“Yes, come forward,” Naymeer encouraged from his podium. “Don’t be afraid.”
The people were tentative, but they climbed. A few red shirts met them and escorted them up and into the building. Before the last volunteer went inside, he turned and threw his arms up in a sign of victory and defiance. The little girl who was the guy’s daughter did too. The crowd cheered, then started to chant again. It now felt like a charge to those who were headed inside.
“Stop Naymeer. Stop Naymeer.”
I looked to Saint Dane. “Has this ever happened before?”
“No,” he said coldly. “It is unfortunate that it had to come to this.”
He left the window, leaving us with that ominous statement. What was going on?
“I don’t like this,” I whispered to Alder.
We followed Saint Dane back to the inside viewing window. The Ravinians were as well behaved as the crowd outside was unruly. When Naymeer appeared at the bottom of the stairs, they turned to him and watched politely. There was no cheering. No chanting. No urging him on. Following Naymeer were his red shirts, after which came the group of nervous outsiders. A quick count told me there were ten people, including three kids. They didn’t seem scared, but they were definitely intimidated. All eyes were on them. They huddled closer to one another for support as they made their way toward the flume. One of them caught sight of the tunnel and nudged another. Soon they all saw the tunnel that led to the territories. Their mouths hung open as they drew closer.
Naymeer was back in his position, next to the opening to the flume. “Come now, right this way,” he urged the people warmly. Invitingly.
They were brought to the front of the audience and stood in a group near the mouth of the tunnel.
“There,” Naymeer said cordially. “Thank you for joining us. This is a night you will not soon forget, nor will your friends outside. You are about to experience the true power and majesty of Halla.”
Alarms were going off in my head. Something was wrong. Why were these people crowded together in front of the flume like this? Like…like sheep. The words that Patrick had written suddenly came back to me.
N. exiles enemies through flume.
Was that it? Were these poor people going to be made an example of? Was that going to be his demonstration of the power of Halla? My mind was racing. I had to do something, but what?
“Ahh,” Saint Dane exclaimed. “A few stragglers have arrived.”
We looked down to see the red shirts were escorting two more outsiders up the aisle. These two weren’t going as easily as the others. The red shirts held each by the arm and pushed them forward. The two didn’t fight; they knew it was futile. But they didn’t go quietly, either. The people in the seats whispered nervously as they passed. They began to realize something was wrong too.
Alder stiffened. My knees went weak. I pressed my face against the glass. My heart raced. The two new arrivals were Mark and Courtney.
Alder gasped out Patrick’s other words: “Begins with Bronx Massacre.”
“Yes,” Saint Dane confirmed. “This is where it truly begins.”
JOURNAL #36
(CONTINUED)
SECOND EARTH
I whirled to Saint Dane.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
Saint Dane was smug. I hated smug. I’ve mentioned that before, right?
“You predicted that the enemies of Ravinia would try to stop the movement,” he declared. “Once they understand the consequences of their opposition, their will to rebel will disintegrate.”
Mark and Courtney were gently, yet forcefully, pushed into the group. The twelve stood huddled together directly in front of the flume. What they didn’t realize was that a group of red shirts was moving in behind them. Circling them. Cutting off any chance for escape.
Naymeer stood in the center of the flume, facing them. “I am sure you’ve heard rumors about the worlds of Halla,” he announced to the newly arrived group. “It’s true. The people in this room have witnessed the wonders. Now, tonight, you will be given the same privilege.” He raised his hand. Light flashed from his ring. The people huddled closer as the flume activated.
Naymeer continued, but when he spoke, his benign grandfatherly tone took on a firm, dark edge. He stared the group down and declared, “When those who oppose us learn of what transpired this evening, they too will realize that the rise of Ravinia is inevitable. There can be no opposition.”
With that, Naymeer stepped aside to reveal the light that had appeared deep in the recesses of the tunnel. The group stood together, transfixed, staring into it like deer caught in the headlights. Mark and Courtney tried to move away, but were forced back into the group by red shirts who were ready for them. Mark looked concerned, but Courtney was clearly scared. The people in the audience whispered to one another. They were just as clueless about what was going to happen as I was.
I take that back. I wasn’t totally clueless. I feared that we were about to witness the Bronx Massacre.
“Stop it!” I shouted to Saint Dane.
Saint Dane remained calm, with his arms folded. “Now why would I do that?”
These people were about to become victims. Whether it was to be exiled somewhere in Halla or to be executed, they would never see this life again. They were to become a warning to the world not to challenge the Ravinians. Naymeer promised his own people Utopia. He was about to promise something much worse to those who opposed him. They were about to be sacrificed in the name of Ravinia. This was the beginning of Ravinia’s reign on Earth…
And Mark and Courtney were caught in the middle.
I ran for a table that sat against the far wall.
“Guards,” Saint Dane called out, barely concerned by my move.
The red shirts ran for me. Too late. Alder launched himself at the dados, laying them out flat with his body parallel to the ground. I picked up the table and hurled it at the glass. Saint Dane dove out of the way. That was okay. He wasn’t the target. I wanted to break glass. The table hit the window, creating a spider web of cracks without breaking through.
Alder took on both the red shirts, keeping them away from me. His hands were tied, which made it more of a fair fight. I didn’t know how long he could keep them occupied. I didn’t need long. Saint Dane stepped directly in front of the cracked glass and faced me. The growing light from the flume filled the huge room below, casting him in shadow.
“Must you always prolong the inevitable?” he asked, sounding bored.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered.
He was in the perfect spot. Right in front of the damaged glass. This was going to feel good. I sprinted right at him. His eyes opened in surprise. He didn’t have time to react. I nailed the demon dead on, driving my head into his chest, knocking him back into the glass. The already damaged glass shattered, and the two of us launched into space. We fell through a blizzard of glass, plummeting toward the poor people who were directly below. I grabbed on to Saint Dane’s jacket, determined to keep him between me and the ground. If anybody was going to get hurt, I wanted it to be him. Not that I had thought it through, but I suppose I had a flash of hope that we’d land on some unsuspecting, soft Ravinians who wouldn’t be able to get out of the way in time.
I don’t know what or who we landed on, but we did land. Hard. I was aware of a jumble of arms and legs and screams as people dove out of the way. I was shaken, but okay. I landed squarely on Saint Dane and was thrown against the backs of some chairs. When I looked to him, he was gone. No, that’s not right. He was still there, but he had changed. Transformed. He had become a clean-cut-looking guy with short hair and a red golf shirt. He sat up, not hurt in the slightest.
“Stop him!” he shouted while pointing at me.
