D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“Like who Mr. Pop is?” I asked.

“That’s a big one,” she answered.

“What do you know about him?” I asked. “I heard the challengers toasting him.”

“Mr. Pop is a false name, obviously,” Nevva said.

I didn’t think it was so obvious. I’d heard plenty of wacky names since I left Second Earth. It wasn’t like “Nevva” was so common either. But I didn’t say anything.

“He is the heart of the revival,” she continued. “When the movement begins, he will lead us. But until then, he must live in secrecy, for obvious reasons.”

“Do the trustees know about the revivers?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” she answered. “They’ve heard rumors, but they don’t take them seriously. The trustees believe their domination of the territory is complete. They aren’t far from wrong. But they’re arrogant. The idea that there might be a movement of tens of thousands of people with the single goal of bringing down the company is so alien to them, they don’t take it seriously. They underestimate the spirit of the people. I believe it will be their undoing.”

“So they don’t know about Mr. Pop?” I asked.

“There have been many stories about heroes who will rise up and rescue the people from oppression, but none have proved true. Have they heard the name Mr. Pop? Yes, absolutely. But they consider him to be a myth, born of desperation. They have no idea that Mr. Pop is real. The revivers want to keep it that way, until the time is right.”

“So how did you hook up with these guys?” I asked. “Isn’t it kind of a stretch to be working for the trustees while being part of an underground organization trying to overthrow them?”

Nevva said, “That’s the beauty of it! When Press told me of my destiny as a Traveler, I did a lot of soul searching. After visiting the other territories and seeing Quillan from a different perspective, I knew the best way I could help my own territory was to plot against the very people I work for.”

“And get revenge for what happened to your parents,” I said.

Nevva shot me a stern look. I wished I hadn’t said that; it was kind of harsh.

“Sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I think out loud.”

“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “I do blame the trustees and Blok for what happened to my parents. But this isn’t about me, Pendragon. It’s about what Blok has done to the whole territory. My story is one of millions. That’s why I sought out the revivers.”

“If they’re so secretive, how did you find them?” I asked.

Nevva chuckled and said, “I am very resourceful, Pendragon. There isn’t much that gets by me. I listened, I asked careful questions, and I eventually found my way through to the leaders. I have to admit, it helped that I work for the trustees. Having someone on their side who is so close to their enemies was too tempting for the revivers to pass up. I’ve been training with them for nearly twenty quads now-“

“Just for the record, I have no idea how long a quad is,” I said.

Nevva didn’t know how to answer that. How would you explain to somebody what a year is? Or a month? That’s a tough one.

“Twenty quads is long enough for the revivers to accept me. In fact, I’ve proved to be so valuable they made me a unit leader.”

I didn’t want to ask her what a unit leader was. That probably would have been just as hard as explaining what a quad was.

“But I still haven’t been accepted on the highest levels,” she said. “Which is why I haven’t met Mr. Pop. With my plan, that will certainly change.”

“And that plan is…?”

“It’s about you, Pendragon. That’s why we must meet them now.” She held up the black bag and smiled sheepishly. “Until they learn to trust you, their location must remain secret.”

I took the bag reluctantly and asked, “What did you tell them about me? Not the truth, I hope.”

“Of course not. I told them you are someone who can help us,” she answered. “Nothing more.”

I didn’t have to put the bag on until we stepped inside the building, and into an elevator. Nevva took me on another long journey down and through the bowels of the city of Rune. I figured we were descending very deep, because the temperature took a big drop. We were definitely going somewhere out of the mainstream. After walking for about twenty minutes, it felt as if we stepped into a large area. I say that because up until then everything sounded close, like we were walking through narrow corridors. The only sound came from our footsteps bouncing back at us from the hard walls. But this new place sounded open. We weren’t outside-it was too quiet and cold for that-but it was definitely a much larger area. Like an airplane hangar or a basketball court.

“We’re here,” Nevva announced, and pulled the bag off my head.

I had to blink twice to make sure what I was seeing was real. I looked around at the large space, trying to make sense of it. Nevva didn’t interrupt. She must have seen my confusion.

“It-it’s a mall!” I said.

It was a derelict, deserted underground mall. We were standing in a central courtyard. Directly above us was a skylight that was bricked over, like the stained glass of the train station. In front of us was a fountain that hadn’t seen water in forever. There seemed to be three lowest. Four sets of wide marble stairs led up from this courtyard to the level above us. I wasn’t sure how you got from that level to the highest. Maybe there were some escalators somewhere. If there were, I guarantee they weren’t working. This place had been dead for many years. Or quads, whatever the heck they were. Like the malls at home on Second Earth, there were several storefronts lined up next to one another. Unlike the stores outside on the street that sold “Clothes” and “Food,” these stores had unique names like “Razzle,” “Storm amp; Kissner,” “Pookie’s Place,” and “The Bountiful Table,” These were stores that sold the kinds of things you’d see at a mall at home. I saw a music shop, flower stands, bookstores, a toy shop, and even a store that sold nothing but candy.

They were all closed. Deserted. Empty. Dead. Their signs were dark, their windows were clouded with grime. The only clues as to what each store once sold were yellowed signs and empty shelves. I was never much of a mall guy. I know, some people hang out at malls with their friends like it’s the center of their universe. Other people walk around and look at stuff like it’s some kind of museum. I never quite got it, myself. If a mall had a store that sold something I wanted, I’d go. If not, I’d avoid it like the plague. But seeing this deserted ghost mall here on Quillan actually made me sad. It was proof that Quillan had once had free enterprise.

I was beginning to see the signs of a lost civilization. Like digging through the sands of Egypt to uncover ancient cities, the layer of gray cement here in the city of Rune had covered up a city that once had personality. I could only imagine what else had been hidden by Blok’s quest to wipe away a society. There was no doubt, Blok had killed Quillan.

“You’re late!” came a voice, echoing from somewhere.

I spun around and saw someone standing on the top of the stairs, looking down on us. He wore one of those masks over his head like the people who’d rescued me from Veego and LaBerge. He stood with his legs wide, holding something that looked like a long, heavy black wand. He held it in one hand and tapped it into the palm of his other, menacingly.

“We stopped to watch the competition,” Nevva called up to the person. “I thought it was important for him to see.”

Another voice boomed from behind us. A quick look showed another person standing on top of the stairs, across from the first. “You know it’s difficult for us to all get away during the day,” the second person said. “Our time is valuable.”