Strangest of all, I need to know what lies beyond the shores of this island. In some ways I feel as if I haven’t even discovered Ibara yet. I’ve only experienced this one small, secluded island. Is the rest of Ibara like this? Who are the Flighters, and why are they harassing the people of Rayne?
And of course, where is Saint Dane and how is he involved? Each time I meet a new person, my first thought is that he might be Saint Dane. It’s tough to live in that constant state of paranoia. I’ve got to go with my gut, and my gut tells me that to unravel the mystery of Ibara, I’ve got to become a Jakill.
No, I’ve got to become a pirate.
END OF JOURNAL #29
FIRST EARTH
Courtney read Bobby's journal, by herself, in Gunny’s lonely basement apartment in the Manhattan Tower Hotel. The pages were almond colored and perfectly square. Each measured about twelve inches across. Bobby had written them in black ink and placed them in a flat, watertight pouch that he rolled up and tied with a band. As the story on Ibara unfolded on the pages before her, Courtney realized again how much she missed Mark. Learning of Bobby’s problems alone was a lonely, torturous experience. She needed Mark. She needed a friend. She wanted to trust Dodger. But after what happened with Whitney Wilcox on Second Earth, she wasn’t going to put her faith in a stranger too quickly. So after the bellhop witnessed Bobby’s journal arrive in the garden outside the hotel, Courtney panicked. She swooped it up and hurried into the hotel to get away.
“Hey!” the bellhop yelled, chasing after her. “Where you going?”
“Leave me alone!” Courtney shouted without breaking stride.
“That thing showed up out of nowhere!” he exclaimed, stunned. “How did you do that?”
“Magic. I’m a magician. Pretty good, huh? Show’s over. Go away.”
She hurried up the steps of the hotel. Dodger was right after her.
“You ain’t no magician,” he said. “There’s something else going on here. You’re not some kind of spaceman, are you? Or spacegirl?”
Courtney stopped again. “You’re kidding, right? You won’t believe it was phony magic, but you’d buy that I’m from Pluto?”
“I’m not buyin’ nothing. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Dodger seemed to Courtney like an okay guy. Bobby trusted him. Gunny trusted him. In the past that would have been enough for Courtney. Not anymore.
“You’re right,” she exclaimed. “You got me. I’m from outer space. Keep it to yourself or I’ll vaporize you.”
She tried to walk off again, but Dodger took her shoulder. Courtney pulled away angrily.
“Look,” he said, backing off, “Gunny asked me to help anybody who showed up with one of them rings. How can I do that if you don’t level with me?”
Courtney wanted to trust the little guy. Badly. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s not your fault.”
She left him standing on the steps of the hotel, dazed. She hurried to Gunny’s apartment and spent the next hour pouring over every word of Bobby’s journal. Reading about Bobby’s adventures wasn’t new to Courtney, but this time felt different. Aside from her trip to Black Water, Courtney always felt as if she were nothing more than an observer. The events Bobby wrote about didn’t affect her directly.
Those days were over.
The territories were folding in on themselves. Dados had turned up on Quillan and the three Earth territories. They turned up in her home in the form of a mechanical cat. Courtney knew the events Bobby described weren’t about Ibara alone. The puzzle was getting more complicated. The battle with Saint Dane was suddenly less about the struggle for individual territories. It was now about Halla.
Sitting in that lonely apartment, Courtney knew that finding Mark wasn’t just about saving her friend. It could affect events on all the Earth territories. It could affect Bobby on Ibara. It could affect every being in Halla. Saint Dane was making his final push to bring the territories down. The realization staggered her. She was worried about Bobby and what he’d found on Ibara, but she also knew there was nothing she could do about that. She had to stay focused on her mission on First Earth.
She had to find Mark.
The telephone rang. Courtney jumped. The bell was loud and jangling, not like the soft tone of her kitchen phone on Second Earth. Gunny’s phone sounded like a fire alarm. She calmed herself and picked up the heavy, black receiver. “Hello?” she said tentatively.
“Don’t hang up,” Dodger begged.
Courtney didn’t, but she didn’t speak, either. She didn’t know what to say.
“I think I got it figured,” Dodger said. “Are you and Pendragon on the lam from the law?”
Courtney burst out laughing. “On the lam?” she echoed. “What are you, some kind of mob guy?”
“No!” Dodger said quickly. “I got nothin’ to do with them guys! Honest!”
Courtney forced herself to refocus. She knew she couldn’t look at this world from a Second Earth perspective. This was 1937. It was a different territory with different rules.
“Look, Dodger, I understand that what you just saw freaked you out.”
“It did what?” he asked quickly.
“What I mean is, you saw something…unusual, and it’s making you…nervous.”
“You can say that again, sister,” Dodger agreed.
“And stop calling me ‘sister.’ Or ‘skirt’ or ‘dame’ or ‘broad’ or whatever clever macho demeaning term you can think of.”
“Sorry.”
“Look, I wish I could trust you. I can’t. I’ve been burned before. I mean, I’ve been fooled before.”
“Oh, I get it,” Dodger said knowingly. “You’ve been dumped by some chump boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Courtney said. “You could say that.” Courtney laughed to herself, thinking that Dodger didn’t realize how close to the truth that was.
“Then there’s no problem!” Dodger continued. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I got no time for skirts, uh, girls. Sorry, that slipped out.”
Courtney was weakening. Dodger was getting to her, but she knew that was exactly the kind of thing Saint Dane would do. He was offering to give her what she needed most, friendship and help.
“Thanks, Dodger,” she said curtly. “But no thanks. Maybe someday I’ll get the chance to explain it to you, but not today.”
Courtney hung up. She barely had time to gather the journal pages and put them back into the waterproof pouch, when a knock came at the door. She looked around for a place to hide the journals and chose Gunny’s favorite hiding place…the oven.
“Who is it?” she called while quickly closing the oven door.
“Room service,” came a professional man’s voice.
“I didn’t order room service,” she called back.
Another knock. Courtney started to panic. There was no way out of this room. She ran to the door and put her eye to the peephole to see…
A smiling Dodger staring back at her through the fish-eye peephole. He had to stand on his toes to get up high enough.
“Compliments of the house!” he announced cheerily.
Courtney couldn’t help but smile. The guy was either a sincere goof, or Saint Dane was better than she imagined. She hesitated, then unlocked the door, and threw it open. Dodger stood there behind a dinner cart loaded with plates of food that were covered by silver warming domes. Courtney’s stomach rumbled.
“How did you get here so fast?” she asked suspiciously.
“I called you from the house phone in the laundry back there,” Dodger said, pointing to a door a few yards down the hall. “I figure you gotta be hungry after rocketing through the universe. Pluto, right?” He gave her an innocent, sincere smile.
“Come on in,” she said. “If you’re going to give me trouble, it might as well be on a full stomach.”
“Oh, no,” Dodger said. “It ain’t right being in a lady’s boudoir.”
“Ain’t that your, I mean…isn’
t that your job?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t here on official business. I’m here on Gunny business.”
Courtney gave Dodger a good long look. The delicious smells rising up from the covered plates made her mouth water. “Tell you what,” she said. “If you’re telling the truth, I guess you’d call it being ‘on the level,’ I’m sorry for being so mysterious. If you’re not telling the truth, you know exactly where I’m coming from, so back off.”
“Jeez, you’re confusing me,” Dodger said. “You gotta understand. I owe Gunny a lot. I wasn’t the best kid growing up, you know. Gunny took me in and gave me a job. He trusted me. Nobody ever done that before. I think I did all right, too. All because Gunny gave me the chance. So if he asked me to swim over to Germany and give old Adolph a smacker on the lips, I’d be swimmin’ and puckerin’ up. The way I see it, helping you is easy-peasy.”
“All right! I give up! Jeez, you’re making me cry here…and now I’m starting to sound like you. Unbelievable.”
“I grow on people,” Dodger said with a sly smile.
“Look, it’s got to be on my terms. Don’t ask questions. Don’t follow me. And only do what I ask. If that’s okay with you, I welcome your help.”
Dodger let out a big, genuine smile. He tipped his bellhop cap and said, “I am at your service, ma’am. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. And don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ either.”
“What should I call you?”
“‘Courtney.’ No title. No colorful slang. Just ‘Courtney.’”
“Done. Nine o’clock it is. Meet you in the lobby?”
“Done.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Dodger. And just know that if you’re Saint Dane, I’m ready for you.”
“And maybe someday I’ll know what the heck that means,” Dodger said. “Until then, enjoy this delicious meal. I’ll see you bright and early!”
He tipped his cap again and left Courtney to pull the cart of food into the room. All thoughts of Dodger and Saint Dane and Ibara evaporated for the few minutes it took her to enjoy the feast. Dodger had brought her a fabulous dinner of sliced turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy, nut stuffing, cranberry sauce, and buttered green beans. Thanksgiving had come a few weeks early. Courtney was all set to chow down when the thought crossed her mind that somehow Saint Dane knew how much she liked Thanksgiving dinner, and this meal was another way to earn her trust. Was he that incredibly devious? She decided she was too hungry to care. She put her fear of manipulation-by-turkey out of her head, and tucked in. It was delicious. She ate too fast and ended up feeling totally bloated, but she didn’t care. Dodger had thought of it all, including the pumpkin pie and milk. Courtney decided to hold off on eating the pie until she digested a little. That held her back for a whole five minutes. It was too tempting. She downed the pie and enjoyed every last decadent crumb.
It was late. Courtney didn’t finish feasting until nearly ten o’clock. She knew it wasn’t smart to go to bed on such a full stomach, but she was dog tired and the tryptophan was working its magic. She could barely keep her eyes open long enough to brush her teeth and pull off her clothes, before she fell into bed and dropped off to sleep. One of her last thoughts before nodding off was that Dodger’s thoughtful meal had an added bonus. She was going to get a good night’s sleep without all the tossing and turning she usually had to endure while her mind raced and worried. She was on her way out. That was good, because she knew the next day would be busy. She was going to begin her quest to find Mark in this alien world.
The next morning she was woken up by the jangling telephone. She leaped up, ready to grab her clothes and run out of the building to escape from the fire. It took her a second to realize it was only the annoying phone.
“What’s with these old-time people?” she asked herself. “Are they all deaf?”
She answered the phone and heard Dodger’s friendly voice. “Change your mind?”
Courtney glanced at the bedside clock. It was nine thirty. She had slept nearly twelve hours.
“Yikes, sorry. I’ll be right there.”
Courtney didn’t bother with a shower. She quickly dressed in her woolen pants and white shirt. She threw on socks, tied up the leather shoes, and slipped into the green sweater. The finishing touch was the floppy hat that she tucked her hair into. She had no idea what she’d find on First Earth, but there was one thing she knew for sure. She didn’t want anybody treating her like a “skirt.” Satisfied, she left the apartment and headed upstairs.
The hotel lobby was bustling with people. Courtney saw Dodger leaning against a big, marble column near the lounge. She watched him for a moment. He looked innocent enough, she thought. He wore plain black pants and a short charcoal gray cloth jacket. Without his bellhop uniform, he looked even younger. Being short added to that impression. He stood watching the hotel guests as they passed by, waving and smiling to those he knew. One elderly woman was having trouble getting the attention of the busy bellhops, so Dodger jumped in and helped her carry her suitcase to the front desk, even though he wasn’t on duty. There was nothing about Dodger that made Courtney think he could be Saint Dane, other than the fact that she thought everybody could be Saint Dane. She wasn’t going to let her guard down, but she needed help finding Mark. She decided it was worth the risk. She left the doorway, stuck her hands in her pockets, and walked toward him. When Dodger saw her, he brightened up.
“There you are!” he said. “Good afternoon!”
“Yeah, very funny,” Courtney said, all business. “Let’s go talk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dodger said obediently, then winced. “I mean, yes, Courtney.”
Courtney led him into the lobby lounge. It was loaded with people chatting and socializing.
“No good,” she said, putting on the brakes. “Is there someplace private?” She thought a second and added, “But with other people around?”
“You want private but with other people?”
“Uh, yeah.” She realized how ridiculous that sounded.
“Still don’t trust me? Even after the turkey dinner?”
“Especially after the turkey dinner,” Courtney said. “But thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome. Follow me.”
Dodger led Courtney through the opulent lobby. The short guy walked with a cocky strut, like he owned the place. He brought Courtney through the hotel restaurant and into the bustling kitchen.
“Hey, Dodger!” one of the cooks called out. “Ain’t this your day off?”
“Nah, I’m always workin’,” Dodger shot back quickly.
Another cook whistled and yelled, “Dodger! Whose the Kewpie?”
“That’s ‘dame’ to you, pal!” Courtney shouted back.
The cooks laughed in mock fear. Dodger laughed too. Courtney could see that he was well liked. Would Saint Dane be well liked? She shook off the thought. It was making her nuts.
Dodger brought Courtney to the back of the kitchen, where the dishes were washed. It was hot and steamy, with only a few dishwashers at work.
“How’s this?” Dodger asked. “Quiet but not too quiet, nobody to bother us, and a couple of witnesses in case I do something you don’t like. All you gotta do is put up with a little steam and some dirty dishes.”
“This is fine.”
“Now, how can I help you?”
“If you are who you say you are, you won’t understand what I’m about to tell you. If you aren’t who you say you are, then you already know everything I’m going to say anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter if I tell you or not. Get it?”
Dodger gave her a sour look. “I lost you after ‘This is fine.’”
“Good. Here’s the deal. I’m trying to find somebody. He’s a friend of mine. And Bobby’s and Gunny’s.”
“Is he on the lam too?”
“No! None of us are on the lam!” Courtney snapped.
One of the dishwashers turned from his work to see what the shouting w
as about.
Dodger yelled to him, “Relax, Tony. Everything’s peachy.”
Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.
Courtney continued, “It’s critically important that we find him. I’m not even going to begin to tell you why, because it’s too long of a story and you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“And I wouldn’t understand if I am who I am, but if I’m not who I am, then I should already know, but I have no idea what you’re talking about so what the heck does that make me?”
“It’s starting to make you annoying. This is serious.”
“Sorry. Tell me about this pal you’re looking for.”
“His name is Mark Dimond. He’s seventeen with dark curly hair and glasses.”
“Oh,” Dodger said. “Easy-peasy. Only about a million guys fit that description in New York.”
“He stutters when he gets nervous,” Courtney added.
“That narrows it down to a half million guys. We’re getting there.”
“Stop making fun!” Courtney barked.
They both looked at Tony. The dishwasher didn’t turn around this time.
“Sorry,” Dodger said. “Ain’t you got something a little more specific to go on?”
“There’s one thing,” Courtney admitted. “If I was home, I think I could use it to try and track him down, but I’m not. I don’t know how things work around here, and that’s why I’m talking to you in the first place.”
Courtney was getting worked up. Tony looked around again. Courtney yelled, “Hey! Tony! Mind your own business!”
Dodger led Courtney away from the dishwashers into a storage area that was surrounded by shelves loaded with clean plates.
“It’s okay,” Dodger said reassuringly. “Tell me about the thing.”
Courtney took a breath to calm herself and said, “On October sixth, Mark filed a patent application at the US Patent Office. I have to believe that when you do that, they ask for an address or something, where you can be contacted. I was hoping that if we look up that information, it might give me a lead as to where to find him.”
Dodger waited for Courtney to say more. She didn’t.