Nobody listened. They didn’t want any part of me. They backed away as if I were radioactive. Saint Dane may have considered them perfect. I considered them cowards.
Crash! I looked up to see one of the red shirts had been thrown through the window. Alder was back in charge. The guard plummeted down, along with the shattered glass. He landed against the back of a chair and bounced. Seriously. Dados bounce.
Bedlam was breaking loose. Between the flume activating and bodies crashing down from above, the Ravinians wanted out. They starting pushing their way toward the stairs.
Bright light filled the room. I didn’t have much time.
“Courtney!” I shouted. “Mark!”
I climbed up on a chair to see the red shirts pushing the group of frightened people toward the flume. Courtney heard me and turned.
“Bobby!” she screamed.
Her eyes were wild. She was terrified. She tried to fight her way back, but a red shirt grabbed her by the waist and pushed her forward. Closer to the flume. By this time the other people in her group knew something was wrong. They tried to resist, but the ring of dados closed on them, forcing them toward the light. I jumped down from the chair, pushing my way through the fleeing Ravinians, desperate to help these people. To help Mark and Courtney. It was impossible to move. There were too many people pushing against me, moving the other way. I was stuck. The music from the flume grew louder. I climbed back up on a chair just as the group of people were shoved into the tunnel, along with several red-shirt dados.
Mark fought his way out of the crowd. For a second I thought he was going to get away, but he turned back and tried to grab Courtney’s hand to help her. He was more worried about her safety than his own. That was Mark. The move cost him. A red shirt ran up from behind and pushed them both back into the pile of victims. The light enveloped them all. The music was deafening. A moment later it ended. The light disappeared. The music died. The last sound I heard was the faint echo of Courtney’s voice calling, “Bobby!”
The Bronx Massacre.
They were gone. But to where? Were they dead? Or exiled to some unknown location? Whatever the truth was, Naymeer had sent a message. Don’t mess with the Ravinians. Or else. I couldn’t let myself believe that Mark and Courtney were dead. I had to tell myself that they were just…gone. Thinking any other way would have crushed me. Knowing that they were out there somewhere, needing my help, gave me new strength. That was good, because I was still in the thick of it.
Naymeer was gone. So was Saint Dane. The red shirts weren’t. From my perch on the chair I saw several of them pushing their way through the crowd to get to me. I was about to jump down when I felt my legs go out from under me. The dado that Alder had bounced down from above was still in play. He flipped me to the ground, but I went down kicking. I nailed his knee. Hard. It may have been a dado, but feeling his knee give way was gruesome. It didn’t stop the dado from coming after me. After all, it was a robot. He reached down, and was about to grab my shirt when he was suddenly picked up and thrown aside like a puppet.
Alder stood over me. His hands were untied.
“We must go,” he said.
I bounced to my feet and looked around to find the best way out. I thought of going for the flume, but there were too many Ravinians and red shirts between us and the tunnel. The only logical way to go was with the flow of people who were desperately pushing to get to the stairs that led up out of there.
“Go with the crowd,” I instructed Alder.
We pushed our way through the mass. The dados were after us. Our best hope was to keep as many Ravinians as possible between us and them. I didn’t think the dados would hurt the Ravinians to get to us. After all, they were the chosen people. They were the future. All I cared about was that they would be our shields. Politeness didn’t count. I barged past them, not caring if they were offended or bruised or angry. We fought our way to the stairs and climbed to the top. I kept glancing up and around, to see how close our pursuers were. They were all still at the bottom of the stairs and having just as much trouble getting through the crowd of Ravinians as we were. I actually thought we were going to make it, until we reached the top of the stairs and ran outside.
The line of red-shirt dados that was holding the crowd back was still there.
The Ravinians were quickly funneled off to the side of the building, where two columns of red shirts formed a clear alley for them to hurry past the angry protesters. A line of buses was fired up, and waiting to take them away from the madness. We couldn’t go that way. The corridor of dados was too narrow. They’d spot us for sure. Even if we made it to a bus, we’d be stopped before we got on. No, we had to break free from the crowd and take our chances on our own.
The protesters on the stairs crowded against the line of red shirts. There were thousands of them, all wanting to break through and storm the conclave.
“Pendragon, look,” Alder shouted.
A group of red shirts had climbed up and out of the flume room, headed for us. We were trapped between them and the line of red shirts below us on the stairs. We were moments away from being swarmed. I could only think of one thing to do.
I started a riot.
“They’re not coming out!” I shouted to the angry mob of protesters. “Naymeer killed them all!”
Under normal circumstances, shouting something like that would have been a totally irresponsible thing to do, like shouting “fire” in a crowded movie theater. These weren’t normal circumstances. The effect was instant. The crowd turned violent. While some ran off in fear, most of them pushed past the line of red-shirt dados to storm the conclave. The guards Tasered a few, in a futile attempt to keep them back. No go. There were too many. The red-shirt dados were stampeded. Now the crowd was headed toward us. We stood frozen on the stairs as the mob came our way. I glanced back up to see the dados who were chasing us had decided it was more important to protect Naymeer than to recapture Alder and me. They fled back inside the building and were quickly shuttering the large doors. The conclave would survive intact. I wasn’t so sure I could say the same for Alder and me.
Alder grabbed my arm and took off to our right. I felt like a tailback running behind a pulling guard. Alder picked a spot that wasn’t so dense with people and bulled through. I tripped down the stairs, banging into people as I went. Frankly, there were so many of them, it kept me upright. I kept bouncing off of people like a pinball. Alder didn’t do much bouncing. It was more like mowing. I don’t know how many people he ran over. Too many. These people were victims. They had only begun to live a life of misery, thanks to the Ravinians. A life they didn’t deserve. I hated to have to start it with violence, but we had to get away. It only took a minute for us to land at the bottom of the stairs and the backside of the surge of people. I grabbed Alder’s arm as a signal for him to stop. We both looked back up the stairs to see the crowd banging on the doors of the austere building, desperate to get inside and learn the fate of their friends.
“We gotta get away from here,” I said to Alder, and took off running.
The farther we got away from the conclave building, the sparser the crowd became. We made it. We got away. But our night was only beginning. I saw a subway entrance and led Alder down. I didn’t know where to go other than to get as far away from the Ravinians as possible. We didn’t have any money, so we both jumped the turnstile and walked out onto the platform to wait for a train. I had to give Alder credit. He followed me through this strange world without question. I couldn’t begin to imagine what must have been going through his head as he experienced the alien world that was Second Earth. Or maybe he wasn’t shaken by any of it. After all, there were bigger issues to deal with than learning what a subway train was.
Thankfully, a train pulled into the station quickly. The
D. J. MacHale
Raven Rise doors opened and Alder followed me on. We took seats at the rear of the near-empty car. It was the first chance we had to catch our breath since I saw Mark and Courtney being led to-I won’t even finish that sentence.
“What do you believe happened to them?” Alder asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t believe they were all just…executed. What would the purpose be?”
“To eliminate their enemies and intimidate those who remain,” Alder answered.
“Yeah, but Patrick wrote that Naymeer exiled his enemies. I said before, exile isn’t execution.”
“Then why was it called the Bronx Massacre?”
I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. What I wanted was to have Mark and Courtney back. I think I was in
