would have been better, because the truth wasn’t so good. It wasn’t thunder we were hearing.
The gunships were back.
Two of the dark, deadly helicopters were flying in low, headed right toward us.
“Go!” I shouted at Patrick and shoved him out of the path of the incoming birds of prey. We hid under a crumbling brick archway that was not more than twenty yards from the long building that the helicopters had pulverized earlier. The helicopters continued on, passing overhead, heading off to who knew where. I’m happy to say that they weren’t firing any more rockets. Once they flew off, I moved to step out from our shelter, but Patrick pulled me back.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Look.”
There was movement on the ground. The air was so full of swirling dust and dirt that I couldn’t make out what it was at first.
“Please tell me that’s not a polar bear looking for lunch,” I whispered.
Actually, it would have been better if it were the polar bear. A line of men appeared, headed our way. The first detail I noticed was the glint of gold off their helmets.
“Dados?” I asked Patrick.
Patrick shrugged.
There were ten of them. They carried silver rifle-looking weapons. Their uniforms were dark red. “Ravinians,” Patrick whispered.
“They’re looking for something. Or somebody,” I added. “I hope it’s not us.”
“There’s never a polar bear around when you need one.”
The patrol was definitely searching for something. The long building that had been shot up by the helicopters was still burning. That meant the attack had just happened.
“I don’t think they’re looking for us,” I whispered. “But I’d just as soon they didn’t find us.”
Suddenly the loud chime of church bells sounded directly above our heads. I jumped. Patrick jumped. I think the soldiers jumped too. They were just as startled as we were.
And they turned our way.
I grabbed Patrick and pulled him back into the ruins of the building. The bells continued, and I realized that they were playing a tune. “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Or the “Alphabet Song.” Whatever. Same tune.
“It’s the clock,” I whispered.
It probably wasn’t the exact same machine I had seen back on Second Earth. After all, this was three thousand years later. They must have restored it through the ages, because on top of the arches over our heads was a fanciful clock, with bronze animal sculptures that rotated around it to mark the hour, while the bells chimed out a nursery rhyme. It was kind of a sweet thing. That is, for a little kid on a sunny afternoon. For us it meant trouble, because it was drawing the soldiers’ attention our way.
“They’re coming,” Patrick whispered.
There was no way to get into the building we were hiding next to. The doorway was blocked with debris. We were trapped.
“We’ll have to fight,” I whispered.
“I–I don’t fight,” Patrick stammered.
“I’ll get the gun from the first one. Just stay out of the way.”
I pushed Patrick farther back. It looked as if our mission on Third Earth would begin with violence. The lead soldier drew closer. I tensed up, ready to spring.
“Here!” one of the other soldiers called.
The soldier who was nearly on us stopped and ran back to the others. If he had taken one more step, I would have pounced. I had to force myself to back down. It’s tough committing yourself to attack, and then have to pull back. Kind of like being all set to sneeze and then it doesn’t come. Okay, maybe it’s not exactly like that, but you get the idea.
“They found someone,” Patrick announced.
The two of us peered out to see two soldiers dragging a man out of the ruins of the long building they had destroyed. The guy was a mess. I couldn’t tell if he was sick or unconscious or dead. They had him by his shoulders and pulled him along with his feet dragging on the ground. When they got him to the center of the group, they dropped him down like a bag of laundry. The guy hit the ground and bounced. Ouch. When he went down, he let out a grunt.
“He’s alive,” one soldier growled.
Without hesitation another soldier hauled off and kicked the guy square in the gut. The poor man grunted and doubled over in pain. He was alive all right. Who knew how long he’d stay that way around these sadistic goons?
“How many are left?” the soldier who kicked him asked.
The guy’s answer was a cough that sprayed blood. He was dressed in rags, much like the people I’d seen jumping out of the window to escape the attack. His hair was unkempt, and it looked like he had a short beard. Again, he wasn’t Flighter-nasty, but he definitely hadn’t seen a bar of soap in a while.
“Where are they?” another solder asked angrily.
The first soldier kicked him again. I guess he was the designated punter. Creep. The victim answered again with a pained grunt and a wet cough. The place kicker was about to launch another kick when he was stopped by one of the other soldiers.
“We do not want to lose him,” he told his sadistic friend. “Bring him to the conclave.”
He immediately pulled out what was probably a walkie-talkie and barked some orders into it.
“Did he say conclave?” Patrick whispered.
He was thinking the same thing I was.
A moment later the sound of the helicopter returned. The chopper flew in low over our heads and landed next to the dry sea lion pool. The soldiers dragged the beaten victim toward the gunship and threw him inside. Two soldiers jumped in with him, and the chopper lifted off. It wasn’t on the ground for more than twenty seconds. The remaining soldiers trudged off in the same direction from where they had come. Their work was done…
And “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” hadn’t even finished playing.
“He did say conclave, didn’t he?” Patrick asked. “That’s what I heard.”
“Is it possible? Could the Conclave of Ravinia still be at the flume in the Bronx? It wasn’t there the last time I was on Third Earth.”
“Things have changed, Patrick,” I said, stepping out from our hiding place. “I think we’re going to find a lot of things that weren’t here the last time you were.”
“But if the Conclave of Ravinia is there, it means Ravinia is still active.”
I looked around at the ruins of what was once a beautiful series of buildings inside a lush, green park. This was once a place of joy for all ages. It was now rubble.
“And if Ravinia is still active,” I offered. “Can Saint Dane be far away?”
“We’re going to the Bronx, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I declared. “We’re going to the Bronx.”
As we began our journey north, a troubling question kept nagging at me. I didn’t mention it to Patrick because he was already on edge. I didn’t want to push him over. It was about the concept of Solara, and how its positive spirit empowered us. I actually understood that, sort of. But if Solara’s spirit was nearly depleted, and Saint Dane was a spirit from Solara, where was he drawing his power from? I couldn’t help but wonder if the answer to that question would be the key to Saint Dane’s defeat or the proof that he had become invincible.
To find that out, we first had to find Saint Dane.
Chapter 9
It was a good thing we landed back in the zoo.
Not because I loved zoos and getting chased by polar bears, but because it was the only proof that we were actually in New York City. Once we left the ruins, there was nothing that even looked close to the New York that
