The Never War tpa-3

by D. J. MacHale

  It would be the end of the Earth territories, now and forever.

  FIRST EARTH

  There was only one way I could get to the airfield. I had to take the car.

  I had driven a grand total of once. I was thirteen years old, my mother was in the passenger seat and we were in an empty parking lot with all sorts of room for error. That experience didn’t exactly qualify me for the Indy 500. But hey, I had already jumped out of an airplane in the middle of a thunderstorm, rappelled down the side of a hotel, and lived through a horrendous, flipping wreck. How much worse could driving a car be?

  A quick glance around the accident scene told me nobody was going to stop me. Max Rose was lying on the side of the road, unconscious. So was the motorcycle cop. The only guy I had to deal with was the thug who was still in the car, slumped in the passenger seat. Out cold. No way I was taking him along for the ride.

  This was the same guy who had grabbed Spader and me and dragged us around the hotel like we were bags of trash. I didn’t mind returning the favor, so I grabbed his jacket and pulled. The guy barely moved. He was twice my size and totally limp. It was like trying to maneuver a huge bag of bowling balls.

  I guess my adrenaline kicked in because on my second try I was able to drag him out headfirst. His shoulders hit the ground with a dull thud. Sorry, dude. I then dug my legs in and dragged the rest of his bulk out of the seat. I didn’t have to feel bad for the guy, he was totally out of it. I made sure to drag his deadweight far enough away from the car so that if something wacky happened with me behind the wheel, I wouldn’t run the poor guy over.

  I then jumped into the driver’s seat and instantly realized I was in trouble.

  This was an old-time car. It didn’t have an automatic transmission. It had a stick shift on the steering column and a clutch pedal on the floor that I was going to have to learn how to use real fast. My father’s car had a stick shift, so at least I knew the basics. I used to sit in his car in the garage with the engine off, pretending to drive. He hated that. He thought I was wearing out the clutch or something. But it was a good thing I had done it because now I knew how to shift. Sort of. The trick was to push the clutch pedal all the way to the floor, put the car in gear, then gently lift the pedal back up while stepping on the gas. If it was done smoothly, the car would move. If it wasn’t, the car would stall out. It was a touchy-feely thing. I didn’t have the touch or the feel. This was going to be interesting.

  The engine was still running, so at least I didn’t have to worry about starting it up. I moved the seat as far forward as possible so I could reach the pedals. I put my foot down on the clutch, moved the gear lever up to what I thought was first gear, then gently released the clutch while pressing on the gas.

  The car began to roll forward. This was going to work! On the first try, no less. I grabbed the wheel, looked forward, and stepped on the gas.

  The car bucked twice and stalled. Man! Not only did I not know how to drive, now I had to figure out how to start the car. I had to force myself not to panic.

  There was a key in the dashboard, but when I turned it, nothing happened. For a second I thought the car was officially dead. After all, it had just been through a pretty hairy crash. Still, maybe I was doing something wrong. There weren’t a whole lot of control knobs on the dashboard. Remember, this was long before the age of CD players, air-conditioning, and cruise control. I saw one knob that worked the headlights and another that turned on the windshield wipers. That was pretty much it.

  Then I spotted a small, silver button below the dashboard. I had never seen a button like this on a car, but then again, I had never been in a car made in 1937 either. What did I have to lose? Unless it operated an ejection seat, it wouldn’t hurt to press it. So I did…and the engine groaned to life. Yes! I had found the starter button.

  The car bucked forward and stalled again. That’s because I still had it in gear. What a dope. I jammed my foot down on the clutch pedal to disengage the gears, then hit the silver button again. After a few coughing backfires, the engine rumbled back to life. Excellent. Now I had to move. Four times I tried to get rolling in first gear, four times it stalled out. I was wasting precious time and getting ready to abandon ship and start running.

  I decided to give it one more try. This time I gave it lots of gas. When I felt the car start to shake and stall again, I gave it even more gas. I thought the car was going to rattle into pieces, but a second later the ride smoothed out and I was moving. I had done it.

  But getting the car to move was only the first step. Now I had to drive. This is where it got scary. I was so focused on getting the car moving, I didn’t look at where I was going. As soon as I remembered to look up, I saw Max Rose standing right in front of the car! He had somehow gotten his huge bulk vertical and was now staggering toward me. I yanked the wheel hard and barely missed him. But now I was in the dirt on the side of the road. I didn’t dare step on the brakes because I didn’t want to stall out and have to go through that whole start-up ordeal again. So I kept my foot down on the gas and desperately cranked on the wheel, trying to get back on the road. After bouncing around and nearly missing a couple of rocks, a tree, and a stop sign, I finally got the tires back on pavement.

  I was on my way.

  As I pointed the car down the road and focused on keeping it straight, I heard the far-off sound of a siren headed my way. I didn’t want to be stopped by a cop. No way. I had to get far away from the accident scene, so I gritted my teeth and put the pedal to the metal.

  It was a good thing there wasn’t much traffic out there in the boonies because I was all over the road. The steering wheel was huge and turning it was hard. Every little adjustment was an effort. Man, you had to be strong back in those days just to drive! It took me a few minutes, but I kind of got the hang of it. I even changed gears when the engine started to rev really fast. I didn’t exactly feel ready to take my driver’s license test, but at least I was on my way.

  This whole adventure wasted ten minutes. It was 7:10. Fifteen minutes left. But at least I was headed toward the airfield.

  Now that I knew I was going to get there, my thoughts turned to what I would do once I arrived. Truth was, I had no idea. Spader and the gangster were going to try to stop Winn Farrow. I had to stop them from stopping him. But how? One step at a time. First I had to get there in one piece. After that, I’d have to wing it.

  I pressed the car on even faster. The speed scared me, but I couldn’t be late. That point was driven home hard when I rounded a bend in the road, cleared a few trees, and saw a spectacular sight before me. I was driving along a rise that gave me a perfect view of my destination.

  It was the airfield. Because I was still a mile or so away, I had a wide-angle view of the scene. The weather had cleared, and though the sun had already slipped below the horizon, the sky was still light enough to give me a pretty good look at the place. It wasn’t huge by modern-day standards. It was a lonely airport in the middle of nowhere. There were a few runways that crisscrossed each other, and I saw several planes parked wing to wing. There were a few airplane hangars, but one stood out from the rest. It was giant. I meanreallyenormous. There was only one massive door, which told me this was the hangar where they kept the zeppelins. Aside from that colossal hangar, there was nothing all that unique about this place, except for one other very obvious thing:

  TheHindenburghad arrived.

  I glanced at my watch. It was 7:15. I had ten minutes before Winn Farrow would shoot his rocket to destroy the blimp. But it looked like theHindenburgwas already lining itself up for the final approach. There was a big crowd gathered, with floodlights blasting skyward, lighting up the silver-skinned zeppelin as if it were daytime. I’m guessing that the airship was still about a half mile from the landing point. But with something that big, a half mile wasn’t very far at all. It was an awesome and frightening sight.

  The ship was traveling from my right to left. It was a scene that looked all too familiar. All the
pictures of the burning ship I had ever seen were taken with its nose pointing to the left. The crowd was all gathered to one side-the ship’s left side. That’s where all the pictures were taken from. Having seen those pictures, I knew exactly where I needed to be. Winn Farrow must be somewhere on the ship’s far side. The right side. It was the only place he could be and not be seen by the gathered crowd. The question was, would I get there in time to stop Spader?

  As I drove closer to the airfield, I passed the same bus I thought Spader had taken. It was pulled over to the side of the road and all the passengers were out, watching the arrival of the airship. I wasn’t sure why they had stopped here, this far away. A few seconds later I had my answer.

  As I drove closer to the airfield I saw that a high, chain-link fence surrounded the place. There was a security check set up at the gated entrance, and guys in Navy uniforms were checking people’s identification before letting them drive in. That meant they were only letting in authorized personnel.

  And I was about as unauthorized as you could get.

  There was no way I was going to drive through the front gate and past that security team. I’d probably get arrested for driving without a license, anyway. And arrested for car theft. So before I reached the gate, I turned the wheel and stayed on the road that ran parallel to the fence.

  As I cruised past the gate, a few of the Navy guards looked up at me. I sat up extra straight, trying to look like an adult. I’m happy to report that nobody came after me.

  But now what? I followed the road that led around the perimeter of the field, hoping to find another entrance that wasn’t being watched as closely. Time was running out. I was beginning to think that I was going to have to go back to the main entrance, gun the car, and blast my way through. What other choice would I have?

  Then, halfway around to the far side of the airfield, I found another way in. It was a smaller gate and there were no Navy guys doing security. Yes! I cranked the steering wheel and turned the car into the gate. As I passed through, I saw why this entrance wasn’t being guarded.

  Two Navy guards were lying in the grass, bound and gagged. Somebody who didn’t belong there had jumped them and gotten inside. Was it Winn Farrow and his gang? Or was it Spader and Max Rose’s pal? Or both? It didn’t matter. I was in the right place. I didn’t stop to untie the guards. They were on their own.

  It was getting darker. I thought about putting on my headlights, but I didn’t want anybody to see me coming. One glance ahead showed me that theHindenburg’snose was now pointed to my right. I had made it all the way around to the far side, exactly where I needed to be. Somewhere around here, Winn Farrow was camped out and ready to light the fuse on his deadly rocket. Somewhere around here too, was Spader. I glanced at my watch. It was 7:20. Going by history, only a few minutes were left before all hell would break loose. That meant whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen soon.

  That’s when I heard a gunshot.

  FIRST EARTH

  The shot came from somewhere ahead of me, toward the incomingHindenburg. I stepped onthe gas and headed that way. I soon saw a cluster of small wooden huts. They were probably storage sheds. But more than that, they looked like the perfect place where somebody could hide and set up a rocket. I gunned it for those buildings, not really sure what I would find when I got there, or what I would do.

  That’s when I saw the motorcycle Spader and the gangster had taken off on. They were here, all right. I pulled the car up to the motorcycle and slammed on the brakes. Instantly the car bucked and stalled again. I didn’t care. It had gotten me here.

  Then I heard another shot. It was coming from around the corner of the small building closest to me. I jumped out of the car and cautiously made my way forward.

  TheHindenburgwas now almost directly overhead. The loud drone of its multiple engines filled the air. Since the floodlights were all on the far side, this side of the ship was thrown into shadow. It felt like a huge, ominous cloud was settling in.

  When I rounded the corner of the building, my heart leaped. Right in front of me, crouched down behind some wooden crates for protection, were Spader and the gangster. The two were peering out at another wooden building about twenty yards farther ahead.

  I knew Farrow must have been hiding there.

  I then heard another shot. A nanosecond later something hit directly over my head, and a splinter of wood was torn away from the wall. I ducked, then took a closer look. The bullet had embedded itself right over my head. Now I knew why Spader and the gangster were hiding. Someone was shooting at them. I crouched down low and ran to join them.

  “Spader!” I called out with a loud whisper.

  Spader turned toward me quickly. So did the gangster. The thug had a gun and pointed it right at my nose.

  “Pendragon!” Spader shouted with surprise. He pushed the barrel of the gun away from me. The gangster saw it was me and quickly turned his attention back to his enemies.

  “Farrow’s right over there!” Spader said quickly. His eyes were wide with excitement. “There’s two of ‘em.”

  “There’s only one,” the gangster corrected. “I already plugged one. Farrow’s alone.”

  Oh, great. There was already blood spilled.

  “It’s a tum-tigger, mate,” Spader said breathlessly. “He’s going to fire the rocket any second.”

  “Not if I can help it,” the gangster declared.

  He then did something I couldn’t believe. He jumped up from behind his protection and made a kamikaze run toward Farrow. Man, this guy was dedicated. He was making a suicide run to protect Max Rose and his criminal empire. This guy should get the gangster of the month award.

  Though he was being very brave, he was also incredibly stupid. There was a twenty-yard stretch of open grass between our hiding place and Winn Farrow. The charging gangster had no protection. He only made it a few steps when three shots were fired. The gangster spun and went down hard.

  “No!” Spader shouted, and made a move to jump from behind the crates and do the same thing himself. But I grabbed him.

  “You can’t!” I shouted.

  “He’s going to blow up the ship!” he shouted back. “Saint Dane is going to win!”

  “No!” I said while holding him back. “This is exactly what Saint Dane wants. He wants us to stop Winn Farrow. Didn’t you hear me before?”

  “That doesn’t make sense!” Spader shot back. “How could you know that?”

  I looked Spader right in the eye. There was no way I could quickly explain to him all that we had seen on Third Earth. There was only one way I could convince him. I spoke calmly and directly. I didn’t want to let emotions get in the way.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  “You know I do,” Spader answered.

  “Then believe me. Our job is to make sure the ship blows up. I know it’s horrible, but it’s the truth. We’ve been through a lot together, Spader. You know me; you know what it means to be a Traveler. You’ve got to put your faith in me.”

  Spader and I held eye contact. I tried to will him into believing me. I could tell he was wrestling with feelings of trust in me, and what his brain told him was reality.

  It kills me to say this, but his brain won. He pushed me away so quickly I didn’t have time to brace myself, and I fell back on my butt.

  “Sorry, mate,” he said. “I can’t let this happen.”

  “Spader, don’t!” I shouted. It was too late. He jumped over the wooden crates, headed for Winn Farrow.

  I cringed, ready to hear the gunshots that would hit him like they hit the gangster. But they didn’t. I scrambled to my feet, gazed over the crates and saw an incredible sight.

  Spader wasn’t running. He was standing stock-still in the clearing between the wooden crates and the small hut. He had stopped because Gunny was blocking his way. Gunny had picked up the pistol from the fallen gangster blocking his way and now stood between Spader and Winn Farrow.

  Overhead theHi
ndenburgwas floating closer to the ground. Guide lines were thrown out from the zeppelin and workers scrambled to grab them and control the huge ship.

  “I’m sorry,” Gunny said calmly. “I can’t let you pass.”

  I couldn’t believe it had come to this. One Traveler was holding a gun on another Traveler.

  Spader glanced up at the airship. He knew he didn’t have any time left. He looked at Gunny and said, “You won’t shoot me, Gunny. You can’t.”

  Gunny flinched. Spader was right. There was no way Gunny would shoot him. It was a bluff. Gunny slowly lowered the pistol.

  “The ship has to be destroyed,” Gunny said.

  Spader wasn’t listening. He ran forward, determined to get to Winn Farrow. Gunny bent his knees and tried to grab him, but Spader was too strong. He hit the older man like a fullback and knocked him flat on his back. Now there was nothing to stop him. I expected Farrow to shoot him, but no shots came. He was either out of bullets or focused on his rocket.

  I jumped out from behind the crates and sprinted after Spader.

  “Spader! Stop!” I shouted. But he couldn’t hear me over the roar of theHindenburg’sengines. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He was on a mission, and no amount of yelling from me would stop him.

  When I got to the building, I saw that Spader had nailed Farrow the same way he hit Gunny. He had barreled into Farrow and knocked the crazy little guy to the ground. Now the two of them wrestled in the dirt.

  I saw something else. On the ground, a few feet from them, was Farrow’s rocket. It was nailed into a board that acted as a makeshift launch pad. Its nose was pointed up at the incoming zeppelin, and the fuse was lit. The deadly rocket was poised and ready to bring the airship down.

  The fight between Farrow and Spader was one-sided. Farrow was small, but he was a battler. Spader wasn’t. The gangster was too much for him, and the fight only lasted a few seconds. Farrow quickly had Spader pinned to the ground with an arm twisted behind his back. There was no way Spader could get to the rocket now.