“Why do you say that?” I asked.
She looked me right in the eye and said, “How can someone be trusted who only thinks of himself? From the moment you arrived, you have plotted to get away. It did not matter how much the Milago need help. It was always about getting home.”
I was feeling a little defensive at this point. I thought she was being unfair and said, “Okay, maybe you’re right. But I was kind of thrown into this mess without a whole bunch of warning. It’s a lot to ask someone to turn their life upside down in a day!”
“I know, Pendragon,” she said. “The same thing happened to me. But there is a difference between you and me and it has nothing to do with fighting.”
“And what’s that?”
That’s when she let me have it.
“You saw how my mother died,” she said, trying to hold back emotion. “I would have done anything to save her. But you…I do not understand how you can only think of yourself when your uncle is about to die.”
Those words hit me hard. She was right. Uncle Press was in trouble. I knew it ever since that sled had landed us in the snow bank. Yet I was planning on leaving without even trying to help him. I had been so worried about saving myself that I didn’t think for a second that Uncle Press needed me. Loor was right and I was ashamed.
“That is why you are of no use here, Pendragon,” she said with finality. “The Milago need someone to have faith in. You are not that person.” She turned and headed for the door, but just before she left she said, “After you get some sleep, I will bring you home. You can go back to the life you miss so dearly and forget that any of this ever happened. I suppose in time you will also forget about Press.” And she left.
I had just learned something about myself and I didn’t like it. Could I really be that selfish? Everything Loor said was dead on. Sure I cared about Uncle Press, but I convinced myself that there was nothing I could do to help him. But was that true? Or was it just an easy way to get out of trying? Did I even let my mind think of the possibility of trying to rescue him? I spent the next few hours questioning myself. Memories of the past few days played over and over in my head. I was haunted by the vision of the guy who was coldly thrown to his death because the Milago hadn’t mined enough glaze. I continued to see the horror of Osa fighting for her life and ultimately losing to a shower of arrows. I remembered the look on Loor’s face when she wanted to help her mother, but chose instead to protect me.
But most of all, I remembered Uncle Press. I thought back to my first memories of him. He was always there for me. It was sad testament that my last memory of him was going to be the sight of him dragged off by Kagan’s knights. That wasn’t right. That was not the way it should end. And that’s why I need your help, Mark.
After I finish writing this journal, I’m going to put down some instructions on a separate piece of parchment. That way you can keep it with you. I think you should keep my journal separate and in a safe place. Osa was right. It’s important that I write down everything that’s going on. If I never get back, these words are the only record of what happened to me. Treat them like gold, buddy.
I don’t know if it’s fair of me to ask you to do this. I’m beginning to think that I don’t deserve it. If you can’t help, I’ll understand. No harm, no foul. I’m still going to do what I have to do anyway. I’m not even sure if the help I’m asking for will do any good. I’m winging it here. The real wild card is Loor. She may not give me a chance, and without her help the odds are going to be really against me. But you know, it doesn’t matter. One way or another, with or without her, I’ve made up my mind.
Tomorrow I’m going after Uncle Press.
END OF JOURNAL #2.
Second Earth
Courtney finished Bobby’s second amazing journaland placed it down on the table. Mark had finished a few minutes earlier and was already looking over the additional piece of parchment paper that Bobby had included with his latest missive. It took a while for her to say anything. The story contained on the pages from Bobby was getting more fantastic with each new paragraph, and she had to let it sink in. Finally she looked at Mark and asked, “What does he want you to do?”
Mark stood up and paced Courtney’s dad’s workshop as his mind tried to work its way around the task at hand. On the additional piece of parchment, Bobby had outlined a job for Mark to do that was fairly simple, yet still dangerous.
“It’s a list,” explained Mark. “He wants me to put together a bunch of stuff and get it to him.”
Courtney grabbed the paper and looked over the list. “Get it to him?” she exclaimed. “How?”
Mark grabbed the list back and shook it at her. “Th-That’s the hard part,” he declared nervously. “He wrote out instructions. First I’m supposed to try and use the ring the way Osa did. But if that doesn’t work, which it shouldn’t because I’m not a Traveler, then he wants me to find the gate to the flume in the subway station.”
“You mean the abandoned subway in the Bronx with the killer dogs?” asked Courtney in disbelief. “That’s like…suicide.”
“Y-Yeah, tell me about it,” Mark exclaimed.
Courtney and Mark fell silent. It was a dangerous favor that Bobby was asking.
Finally Courtney asked, “But you’re gonna do it, right?”
“Of course!” Mark answered quickly, as if he were insulted that she even had to ask. “You think I’d blow off my best friend? Gimme a break.”
“Then I’m going with you,” said Courtney without a hint of doubt.
“N-No way,” said Mark quickly.
“Yeah way!” Courtney shot back. “You need somebody to cover your butt.”
“Who’ll coveryour butt?”
“I can cover my own butt,” said Courtney with her usual cockiness.
It was hard to argue with that. Courtneycould cover her own butt. But Mark doubted that she ever had to do it in a place like the badlands of the South Bronx against a pack of vicious quig-dogs and a demon killer by the name of Saint Dane. No, he was pretty sure Courtney hadn’t encountered that particular challenge before. But then again, he didn’t want to do this alone. The idea terrified him. He thought over the dilemma for a good five seconds and then asked, “You sure you want to help?”
“Absolutely,” she said as she grabbed Bobby’s list back. She looked it over and then announced. “I get why he wants some of this stuff…a flashlight, a watch…but what’s he gonna do with a CD player?”
“You’re asking me like I should know?” Mark said sarcastically. “None of this makes any sense to me.”
Courtney scanned the list again and then said, “Uh-oh, he wants some stuff from his house.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” said Mark. “But I can substitute other things.”
This raised another tough issue. Courtney threw a sober stare at Mark and said, “If we can get things to Bobby, that means we can tell him his family disappeared.”
Mark had to think about this. Courtney’s instincts were right. Bobby had to know what was going on, even though they didn’t really know themselves. The only thing they knew for certain was that the Pendragons had vanished.
“Bobby should know,” said Mark cautiously while still working out his thoughts. “But not yet. There’s nothing he can do about it now.”
“But it’s his family,” countered Courtney.
“I know,” said Mark. “But so is Uncle Press. I don’t know what Bobby’s got planned, but he has a shot at saving his uncle. I’m not sure there’s anything he could do here to help find his family.”
Courtney realized that Mark was right. Bobby needed to do what he had to do on Denduron. There would be plenty of time after that to find his family. Besides, the police were already working on the case. What more could Bobby do?
“We’ll tell him after he’s back for good,” said Mark with finality.
“And what if he doesn’t come back for good?” asked Courtney. “Mark, I think we should tell our parents what’s going on.”