D. MacHale - The Merchant of Death

“Any trouble getting here?” Bobby asked.

Courtney answered, “No sweat.”

Bobby looked back to his friends as if he were seeing them for the first time. What he saw were two people who came through for him in a big way when they really didn’t have to. “I don’t know how to thank you guys,” he said sincerely. “I don’t deserve friends like you.”

Courtney and Mark answered with smiles.

“Bobby,” said Mark sheepishly. “Is it true? I mean, what you’ve been writing about?”

“Yeah,” was Bobby’s answer. “Weird, huh?”

Courtney and Mark started to ask more questions but Bobby cut them off by saying, “Guys, I don’t know any more about what’s going on than what I wrote. I don’t know why I’m a Traveler. I don’t know where Denduron is. I don’t knowwhen Denduron is. I’ve got a million questions and no answers. And I’m scared as hell.”

Yes, there were many questions but none of them had any answers. Finally Courtney took a step toward Bobby. She hesitated, as if what she was about to say would be difficult. She finally gathered the strength and said, “Don’t go back. That’s not your world back there. It’s not your life. You belong here. All you have to do is walk out that door with us. Nobody would know. Please, Bobby, stay here.”

Bobby looked at Mark. Mark nodded to him as if agreeing with Courtney. “You’re home now, Bobby,” he said. “Stay here.”

Bobby hadn’t thought about the possibility. It would be so easy. All he had to do was walk away. He was home now. He was safe. It was so tempting. He didn’t answer at first because this was the most important decision he ever had to make in his life. He looked around him, looked down into the dark tunnel, and then to the L.L. Bean pack full of stuff his friends had brought him. He had made up his mind.

“There are a ton of things I don’t know,” he said soberly. “But there’s one thing I do know for certain. Uncle Press is going to die unless I do something.”

The others dropped their heads. Bobby was right. If he stayed, Uncle Press was doomed.

“But there’s more,” Bobby added. “I’m not the guy to help those people fight their revolution. I don’t know why they think I am, but I’m not. The guy to help them is Uncle Press. If he dies, they don’t stand a chance. I gotta go back and get Uncle Press for the sake of the Milago, too.”

Bobby picked up the pack and swung it onto his back.

“What’re you gonna do with that stuff?” asked Mark.

“I’m not exactly sure,” answered Bobby, “but I better think of something fast.” He tightened up the straps on the pack and took a step back toward the flume. “I’m no big hero,” he then said. “I’m gonna try to save Uncle Press and then get out of there. I’d just as soon not stick around for the real fireworks.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” said Mark.

Everyone looked at each other, not entirely sure of what to say. It was time for Bobby to go.

“There’s nothing I can say to thank you guys for doing this and for hanging on to my journals,” Bobby said.

“Just keep ’em coming, dude,” said Mark with a smile.

Bobby smiled and then the three once again joined in a group hug.

“I’ll write as soon as I can,” said Bobby and pulled away. Everyone was holding back tears. Bobby had turned to the flume when Courtney asked, “Is Loor really as gorgeous as all that?”

Bobby winced. Busted. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said sheepishly. “She’s not my type.”

“No?” said Courtney with a sly smile. “I think she and I have something in common. We can both kick your ass.”

Bobby laughed at that. Of course she was right.

“Get home safe,” she added.

“Soon as I can,” was his reply. Mark gave him a wave and Bobby turned back to the flume. He stepped in, took a breath, and said, “Denduron!”

Instantly, the flume reactivated. The walls started to shimmer, the musical notes grew loud, and bright light blasted out from somewhere far inside.

Bobby turned back to them and gave a quick wave. “Later!” he said.

Then, in a flash, Bobby was gone. The light and the music trailed away inside the tunnel, transporting Bobby to his far-off destination. Soon all was quiet once again. The two stood there, staring into the dark, empty tunnel. There was nothing left to do now except to start the long journey home.

“Uh-oh,” Mark said.

“What?” asked Courtney nervously.

Mark held out his hand and they both saw that the gray stone in the ring was starting to glow. Mark quickly took it off and placed it down on the ground. They each took a step back and watched as the ring grew larger and light blasted out of the stone. The familiar musical notes were heard again as the light built in intensity. There was a flash, and just as quickly as it started, it was over. The ring lay still on the ground. Next to it was another rolled-up parchment.

“How could he have written so fast?” asked Courtney.

Mark picked up the pages and started to unfurl them.

“Something tells me that time here and time there aren’t relative,” said Mark.

“Huh? English please,” demanded Courtney.

“I think Denduron might not only be in another place,” explained Mark. “It might be in another time. It could be thousands of years ago, or a million years from now. The flumes not only travel through space, I’ll bet they travel through time as well.”

Courtney didn’t quite get this, but then again she didn’t get much of anything that was happening. Mark unfurled the pages, gave them a quick glance, then looked up at Courtney with a smile.

“I was right. It’s from Bobby.”

Denduron

Imessed up big time, guys.

I tried to take charge and do the right thing, but I’m afraid I only made things worse. It’s been a wild ride since I saw you two in the subway, but the bottom line is that as I write this journal, we are on the verge of a catastrophe that could rip Denduron apart. It’s not all my fault, but I’m afraid I pushed it closer to the edge. First I gotta backtrack to what happened since I wrote last. I finished my last journal before I saw you two, so I should tell you what happened before the trip I took to Second Earth where you gave me the backpack. As much as I was over-the-moon psyched to see you guys, I wish I had never made that trip, because that trip is one of the reasons we’re on the edge of disaster.

When Osa was killed, something snapped in my head and I was able to think clearly. It wasn’t anything dramatic like I suddenly realized I had to fulfill my destiny as a Traveler and lead the Milago to victory or anything like that. No way; gimme a break. It was about Uncle Press. I was ashamed of myself for not trying to help him. My only defense is that I had a whole lot of wild stuff thrown at me all at once and I was having a tough time keeping my head on straight. But when Osa died, it was like a wake-up call. And my loss wasn’t even on the same scale as the loss was for Loor. Osa was her mother. I imagined what it would be like to lose my own mom. I take that back. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose my mom. The thought was just too horrible.

Osa didn’t deserve to die. All she was trying to do was help some people find a better way of life. So was Uncle Press. He was trying to help the Milago and because of it, he was going to be put to death. Was that fair? I didn’t think so, and I realized that somebody had to step up and say so. Unfortunately I also realized that the only person who could do something was me. I say “unfortunately” not because I didn’t want to help him, but because I knew I wasn’t exactly the best candidate to stage a Schwarzenegger-style commando assault on the Bedoowan palace and fight my way out with Uncle Press in tow. That particular fantasy was going to stay a fantasy. Still, I had to do something. And if I was going to have any chance at all, I needed help. That meant Loor. There was nothing I could say to Loor that would make her feel any better about what had happened to her mother. Man, she must have hated me. But she was the only person I could go to for help, so I had to take a shot.