The Merchant of Death (44 page)

But I think I was mostly glad that I met Loor. She was fiercely loyal and willing to put her life on the line for what she believed. She was brave and caring and smart and beautiful as all hell. But beyond that, there was something about Loor for which I couldn't even begin to thank her. When this adventure fades in my memory, and it will, I will still be grateful to her for having pushed me to think outside of my own little world, and recognize my own strength.

So how did I feel? It was a complex question, but I had a simple answer.

“Uncle Press,” I said, “I feel like I want to go home.”

He was about to argue with me, but I cut him off.

“No,” I said. “When you asked me to come with you, you said there were people who needed our help. I did everything you asked me to do. Now I want to go home.”

He didn't even try to argue. How could he? “Okay, Bobby,” he said warmly. “You're right. I am more proud of you than I can begin to say. Tomorrow, I'll take you home.”

Now,
that's
what I wanted to hear! And that's what brought me to the place where I am right now, writing my final journal. We're spending the night in the hospital hut. Tomorrow we're going to make the long trek back up the mountain to the flume. Unfortunately the gate that was in the mines is now buried under a million tons of rock. Uncle Press assures me that the climb won't be hard. We will borrow some horses from the Bedoowan and take along a few whistles in case we run into any rogue quigs.

Alder and Loor are with me and they, too, are writing their journals. Alder filled me in on all that had happened during the battle, so that is how I know. I'm not going to send this
journal to you through the ring. My plan is to hand it to you guys myself. I'm looking forward to seeing the expressions on your faces when I show up.

I'm also looking forward to seeing my family again. I'm not sure what to tell them, but I'll figure something out. I wonder if Marley misses me as much as I miss her?

Well guys, this is the last time I'm going to be writing to you. Thank you for reading. Thank you for being my friends. Tomorrow I'm going to leave Denduron for the final time. I can't wait to get home.

END OF JOURNAL #4

SECOND EARTH

Mark finished reading the pages before Courtney did,
but didn't move until she looked up. They both looked at Bobby, who was lying on Mark's bed. They wanted to talk to him, but they wouldn't dare wake him up because he needed the rest. It was a strange feeling. This was their friend. They had known each other since they were little. Things were different now. Yes, this was still Bobby, but he wasn't the same Bobby who had kissed Courtney only a few days before. Could things go back to the way they were?

“I'm awake,” Bobby said softly.

Mark and Courtney jumped up and went to him. Courtney sat on the edge of the bed. Mark paced.

“So I guess you got back to the flume on the mountain okay,” said Courtney.

Bobby sat up, but it was a struggle. Obviously he was sore. Not hurt, just sore.

“Yeah, we got some Bedoowan horses and they took us most of the way.”

“What about the quigs?” asked Mark.

“They didn't show, but I think that was because of the nasty
ice storm.” He pointed to the small cuts on his face. “The wind was blowing hard. It was like being cut by flying needles. Basically, it sucked. Sorry if I messed up your pillows.”

“It's cool,” said Mark. He meant it too.

“Who came back with you?” asked Courtney. “Uncle Press?”

“Yeah,” answered Bobby. “But you know something weird? When we got to that subway station, his motorcycle was waiting for us right where he left it. The helmets, too. How strange is that?”

It was strange indeed, because when Mark and Courtney went to that station the motorcycle wasn't there. Someone must have been keeping it, waiting for Press's return.

Mark said, “Yeah, that's strange.” He held up Bobby's last journal and added, “But you want to talk about strange?”

They all stared at the parchment pages, then burst out laughing. Mark was right. Compared to what Bobby had done on Denduron, a motorcycle mysteriously disappearing and reappearing was pretty low on the “strange” scale.

It felt good for Bobby to laugh and to be with his friends, yet he had the same awkward feeling that bothered both Courtney and Mark. A lot had happened. He was a different guy. Could he go back and pick up his life where he left off?

“What about Loor?” asked Courtney. “Did she stay on Denduron?”

Mark thought he caught a touch of jealousy in her voice, but he decided not to point it out.

Bobby stopped laughing. Courtney had touched a raw nerve. “She climbed with us to the top of the mountain,” he said softly. “But when we got into the cave where the gate was, she just kept walking and jumped into the flume. No good-byes. No see ya around. No gee it's been swell. Nothing. I mean, it's not like we'd become best friends or anything, but we'd been through a lot. There were some things I wanted to say.”

Obviously this hurt Bobby. He had grown to like Loor, but it didn't seem as if Loor cared about or liked him the same way. There was a long moment of awkward silence. Then Mark raised the key issue that was on everyone's mind.

“Bobby,” he said tentatively. “There's some crazy stuff in your journals. The deal with the Milago and the Bedoowan is only part of it. What about this Traveler stuff; and flumes that shoot you between times and places; and people who live on territories all over the universe; and Halla? What is Halla? How can every
place
and every
thing
and every
time
still exist? And who is this Saint Dane dude? Is he gonna show up here someday and do what he did on Denduron? The stuff you wrote tears apart everything we know about how things work and I gotta tell you, it's freaking me out.”

“I wish I could make you feel better,” Bobby began. “But it's freaking me out too. I don't know anything more about it than what I wrote in those journals. I wish I could turn back the clock to the other night and tell Uncle Press to find somebody else to help him, but I can't. Part of me is okay with that. I learned some things about myself that are pretty cool. I also found out some things that I gotta change. That's all good. But as for the whole Traveler deal . . . I haven't got a clue.”

“So, what are you going to do?” asked Courtney.

Bobby pulled himself across the bed and stood up. His legs were a little shaky, but otherwise he was okay. “I'm going to try to get back to normal,” he announced with certainty. “If Uncle Press needs help again, he can find somebody else. Would you guys come home with me? It might make things easier.”

This was the moment Mark and Courtney were dreading. How could they possibly tell Bobby that his family had disappeared? After what he had been through, he didn't deserve this. But still, he had to know.

“B-Bobby,” said Mark nervously. “There's s-something you should—”

Courtney cut him off. “We'll go with you, Bobby,” she said. “We want to be there for you.”

Mark shot Courtney a look, but Courtney didn't back down. She felt there was only one way that Bobby should learn about what had happened and that was to see it for himself. If they told him, he'd want to see for himself anyway, so Courtney felt it would be better to get the news all at once.

It was a short walk to Bobby's house on Linden Place. As they walked along the familiar sidewalks of Stony Brook, Bobby looked around with a smile. He had walked these streets a thousand times before, but he now had a whole new appreciation for them. He took in every sight, every smell, every sensation that he could. He wrapped himself in the feelings like a comfortable blanket and it made him feel whole again. He felt so good that he even allowed himself to think that it was possible to pick up his life where he had left off.

Mark and Courtney sensed this. It broke their hearts to know that soon his happy homecoming was going to crash and burn. Then just before they rounded the final bend that would bring them to 2 Linden Place and the empty lot where Bobby's house used to be, Courtney grabbed Bobby and stopped him. She held him by the shoulders and stared him right in the eye.

“You gotta know something, Bobby,” she said sincerely. “We're here for you.”

“I know that, Courtney,” replied Bobby.

Courtney didn't let go of him. She knew that as soon as she did, he'd turn that corner to see that the life he so desperately wanted back, wasn't there anymore.

“Hey, you okay?” Bobby asked her curiously.

Courtney nodded and let him go. Bobby glanced at Mark to
try and get a clue as to why Courtney was acting all strange, but Mark looked just as bad as Courtney did. Bobby knew right then that something was wrong. He spun and ran around the corner to get to his house. Mark and Courtney gave each other a nervous glance and followed.

When Mark and Courtney rounded the corner, they saw Bobby standing alone on the sidewalk, staring at the empty lot where his house used to be. He didn't move, he didn't shout, it didn't even look like he was breathing. He just stood there and stared. They didn't say anything. They had to let Bobby take the time to get his mind around what he was seeing. Or
not
seeing. Bobby walked forward and stepped onto the spot where his yard used to be. It was the yard he had played in since he was a toddler. It was the yard where he wrestled with Marley. It was the yard that led to the house he had called home for fourteen years. It was all gone.

“Hey there,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Everyone spun to see Uncle Press standing on the sidewalk. He was once again dressed in his jeans and long leather coat. Behind him was a small, black sports car he had just arrived in. A Porsche. Uncle Press always traveled in style.

“It's okay, Bobby,” said Uncle Press softly. “Try to breathe.”

Mark and Courtney took a few steps out of the way. Whatever was about to happen, it was between Press and Bobby. They saw that Bobby's eyes were red. He had started to cry. But the sad look turned to one of fury when he saw his uncle.

“Where are they?” Bobby said through clenched teeth. “And don't tell me this is the way it was meant to be. I don't want to hear that.”

“They're fine, “Press said soothingly. “They're all fine.”

Bobby took a few steps toward Press. He was angry, sad,
confused, and scared. But most of all, he wanted answers. “Then why aren't they here?” he demanded.

“This is the toughest part,” said Press. “It was tough for me, it was tough for Alder and for Loor, too, but we all had to go through it. I would have told you on Denduron, but you had to see for yourself.”

“See what? What is happening?” Bobby demanded.

Courtney reached out and grabbed Mark's hand for support. Mark didn't resist.

“Bobby, your family is gone because it was time for you to leave,” said Uncle Press. “They raised you to be the person you are today, but it's time to move on.”

Bobby took a few steps back as if Press's words had physically hit him. What was he saying? Was it planned for him to go to Denduron from the day he was born? Did his family know about this all along? How could that be? His life had been so . . . normal. Then a realization came to Bobby.

“You're not my uncle, are you?” he asked.

“No, not in the traditional sense,” answered Press. “But I've always looked out for you and I always will.”

Bobby turned back to the empty lot and ran to the center. He wanted to find a splinter of wood, a piece of glass, maybe even a piece of an old Wiffle ball. There had to be something that said he had passed through here. But there was nothing. Then Bobby heard something that came as another surprise.

“It will be all right, Pendragon,” said another familiar voice.

Bobby spun back toward the sidewalk to see that standing next to the car was Loor. She was dressed in denim overalls and a tight pink sleeveless shirt that showed off her powerful shoulders and arms. She even had on Doc Marten black boots. Her long black hair was braided down her back and she wore a necklace made of small shells. She could have easily passed for a student
at Stony Brook High. No one would ever guess that she was actually a warrior from a far-off territory.