worse, the Travelers would become so weak I’m afraid we’d have no chance of stopping Saint Dane. As I’m sitting here writing this, I truly don’t know what we will do.
Before I finish this journal, there’s one last thing I have to write. I told you what Saint Dane said about Courtney. I don’t know if he was telling the truth, or just trying to upset me. The more I think about it, the more it’s got me worried. There’s always some small shred of truth in everything Saint Dane says. The details of what he meant about Courtney finding a beau, whatever that is, don’t matter. What matters is that he would know anything about you guys at all. I’m not saying this to scare you. I don’t think you’re in danger. My biggest fear is that he may have come to Second Earth to begin laying the groundwork for his attack on our home.
All I can say is…keep your eyes open and watch your backs.
I miss you guys.
And so we go.
END OF JOURNAL #22
SECOND EARTH
Mark jumped up from where he had been readingon his bedand paced. Back and forth, back and forth, bed to desk, desk to bed. It was a totally useless activity, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. His palms were sweating so fiercely, he had to put Bobby’s journal down for fear he would smudge the writing. A thousand random thoughts fought for control of his brain; none of them were good. Only one mattered. Saint Dane was on Second Earth.
The demon wasn’t taunting Bobby just for the sake of it. He was here. Mark was sure of that. Saint Dane knew about Courtney and that guy she met. What was his name? Wimpley? Whipple? Wittle? Whatever. How else would Saint Dane know about that if he wasn’t here? Was this the beginning of his plot to control Second Earth? Up until that moment, Mark held out hope that by saving First Earth, the Travelers had saved all three Earth territories. That hope had just gone adios. Mark knew that if Saint Dane was here, it wasn’t to sightsee and snoop on Courtney. He had plans. Bad plans. And Mark was the only one who knew it had to be true. Courtney was oblivious, and Bobby and Loor were trapped miles underground on an island of the dead where an assault was about to be unleashed that would wipe out the Batu-the tribe that was keeping the civilized people of Zadaa safe from barbaric cannibal marauders. Saint Dane was on the verge of winning another territory and turn his sights to Second Earth.
Mark’s plan of watchingComedy Centraland going to sleep was long gone. He wasn’t sure if he could ever relax and sleep again. Or watchComedy Central, for that matter. He felt as if he had to do something, but had no idea what. He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. Should he call Courtney? What would he say? “Hey, how’s it going? How was your date? By the way, you didn’t happen to see Saint Dane wandering around campus, did you? Bobby and Loor are about to die, and he told them he saw you messing around with that new guy. Sleep tight!”
Mark knew he had to get a grip. When he was excited, he couldn’t think straight. To clear his head he went outside and walked around the block. A dozen times. Two dozen times. He had grabbed some carrots on the way out and gnawed on them nervously. Nobody was out that late at night, even the people walking their dogs. That was good. He didn’t need small talk, he needed air. The walking helped him calm down and make a decision. He had to call Courtney. He felt sure that she sounded well enough over the phone to handle the news. The real question was, how much should he tell her about what was happening with Bobby? He couldn’t lie about getting the journals anymore. That much was certain. How else would he say he knew about Saint Dane? It was going to be a tricky conversation.
It took Mark a solid few hours to figure out the exact right things to tell her. He decided not to go into detail about the hairy situation on Zadaa. There was nothing they could do to help, so he figured Courtney didn’t need to worry about it. Besides, he was worried enough for both of them. He concocted a story that would let her know there was trouble on Zadaa, but didn’t include all the gory details about the danger that Bobby and Loor were facing. He even decided to tell her a little about Bobby’s feelings. for Loor. He felt she had the right to know. After all, Bobby thought she was reading the journals anyway! Beyond that, he figured if Courtney started asking more questions about the Batu and the Rokador, he’d bring up Loor again and that would probably get her off the subject. It was kind of devious, but he figured it was the right thing to do to keep her anxiety level down and her antennae up.
Mark returned home with his story ready. He went to his bedroom, grabbed his cell phone and-his eye caught something. Could it be? No, it was impossible. Yet it was staring him right in the face.
His clock radio read 2:05.
There was no way he was going to call Courtney that late. He decided the best thing to do was wait until morning. Early morning. He dropped his cell phone back on his desk without looking at it and set his alarm for six o’clock. Courtney would be ticked about getting a call that early, but once she heard what was going on, she’d forgive him. Six was good. Anything earlier than six was still the night before.
Mark grabbed his cell phone again. He wanted it on his bedside table so he could make the call the instant the alarm went off. He placed it next to his clock radio. He was ready. He got into bed, fully clothed, and tried to sleep. It was impossible. His mind wouldn’t shut down. He kept imagining what was happening to Bobby and Loor. Time seemed to slow down. He couldn’t help but keep glancing at his clock radio.
Time. The concept of the territories existing in different times was a hard one to understand. Did Zadaa exist in the future of Second Earth? Or in the ancient past? Was the war between the tribes on the verge of happening? Or had it been over for centuries? Or did it all exist simultaneously? That was the strangest concept, but the one that was most probable. Halla was explained to him as everything-all time all places all people. Everything that ever was, or will be, all existing in some way, together. It was one of the reasons the Travelers were able to arrive on a territory when they needed to be there. Whatever grand power was controlling it all, it knew how to manipulate time. Or more precisely, it knew how to control their movements through time. That was how Mark and Courtney were able to be on Eelong for a month, and return to Second Earth only a few minutes after they’d left. He figured it was also what allowed Saint Dane to bounce back and forth between territories, messing with one while lurking around another. It seemed to Mark that time was actually some giant sea that you could swim around in and travel any which way. It also seemed to Mark that the more he thought about the whole bizarre concept, the less chance there was of him getting any sleep.
3:58…3:59…4:00…
He wished he could take a couple of strokes forward in the sea of time and jump to 6:00. When the digital clock hit 5:00, Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He got out of bed and decided to kill the last hour on his computer. He opened his Web browser and did a search for Stansfield in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts. He found the Web site instantly and took a virtual tour. He decided it was a pretty nice place and a cool way to spend the summer. He wondered if Saint Dane felt the same way.
Finally, when his clock hit 5:30, Mark had had enough. He had practiced his speech to Courtney a thousand times. He had to make the call. He got up from his computer and sat back on his bed. Now that he actually had to do this for real, he had second thoughts.
He picked up the cell phone… and put it back down again.
Hehad to convince himself again that he was doing the right thing. He picked up the phone. He put it down. He picked it up. It was time. Courtney was on speed-dial: #1. He finally looked at the phone to make sure it was on and-
“Message waiting?” Mark said out loud.
Mark had never gotten a message on his cell phone before. He had no idea who could have called him. And when? He almost always had his phone in his pocket, how could he have missed a call? He stared at the blinking words. He didn’t even know how to retrieve a message. He had to rummage through his cluttered desk to find the instruction manual. By the time he found the manual, waded through the table of contents, flipped through the French, Spanish, and Japanese sections to the English instructions, and finally found the right buttons to push to get his message, it was nearly six o’clock. Mark actually laughed to himself. He had made it to six after all.
The prerecorded voice over the phone said, “Message sent yesterday at seven forty-fivep.m.”
