building.
“Doesn’t seem like anybody’s here,” Mark commented.
Courtney walked to the archway to find a wide set of stairs leading straight down. She stood on top and stared toward the bottom. There was no clue as to what they might find below.
“What are the chances of this being some fancy new subway station?” she asked over her shoulder to the others.
“No chance,” Mark answered.
“I didn’t think so.”
The three started down slowly, shoulder to shoulder. With each step they saw more of the floor below. It seemed to be one big room. A few more steps down revealed a long row of green theater-style seats that stretched out to either side, facing away from them. It was followed by another row and another and another. A wide center aisle separated the seats into two halves. Left and right.
“This is no subway station,” Courtney muttered.
“It looks like a big theater,” Mark replied.
The room was huge. There looked to be enough seating for several hundred people. The rows of seats all faced the same direction. When they reached the bottom, Courtney saw why.
“This is no theater,” she gasped.
There was no stage. No movie screen. No performance area. Mark, Courtney, and Patrick stepped down onto the floor and saw the truth. On the far side of the vast space, facing the seats, for all to see, was the flume. To the right of its mouth was a red star flag on a pole in a stand. On the opposite side of the mouth was a U.S. flag.
“I can’t swallow,” Mark croaked.
“It’s like some kind of shrine,” Courtney murmured.
Mark walked to the first row of seats and picked up a thick book that was all too familiar. “Or a church,” he said, holding the book up for the others to see.
The cover was deep read. The word “Ravinia” ran vertically down one side in gold letters. Next to it was the star symbol. It was the exact same cover that Patrick had brought from Third Earth. The cover that Richard, the librarian, was willing to die to hold on to. Every other seat had the exact same book.
“I guess the mystery is solved,” Patrick commented. “It’s the Ravinian Bible.”
“Yeah,” Courtney quipped. “The Bible according to Naymeer.”
“According to Saint Dane,” Mark corrected.
Mark tossed the book back onto the seat. The three slowly drifted down the wide center aisle. Far ahead of them, the flume loomed large.
“It wasn’t out in the open like this on Third Earth,” Patrick commented. “A similar structure was aboveground, but the flume was behind a series of doors.”
“Like they decided to hide it again,” Mark commented.
“Exactly,” Patrick agreed.
Courtney asked, “What’s the point? Do they all sit here staring at a tunnel, reading about Naymeer’s twisted philosophies?”
“Maybe it’s like what we saw at the rally,” Mark offered. “Maybe Naymeer somehow produces images of Halla.”
“Yeah, like a movie,” Courtney agreed. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s gone further than we thought,” Mark concluded. “If the Ravinians know about the flume, they know everything.”
They heard a voice from the top of the stairs call to them. “Indeed. There are no secrets.”
All three spun and looked back up to see a man standing on top. He no longer wore his deep red robe. Instead he had on a gray business suit with a red tie. Embroidered into the tie was the star symbol.
“Welcome, my friends,” he said warmly. “My name is Alexander Naymeer. This is my conclave.”
To either side of him was a red-shirt guard. Unlike the guards at the Garden, these men were armed with pistols in hip holsters.
“I’m so glad you’ve come to visit,” he said kindly as he strolled casually down the stairs. “We have so much to talk about, and plan.”
“I don’t think so,” Courtney shouted. She looked to Mark and said, “We are so gone.” With that, she turned and ran for the flume.
“Stop!” a guard yelled. Both red shirts pulled their pistols and started to run down the stairs.
Mark ran after Courtney.
“Let’s go!” Mark shouted back to Patrick.
Patrick hesitated a moment more, then ran to catch up.
“Where to?” he asked breathlessly.
“Doesn’t matter,” Courtney shouted back. “Zadaa, Denduron, Quillan. Anywhere but here.” Bang! A shot was fired.
“Down!” Mark yelled, and pushed Courtney to the side, between two rows of seats. They were still over thirty yards from the mouth of the flume. Thirty long yards.
Patrick jumped the other way. They were on opposite sides of the aisle, both far from the flume.
“We can’t let them trap us here!” Courtney hissed.
“We can’t let them kill us!” Mark countered.
“They won’t! He wants us to be acolytes.” Courtney jumped up and started for the flume. Another shot was fired, kicking up a splinter from the chair in front of her. Courtney screamed and dropped back to the ground.
“You can’t travel without me,” Patrick called to them. “Follow me!”
“Patrick don’t!” Mark yelled.
Patrick didn’t listen. He jumped up, ran into the center aisle, and sprinted for the flume.
“C’mon!” he yelled back to the others.
He got only a few steps when another shot was fired.
Courtney screamed in horror.
Patrick stiffened instantly and spun back around in surprise. The look on his face said it all. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Patrick had been shot.
“Get down! Lie down!” Courtney yelled on the edge of hysteria.
Patrick staggered backward, stumbling toward the flume. He twisted his arm up to try and touch his back, as if to swat away an annoying bee. Mark and Courtney peeked over the tops of the chairs to see the Traveler from Third Earth twist and stumble as though he were drunk. A red patch of blood spread on the back of his shirt. His eyes rolled in his head.
“It hurts,” he cried, more in surprise than pain.
Courtney jumped up to go to him. Another shot was fired, hitting the seat in front of her. Mark grabbed Courtney and pulled her back down for protection.
“Stay down. They’ll shoot us all!” Mark cried.
Courtney was in tears. “Patrick! Sit down! Don’t move.”
Behind them, the red shirts hit the bottom of the stairs. Both had their guns drawn.
Patrick’s heels caught on the edge of the flume. He stumbled and fell down flat on his back, hard. Mark and Courtney clutched each other. Mark was ready to scream with anger and frustration…
When the flume came to life.
“What?” Mark gasped with dismay.
“He activated it,” Courtney whispered.
“Where is he going?” Mark asked.
“Who cares?”
“Get him out of there!” one of the guards yelled. The two took off running, sprinting up the aisle toward the flume.
Light began to shoot from the tunnel and fill the immense room. Patrick’s crumpled body became a silhouette on the floor of the flume.
“He won’t make it,” Courtney sobbed.
