being alone. It was the truth, she was tired of being alone. It was one of the great things about going back to school. After being in self-imposed exile, and then being hurt for so long, she loved being around people again. But if Courtney were being totally honest, she’d admit it was also because she didn’t trust herself alone with Bobby’s journal. She was afraid that if it were in her reach, she’d go for it. So rather than be tempted, she did her homework downstairs. When she finished, she sat with her dad to watch some TV. But her mind wasn’t on the newsmagazine they watched. It was on the treasure under her pillow upstairs.
Courtney checked her watch. Mark had been gone for over five hours. How long did it take to clean up a couple of flowers? Another half hour went by. Still no Mark. Courtney couldn’t take it anymore. She went into the kitchen and called his cell phone. All she got was Mark’s message. As far as she knew, she was the only one who ever left a message on Mark’s cell phone. Her message this time was short and to the point, “Where are you? It’s after ten! Call me!”
Mark didn’t call her. Ten turned into ten thirty and then eleven. Where was he? Could he have taken the night flight to Orlando after all? No, she thought, he would have called. This wasn’t like Mark.
Finally, at eleven thirty, Courtney broke. She convinced herself with him for not calling. In her mind that justified her taking a peek at Bobby’s pages.
“I’m going upstairs, Dad” she said. “There’s a chance Mark Dimond might come by tonight; he was supposed to help me with calculus.”
“Tonight?” Mr. Chetwynde said with surprise. “Isn’t it a little late to study on a school night?”
“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll come, but don’t be surprised if he does. Mark is an odd one.”
Mr. Chetwynde would never question anything that Mark Dimond did. He had saved his daughter’s life. Whatever Mark did was okay with him, no matter how odd.
“Good night, sweetheart,” Mr. Chetwynde called.
“G’night, Dad.”
Courtney hurried up the stairs, rushed into her bedroom, closed the door, and locked it. She stared at her pillow. She was torn between curiosity and guilt. Curiosity won. She jumped on her bed, jammed her hand under the pillow, and pulled out the envelope.
He’ll understand, Courtney thought.
From out of the envelope she pulled a thick stack of small gray pages. It was notepaper, with each sheet around five-by-seven inches. Each sheet was filled on both sides with Bobby’s familiar handwriting. She was about to read when she noticed one more thing about the pages. Printed on the bottom right hand corner of each page, in small square letters, was a single word. blok.
“Blok,” she said to herself out loud. “I hope he’s figured out what that means, because it’s making me crazy.”
Courtney’s head went to Quillan. She knew Mark would understand. It was time to read.
QUILLAN
I’ve been kidnapped. Again.
Abducted, captured, taken prisoner, whatever. I’m not really sure what to call it. All I know is, I was grabbed, tied up, driven somewhere, and thrown into a dank, wet cellar. It’s cold in here. It smells like rotten fish.
At least there aren’t any clowns.
What I don’t know is, why. My kidnappers can’t be looking for ransom. Who would pay it? They’re not treating me badly, other than sticking me in this tuna-smelling dungeon. They gave me food, and even some blank paper when I asked for it. That’s what I’m writing this journal on. I truly don’t know how much danger I’m in. Nobody will tell me anything. All I know for sure is that I’m trapped in this cell. And that it stinks. The only thing I can do is wait, and write down all that’s happened to me since I finished my last journal.
There is one more odd twist to this mess that I should mention. My kidnappers all wore dark masks, so I don’t know who any of them are, except for one. One of my kidnappers is a Traveler. Yes, a Traveler. You’d think that would make me feel better, but after all that’s happened on Quillan, it doesn’t.
I don’t mean to sound paranoid but, well, I’m paranoid. After you read about what’s been going on, I think you’ll understand why. That’s the reason I want to write now. If things turn sour and these guys are looking to hurt me, I want a record of everything that led to my being here. But don’t worry, if they try to hurt me, they’re in for a big surprise. They picked on the wrong guy.
I finished my last journal a long time ago. I don’t know how they measure time here on Quillan, but my internal Second Earth clock tells me it was at least a couple of weeks since I finished Journal #24. When last I wrote, I was in that circuslike room in the fairytale castle that belonged to Veego and LaBerge. Writing both those journals so close together really fried me. I suppose being chased, bitten, chased, chased, and shot in the back with a tranquilizer gun had a little to do with it too. I lay down on the floating platform bed that was in the center of that odd room and closed my eyes to get some rest. As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t keep my eyes shut. My mind was racing in too many directions. I kept thinking about Challenger Yellow, and the Tato match, and why the challenger clothes were left for me at the flume, and the robot-spiders and… well, everything. It didn’t help that there were hundreds of clown-doll eyes staring down at me either. I kept thinking that LaBerge had to be some kind of freak to decorate a room like a clown carnival. Okay, I was also thinking that these dolls were going to come to life and tickle me to death or something, but that’s embarrassing to admit.
I told you how much I hate clowns, right?
After tossing around for I don’t know how long, I gave up and paced the room. This had gone on long enough. I wanted to know what was in store for me. Was I a prisoner? Was I a guest? Who were Veego and LaBerge and what did they want with me? The waiting and wondering were making me nuts! I was tired of playing it their way. I wanted answers. So I walked over to the door and was all set to bang on it and start screaming for that Fourteen guy to come get me, when I had a thought. I reached down and tried the doorknob. It was open! I had assumed that once I was put in that room that I was locked in. What an idiot. I could have left anytime I wanted. Oops. I felt stupid and curious at the same time. Why didn’t they lock me in? Could I leave? Maybe I really was just a guest. With more questions now than before, I opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
I was surprised to see that a sign had been erected outside my door. It was a yellow card, about a foot square, with purple handwriting. It sat on a three-legged easel and was positioned so it would be seen as soon as I came out. How long had it been there? The sign read: challenger red got out of bed. Under the writing was an arrow that pointed to the right. Not knowing what else to do, I turned right and walked down the hallway. What kind of game were they playing? I walked to the end of the hallway to find another hallway that stretched out to either side. Dangling from a string that hung down from the ceiling was another sign. It read: and went to take a look. Beneath this writing was an arrow that pointed left. I followed the instructions and made the turn. This hallway stretched for almost as far as I could see. Man, the castle was huge! About twenty yards farther along, another yellow sign dangled from the ceiling. It read: he saw a door and went to explore. The arrow here pointed left again. I turned to see that, sure enough, there was a double-wide door right there, with another sign on it. I had the feeling that I was getting near the end of this mysterious treasure hunt. As big as the door was, the writing on this sign was so small I couldn’t see it from even a few steps away. I had to walk right up to the door and lean in so close that my nose nearly touched it. In tiny letters the sign read: and played a game called hook.
Hook? I said to myself. What’s Hook?
Instantly the door spun open. Yes, I said “spun.” The door twisted on a center axis, like a revolving door. I was so surprised, I didn’t have time to react and got swept inside. What kind of wicked fun house was this? I got thrown inside a room that was pitch dark. Limbo dark. My every sense went instantly on alert. I crouched down and closed my eyes, trying to feel if anyone or anything was in there with me. I wasn’t scared. I had been there before. It was like the ordeal that Loor and Alder put me through on Zadaa. I knew how to fight in the dark. Only back on Zadaa, it was for training. This was for real. I didn’t move. Whatever was going to happen, I was ready.
I heard a bright chime sound. In the distance a white light appeared in the shape of a door. Because the room was so dark, I had no sense of depth and couldn’t tell how far away it was. It could have been a small rectangle only a few feet away, or a large door on the far side of a long room. It seemed suspended in space, glowing brightly, beckoning me. I didn’t move. There was way too much mystery between here and there. A
