“Haven’t taken this old wreck for a spin in a decade,” Richard explained. “Impossible to get gas. All I do is start it up every so often to keep things working.”
“Where are we going?” Patrick asked.
“To get the answers you’ve been looking for.”
“I thought all the records from the early twenty-first century were destroyed.”
“They were. Most of ‘em, anyway. Things get passed around. And hidden. I’ve read enough to piece some things together. But I’m not taking you to see some old papers. You’re going to see reality.” He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pad of paper with a pen attached. He tossed it to Patrick, saying, “Take notes. Let’s start our own documentation of history.”
Patrick took the pad but didn’t write anything. He was too terrified of Richard’s driving to look at anything other than the road.
“He was some kind of prophet,” Richard began. “Or so the stories go. He promised a better life. He promised paradise. All his people had to do was buy into his way of thinking.”
“You’re talking about Naymeer?” Patrick asked.
“Who else? He gave people a glimpse into other worlds. ‘Halla,’ he called it. People ate it up. Everybody wants to live in a better place. It’s only natural. Halla wasn’t some mystical afterlife you had to die to get to. No, it swirled all around, all the time. All you had to do to get there was prove your worth.”
“By being perfect,” Patrick added.
Richard gave him a look. “You know more than you let on, teacher.”
“I’m learning,” Patrick answered. “How did Naymeer show them these worlds?”
“He had a ring,” Richard continued. “He said it was made from the stuff that created all existence. Not many doubted him. There was a tunnel in the Bronx. They had big gatherings where he’d use the ring to make that tunnel come alive with visions of Halla.”
“The flume,” Patrick muttered.
D. J. MacHale
Raven Rise
“Yeah, the flume. I understand it was quite the show.”
“That was a long time ago,” Patrick said. “How did it all go wrong?”
“It didn’t at first. Naymeer was all about reward and punishment. Those he considered worthy were given wealth and comfort. Those he thought were a drain on society were given, well, nothing. No, worse than that. They were stripped of everything, including their pride.”
“What about the sick and the elderly?”
“No exceptions. Once you were judged to be a burden, your rights were taken away, and you were forced to live in these camps they called Horizon Compounds. There were thousands of ‘em, all over the world. That’s where they kept the people who didn’t contribute. They were as good as slaves. Occasionally somebody would prove to be worthy and got sprung to join the elite, but mostly they spent their lives between the compounds and whatever job they were assigned to keep the wheels of the world moving.”
“And they weren’t allowed to see the rest of Halla?”
“They weren’t allowed anything,” Richard snapped. “They were treated like a subspecies. The Horizon Compounds were filthy places full of crime and disease.”
Patrick sat back in his seat, stunned. “That’s incredible.”
“What’s incredible is how so many people allowed it to happen. That’s what Ravinia is all about. It’s the essence of their philosophy. They believe that prosperity comes only from rewarding excellence and crushing weakness.”
Patrick shook his head sadly. “Yet society crumbled.”
“Not according to the Ravinians. They’re still around, you know. Who do you think gave me that beating? They haven’t given up. They consider all this just a transitional phase before the true glory will rise from the ashes, or some such nonsense.”
Patrick looked to Richard. “You were one of them.”
“I took on the symbol,” Richard answered. “I was never one of them. I joined to keep the library open and the memories alive. The truth alive. But I was not one of them.”
“Why do they care so much about burying the truth?” Patrick asked.
Richard gave him a sideways glance. “Look around. Reality hasn’t exactly lived up to the promise. They fear that if enough people learned the truth, it could lead to a revolution.”
“Why did you get rid of the star symbol?”
Richard didn’t answer at first. Patrick saw his eyes fill with tears. Patrick didn’t push him. He would answer when he was ready.
“I’m an old man,” Richard finally said. “I won’t be around much longer, and I’m okay with that. I’ve seen too much as it is. I played the game, to do what I thought was right, but every man has his limits. I’d dance through hell, but I’d never make a pact with the devil. When I learned the truth, I reached my limit. So I burned off the star.”
Patrick stared at Richard, wide eyed. The old man looked back at him through tears. “Now I’m going to show you the truth. Who knows? Maybe you’re the one to start that revolution.”
Richard turned back to his driving. Patrick didn’t ask him anything else. He felt as if he had already pushed the old man too far. Was he stable? Patrick didn’t know. He was upset for sure. Wherever it was they were going, Patrick felt sure he would find answers. Answers he hoped would help Pendragon and Alder stop the growing insanity on Second Earth.
Richard drove them north. They left the island of Manhattan and traveled through what used to be the suburbs. On Patrick’s Third Earth it was beautiful, green countryside. It was now filled with blighted trees, abandoned tracts of homes, and trash. Lots of trash. From derelict cars down to paper wrappers. The thruway hadn’t been repaved in ages. It looked more like a spider web than a solid roadbed.
“People still live out here,” Richard said. “They’re like wild tribes, sticking together for security. This isn’t the kind of place to be spending time if you’re an outsider.”
“Really? What about us?”
“Let’s just say it will be better if this old jalopy doesn’t break down,” Richard answered ominously.
When they had driven for nearly an hour, Patrick noticed changes. They first drove past a series of small, crumbling cement structures that spread out to either side of the thruway.
“Security outposts,” Richard answered, as if he knew what Patrick was wondering. “Back in the day they were filled with armed soldiers.”
“What for?”
“To keep the curious away. If you didn’t have business out here, you’d never get past this perimeter. It circles around for miles.”
“What were they protecting?” Richard didn’t answer and Patrick didn’t press.
Once past the abandoned military-style bunkers, the signs of civilization became fewer and farther between. The trees grew more dense. Green foliage became thicker. It was the first pleasant sight Patrick had viewed on the new Third Earth.
“Pretty,” he commented without thinking.
“That was the idea,” Richard said with a snarl. “If you were brought out here, you first had to travel through this pleasant, green forest. I guess it calmed people down and made them feel like they were going someplace swell.”
“People were brought here? Why? What is this place?”
Richard answered, “They called it Stony Brook.”
Patrick shot Richard a stunned look. “Stony Brook?”
“You heard of it?” Richard asked, surprised.
Patrick wasn’t sure how to answer. “I knew people who came from there.”
Richard gave a skeptical laugh. “Not this place. Nobody comes from Stony Brook.”
Patrick didn’t press Richard any further. He knew he’d get answers soon enough. The forest they passed through bore no resemblance to the hometown of Bobby Pendragon. Patrick couldn’t imagine why people would have been brought to the home of the Traveler from Second Earth. They drove several miles through dense forest,
