D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“What about quigs?” Mark asked.

“Oh, right,” Courtney said, deflated. “There’s that.”

“Stop the car!” Mark shouted.

The cabbie jammed on the brakes, making everybody nearly fly out of their seats.

“Jeez!” he shouted. “What’s the matter?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said with equal surprise. “What was that for?”

Mark reached for his wallet, pulled out a wad of bills and tossed them to the cabbie.

“Whoa, chief. That’s too much. You got change comin’.”

Mark didn’t wait. He jumped out of the car.

“Keep it,” Courtney said.

“Thanks! I knew you guys weren’t Ravinian creeps.”

Courtney crawled out of the cab, followed right behind by Patrick. As the car pulled away from the curb, they found themselves at the familiar intersection in a rundown section of the Bronx that Mark and Courtney had been to several times before. Mark stood staring. Courtney joined him and asked, “What is your problem?”

Mark didn’t answer. Courtney looked to where he was staring, and her jaw dropped.

“What?” Patrick asked, confused.

“It’s the wrong corner,” Courtney said.

“No, it isn’t,” Mark corrected.

“What’s the matter?” Patrick asked impatiently.

Courtney slowly looked to him and said, as if in a daze, “The subway station is gone.”

Patrick looked to where they were staring. “You’re right. That wasn’t there when I came through here with Press.”

Courtney asked, “So then, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “Let’s find out.”

He stepped off the curb, headed toward the corner where the green subway kiosk used to be. Everything about the neighborhood was the exact same, except for that block. In place of the kiosk was a tall stone building that looked like a medieval castle. Hanging from the second story was a line of flags.

Red flags.

Flags with stars.

(CONTINUED)

The three stood on the opposite corner, staring at the mysterious structure. It looked to Mark like a library. There were high arches and heavy marble columns. Wide marble stairs led up from the sidewalk to the many entrances.

“I’ve seen this before,” Patrick announced.

Mark and Courtney shot him a surprised glance. “Where?” they said in unison.

‘Third Earth. Everything changed, remember? When I went to the gate, instead of the underground complex I found this. The flume was inside.”

“So this thing is going to last for three thousand years?” Courtney said in awe.

“It wasn’t the exact same,” Patrick pointed out. “I guess changes were made over the years, and it was crumbling, but it was essentially the same structure.”

“What is it?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know,” Patrick answered. “All I cared about was getting to the flume.”

“Look at the flags,” Mark announced. “Obviously this is all about the Ravinian cult. Maybe it’s headquarters.”

“We gotta check this out,” Courtney said, and walked toward the strange new building.

All three walked closer with trepidation, while scanning around for any Ravinian red shirts. The street was busy with people, but not crowded. If somebody was looking for them, they’d be seen. They walked up the marble stairs to a long row of glass doors that was the entrance. Courtney tried a door to find… it was open.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “We still have to flume out of here. Whatever this is, we’ll have a better shot of getting to the flume here than sneaking into Naymeer’s house back in Stony Brook.”

Patrick and Mark nodded in agreement. Courtney pulled the door open and stepped inside. Just inside the entrance was a large open area with a marble floor.

“Slick,” Courtney said, impressed.

Fresh flowers in vases were placed along the walls. The star symbol was prominent on the wall to the right, a portrait of Naymeer faced it on the wall to the left. Directly ahead was an archway that led farther into the building.

“Doesn’t seem like anybody’s here,” Mark commented.

Courtney walked to the archway to find a wide set of stairs leading straight down. She stood on top and stared toward the bottom. There was no clue as to what they might find below.

“What are the chances of this being some fancy new subway station?” she asked over her shoulder to the others.

“No chance,” Mark answered.

“I didn’t think so.”

The three started down slowly, shoulder to shoulder. With each step they saw more of the floor below. It seemed to be one big room. A few more steps down revealed a long row of green theater-style seats that stretched out to either side, facing away from them. It was followed by another row and another and another. A wide center aisle separated the seats into two halves. Left and right.

“This is no subway station,” Courtney muttered.

“It looks like a big theater,” Mark replied.

The room was huge. There looked to be enough seating for several hundred people. The rows of seats all faced the same direction. When they reached the bottom, Courtney saw why.

“This is no theater,” she gasped.

There was no stage. No movie screen. No performance area. Mark, Courtney, and Patrick stepped down onto the floor and saw the truth. On the far side of the vast space, facing the seats, for all to see, was the flume. To the right of its mouth was a red star flag on a pole in a stand. On the opposite side of the mouth was a U.S. flag.

“I can’t swallow,” Mark croaked.

“It’s like some kind of shrine,” Courtney murmured.

Mark walked to the first row of seats and picked up a thick book that was all too familiar. “Or a church,” he said, holding the book up for the others to see.

The cover was deep read. The word “Ravinia” ran vertically down one side in gold letters. Next to it was the star symbol. It was the exact same cover that Patrick had brought from Third Earth. The cover that Richard, the librarian, was willing to die to hold on to. Every other seat had the exact same book.

“I guess the mystery is solved,” Patrick commented. “It’s the Ravinian Bible.”

“Yeah,” Courtney quipped. “The Bible according to Naymeer.”

“According to Saint Dane,” Mark corrected.

Mark tossed the book back onto the seat. The three slowly drifted down the wide center aisle. Far ahead of them, the flume loomed large.

“It wasn’t out in the open like this on Third Earth,” Patrick commented. “A similar structure was aboveground, but the flume was behind a series of doors.”

“Like they decided to hide it again,” Mark commented.

“Exactly,” Patrick agreed.

Courtney asked, “What’s the point? Do they all sit here staring at a tunnel, reading about Naymeer’s twisted philosophies?”

“Maybe it’s like what we saw at the rally,” Mark offered. “Maybe Naymeer somehow produces images of Halla.”

“Yeah, like a movie,” Courtney agreed. “Unbelievable.”

“It’s gone further than we thought,” Mark concluded. “If the Ravinians know about the flume, they know everything.”

They heard a voice from the top of the stairs call to them. “Indeed. There are no secrets.”

All three spun and looked back up to see a man standing on top. He no longer wore his deep red robe. Instead he had on a gray business suit with a red tie. Embroidered into the tie was the star symbol.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said warmly. “My name is Alexander Naymeer. This is my conclave.”

To either side of him was a red-shirt guard. Unlike the guards at the Garden, these men were armed with pistols in hip holsters.

“I’m so glad you’ve come to visit,” he said kindly as he strolled casually down the stairs. “We have so much to talk about, and plan.”