“I was, wasn’t I?” Dodger quipped. He pulled away from Courtney, quickly pushing aside a tear. “Take care of yourself now, would you, sister? If you ever get back here again, you know where to find me.”
“I’m sure you’ll be running the hotel by then,” Courtney said with a smile.
“Hey, I run it now!” The bellhop tipped his cap, backed away, and left after giving them all one final, “Good luck.”
“We should go,” Mark announced.
Patrick shook hands with the Dimonds, saying, “Someday you’ll know how much those two kids have been through.”
“I’m not so sure I want to,” Mrs. Dimond replied.
Courtney hugged both the Dimonds. “Don’t worry about us. Worry about messing up KEM.”
Mark stood in front of his parents. Nobody quite knew what tosay.
“Shouldn’t you pack something?” Mrs. Dimond asked. “No, Mom. We can’t bring things between territories, remember?” Mrs. Dimond nodded quickly. She hadn’t. Mr. Dimond said, “I feel as if I’m sending my only son off to war.”
Mark shrugged, but said nothing. The truth was, that’s exactly what was happening.
“We’ll be in touch if we can. Try not to worry. And watch your backs. We still don’t know what Nevva is up to.”
“We will, son.” Mr. Dimond hugged Mark.
Mark then gave his mother a big hug. She was crying.
“I want to see you again” was all she could get out.
“You will,” Mark answered with authority. “I promise.”
They traveled to the flume in silence, taking a cab north to the subway station that held the gate. They descended the stairs to the station and walked quickly to the far end of the platform. Luckily, it wasn’t busy, so they wouldn’t have to worry about being seen when they climbed down onto the tracks to make their way to the flume. Before they descended, Patrick stopped and looked around at the First Earth subway stop.
“There was something strange,” he declared. “On Third Earth.”
“More strange than what you’ve already told us?” Courtney asked.
Patrick looked around, his mind trying to grasp a fleeting idea. “It was at the gate. I knew it would be different from what I was used to, since all Third Earth was different. But the changes to the gate were just…odd.”
“How so?” Mark asked.
“I took me nearly a day to find it,” Patrick explained. “I just had my memory of being on Second and First Earth to go on. I figured the gate looked something like this, only derelict, like the rest of Third Earth.”
“It didn’t?” Courtney asked.
“No. If it weren’t for my ring glowing, I never would have found it. The flume was under a collapsed building. It wasn’t underground.”
“You mean it was out in the open?” Courtney asked, incredulous.
“No, but it seemed as if at some point it had been unearthed, and the only thing covering it was the wreck of the building.”
“What do you think that means?” Mark asked.
Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think we’re going to have to find out.”
A few minutes later Mark, Courtney, and Patrick stood in front of the flume beneath the streets of the Bronx. They stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the dark tunnel.
“Last thoughts?” Mark asked.
He looked at Courtney. Courtney gave a shrug and said, “This has been coming for a long time. At least the wait is over.”
Mark looked to Patrick, who was staring into the depths of the flume. Mark thought that he looked pale. “You okay?” Mark asked.
“I may be the Traveler here,” Patrick said with a shaky voice, “but you two have been through a heck of a lot more than I have.”
Courtney gave him a friendly punch in the arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this.”
Mark added, “And who’s gonna get us through this?”
“Still working on that one,” Courtney said. “Let’s go home.”
Patrick stood up straight and called out, “Second Earth!”
The flume came to life. The three didn’t budge as they waited to be swept away.
“I wish Bobby were here,” Courtney whispered to Mark.
And they were off.
JOURNAL#33
IBARA
Ihope you’ll read this one day, Mark. Courtney too.
I know that’s probably impossible. Still, I’m going to continue writing these journals as if I’m writing them to you. It helps me feel that we’re not so far apart. Even if I’m pretending. It’s hard to accept that we may never see one another again, though it’s even harder to imagine how we ever could. The gate to the flume is buried under a mountain of volcanic rock. The second gate in Rubic City is just as inaccessible under the wreckage of the destroyed buildings. Bottom line? I’m not leaving this territory.
Then again, neither is Saint Dane.
I don’t know if that’s the way it was meant to be, but that’s the way it is. Halla is safe, and for that I don’t regret anything I’ve done.
But don’t get all “poor Bobby” on me. I’m okay. Seriously. I’m happy. Maybe happier than I’ve been since I left home with Uncle Press. Let me fill you in on some of the major things that have happened since I sealed the flume. I have to tell you, it’s all good.
Well, mostly good. There is one significant problem that I’ll tell you about. In time. I first want to tell you how great things have become.
As I wrote before, the village of Rayne was devastated by the dado battle. Or maybe I should say it was destroyed by the tak. Surveying the carnage, it really gave me second thoughts as to whether it was all worth it or not. Most of the village was devastated. Homes were lost. Common structures were leveled. Food supplies were obliterated. People had to sleep out in the open. There were a few tropical storms that came through, making it all the more miserable. It wasn’t a fun time.
Still, the village survived. Ibara survived. That’s the most important thing. No, the most important thing is that Saint Dane lost this territory. He threw everything he had at us, and we stopped him. His plan for creating the dados that began with weaseling his way into your life, Mark, was for naught. I’m not proud of what we had to do to stop him. Mixing the territories the way we did was a risk, but I didn’t see any other way. I think the results proved it was the right move. Not only did we stop his attack on Ibara, I was able to trap him here. Saint Dane has been shut down. End of story. End of his quest to control Halla. If the price for that was the destruction of Rayne, I don’t think it was such a bad deal.
Of course the people of Rayne didn’t know the grander importance of their victory. All they had was a village left in ruins and a big job ahead. No, a huge job. It wasn’t just about the rebuilding of Rayne, but the re-creation of a culture and, hopefully, an entire world. For me it was also about the rebuilding of a territory. Of Veelox. Yup, my plan is to complete Aja Killian’s vision. When Saint Dane influenced the Flighters into destroying the pilgrim ships, he thought he was finishing off this world for good. He was wrong. The spirit to restore life here is greater than ever. I’m proud to say that I’m part of it.
Rebuilding an entire world can’t happen overnight. One step at a time, and that first step was to begin the reclamation of Ibara and the village of Rayne. After the dust (and the sand) settled from the battle, there was jubilation. I guess that’ll happen when you defeat an army against all odds. There was a moment of absolute euphoria. Or maybe it was just relief. Whatever. There were a lot of smiles and shouting and hugging. It got even better once the older people and the very young returned from the far side of the island, where they had been taken to ride out the battle.
It wasn’t all happy happy, joy joy though. Many people died to defend Rayne. Once the rush of victory subsided, reality crept in. The burial of the dead began the slow process of dealing with it. Remember, until the sinking of the pilgrim ships, most of these people didn’t know about Ibara’s h
istory. They didn’t know about Rubic City and Lifelight and the fact that their island world began as a secluded outpost, protected from the technology that had decimated the larger world. Veelox. It was a lot to get their heads around in a pretty short time. The joy of having survived the attack was soon replaced by a numbing fear of the unknown. What would happen next?
It was up to the tribunal, the leaders of the village of Rayne, to guide the healing process. I’m honored to say that Genj, the chief minister of the Rayne tribunal, asked me to help them. Me. Can you believe it? I guess it’s not so far fetched. Between Alder and Siry and myself, we led the village to victory. To be honest, it was more Alder than myself, but afterward Alder wasn’t around. Neither was Siry.
That took a little bit of explaining. I couldn’t exactly tell the tribunal that I had sent Alder to Quillan to return some dado-killing weapons and Siry to Zadaa to return the dygo digger and then I sealed the flume by exploding the final bit of tak to make sure two more Travelers weren’t trapped on this territory. That wouldn’t have gone over so well. I decided to pretend I didn’t know what happened to them. They became casualties of war. Heroes. Especially Siry, since he was the son of Remudi, a former member of the tribunal. The idea that Siry had grown up as a rebellious outlaw, but turned it all around to help save his home, made him a legend. It’s too bad he couldn’t be around to appreciate it, but it’s better that two more Travelers weren’t trapped. I hope someday he’ll forgive me.
If you remember, the tribunal was made up of Genj, the older guy with the short graying hair, who was so tan he reminded me of a sea captain; Moman, a serious, dark-skinned woman who chose her words carefully and always spoke with wisdom; and Drea, who was full of enthusiasm and joy. She was probably older than my mother, but her light skin, freckles, and long curly red hair made her seem like a kid. These were the people who had the task of putting Rayne back together.
Them…and me. A stranger to the island who tried all that he could not to reveal his true past. These people had enough to deal with. They didn’t need to hear about Travelers and Saint Dane and the battle for Halla. Still, questions were asked. People wanted to know about Rubic City and Lifelight. I more or less played dumb. It was up to the tribunal to educate them about their history. When questions came up about the dados, I planted the idea that the robots were simply another manifestation of how technology had gone awry. Their attack was seen as the last gasp of the old order trying to bring down Veelox. The people of Ibara had so much to grasp that a simple explanation like that was plenty. I don’t think they really wanted to know much more.
The first task at hand was to clean up the village. They had no earth-moving equipment. It had to be done by hand. It was backbreaking. I was put in charge of a group of thirty men and women whose task it was to clear out every last piece of debris. There was a lot. We sifted through tons of splintered bamboo and wood, saving anything that could be reused and piling the rest on the beach. The fallen trees were rough. I had no idea that palm trees were so heavy. I do now. It took several strong backs to move a single tree onto the beach. They weren’t the biggest challenge either.
There were millions of pieces of exploded dado everywhere. We picked up countless arms, hands, legs, heads-everything. It was gruesome at first, but we all quickly realized that these were machines. They may have looked like body parts, but they were actually chunks of metal and plastic. Soon a giant mound of dado pieces grew on the beach.
We also had to deal with the thousands of skimmers that the dados had used to travel from Rubic City. That was an interesting dilemma. Many skimmers were intact. They were great little water vehicles that could have come in really handy. But they were from Cloral. They represented technology from a different territory. They didn’t belong here. Of course, I didn’t mention that to anybody. I’m happy to say that the tribunal made a decision to discard them. It was totally in keeping with the spirit of Ibara. In their minds the skimmers represented technology from a time long past. It was that technology that brought about Veelox’s downfall, and they didn’t want to repeat history. It was all about starting with a clean slate.
The fishing fleet was pressed into service. As the dado and skimmer debris was piled on the beach, the fishermen began the laborious process of piling the junk onto their ships, taking it out beyond the breakwater that enclosed the bay of Rayne, and sinking the junk out at sea.
My job was to organize the workers. It wasn’t hard. The people respected me. They knew how I had helped them. To be honest, I enjoyed it. I liked the simple process of organizing groups of workers, giving out assignments, creating schedules, and also doing a lot of the physical work myself. There was something about it that felt so-I don’t know-healing. I don’t mean to get all cosmic on you, but you might have sensed from my last few journals that my head wasn’t in the greatest place. The battle with Saint Dane changed me. It was all feeling so…futile. It didn’t help that in order to beat him, I had to go against everything that Uncle Press had taught me and mix items between the territories. As I look back on that now, I don’t regret what I did. There was no other way. Still, it was wrong. That wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. I had sunk to Saint Dane’s level and disrupted that natural order.
It was time to end the battle. I did it by destroying the flume.
Since then, I’ve thought less and less about the troubles of Halla because it was all I could do to concentrate on digging up dado parts and dumping them on the beach. It was simple, mindless work. It was also really satisfying, because it was all about rebuilding. I don’t know how long it took to clean up Rayne because I have no way of judging time here, but I’d guess it took months. That was okay. With each passing day, the beauty of Rayne was restored a little more. I think I know what a sculptor must feel when he’s faced with a giant block of granite that he chips away at gradually to reveal the masterpiece hidden within. That’s what it felt like to clean up Rayne. What began as a devastated war zone was slowly being transformed back into a wonderful tropical beach. It was all done by hand. I can’t begin to tell you how satisfying that felt.
A schedule was made for sleeping inside Tribunal Mountain. Families with small children and the elderly got priority. When every square inch of sleeping space was taken, the rest of the village slept outside in makeshift huts. Or under the stars. I didn’t spend a single night inside the mountain. I preferred to see the sky. Why not? It was warm. The rains were nasty but didn’t come too often. It gave me the chance to look up and wonder at what might be happening in the rest of Halla. It was a great feeling to know that on Ibara, things were good. An entire village was working together to bring back their home. It was a positive thing. It was about building a future. It was exactly what I needed to be part of.
You guys have to know how much I miss you, and my old life. There’s no getting around that. But don’t feel sorry for me, because I’m not alone here. The villagers have adopted me as one of their own. In some ways so has Genj. He has been like a father to me. It’s nice to have an adult around to tell me what to do for a change. I know that sounds strange, but after being the lead Traveler and having everyone look to me for the answers for so long, it is a relief to let somebody else make the decisions.
Four of the surviving Jakills were with me. There was the girl named Twig and the guy I always referred to as “rat boy.” I finally found out his name. It was Krayven. I think I like rat boy better. I wouldn’t tell him that though. He’d been through enough already. So many of the Jakills died in Rubic City. It was a tragedy, especially because all they were doing was looking for the truth. Unfortunately, they found it. I tried my best to convince the survivors that it was their sacrifice that helped save Rayne. I think it helped them deal, but not a lot. They worked beside me tirelessly to help salvage their home. It was like they were doing it for all their fallen friends. In some ways I was too.
The most important person in my life, by far, is Telleo, Genj’s daughter. She has become my
best friend here. You should have seen her after the battle. She cared for more of the wounded than I could count. I don’t think she slept for days. It was incredible. She seemed to be in so many places at once. With all that responsibility, she still took time to find me and ask how I was doing. Those amazing green eyes never seemed to lose their sparkle. She has become my guide to this territory. You might even call her my acolyte. Of course, since I’m no longer in the Traveler business, I don’t need an acolyte, but under other circumstances I’d consider her a perfect candidate. She has strong opinions, but she listens to others. People are drawn to her. They trust her and I can see why. It’s almost as if her touch is healing.
We’ve spent many nights together, sitting on a secret ledge high up on Tribunal Mountain. During the day she’d tie up her long, deep red hair in a practical knot as she went about caring for the sick and wounded. At night she’d let down her hair, literally. It was a time to relax. Nobody knew we were there. It was like floating on our own private cloud high above Rayne. There was no pressure, only possibility. We’d look out onto the sea and the stars, imagining a new future for Ibara. Not that we had any real say in the matter, but it was an amazing feeling to be in a place that was more or less starting from scratch. Everyone here has complete control of their own destiny. It’s a very bright future, and Telleo and I are going to help shape it. How great is that?
She seems perfect in so many ways that I feel bad for writing this next part, but since these journals are about documenting everything that I experience, I’d be remiss if I didn’t. Telleo is as bright and open and friendly as you can imagine, except when it comes to one topic: her mother. The first time I brought up the subject was when we were sitting up on that ledge on a warm, clear night. Her father, Genj, had been working pretty hard, and I was worried about him. He wasn’t a young guy and he was pushing himself. Maybe a little too hard.
“How’s your dad?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not cause her any real worry.
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