D. MacHale - Raven Rise

Mark plopped down on the couch. The Seinfeld episode was loud. The characters were complaining about something, as usual. Mark looked around, annoyed. “Where is the remote?”

Patrick called out, “Turn off.”

The TV turned off.

“Oh,” Mark uttered, numb.

Patrick faced the others. “None of that was familiar to you?” he demanded to know. “The gray-haired man? The people? The sentiment?”

“No,” Courtney said. Mark shook his head.

“What about the Convergence?” Patrick added. “Is it some definite event that can just…happen?”

Mark said, “You’re assuming it’s Saint Dane’s Convergence.”

“Like there could be two?” Courtney shouted back sarcastically. “Slight coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Mark fretted.

Patrick paced, deep in thought. “We need to know who that man is,” Patrick concluded.

“And if the Convergence is going to happen tonight,” Courtney added.

“That too.” Patrick paced more quickly, the tension rising in his voice. “Whoever that guy is, he’s got a following. Those people looked at him as though he’s some kind of… of… god. If he didn’t exist on Second Earth before, there’s a good chance that whatever he’s doing, it’s going to lead to the changes on Third Earth.”

“We should go to that event at Madison Square Garden,” Mark offered.

“I’d rather go see the Knicks play,” Courtney complained.

“I need to get to a library,” Patrick announced, ignoring her. “That man didn’t just show up yesterday. We need to find out everything we can about him.”

“Use the Internet,” Mark offered. “My computer’s upstairs. But it’s not like on Third Earth. No holograms. No huge databases. You’re going to think it’s all pretty crude.”

“If a guy has that kind of impact, I don’t think the database will have to be all that deep to find him,” Patrick said with authority. “We have to know how he got started. Where he came from. How he ended up having such a big following. That kind of information has to exist, and I can find it.”

Mark smiled at Courtney. Courtney gave a little shrug.

“Glad you’re with the program,” Mark said to Patrick.

“It’s what I do,” Patrick replied with confidence.

“Do what you can,” Mark said. “Then we’ll head into the city.”

Soon after, Patrick sat at Mark’s computer doing his best to dig through the crude (to him) data that was available on the Internet. Mark and Courtney left him alone to work undisturbed and went to Courtney’s house to get her clothes. It was within walking distance of Mark’s, but through a neighborhood where people knew them. It would have been safer to make the trip at night, but Courtney’s parents would have been home. They had to go during the day. They walked casually but quickly, so as not to draw any attention, and arrived without a problem. As with Mark’s house, the extra key was hidden near the back door.

“We’ve got to do this fast,” Mark cautioned. “If your parents come home, or if somebody spots us-“

“We’ll be in and out in five minutes,” Courtney assured him.

Courtney opened the back door and stepped inside. As much as she wanted the clothes, she worried that this visit would be difficult. She was wrong. It was worse than difficult. It hurt. She was prepared to see things that would make her lament the loss of her old life. She was prepared for that. What she didn’t expect to have to deal with were the smells. Stepping into her kitchen, she was met with a wave of familiarity that had everything to do with the normal smells of her house. It immediately brought her back to the times she ran in the back door after playing ball, looking for her mom and the cookies she knew would be baking. Courtney thought she recognized the faint, familiar smells of those sweet cookies, and she was hit with a sad wave of nostalgia for a time that would never again exist. Once her head went there, it was tough to stay focused. What bothered her most was the notion that her parents must have thought she was dead. She had been gone for over three months. Were they still searching for her? Or had she become a “cold case”? It bothered Courtney to know that her parents were going through such grief. Her older brothers as well. She hoped her brothers had come home to spend some time with their mom and dad and deal with it all as a family.

Courtney’s heart ached knowing that she would never be part of that family again. At that moment, she had a fleeting thought of calling it all off and staying at home. For good. It would have been so easy for her to walk up the stairs, throw open her bedroom door, and crawl into bed.

“It’s tough,” Mark said with sympathy. He knew.

All Courtney did was nod. She quickly wiped away a tear and declared, “Let’s get this over with.”

She led Mark through the kitchen and into the living room, making a beeline toward the stairs while trying not to focus on anything that might affect her again. She didn’t want to see the family pictures. Or the artwork she did as a child that was still hanging in the living room. She really didn’t want to see the dado cat or anything else that might stop her from completing her mission.

It didn’t work out that way. When Courtney entered the living room, she froze. Mark stood still behind her, just as stunned. What she saw wasn’t a fond memory of the past, it was something she feared was a taste of the future.

“Oh man,” she gasped.

Hanging over the fireplace was a large star.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if this was here when you left,” Mark said.

“Whatever that is,” Courtney said softly, “my family is part of it now.”

Courtney stared at the star a moment, then turned away, headed back toward the kitchen.

“Forget it,” she said abruptly. “I gotta get out of here. I’ll find some other clothes.”

Before she could take a second step, the front door of the house flew open, smashing against the wall. The sound was so loud it made them both jump in surprise. They spun to see five men enter quickly. They all wore dark red clothing and small-brimmed red caps.

One man, who seemed to be the leader, called out, “Don’t move, please.”

“Like hell!” Courtney shouted, and ran for the kitchen. Mark was right behind her. They sprinted for the back door, but before Courtney could grab it, that door flew open as well. “Ahh!” Courtney screamed.

More men poured in. They were dressed the same as the others, only these men were holding something over their faces, like masks. Courtney took a swing at the first guy. The man ducked it easily. She wound up for another punch, too late. The next man through the door held up a small canister.

“Look out!” Mark yelled to Courtney.

She didn’t. The man sprayed something in her face, hitting her with a thick, wet mist. Courtney thought it smelled like lemons. A second later her world twisted. She glanced back to see Mark on his back. He had gotten an even bigger whiff of the lemons. Courtney fell to her knees, beginning to lose consciousness. She looked up at the intruders with the fleeting thought that her parents couldn’t be involved with these monsters. How could they be?

She had one more thought before folding. The man who held up the canister had a star tattooed on his arm. She wondered if her parents were tattooed as well.

Her cheek hit the floor and she was gone.

Itfeels strange to write these words, but I have to because, well, they are the truth.

Mark, Courtney, I am having an amazingly great time. I guess I’m feeling kind of guilty about it, because I shouldn’t be having so much fun when you consider that the reason I’m here is because of a brutal war and the near destruction of a territory. Maybe Saint Dane is right. You’ve got to break something down before you can rebuild.