that say territories shouldn’t be mixed. The skimmer represents technology these people shouldn’t know about. I suppose that’s a pretty idiotic concern. Soon they’ll be seeing a whole bunch of skimmers. Siry and I have got to figure out a way to get to the tribunal and warn them about what’s going to happen. It’s the right thing to do, though I have no real hope that the people of Ibara can repel an invasion of dados. Ibara will fall, which means Veelox will fall. Again. There’s only one thing that might prevent that.

  Find Mark, Courtney. If you can stop him from introducing Forge technology to First Earth, it might change history back to the way it was meant to be. It might stop the dados from being invented. It might stop the invasion. Might.

  I’ve got to figure out what the second turning point of Veelox is. It can’t be the attack of the dados. That doesn’t fit. There has to be something that was naturally going to happen on Veelox that Saint Dane is trying to influence. If I can learn what the turning point is, there might still be hope. Again, might.

  I’ll close by saying one more time that I’m sorry, Courtney. I should have stayed on First Earth. My ego brought me to Ibara. To Veelox. I don’t believe Saint Dane even cares about me anymore. We escaped from the Lifelight pyramid a little too easily. Am I finished? Is my value as a Traveler gone? Has Saint Dane beaten me? I can’t accept that. I’ve got to keep fighting, no matter how bleak it looks.

  Find Mark. Stop him. I believe it’s our last and best chance.

  END OF JOURNAL #30

  FIRST EARTH

  The elegant ocean liner Queen Mary was escorted safely through New York Harbor by six small tugboats. Its enormous hull dwarfed the feisty little crafts as they pushed and prodded the floating city past the Statue of Liberty, through the Verrazano Narrows, and into the deep trench of the Atlantic Ocean, where they peeled off and bid the grand liner a farewell as it continued under its own power toward England.

  Courtney and Dodger didn’t see any of that. They had found a quiet little restaurant on a lower deck of the ship that had not yet opened for business. Soon the place would be busy with passengers eager to sample the delights of the renowned kitchens. Until then, it was the perfect place to sit quietly and read Bobby’s journal.

  Courtney finished first. She left the pages with Dodger and gazed through a round porthole at the ocean. She had never been on an ocean liner and didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t sense any movement at all, only the steady thrum of the ship’s engines. As she looked out on the horizon, she knew what she had to do, but had no clue how to go about it.

  “That settles it,” Dodger said with finality. “We made the right move. We should be on this ship.”

  “It’s hard to know what to think,” Courtney said wistfully. “I’m not sure what’s right and wrong anymore. Saint Dane has broken down the barriers between the territories, and it’s about to lead to the final destruction of Veelox. But Mark and I interfered with Eelong and it saved that territory! Now I’m on a ship from the past, trying to change the future back to what it was in the first place. It’s all becoming so incredibly…impossible.”

  “Becoming?” Dodger asked.

  He joined Courtney at the porthole. “All I know is what I read in these journals and what you tell me. I can’t say if it’s okay to monkey with one territory over another. It’s all science fiction to me. But I know the difference between right and wrong. Saint Dane
is going to take those dado things and hurt a lot of people. That’s about as wrong as it gets. If we can stop him by stopping Mark, well, we ain’t got a whole lot of choice.”

  Courtney looked at Dodger. Her eyes were watery. Dodger didn’t ask why, and even if he had, Courtney wouldn’t have had an answer. The list was too long. “Do you really think we can save Veelox by stopping Mark?”

  Dodger chuckled. “I guess it’s possible, but you’re asking the wrong guy. Besides, what else are we gonna do on this tub? Play shuffleboard?”

  Courtney laughed in spite of herself. “This is going to be tough. We’re stowaways, but we can’t hide. We’ve got to search the ship.”

  “Not a problem,” Dodger said with confidence. “Hiding is the worst thing a stowaway could do. I say we stroll around like we owned the ship. Let people see us. Nobody will know if we’ve got a cabin or not. You’re with the right fella, Courtney. This ship is a floating hotel. I know hotels. We’re going to find Mark. The hard part comes after that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve gotta stop him. I can’t help you there.”

  Courtney looked back out at the ocean. The biggest question was still not answered. Why had Mark left Second Earth to change history? Until she learned that, she didn’t know how she would convince him to stop.

  “We don’t have much time,” Courtney cautioned.

  “Nah, we got six days till we dock, plenty of time.”

  “But it isn’t,” Courtney said quickly. “History said that a body from the Queen Mary washed up in New Jersey. Maybe it was Mark and maybe it wasn’t, but whoever it was, unless you believe a body could float from the middle of the ocean all the way back to New Jersey, the shooting is going to happen while we’re still close to the United States.”

  Dodger whistled in awe. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  “So on top of everything else, we’ve got to solve a murder before it happens,” Courtney concluded.

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s get cracking,” Dodger announced enthusiastically. “I say we split up. You search the decks. I’ll bet Mark is out walking around right now. You don’t take a cruise to sit alone in your room.”

  “You don’t know Mark,” Courtney cautioned. “He’s probably in his cabin eating carrots and reading.”

  “Carrots?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s where I come in,” Dodger said confidently. “I’ll get hold of the passenger list and find out what cabin he’s in.”

  “How?”

  “I told you, I know hotels. Trust me.”

  Courtney shrugged. Dodger reached out and took off her floppy hat. “You’re a pretty gal. Don’t go trying to look like a boy. Dressed like that you’re going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

  Courtney looked down at her woolen pants and sweater. She suddenly wished she had thought ahead enough to have worn one of those creepy dresses she’d seen in the shop windows back in New York.

  “I look like one of those immigrants you see in pictures from Ellis Island,” Courtney admitted, discouraged.

  “Don’t worry,” Dodger assured her. “I’ll scare something up for you.”

  Courtney nodded. “Where will I find you?”

  Dodger thought and said, “I’ll meet you on the bow in an hour. Be careful, keep moving. Avoid the crew, but don’t be obvious about it. They don’t know all the passengers yet.”

  “Okay, good luck.”

  “Good hunting.” Dodger tipped his cap and ducked out the door.

  Courtney was alone again. The task ahead was daunting, but clear. Find Mark. Stop him. Save him, but stop him. She knew she couldn’t fail. It was all about his Forge invention. She had to get him to destroy the model. The moment it was gone, she felt sure that history would change, and all would be as it was meant to be. The dados would no longer exist on Veelox, and the war for Ibara would never begin. Bobby would be safe. Mark would be safe. Halla would be safe.

  Courtney stuck her hat in her back pocket and tied her hair up to look as presentable as possible. She took off her sweater and untucked her white shirt. She then tied her sweater around her waist, hoping to look like a sporty kind of girl rather than a stowaway. She looked at her reflection in a mirror that took up an entire wall of the restaurant. She turned up her collar to try looking even more stylish. She realized it was hopeless. She was going to stick out like, well, like a stowaway. She knew her best chance of not getting caught by a crew member was not being seen by a crew member. With that impossible challenge in mind, she set out in search of Mark.

  Her plan was to stick to the areas with the biggest crowds. She figured the odds of spotting Mark were better there. Just as important, she hoped to blend in. Those hopes evaporated as soon as she stepped onto the Promenade Deck. It was a wide, enclosed deck, with a ceiling and windows to protect against the elements. Though the frenzy of the boarding process had died down, the place was still alive with people. None of them looked anything like Courtney.

  There would be no blending in.

  The women all wore dresses or neatly tailored suits. The men were in suits and ties. Courtney always imagined a cruise to be a place where people dressed down and wore shorts and ran around having fun. That wasn’t the case in 1937. She felt like a little kid at a very grown-up party, which is pretty much exactly what she was. Worse, she had crashed the party. She decided the best thing to do was not worry about anything except finding Mark. She thought that if she skulked around looking guilty, somebody was sure to spot her and turn her in. She covered lots of ground quickly and methodically. She first traversed the entire enclosed Promenade Deck, until she ended up back where she’d started. Along the way she kept peering at the men, getting in their faces, hoping one might be Mark. All she got in return was a bunch of strange looks.

  Her next step was to climb up to the Sun Deck, which was named because it had no ceiling and only a handrail along the side. Walking along this deck felt much more like being on a ship. She could feel the sun and the wind and the sea spray. Lifeboats hung high over this deck, which reminded her of the movie Titanic. She shook that image out of her head fast. There was enough to worry about without dwelling on ocean disasters.

  The late afternoon sun was setting, casting warm light on the water. Courtney wished she could have stopped to enjoy it, like so many of the other passengers who leaned out over the rails. That wasn’t going to happen. She was on a mission. She passed a few people she could have sworn were stars she’d seen in ancient movies. What were their names? Clark Gable? Cary Grant? Cary Gable? She saw a chubby guy who looked like an old-time movie comedian, though she wasn’t sure if it was Laurel or Hardy. Or neither. She made a mental note of trying not to think of these people as being from the past, because on First Earth they were very much in the present. She saw hundreds of people, but no Mark.

  Courtney felt much more at ease on the Sports Deck. Here passengers were playing shuffleboard and tennis. Eager sports-minded passengers were out playing in the dying sunlight. Courtney was happy to see that these players didn’t wear dresses and suits. The men wore long pants and sweaters, and the women wore loose skirts. She wanted to hang out on this deck a little more, if only because she didn’t stand out so much in the clothes she had on. It was also kind of unique to watch people playing on the deck of a moving ship at the base of the three massive orange-and-black smokestacks. It might actually have been kind of fun, if it weren’t keeping her from trying to save all of humanity.

  After searching unsuccessfully for nearly an hour, it was time to head toward the bow and her rendezvous with Dodger. She realized with frustration how difficult a task finding Mark was going to be. Finding him would take a huge amount of luck. She hoped that Dodger had been able to find out where his cabin was, because running into Mark by accident seemed impossible. The ship was way too big. As she walked toward the bow, she tried to think like Mark. Where would he go? What would he do? The obvious answer was
that he’d spend most of the time in his cabin, reading. That was Mark. But Mark was curious, too. He’d never been on a ship before. He’d want to know how it worked. He’d explore. What would be one of his first things to do? She didn’t think he’d spend the whole time reading.

  Reading. The realization was as simple as could be. The library. That’s where he’d go. Was there a library on this big ship? There had to be. They had everything else. Without the least bit of concern that they’d ask her who she was and if she had paid for the voyage, she marched right up to one of the stewards, who was serving drinks to a couple tucked snugly into deck chairs.

  “Excuse me, could you tell me where the library is?” she asked politely.

  “Certainly, miss. It’s in Regent Street. Take the—”

  “Got it, thanks,” Courtney said, and jogged off. She didn’t even look back to see what she knew would be curious stares at the bold girl in pants. She knew exactly where Regent Street was and how to get there. After being on the Queen Mary for only a few hours, she was beginning to know her way around. She quickly ran down several flights of narrow, wooden stairs that brought her back to the Promenade Deck. She entered the Regent Street shopping mall and moved quickly past the fancy shops. All she wanted was the library. She found it on the far end. She burst through the door, startling a woman behind a desk, who Courtney figured was the librarian.

  “Oh!” the woman exclaimed.

  “Sorry,” Courtney apologized. She scanned the small room that was ringed with shelves full of leather-bound books. Plenty of books, no people.

  “Can I help you, miss?” the older woman asked pleasantly, having regained her composure.

  “No, thanks,” Courtney said quickly, then got an idea and approached the desk. “Maybe you can. A friend of mine said he was going to reserve some books and wanted me to pick them up. Could you check for me?”

  “Certainly,” the woman said with a slight British accent. “What would his name be?”