The others dropped their heads. Bobby was right. If he stayed, Uncle Press was doomed.
“But there’s more,” Bobby added. “I’m not the guy to help those people fight their revolution. I don’t know why they think I am, but I’m not. The guy to help them is Uncle Press. If he dies, they don’t stand a chance. I gotta go back and get Uncle Press for the sake of the Milago, too.”
Bobby picked up the pack and swung it onto his back.
“What’re you gonna do with that stuff?” asked Mark.
“I’m not exactly sure,” answered Bobby, “but I better think of something fast.” He tightened up the straps on the pack and took a step back toward the flume. “I’m no big hero,” he then said. “I’m gonna try to save Uncle Press and then get out of there. I’d just as soon not stick around for the real fireworks.”
“We’ll be waiting for you,” said Mark.
Everyone looked at each other, not entirely sure of what to say. It was time for Bobby to go.
“There’s nothing I can say to thank you guys for doing this and for hanging on to my journals,” Bobby said.
“Just keep ’em coming, dude,” said Mark with a smile.
Bobby smiled and then the three once again joined in a group hug.
“I’ll write as soon as I can,” said Bobby and pulled away. Everyone was holding back tears. Bobby had turned to the flume when Courtney asked, “Is Loor really as gorgeous as all that?”
Bobby winced. Busted. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said sheepishly. “She’s not my type.”
“No?” said Courtney with a sly smile. “I think she and I have something in common. We can both kick your ass.”
Bobby laughed at that. Of course she was right.
“Get home safe,” she added.
“Soon as I can,” was his reply. Mark gave him a wave and Bobby turned back to the flume. He stepped in, took a breath, and said, “Denduron!”
Instantly, the flume reactivated. The walls started to shimmer, the musical notes grew loud, and bright light blasted out from somewhere far inside.
Bobby turned back to them and gave a quick wave. “Later!” he said.
Then, in a flash, Bobby was gone. The light and the music trailed away inside the tunnel, transporting Bobby to his far-off destination. Soon all was quiet once again. The two stood there, staring into the dark, empty tunnel. There was nothing left to do now except to start the long journey home.
“Uh-oh,” Mark said.
“What?” asked Courtney nervously.
Mark held out his hand and they both saw that the gray stone in the ring was starting to glow. Mark quickly took it off and placed it down on the ground. They each took a step back and watched as the ring grew larger and light blasted out of the stone. The familiar musical notes were heard again as the light built in intensity. There was a flash, and just as quickly as it started, it was over. The ring lay still on the ground. Next to it was another rolled- up parchment.
“How could he have written so fast?” asked Courtney.
Mark picked up the pages and started to unfurl them.
“Something tells me that time here and time there aren’t relative,” said Mark.
“Huh? English please,” demanded Courtney.
“I think Denduron might not only be in another place,” explained Mark. “It might be in another time. It could be thousands of years ago, or a million years from now. The flumes not only travel through space, I’ll bet they travel through time as well.”
Courtney didn’t quite get this, but then again she didn’t get much of anything that was happening. Mark unfurled the pages, gave them a quick glance, then looked up at Courtney with a smile.
“I was right. It’s from Bobby.”
Journal #3
Denduron
Imessed up big time, guys.
I tried to take charge and do the right thing, but I’m afraid I only made things worse. It’s been a wild ride since I saw you two in the subway, but the bottom line is that as I write this journal, we are on the verge of a catastrophe that could rip Denduron apart. It’s not all my fault, but I’m afraid I pushed it closer to the edge. First I gotta backtrack to what happened since I wrote last. I finished my last journal before I saw you two, so I should tell you what happened before the trip I took to Second Earth where you gave me the backpack. As much as I was over-the-moon psyched to see you guys, I wish I had never made that trip, because that trip is one of the reasons we’re on the edge of disaster.
When Osa was killed, something snapped in my head and I was able to think clearly. It wasn’t anything dramatic like I suddenly realized I had to fulfill my destiny as a Traveler and lead the Milago to victory or anything like that. No way; gimme a break. It was about Uncle Press. I was ashamed of myself for not trying to help him. My only defense is that I had a whole lot of wild stuff thrown at me all at once and I was having a tough time keeping my head on straight. But when Osa died, it was like a wake-up call. And my loss wasn’t even on the same scale as the loss was for Loor. Osa was her mother. I imagined what it would be like to lose my own mom. I take that back. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose my mom. The thought was just too horrible.
Osa didn’t deserve to die. All she was trying to do was help some people find a better way of life. So was Uncle Press. He was trying to help the Milago and because of it, he was going to be put to death. Was that fair? I didn’t think so, and I realized that somebody had to step up and say so. Unfortunately I also realized that the only person who could do something was me. I say “unfortunately” not because I didn’t want to help him, but because I knew I wasn’t exactly the best candidate to stage a Schwarzenegger-style commando assault on the Bedoowan palace and fight my way out with Uncle Press in tow. That particular fantasy was going to stay a fantasy. Still, I had to do something. And if I was going to have any chance at all, I needed help. That meant Loor. There was nothing I could say to Loor that would make her feel any better about what had happened to her mother. Man, she must have hated me. But she was the only person I could go to for help, so I had to take a shot.
I wandered out into the main cavern of the mine to look for her. I found her sitting cross-legged on the far side of the cavern, alone, carving a small piece of wood. It looked like she was sculpting a small face that was half sun and half moon. She was really concentrating on the work and I didn’t want to disturb her, so I waited until she said something first. For several minutes she ignored me and continued to carve. Finally I think she figured out that I wasn’t going to leave so she said, “This is a szshaszha. On my territory it symbolizes the end of one life and the beginning of another. I will give it to my mother for it is said to bring luck in the next life.”
“That’s pretty cool,” I said.
“It is an old fairy tale that has no meaning,” she spat back sharply. “But my mother believed in these things and I will respect that.”
I guess I said the wrong thing again. I was ready to chicken out and leave her alone. I had to force myself to stay and go through with this.
“I’m not going home tomorrow,” I said trying to sound stronger than I felt. “I’m going after Uncle Press.”
This made Loor stop her work and look up at me. I did my best to hold eye contact without blinking. I wanted her to know how serious I was. But then she burst out laughing. Obviously the idea of my going up against the Bedoowan knights was pretty funny to her.
She stopped laughing and said sarcastically, “Why, Pendragon? So you can watch him die the way you watched my mother die?”
Ouch. That was cold.
“No, I’m going to rescue him,” I said trying to make it sound like I could make it happen.
“Go to sleep,” she said dismissively. “I am tired of looking at you.”
