in line for food. Children slept in the streets, cold and hungry. Tents were set up where the roads had been. Thousands upon thousands of people lived in the rubble like rats.
“Was this right after the bomb fell?” I asked.
Patrick answered. “This is a view of New York City on Third Earth, over three thousand years later. Today.”
I then saw something that made me want to cry. Lying on its side, along what was once the busy street of Fifth Avenue, was a green structure that was being used for makeshift housing. It must have covered ten city blocks. Holes were cut in the sides for people to crawl in and out of. The image was stunning, and horrible, because lying there, broken and destroyed among the rubble of once proud buildings, was the Statue of Liberty.
“I’ll say it again,” Patrick said quietly. “Saint Dane hit the jackpot. He found the perfect moment in time that he could manipulate and send three territories into oblivion. Clear.”
The images disappeared. Good thing. I couldn’t take it anymore. The three of us sat there in silence. We had just seen doomsday. It’s hard to know what to say after that.
“Could there be a mistake?” Gunny asked.
“Specific details may change,” Patrick answered. “But the basic situation would be the same. If Max Rose continues to operate his spy network, the Germans will develop the atom bomb first, and they will drop it on England and the United States.”
I had heard enough. We already figured that saving theHindenburgwould be a mistake. Seeing how great Third Earth was told us that. But now, seeing the horror show Patrick had just presented slammed the point home to me about as hard as possible. Any doubts I had about what I wanted to do were gone.
I stood up and said, “We’re on the wrong territory.”
Gunny stood up. “Yes, we are,” he said with purpose.
“I’m coming,” Patrick announced. “I want to help.”
Gunny looked at me. I wasn’t sure if Patrick coming along was a good idea or not.
“I don’t think so, Patrick,” Gunny said. “We’ve got to hit the ground running once we get back. We wouldn’t have time to teach you all you’d need to know about First Earth. No offense, but you might end up being more trouble than help.”
Gunny was right. Patrick wouldn’t know simple things, like how to get across a busy street. We couldn’t afford to be slowed down by anything, even a friend.
“I understand,” Patrick said, looking disappointed.
“Besides,” Gunny said. “You did your part. Now it’s our turn.” Gunny then turned to me and said, “You ready for this, shorty?”
How could I answer that question? How could anyone be ready for what we had to do? I know why Gunny asked me though. A few minutes before, I was out of control. I wanted my life back. Though I knew stopping Saint Dane from destroying the territories and taking control of Halla was important, it felt like a fantasy. I was tired of living in a fantasy. But after seeing what Saint Dane had in mind for the three Earth territories, the fantasy had suddenly become real. Now he was hitting me where I lived. So how did I answer a huge question like that?
“Absolutely.”
Gunny smiled. Next stop, First Earth.
Before hitting the flume, I sat in the library and wrote most of this journal. I didn’t want to wait until we got back, because if something happens to me, well, let’s just say I wanted to make sure this journal was written. I trusted that the flumes would get us back in time.
Patrick drove us back up to the Bronx and the green shelter that would lead us down to the subway.
“We’ll see you again,” Gunny said with certainty. “And it will be here on Third Earth. ThisThird Earth.”
Patrick nodded. He didn’t seem as confident as Gunny. He then turned to me and said, “Pendragon, your uncle told me that if I ever doubted myself, or our mission, that I should put my faith in you. Should I put my faith in you?”
Whoa. Uncle Press said that about me? Patrick was looking for some kind of guarantee that everything was going to be okay. I wished I could give it to him.
“I’m not sure why he’d say that,” I answered truthfully. “But I do know one thing. You might as well put your faith in us, because there’s nobody else.”
On that solemn note, the three of us parted.
A second before we went underground, I took one last look at Third Earth. I really hoped it wouldn’t be the last time I saw it like this. Gunny and I then hurried down the escalator, across the platform, down onto the tracks, and back to the gate that led to the flume. There we quickly traded our Third Earth clothes for our First Earth clothes. We didn’t even talk. We were both focused on getting back as quickly as possible.
“First Earth!” I shouted at the mouth of the flume. A second later I kissed Third Earth good-bye and shot my way back to 1937.
A few minutes later we found ourselves surrounded by all the familiar sensations of First Earth-the smells, the noise, the people, the energy. It was a rude change from the quiet serenity of Third Earth. But I have to admit, I didn’t mind it. It felt like going home.
Once Gunny and I got back to the subway platform, we waited for the first train downtown and jumped on board. There weren’t many subway stops in the Bronx that were underground, so we shortly emerged into rainy daylight. As much as I thought Third Earth was a perfect place, I was glad to see the buildings of old-fashioned New York again. Still Gunny and I didn’t speak. We knew what we had to do.
We had returned early in the morning on May 6, 1937. We weren’t too late. Our first goal was to get back to the Manhattan Tower Hotel, find Spader, and tell him what we had discovered on Third Earth. From there, we’d decide on a plan to make sure Winn Farrow destroyed theHindenburg. That was a weird feeling. We had to help make sure that a killer succeeded in murdering thirty-six people. But I couldn’t think of it like that. It was too horrific. I had to keep telling myself that we were making sure that history played out the way it was supposed to, and that Saint Dane wouldn’t change things. That was our mission. That was why we were on First Earth.
As we rode on the subway, I kept my head down finishing this journal. Like I told you up front, this may be the most important journal I’ve written yet. If we fail, and Saint Dane prevents theHindenburgfrom burning, the world will change, and this document will be the only proof of the way things were meant to be.
There’s one last thing that happened that I should write down. It didn’t really affect anything, but it’s worth writing about anyway.
The subway car rumbled toward the bridge that would take us across the East River into Manhattan. But I wasn’t watching. I was too busy writing. That’s when Gunny nudged me. He didn’t say a word; all he did was point out the window of the subway car, up toward the skyline of Manhattan. I didn’t know what he wanted me to see at first, but a few seconds later I caught sight of it-and it made me catch my breath.
It was just coming into view, high above the tallest buildings. It floated there like a quiet, majestic bird, lazily surveying the ground below. It was Luft Zeppelin-129. TheHindenburg. It had arrived in America. I watched the ship in open-mouthed awe. It was way bigger than I had imagined. I also couldn’t help but focus on the bold logos on its tail. There were two giant black swastikas on a red and white background, the symbol of the Nazi Party. Seeing them gave me a shiver.
People pressed against the subway windows to get a look at the impressive blimp. They waved, as if expecting the crew and passengers high above to see them. Cars honked their horns, people cheered, other cars pulled over to the side of the street so their passengers could get out and watch. It was like a joyous celebration. People gazed at the airship in awe. To them it was a mighty symbol of the future.
Gunny and I knew differently. The future of the zeppelin was going to be a short one. It had to be.
We’re almost at our stop, so I’ll end my journal here. It’s a horrible feeling. If we fail, this will be the last time I’ll be writing to you two, Mark and Courtney. I feel like I want to say good-bye. But I can’t think that way. I’ve got to get it in my head that in a few hours, the majestic zeppelin we just saw floating over Manhattan has to crash to the ground in a flaming ball of fire.
That’s our mission. Our future, yourfuture depends on it.
END OF JOURNAL #11
