of dialing a number, even 911, were impossible. She was losing consciousness, fast. She had to fight it. Her best chance was to use speed-dial. She felt the buttons until she found what she thought was the number 1. She hit it, while using every bit of concentration and willpower she possessed to stay conscious.
Mark Dimond finished dinner, washed the dishes, and dragged himself up to his room. His plan was to surf the Net for a while, catch a show onComedy Central, and crash. No sooner did Mark get to his room than he realized his night was going to be very different from what he expected.
His ring started to twitch.
Suddenly he wasn’t so tired anymore. A quick jolt of adrenaline will do that. Mark quickly closed his door, locked it, and put his ring on the floor. The light show was beginning. In a few moments Bobby’s next journal would arrive. He knew there would be noComedy Centralthat night. It was time to go back to Zadaa.
Mark didn’t realize that on his desk, another message was waiting for him. His cell phone was flashing. But he never checked that phone because nobody ever called him. With a new journal coming in, there was even less chance of him checking it. His attention was on his ring and the incoming journal. If he had looked at his phone he would have seen a two-word message flashing over and over.
MESSAGE WAITING.
But he didn’t look.
JOURNAL #22
ZADAA
War.
It’s such a small, innocent word that’s used to describe something that isn’t small or innocent. Why is that? Shouldn’t war at least be a “four letter word”? Whatever. I’m sitting here, deep underground in Rokador territory, waiting for it all to begin. Or end, depending on how you look at it. Everything we feared would happen is going to happen. The Batu are about to attack. The assassination of Pelle a Zinj pretty much cemented that. Whatever chance there was of finding peace between the tribes has died along with Pelle. The only question left is how soon the fireworks will start.
We know a lot more about what’s going on now. None of it is good. We now know what Saint Dane has been up to here on Zadaa. All of it. He had a hand in engineering the assassination, as I figured he did. If Pelle had lived, there was a good chance he would have stopped the war. But that wouldn’t have worked into Saint Dane’s plan. He needed Pelle gone, and he got an impressionable Rokador to do it for him. As usual. He never does the dirty work himself. It’s always about getting the people of the territory to hurt themselves.
But that was only the beginning of his plan to topple Zadaa. As I write this journal to you guys, I’m afraid he’s going to win here. I don’t see how we can stop it. The events that are about to take place will change the course of Zadaa forever. It won’t be for the better, that much I can guarantee.
I’m going to tell you everything that’s happened since Pelle was killed. These are the events that have led Zadaa to the brink of disaster. As I sit here, so far belowground, I can’t help but wonder if I will ever see the sun again. Any sun.
There is a huge irony here too. By manipulating events so that Pelle was killed, Saint Dane put the tribes on a path to war. However, the trigger was pulled by an event that was totally out of his control.
It began to rain.
“Keep moving,” Loor ordered as we ran against the festive crowd that continued to follow the parade toward the palace of Zinj. These people had no idea that their joy would soon turn to anguish. They were about to discover that their beloved prince had been killed. It was a sad feeling, knowing that these happy, jubilant people would soon be crushed.
Suddenly the crowd stopped moving. A moment before, they had been pushing to get to the palace. The streets were so dense with people, we could barely work our way through. Now the mass of humanity had stopped. Oddly, one by one, they looked toward the sky. The raucous music and laughter of the festival died. An eerie quiet fell over the masses. Loor and I were so focused on getting through, we didn’t stop to question what was happening. That changed the instant we heard someone yell: “Look!”
We stopped short, looked at each other, then to the sky. The surprise wasn’t what we saw, but what wedidn’tsee.
There were no stars.
“Is it possible?” I asked in awe.
Loor answeredin two whispered words. “Rain clouds.”
A moment later the skies opened up. It wasn’t just rain, it was a storm. A deluge. There was an odd moment where the crowd stood there, not reacting. I don’t think anybody could believe it. But that didn’t last. A cheer went up, then another, and another. The excitement spread and in seconds, the crowd went nuts. Their wild, festive dancing for the parade was just a warm-up. Lightning flashed through the sky, followed by a boom of thunder that rocked the ground. The people ate it up. They hugged, they cheered, everybody was everybody’s friend. I got grabbed and kissed by a couple of Batu women. These people were celebrating as if their long, horrible nightmare was finally over.
“Is that it?” I screamed to Loor over the crowd. “Does it all end this easily?”
Loor started to answer, but realized we couldn’t hear each other. She waved for me to follow, and we left the crowd to find a quiet place where we could talk.
“I do not know,” Loor answered. “I suppose it depends on how much rain falls.”
“This is incredible!” I said, and stepped out of the doorway to feel the healing rain on my face. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if all it took to beat Saint Dane was for the weather to change?”
Loor didn’t look so optimistic. “Do not forget that Pelle a Zinj has been assassinated. By a Rokador. That will not help Batu-Rokador relations, even if the drought is over.”
“Right,” I said soberly. “Saint Dane could have set up that murder to make sure there would be a war even if the drought ended.”
“There is much we do not know,” Loor said. “I will go to the Ghee command to see what their thinking is.”
“I don’t suppose it would be cool if I went with you,” I said.
“No. Go to Alder. I will return as soon as I learn more.”
Before we split up, I took a long look at her. It didn’t matter that she was soaking wet, she still looked amazing. Maybe more so because the rain made her hair glisten and her eyes sparkle. I wanted to hold that image in my head.
“What is wrong?” Loor asked.
I almost said, “I think you’re beautiful.” I didn’t. It wasn’t the right time. Who knew if that time would ever come? “Nothing,” I answered. “Be careful.”
“And you,” Loor said.
She leaped out of the doorway and sprinted off through the rain. Her long strides took her away quickly as she splashed through the newly formed puddles. The sick thought suddenly hit me that I wasn’t sure if I could find my way back to the hospital. That would have been a totally stupid move. As it turned out, I only took a few wrong turns before getting there. I was also able to make my way down deep into the bowels of the building and easily find the room where Alder was recovering. When I arrived, I saw that he was still sleeping. Saangi was sitting by his side. When she saw me, her face lit up.
“Is it true?” she asked. “Is it raining?”
“You tell me,” I said, holding out my wet arms.
Saangi touched my wet sleeve as if it had been dipped in gold. She squeezed the material until water dribbled out, then touched her wet finger to her lips. She smiled. It was the bright, happy smile of a young girl, something I hadn’t seen in Saangi since I met her.
“Does this mean there will be no war?” she asked.
That was the big question. I hated to have to be the one to tell her the bad news about Pelle, but I had to.
