The Never War

by D. J. MacHale

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 the Hindenburg’s nose 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.

  JOURNAL #12

  FIRST EARTH

  The shot came from somewhere ahead of me, toward the incoming Hindenburg. I stepped on the 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.

  The Hindenburg was 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 the Hindenburg was 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 the Hindenburg’s engines. 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.

  My friend arched his neck and saw me standing there. The pained, desperate look on his face made me cringe.

  “Pendragon!” he cried. “Don’t let those people die!” His voice cracked with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes. In his mind, we were about to let thirty-six people die. He didn’t understand the bigger picture.

  And at that moment, neither did I.

  The reality of what was about to happen hit me like a punch in the gut. What was happening? I suddenly had the lives of thirty-six people in my hands. All I had to do was lean down, move the rocket, and they would be saved. It would be so easy. Farrow wouldn’t be able to stop me because he was tangled up with Spader.

  “Nothing you can do about it now!” Farrow laughed. “Max Rose is gonna go down in flames, just like this ship!”

  “Please, mate!” Spader begged me, in tears. “They’re all going to die!”

  I looked up at the ship. The lights were on in the gondola. That’s where the people were. The people whose lives would soon be filled with terror. I looked down at the rocket. The fuse was nearly burnt, but I still had time. All I had to do was kick it out of the way. Simple as that. One move from me and the ship would arrive to the cheers of all the spectators. The newspapers would carry a very different, triumphant story and thirty-six people would still be alive.

  It was at that moment I realized I couldn’t let them die.

  The concept of history changing so that the Nazis would develop the atomic bomb and win the war seemed impossible at that moment. But those people up in that airship were very real. They were about to die, and I could save them. So I bent down and reached out to move the rocket.

  “Pendragon,” came a soft, calm voice.

  I turned to see Gunny standing behind me. He was as calm as if standing in the lobby of his beloved hotel greeting guests. He looked at me with his warm, knowing eyes and said the one thing that made sense. It was a phrase I had heard many times before. It was supposed to help explain our lives and the lives of all Travelers. It was supposed to give the feeling that all was well with Halla, and we were on the side of right. It was supposed to explain our sorrow and loss. I heard it when my uncle died, when Osa died, and when my family disappeared. It always seemed to come at the worst possible times.

  Gunny said softly, “This is the way it was meant to be.”

  I held his gaze for a second. He smiled. I looked back at the rocket. A million thoughts flashed through my head. But one thought rose above all the others.

  I couldn’t let those people die. I didn’t have it in me.

  “I’m sorry, Gunny,” I said. “I can’t do it.”

  I took a step toward the rocket, prepared to kick it away. I’d worry about the consequences later. I was a second away from saving the Hindenburg when I felt Gunny’s arms wrap around me in a firm bear hug.

  “Then let me do it,” he said softly.

  He was stopping me from kicking the rocket! I struggled to get away. All day I had been desperate to get here to make sure history played out the way it was supposed to. Now I was desperate to save that ship and those people.

  “Gunny, let go!” I pleaded. But Gunny held firm.

  “No!” screamed Spader in anguish.

  An instant later the fuse hit the powder, and the rocket flamed to life. It blasted off its wooden launch pad and streaked into the sky, headed toward a very big target.

  JOURNAL #12

  FIRST EARTH

  How do you describe a nightmare?

  A nightmare is an exercise of the mind. It digs up your deepest fears and throws them in your face with only one purpose—to terrify. You can’t control a nightmare. The ghastly images come at you like a raging storm. The best you can do is ride it out and hope it will end. And it does end. When you wake up, you know that as real as the frightening experience may have seemed, it existed only in your mind.

  The next few minutes could best be described as a nightmare. The only difference being, it wasn’t happening in my mind.

  We watched as the missile shot toward the dark shadow that was the Hindenburg. For the few seconds it took to streak upward, it was like time stood still. I wanted to grab those few seconds and hold on to them, because once they were gone, the horror would begin.

  The rocket hit the blimp in front of the tail section. Start the clock. In thirty-seven seconds it would be over.

  Gunny said softly, “We should go.” His voice cracked. He was shaken as badly as I was.

  Winn Farrow had already released Spader. The four of us quickly backed away to get out from under harm’s way. We knew what was coming. It was going to be ugly. As we moved back, I kept my eyes on the airship.

  The fire spread impossibly fast. First the burning material from the exploded rocket sprayed over a large section of the zeppelin. Then the coating of the balloon caught fire. The flames spread quickly over the skin of the airship, gobbling up the soft, silver covering. In seconds the skeletal frame of the ship was exposed. Then it began to fall, tail first. Once the tail sank, the flames spread up toward the nose, fueled by the burning hydrogen gas that was now being released.

  I saw both of the swastikas on the tail crumble into the ground and burst into flames. It was a symbolic moment and the one small victory I took from this calamity.

  People scattered, running for their lives. The ground crew dropped their lines and fled in terror. It was all they could do.

  Then the passenger gondola under the burning zeppelin hit the ground. Instantly people inside smashed out the windows and jumped to safety. Amazingly, a few people walked down the access stairs and simply stepped off. They were the lucky ones. As soon as their feet hit the ground, they ran for their lives, as bits of burning material fell around them like fiery rain. These people would survive. But there were many people still trapped inside who wouldn’t be so lucky.

  I had seen all this before, in the computer library on Third Earth. But now I was seeing it for real. Close-up. I felt the heat. I saw the shocked, terrorized faces. I heard the screams. But the most horrible feeling of all was that we could have stopped it from happening…and didn’t.

  I then saw something that was hard to believe. While all the people were fleeing from the disaster, there was one person who actually ran toward it. At first I thought it might be a brave rescue worker who was going to valiantly try to pull people from the dying ship. But as he got closer, I saw who it really was.

  It was Max Rose. I had no idea how he got there. Maybe it was the police who picked him up from the scene of the crash, or maybe some of his gang found him on the side of the road. It didn’t matter. He was no
w running crazily toward the doomed gondola. We’ll never know what was going through his mind, but I can guess. He was going to try and save his money. As insane as that was, it was the only possible explanation. His mind must have snapped. Or maybe he knew his world was going to crumble anyway, so why not make one last ditch effort to save it?

  Nobody tried to stop him. Everything was happening too fast, and there was only one thing on anyone’s mind: survival. Max Rose actually made it all the way to the gondola and climbed aboard. It was the last time he was ever seen. In a way, history had returned to normal. Max Rose was destined to die on May 6, 1937. The only difference was that it wouldn’t be in a car crash. It was in the burning wreckage of the Hindenburg.

  A second later the huge, flaming airship collapsed. The framework that was still in the shape of a zeppelin crumpled in on itself. A storm of sparks flew into the air, and the once majestic airship was reduced to nothing more than a giant heap of burning embers.

  Thirty-seven seconds.

  As I stood there feeling the heat from the massive fire, I saw something that actually gave me a chill. It was a bird. A large, black bird. It soared over the flames like a shadow, made a sharp turn, and shot over our heads. Then with one quick snap of its wings, it flew off into the night. Was it Saint Dane? Had he been there to witness his latest failure?

  I didn’t think so. I thought he was there to mock me. The Travelers had won, yes. We had insured that history would play out the way it was supposed to. The Earth territories were safe. But did Saint Dane truly care? Or like he said, was this about me?

  The truth came clear to me in that one, horrible moment. Everything that had happened, all of Saint Dane’s manipulations, were about putting me here, in this exact spot. When the critical moment arrived, I didn’t have the strength to stop the rocket. He knew I wouldn’t be able to do it. He knew. He wanted to see me fail.

  The Travelers may have won the battle here on First Earth, but Saint Dane has won the war. He proved that I was no match for him.