Did I bring her back from the dead? Do I have that kind of power? Do all Travelers have that kind of power? Loor raised a lot of good questions. I’ve never been sick a day in my life. If ever I was injured, it never lasted. My coaches used to call me the Terminator, because no matter what happened to me, I kept coming back. I never thought twice about it…until Loor died. Or un-died.
Having the ability to heal quickly isn’t what’s got me freaked out. It’s more about why. Healing that fast isn’t normal. Neither is rising from the dead. Saint Dane is a Traveler with powers that defy the imagination. We’re Travelers too, but we don’t have those same powers. Or do we? I have to admit, I sat here trying to change myself into looking like somebody else. It didn’t work. All I accomplished was feeling stupid.
Still, I can’t ignore the facts. Loor was dead. Then she wasn’t. Whether I did it, or she did it herself, or it was the combination of both of us, I don’t know. But it happened. That leads me to the biggest, most troubling question of all: Am I human?
Don’t laugh. Humans don’t rise from the dead. Humans get sick. Humans don’t have the power of persuasion. And most of all, humans don’t shoot around Halla trying to stop Saint Dane. (I know, you guys did, but you weren’t supposed to.) It raises other questions too. What happened to my family? Uncle Press said my mother and father weren’t my real parents. Then who were? Where did I come from and why was I living in Stony Brook? How could all records of their existence have disappeared? That’s impossible, isn’t it? None of the Travelers know where they came from. They were all told that their parents weren’t their biological parents, but were never told who their real parents were. I have to admit, it’s got me all sorts of worked up again. I had put all those questions aside to focus on Saint Dane. Now they’re coming back to haunt me.
And speaking of Saint Dane, he has led me to the territory of Quillan. Actually, he invited me. Or had me invited. I’m writing this journal from my room. It’s in this monstrous castle where a couple of characters named Veego and LaBerge live. The castle is right out of the Brothers Grimm, but this room looks more like I’m living at the circus. The walls are purple and yellow striped; the ceiling is covered with balloons; I’m writing on a desk that looks like a giant hand; and the bed looks to be floating in the air. I have no idea what’s holding it up. Oh yeah, there are hundreds of dolls in the room. Clown dolls. I hate clowns.
I’m supposed to have dinner with my hosts soon, so I should finish this journal. I have no idea what’s in store for me here, other than some scary clown nightmares. But I feel certain this is where I should be. Saint Dane brought me here for a reason; I need to find out what it is.
As I wrote before, please be careful. Whatever he’s doing on Second Earth, assuming he’s really there, I’ve got to believe it’s in the early stages. I don’t think you’re in trouble. That’s not his style. It’s not you he wants to beat, it’s me.
The adventure on Zadaa has changed me in so many ways. I’ve learned some things about myself, and discovered some new and disturbing questions. Above it all, I still think we are closer to beating Saint Dane. He’s starting to sweat. No, he’s starting to panic. It’s my job to keep the pressure on, so that’s what I’m going to do.
I miss you guys. I love you guys.
And so we go.
END JOURNAL #23
SECOND EARTH
“What are you reading there?”Andy Mitchell said.”Highlights?”
Mark quickly rolled up the yellow pages of Bobby’s last journal. He had already read it three times. “N-No. Uh, what’s ‘highlights’?”
Andy plopped down next to Mark with a bag full of burgers and fries. “You know, Highlights. That kid magazine they have in doctors’ offices where you gotta find the picture of the pencil hidden in the tree and whatnot.”
“Oh. No. This is just, uh, something I’m working on,” Mark said.
“Yeah? Another one of them stories about Pendragon?” Mark shot Andy a surprised look and asked, “What did you say?”
“You know, like that one you wrote about, what was that place? Da-doo run run?”
Mark relaxed. He had forgotten that Andy had seen Bobby’s first journals. In fact, he had stolen them from Mark. Mark and Courtney had to pretend that they had written the story themselves so Andy wouldn’t spread strange rumors about what really happened to Bobby…that weren’t rumors at all.
“Denduron,” Mark corrected. “No, it’s just an article. Leave it alone.”
“All right, jeez, lighten up.” Andy handed the bag of food to Mark. “Here, eat something. You look like hell. Sorry it took so long. Nothing’s close to anything up here in the boonies.”
Mark took the burgers, but didn’t feel like eating. His mind was in too many different places. Courtney was lying in an operating room, near death, from an accident that might have been caused by Saint Dane. They still didn’t know if she would live or die. As horrible as it was, worrying about Courtney kept his mind from spinning to all the other things that had him so worried.
Saint Dane was on Second Earth. Was he there to lay the groundwork for his attack on their home? As much as he wanted to think there was another reason, Mark couldn’t come up with one. His worst fear was about to come true. There was going to be a battle for Second Earth. That is, unless Bobby could stop Saint Dane for good.
That thought brought Mark back to the strange news from Bobby’s latest journal. Of course, Mark was thrilled that Zadaa was saved. But that also brought bad news. With so many losses, Saint Dane was getting desperate… and violent. He nearly killed Bobby out of sheer anger. Hedidkill Loor, which brought up some truly unsettling possibilities.
Loor had returned from the dead.
How strange was that? It was good news, yes, but disturbing news just the same. How could it have happened? Other Travelers died, and stayed dead. Mark saw one die himself, Seegen, the Traveler from Eelong before Kasha. What was different about Loor’s death? Was it Bobby? But Bobby was there when his uncle Press had died. The same with Kasha. Those two didn’t come back from the dead. Whatever the reason was, it brought something to light that could not be denied. There was something unusual about the Travelers. The simple fact that they healed so quickly was enough proof that they weren’t normal. Or at least normal by the standards of the territories they came from. That brought Mark around to the bottom-line question that disturbed him the most.
Who was Bobby Pendragon? Really? They had been best friends since either could remember. Now Mark was faced with the possibility that Bobby wasn’t just randomly chosen to be a Traveler. He was different. More different than even he could imagine.
“Mark?” a woman’s voice called. It was Mrs. Chetwynde. She entered the waiting room along with Mr. Chetwynde. Both looked tired and scared. Their eyes were red. They had been crying.
Mark jumped to his feet to greet them. “You made it!” he exclaimed.
“We’ve been here for a while,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “We’ve been with Courtney.”
Andy stood up and joined Mark. Mark asked, “How is she?” He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.
The Chetwyndes exchanged looks, as if they weren’t sure which one of them should answer. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Is she okay?” Mark asked more insistently.
“She’s out of surgery,” Mrs. Chetwynde said. “She’s got problems. She lost a lot of blood. The doctors have done all they can; now it’s just a matter of time.”
Mr. Chetwynde continued, “She’s really banged up. Broken ribs. Her left arm was broken in two places. She has a terrible concussion…”
“Wow,” Andy said without even thinking.
“The real damage was internal,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “There was lots of bleeding. That’s why the surgery took so long. They think they repaired it all but, they just don’t know for sure. The next twenty-four hours are going to be critical.”
