D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“You up for this, Mark?” I asked.

“Let’s find out” was his answer.

I was happy he didn’t stutter. Confidence was good at this point. Before Courtney had time to slam the door, Mark jammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and we were off.

“You don’t know how to drive any better than I do!” Courtney complained.

As if to answer, Mark spun the wheel hard, made a ninety-degree turn, and gunned the engine. It almost seemed as if he knew what he was doing. Almost.

Mark explained, “I was all set to get my license, but some things came up.”

That was a pretty big understatement.

“We’ve got to find a place to hide,” I said.

Courtney corrected, “We’ve got to shake those guys first.”

Good point.

Mark said, “We’ve got an advantage.”

“What’s that?” Courtney asked.

Mark made another quick turn, throwing Alder into me.

“I’ve been riding my bike around here for years. I know every street. They don’t. We might not be able to outrace them, but we can make it tough to follow us.”

The car was some big-old American sedan. It didn’t exactly handle like a hot street racer, which was probably just as well. If we crashed in this land yacht we were in, none of us would even be scratched. That was negative thinking. We weren’t going to crash. I hoped.

Mark took a quick left on two wheels. We probably weren’t actually up on two wheels, but it sure felt like it. Alder looked white but didn’t make a sound. I think maybe he went into some Zen-like state to avoid an all-out terror puke.

“There!” Mark shouted, pointing.

“Where?” Courtney asked.

“There’s a dirt road that leads through the old cemetery on King Street.”

I looked ahead to see two old, crumbling stone pillars on either side of a dirt road to our left.

Courtney shot him a look. “You’re not thinking about-”

Mark didn’t give her time to answer. He spun the wheel and accelerated into the turn. The car skidded, then sped between the two pillars with inches to spare on either side. We were on a rutted dirt road that probably hadn’t been driven on in months, if not years. It was overgrown with bushes that slapped at the car as we sped by.

“So much for the paint job,” Courtney commented.

The road continued on through an old cemetery that Mark and I used to ride our bikes to all the time. It was the kind of place that had more graves from the 1800s than from the present. Mark knew exactly where to go. He maneuvered the big car past an ancient, stone mausoleum and quickly braked. We all looked at one another, wide eyed.

“Okay, maybe you can drive,” Courtney gasped in awe.

Mark turned around and said, “If they didn’t see us come in here, we’re good. If they did, it’s the perfect place for you two to take them out with no witnesses.”

I had to smile. Mark was still a thinker. “I missed you, man.”

Mark gave me a big, proud smile. For a moment I saw the kid I had known for so long. It was great to be back with my friends.

We all jumped out and took up positions behind tombstones close to the road. If the motorcycles showed up and went for the car, we’d wait for them to pass and then attack from behind. We waited a solid five minutes-plenty of time to be sure that Mark had pulled off the impossible.

He had. We were free. The four of us stood up, surrounded by ancient graves. I looked at Alder in his bloody leathers and laughed.

Courtney did too. “I hope nobody sees you guys looking like that in a creepy cemetery. They’ll think the place is haunted by Viking ghosts.”

Mark and I laughed. Alder didn’t get it.

“Mark, Courtney, this is Alder. The Traveler from Denduron.”

Mark gave Alder a firm handshake. Alder wasn’t quite sure of what that meant, but he went along. “We’ve read all about you, Alder. I’m glad you’re here.”

Courtney actually gave Alder a hug. Alder wasn’t sure what to do about that. He didn’t seem to mind though.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Courtney answered, “For bringing Bobby home.”

“We have to find a safe place to regroup,” I said. “What about your house, Courtney?”

“No way. They already found us there once. And Mark’s house was torched.”

“What!” I shouted.

“We have so much to tell you, Bobby,” Mark said. “It could take months.”

“We don’t have months,” Courtney added. “It’s all happening here, Bobby. On Second Earth.”

“I know,” I said. “We saw Patrick.”

Mark and Courtney stared at me with wide, expectant eyes.

“He’s okay,” I assured them. “We sent him back to Third Earth.”

“But he was shot,” Courtney yelped.

“We got him help. He’s fine now, I promise you” was all I said. It wasn’t time to get into the whole “Travelers are illusions that can heal one another and I have no idea why” conversation.

“Man, that’s good news,” Mark said. “We needed some.”

“I know where we can go,” Courtney blurted out. “My parents’ boat is in a slip on the Signet River. They always put it in by the first of March. By the way, happy birthday, Bobby. You’re eighteen.”

It took me a second to get my head around that. “That feels…odd,” I said.

“What kind of boat?” Mark asked.

“Big sailboat. Sleeps six. They always have it geared up for overnight trips, so there’ll be dry clothes on board. We can’t have these guys running around like cavemen, and I am seriously tired of wearing your mother’s goofy clothes. No offense.”

I knew the Signet River. It flowed from upstate all the way into the Long Island Sound. Before it hit open water, the river turned from fresh water to salt and widened enough to hold a big marina with tons of docks and slips for small boats. Courtney’s idea was great, though I was pretty nervous about getting there. My biggest worry was that a cop would pull us over for something random. We’d have a heck of a time explaining who we were, why Mark didn’t have a license, and why we were covered with blood.

I’m happy to say that I was worried for nothing. We made it to the marina with no problem. Mark drove the car as if he’d been driving for years.

A lot of people in Stony Brook loved sailing. Though it was only March, the floating docks were all in the water, and most of the slips were already filled. Once the chance of a freeze was over, people were quick to get their boats into the water to take advantage of the short sailing season. The marina was so vast, I was sure we could easily lose ourselves in the labyrinth of docks and boats and not be seen from the shore. Better still, the sun had gone down and being March, it was cold. People may have loved sailing, but hanging out on a boat when it was nasty-raw cold wasn’t fun. We didn’t see a single person there. Which was perfect for what I had planned.

“Wait here,” I instructed everyone, and got behind the wheel of the car.

“Where are you going?” Courtney asked. “Just taking a short trip,” I answered. “Uh…what?”

I gave her a wink of assurance. While the others watched, I put the car in gear, hit the gas, and drove down the cement ramp that led down into the water. It was the ramp people used to launch their boats. They would back their trailers onto the ramp until the boat was floating in the water, then push the boat off and drive the trailer out. I had planned something similar, though there would be no driving out. It was the first time I’d driven a car since I got behind the wheel of Max Rose’s big old black sedan on the way to my date with the Hindenburg on First Earth. I didn’t know any more about driving than Courtney did. No, I knew less. Luckily, figuring out how to get this car moving was a lot easier than it was with Max Rose’s car. And I didn’t have far to go. I drove slowly down the steep, concrete grade and straight into the water until the car wouldn’t go anymore. I made sure all the windows were open so it would fill quickly. I climbed out of the driver’s window and into the cold water of Long Island Sound. The car was actually floating. I pushed it out even farther until water started flooding into the windows, and it got too heavy to maneuver. It was over in less than thirty seconds. The car was underwater. Invisible.