“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.” He took the money and stuffed it into his wallet. Mark wanted to get out of there and get back home. He needed to talk to the others.
“Don’t mind her,” the girl whispered. “She’s old school.”
Mark took a chance and asked, “Why was she so ticked that I asked her about the star?”
The girl shrugged. “Who knows? Some people don’t like to talk about it.”
“About what? Tattoos?”
The girl gave Mark a strange stare, as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
“You’re kidding, right?” the girl asked. “I thought you were traveling, not living under a rock.” The girl pulled up her sleeve to reveal that she, too, had the star tattoo on her arm.
Mark gasped. He couldn’t help himself. The room was suddenly getting hot. He backed away, headed for the door.
“What about your receipt?” the girl called.
Mark didn’t answer. He was too busy running away.
SECOND EARTH
(CONTINUED)
“Maybe it’s a Dr. Seuss thing,” Courtney said. “Remember The Sneetches? All the cool birds had ‘stars upon thars’ and wouldn’t hang out with the regular-old Sneetches on the beaches.”
Mark gave her a sour look.
“I was kidding,” Courtney added.
She took a big bite from a carrot. Mark had stopped on the way home to pick up groceries and of course bought carrots. The two sat in the kitchen of Mark’s home, eating and speculating. On the table in front of them was the mysterious book cover.
“Patrick’s been sitting in the living room staring at the TV,” Courtney commented. “He’s like a couch potato from the future. All he needs are chips and dip, and he’ll be set for weeks.”
“Can you blame him?” Mark asked. “The guy’s an academic. This is like the best research project possible. He’s living his own history.”
“Or maybe he’s just too scared to get his butt off the couch,” Courtney quipped, taking another bite of carrot. “I can’t blame him for that, either.”
“It’s weird,” Mark said thoughtfully. “The bank lady didn’t want to talk about the star, and the girl made it seem like it was something everybody knows about.”
“You don’t think it’s just some innocent thing?” Courtney asked. “Like a peace symbol or a yin yang?”
“It’s the symbol that marks the gates, Courtney,” Mark snapped.
“Yeah, but it’s just a star,” Courtney shot back. “It could be coincidence. I mean, stars exist in other places besides the gates.”
“Sure,” Mark said patiently. “Like on this book cover from Third Earth. And hanging over the fireplace in the Sherwood house on top of the flume. And suddenly on the arms of old ladies and young girls and thugs from the future who are willing to torch a library to destroy it and—”
“All right, I get it,” Courtney said, holding up her hands in surrender.
Mark raised the book cover to the light, staring at it for the thousandth time, as if the simple word and symbols would suddenly reveal secrets they hadn’t before. “Ravinia,” he said thoughtfully.
Courtney added, “That sounds kinda like Dr. Seuss too.”
“Stop!”
Courtney huffed and tossed the rest of her carrot into the sink. “I want to go back to my house and get some clothes. Your mom’s stuff is a little too, oh, I don’t know…wrong.” She stood up to show Mark she was wearing a pair of jeans that were two inches above her ankles and a sweater that was so tight it made her look as if she were wearing doll’s clothes. “If Bobby can wear his own boxers, I say I can wear my own things too.”
Mark looked her over and laughed.
“That doesn’t help,” Courtney snarled.
Patrick started yelling from the other room. “Hey! Hey! Come here! Hurry!”
Mark and Courtney bolted from the table and sprinted into the living room. Patrick had sprung to his feet and was standing in front of the couch, staring at the television screen.
“What?” Courtney yelled.
“Look!” he shouted, pointing to the TV.
It was a huge, flat-screen monitor that the Dimonds did not have when Mark left Second Earth. On screen was a montage of happy, wide-eyed faces, all looking up at something while raising their hands. There were all kinds of people, all ages and races. Stirring music played. It seemed to Mark like some kind of inspirational film. The image became wider to reveal there were many people. Thousands. All looking up at the same thing.
“What is it?” Courtney asked, confused.
“Keep watching,” Patrick ordered.
A smooth but authoritative man’s voice cut through the music, saying, “It is yours. It is ours. It is everything.”
More faces were seen. Multiple images, fading in and out, superimposed over one another. All seemed to be in awe of something. Close-ups were superimposed over wider shots of hundreds of people.
“Touch it,” the voice offered. “Feel it. Become part of it.”
“This is kind of creepy,” Courtney grumbled.
“Shhh!” Mark implored.
The joyous faces were replaced by a close-up image of an old man. He looked to be in his seventies, with salt-and-pepper hair that was perfectly combed. The guy looked like a kind grandpa with strong eyes. He wasn’t a doddering old man. He was sharp. He held a small, warm smile as he gazed out onto the sea of faces. It was the old man that all these people were looking at and holding up their hands to. The images became even wider to reveal that he was wearing a simple white robe and standing on a circular stage above the huge crowd of people. His arms were spread, as if he wanted to hug them all in his loving embrace.
“Yeah so?” Courtney said impatiently. “Looks like some kind of televangelist.”
“Wait,” Patrick cautioned.
The voice then said, “The Convergence is upon us.”
“What?” Courtney shouted.
“Shhh!” Patrick chastised.
The voice continued, “March twelfth. Madison Square Garden. Touch the future and the past.”
The old man stood on the stage in the center of a sea of arms and adoring faces. It looked like a sports arena. People on every level were reaching their arms out as if to touch him, but were too far away to make actual contact. The music reached a crescendo as a huge image appeared above the man for all to see.
Courtney gasped.
“Oh man,” Mark whispered.
It was the star. The star from the gate. It exploded with light. The crowd cheered. Some seemed overcome with the image and fainted dead away. The eyes of the others sparkled with the light that glowed from the giant star. The image was replaced by a glowing, animated version of the star that filled the TV screen against a background of black. The music rang out and the voice said with passion, “Ravinia. Yesterday, today, and forever.” The star faded out. The screen went black. A second later regular programming continued. A rerun of Seinfeld. Courtney, Mark, and Patrick stared at the screen, stunned.
It was Mark who was able to speak first. “Did he say the Convergence was upon us?”
“Yeah,” Courtney confirmed. “And Ravinia.”
“Who is he?” Patrick demanded.
Mark and Courtney shook their heads and shrugged. Neither had ever seen him before.
“What is a Madison Square Garden?” Patrick asked.
“Big indoor stadium in New York City,” Courtney answered. “That was like a commercial to promote an event there.”
“It was like a commercial to promote the Convergence!” Mark corrected. “Could that have been Saint Dane?”
Patrick nodded thoughtfully. “March twelfth. That’s today.”
Mark plopped down on the couch. The Seinfeld episode was loud. The characters were complaining about something, as usual. Mark looked around, annoyed. “Where is the remote?”
Patrick called out, “Turn off.”
The TV turned off.
&nb
sp; “Oh,” Mark uttered, numb.
Patrick faced the others. “None of that was familiar to you?” he demanded to know. “The gray-haired man? The people? The sentiment?”
“No,” Courtney said. Mark shook his head.
“What about the Convergence?” Patrick added. “Is it some definite event that can just…happen?”
Mark said, “You’re assuming it’s Saint Dane’s Convergence.”
“Like there could be two?” Courtney shouted back sarcastically. “Slight coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Mark fretted.
Patrick paced, deep in thought. “We need to know who that man is,” Patrick concluded.
“And if the Convergence is going to happen tonight,” Courtney added.
“That too.” Patrick paced more quickly, the tension rising in his voice. “Whoever that guy is, he’s got a following. Those people looked at him as though he’s some kind of…of…god. If he didn’t exist on Second Earth before, there’s a good chance that whatever he’s doing, it’s going to lead to the changes on Third Earth.”
“We should go to that event at Madison Square Garden,” Mark offered.
“I’d rather go see the Knicks play,” Courtney complained.
“I need to get to a library,” Patrick announced, ignoring her. “That man didn’t just show up yesterday. We need to find out everything we can about him.”
“Use the Internet,” Mark offered. “My computer’s upstairs. But it’s not like on Third Earth. No holograms. No huge databases. You’re going to think it’s all pretty crude.”
“If a guy has that kind of impact, I don’t think the database will have to be all that deep to find him,” Patrick said with authority. “We have to know how he got started. Where he came from. How he ended up having such a big following. That kind of information has to exist, and I can find it.”
Mark smiled at Courtney. Courtney gave a little shrug.
“Glad you’re with the program,” Mark said to Patrick.
“It’s what I do,” Patrick replied with confidence.
“Do what you can,” Mark said. “Then we’ll head into the city.”
Soon after, Patrick sat at Mark’s computer doing his best to dig through the crude (to him) data that was available on the Internet. Mark and Courtney left him alone to work undisturbed and went to Courtney’s house to get her clothes. It was within walking distance of Mark’s, but through a neighborhood where people knew them. It would have been safer to make the trip at night, but Courtney’s parents would have been home. They had to go during the day. They walked casually but quickly, so as not to draw any attention, and arrived without a problem. As with Mark’s house, the extra key was hidden near the back door.
“We’ve got to do this fast,” Mark cautioned. “If your parents come home, or if somebody spots us—”
“We’ll be in and out in five minutes,” Courtney assured him.
Courtney opened the back door and stepped inside. As much as she wanted the clothes, she worried that this visit would be difficult. She was wrong. It was worse than difficult. It hurt. She was prepared to see things that would make her lament the loss of her old life. She was prepared for that. What she didn’t expect to have to deal with were the smells. Stepping into her kitchen, she was met with a wave of familiarity that had everything to do with the normal smells of her house. It immediately brought her back to the times she ran in the back door after playing ball, looking for her mom and the cookies she knew would be baking. Courtney thought she recognized the faint, familiar smells of those sweet cookies, and she was hit with a sad wave of nostalgia for a time that would never again exist. Once her head went there, it was tough to stay focused. What bothered her most was the notion that her parents must have thought she was dead. She had been gone for over three months. Were they still searching for her? Or had she become a “cold case”? It bothered Courtney to know that her parents were going through such grief. Her older brothers as well. She hoped her brothers had come home to spend some time with their mom and dad and deal with it all as a family.
Courtney’s heart ached knowing that she would never be part of that family again. At that moment, she had a fleeting thought of calling it all off and staying at home. For good. It would have been so easy for her to walk up the stairs, throw open her bedroom door, and crawl into bed.
“It’s tough,” Mark said with sympathy. He knew.
All Courtney did was nod. She quickly wiped away a tear and declared, “Let’s get this over with.”
She led Mark through the kitchen and into the living room, making a beeline toward the stairs while trying not to focus on anything that might affect her again. She didn’t want to see the family pictures. Or the artwork she did as a child that was still hanging in the living room. She really didn’t want to see the dado cat or anything else that might stop her from completing her mission.
It didn’t work out that way. When Courtney entered the living room, she froze. Mark stood still behind her, just as stunned. What she saw wasn’t a fond memory of the past, it was something she feared was a taste of the future.
“Oh man,” she gasped.
Hanging over the fireplace was a large star.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if this was here when you left,” Mark said.
“Whatever that is,” Courtney said softly, “my family is part of it now.”
Courtney stared at the star a moment, then turned away, headed back toward the kitchen.
“Forget it,” she said abruptly. “I gotta get out of here. I’ll find some other clothes.”
Before she could take a second step, the front door of the house flew open, smashing against the wall. The sound was so loud it made them both jump in surprise. They spun to see five men enter quickly. They all wore dark red clothing and small-brimmed red caps.
One man, who seemed to be the leader, called out, “Don’t move, please.”
“Like hell!” Courtney shouted, and ran for the kitchen.
Mark was right behind her. They sprinted for the back door, but before Courtney could grab it, that door flew open as well.
“Ahh!” Courtney screamed.
More men poured in. They were dressed the same as the others, only these men were holding something over their faces, like masks. Courtney took a swing at the first guy. The man ducked it easily. She wound up for another punch, too late. The next man through the door held up a small canister.
“Look out!” Mark yelled to Courtney.
She didn’t. The man sprayed something in her face, hitting her with a thick, wet mist. Courtney thought it smelled like lemons. A second later her world twisted. She glanced back to see Mark on his back. He had gotten an even bigger whiff of the lemons. Courtney fell to her knees, beginning to lose consciousness. She looked up at the intruders with the fleeting thought that her parents couldn’t be involved with these monsters. How could they be?
She had one more thought before folding. The man who held up the canister had a star tattooed on his arm. She wondered if her parents were tattooed as well.
Her cheek hit the floor and she was gone.
JOURNAL #34
IBARA
It feels strange to write these words, but I have to because, well, they are the truth.
Mark, Courtney, I am having an amazingly great time. I guess I’m feeling kind of guilty about it, because I shouldn’t be having so much fun when you consider that the reason I’m here is because of a brutal war and the near destruction of a territory. Maybe Saint Dane is right. You’ve got to break something down before you can rebuild.
Whoa. Did I just write that? Did I actually agree with something Saint Dane said? Oh great. There’s something else to feel guilty about. But not really. This is different. Saint Dane’s plan for the destruction of Ibara was intentional. He was trying to bring it about. I’m just dealing with the end result of events that were beyond my control. I’m coming from a completely different place. I gues
s you could say that I’m trying to make the best of it, and it’s working out pretty well.
I suppose “fun” isn’t the best word to describe what I’m doing. I’ve actually been working really hard. Cleaning up the wreckage of Rayne was grueling. I wrote all about that before. Every last person who lives in Rayne did their part, and we were left with a clean slate. The beach was clear. We saved many of the beautiful palm trees. Tribunal Mountain was intact. What followed was the rebuilding of a village.
I won’t go into all the details of the work because it was extensive. Rayne may have been a simple fishing village built on a quiet tropical bay, but it was surprisingly sophisticated. As much as the tribunal didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past and become slaves to technology, some of the more rudimentary elements of civilization were used once again. Pipes were replaced to bring running water back through the village. The simple power grid needed repair so that each new hut would have light. The communication system was intact because it was powered from Tribunal Mountain. There were engineers who maintained each of those systems, and oversaw their rebuilding.
My crew worked on rebuilding the huts. For me it was the best job, because the results were tangible. After a hard day’s work we had an actual, physical structure to show for it. Simple as that. I guess it was symbolic as much as anything, but seeing these structures begin to dot the sand gave me the gratification of knowing I was working to make something real. Maybe guilt played in there a little bit as well. I was the one who brought the tak to Ibara that destroyed the village in the first place. Of course, it would have been worse if Saint Dane had his way, but still. I had a hand in leveling the place, and now I’m having a very big hand in rebuilding it. It’s an awesome feeling to do something so positive. There are no downsides here. I’m feeling great.
Another good thing is that the people of Rayne seem to like me. I’m no longer considered a mysterious outsider. I’m one of them. They trust me and follow me. I’m in charge of many workers, and they could easily blow me off, but they haven’t. I think I’m a good leader. I try to be fair and spread the workload, and I never ask somebody to do something I wouldn’t do myself. I think they respect that. It’s keeping me in great shape, too. I’m putting on some serious muscle. That’ll happen when you’re lugging around lengths of building materials all day.
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