The Quillan Games (32 page)

“What is that?” LaBerge asked. “What are you doing?”

As soon as I snapped it over the loop, the light around the center glowed red. I hoped that meant the loop was deactivated.

“You can't do that,” LaBerge whined.

“I just did,” I growled.

LaBerge took a step toward me, but I shot him a look that made him back off.

“Fine, whatever you say,” the weenie agreed, groveling.

The elevator began to slow. I didn't know what was going to be waiting for me outside the doors. I had to be ready.

“You realize this is futile,” LaBerge said.

For some reason those words got through to me. It wasn't so much what he said, but how he said them. It was with no emotion, like it was a simple statement of fact. It gave me a
second of hesitation, but that's all. I wasn't going back to that castle.

The doors slid open. I put one foot on the back of the elevator and pushed off, propelling myself out of the compartment. I quickly realized that Nevva Winter was right. We were being watched. They were ready for me. I shot myself out of the elevator and into the arms of four security dados. I didn't stand a chance. I was grabbed by the arms and the legs, and lifted onto their shoulders. No amount of struggling mattered. I might have been able to beat one of those guys, or maybe even two. But not four. I was helpless and frustrated. I wanted to shout out, but didn't want to give anybody the satisfaction of seeing me lose it. So I bit my lip and held it in.

Veego was waiting inside the front door of the building.

“Don't injure him” was all she said. “He must be able to compete.”

The dados carried me outside and down the steps where a car was waiting. I was vaguely aware that people had stopped to watch from across the street. I'm sure the scene confirmed all their fears about how bad a place the Blok building was. I was thrown roughly into the backseat. Veego and LaBerge jumped in on either side of me and quickly closed the doors. Two dados were in the front seat and the driver hit the accelerator.

“The doors are locked,” Veego said calmly. “You cannot get out.”

I sat between the two of them, feeling like a helpless child. I wanted to explode.

“Where did you get the blocking diode?” Veego asked.

I didn't answer. The dado drove us quickly along the city streets, weaving in and out of traffic.

“What is wrong with you?” LaBerge asked. “Don't you realize what an honor it is to be in your position? The trustees
put their faith in you and you treat them with such disrespect? It's embarrassing is what it is.”

They kept talking but I wasn't listening. I was doing all that I could to calm down and plan my next move. It was looking like I couldn't stop them from taking me back to the castle, which meant I was going to have to make my escape from there. I hoped there wouldn't be increased security around me. That would make things even more difficult. But not impossible. One way or another, I was out of there. I needed to regroup. Maybe talk to Loor. I wished I could talk with Gunny or Spader, but that wasn't going to happen. I even thought about coming home to Second Earth to see you guys. I know that Saint Dane has been sniffing around there. A thousand plans raced through my head, all of which were some variation of getting the hell off Quillan. There was no way I was going to risk my life in the Grand X. If that made me a coward in Saint Dane's eyes, fine. It wasn't going to shake my confidence. No, he wasn't going to goad me into the games, no matter how tempting a prize he was offering. As we raced through the busy streets of Rune, I made up my mind. I was going home.

I think it was at that exact moment, the moment when I realized what I needed to do, when everything changed. The car that was traveling directly in front of us slammed on its brakes. It was so sudden and we were traveling so fast that our car slammed into it.

“Ahhh!” screamed LaBerge. “What happened?”

Veego shot a quick look out the rear window.

“Don't stop,” she commanded. “Get us out of here!”

On command, the dado spun the wheel and hit the accelerator. With a lurch we shot to the left and launched forward.

“What are you doing?” LaBerge shouted. “That was an accident! We have to stop!”

“Shut up,” Veego spat at him.

At that exact instant we were slammed from behind, hit by another car. We rocked forward so violently that my head hit the back of the seat in front of me.

“That was no accident,” Veego said calmly. “They're coming after us.”

“Who?” LaBerge shouted.

I thought he was going to cry. The dado hit the accelerator again and turned into oncoming traffic.

“Look out!” LaBerge cried.

The dado was good. We were traveling fast, but his robotic reflexes were faster. He dodged the oncoming cars quicker than is humanly possible, which made sense, because he wasn't human. I looked back to see two cars accelerating behind us. A moment later I felt a sharp jab in my side. Veego had jammed one of those golden stun guns into my ribs.

“You will die before I let them get you,” she hissed.

She didn't realize how wired I was. She had barely gotten the words out when I jammed my elbow into her biceps. She squealed in pain and let go of the gun.

“What is happening?” LaBerge cried. “Why are they chasing us?” He saw me grab the gun from Veego. “Ahhh!” he squealed.

With one quick move I grabbed the gun, aimed at the front windshield between the two dados, and pulled the trigger.

Fum!
The windshield shattered but didn't break away. The dados were driving blind. They either had to stop on their own, or would hit something that would make us stop.

We hit something.

Whatever it was, the force of the impact sent us up on two wheels and flipped the car. LaBerge screamed. The three of us tumbled together in the backseat like we were in a washing machine. A fast-moving washing machine. The car
landed on its roof and kept moving. I braced myself for another collision, rolling myself into a ball with my arms wrapped around my head. The next hit came quickly. It stopped our forward movement but sent us spinning. The whole event only took a few seconds, but as it was happening, it felt like a lifetime. The metal of the car screeched and scraped as we spun across the pavement. The side windows exploded under the pressure of the collapsing roof. Luckily, they blew out, not in, or we might have been shredded. I had no idea which way was up. All I could see was a jumble of Veego and LaBerge.

Finally we hit something else and came to a stop. But it wasn't over. No sooner did we stop moving than the car started rolling again. I had no idea what was happening, but it felt as if we were being lifted up into the air. I soon realized we were being flipped back upright, onto our wheels.

“Help! Help!” LaBerge squealed.

With a bone-jarring shudder the car was righted. I heard the sound of wrenching metal. There were people outside using tools to pry open a door. It only took seconds. The door was wrenched open and light poured in.

“We're saved!” LaBerge shouted.

Everything was a blur. Being bounced around and getting my head whacked a few times didn't help. I felt hands groping at me and pulling me out of the wreck. I realized they weren't doing the same for Veego or LaBerge. Or the dados for that matter. It was me they were after. As they yanked me out of the car, I saw several people dressed all in black, with black hoods over their heads to hide their faces. Nothing made sense. Were they commandos? Burglars? Hijackers? Dados? There were enough of them that I understood how the car had been flipped over so quickly. These guys had done it, physically. I was too dizzy to do anything but go along with
them. They lifted me up and quickly carried me to a car that I saw had a crushed front grill. This must have been the car that hit us from behind. I was vaguely aware that many people were on the street watching. Nobody came to help. I was bundled into the backseat of the damaged car. Two of the guys got in back with me, another got in front. A few more ran to another car, which must have been the car we hit from behind. There was no question. This was an organized operation. They had come after me. Somewhere in the distance I heard a siren. Was it an ambulance? The fire department? More security dados?

“Go!” shouted one of the guys.

The car lurched forward and I was once again moving. One of the guys pulled a cloth bag over my head. I tried to fight against it, but I was too weak.

“It's all right,” a calming voice said. “You're safe. This is just for security.”

Security. Right. Wherever we were going, they didn't want me to know. I was too loopy to care anyway. I think I might have passed out. I can't say for sure. We could have been driving for five minutes or five hours. It was all a blur to me. However long it took, we finally screeched to a stop. I didn't move. I was dazed, but not afraid. These guys wanted me alive. Why else would they have pulled me out of the wreck?

“C'mon,” one of them said, and helped me out of the car. The urgency was gone, but they didn't take the bag off my head. From the sound of things, we were inside. As we walked, I heard a metal door closing, so it must have been a garage. Without saying another word they led me quickly along, making a few turns and going down several flights of stairs. Wherever they were taking me, it was deep within the bowels of this building. Finally, they had me sit down
on a hard chair, where somebody pulled the bag off my head.

I saw that I was in a small, dark room. It looked like a cell. I had seen enough of them to know. There was a bed and a chair, but no windows. Light came from a single overhead bulb. Facing me were three of the kidnappers. They looked pretty imposing with their black outfits and dark hoods. They stood there, legs apart, facing me.

I sat up straight, took a breath, and said, “Well, that was fun.”

The commando in the center reached up and pulled off his hood. All I could do was stare. It was a woman, but that's not why I was shocked.

She said, “You are now officially part of the revival.”

It was Nevva Winter.

This is where I'm ending my journal. I've been stuck in this cell for nearly a day. I'm not sure if I'm a prisoner or not. Nobody is saying much. Nevva left, but promised to be back quickly to explain what is happening. I'm not going to hold my breath on that one after she left me dangling last time. Still, they're treating me well. They even gave me this paper so I could write. The food isn't as good as at the castle, and neither is my room, but I'll take this any day over being back there and wondering when I'd have to compete in another game. It's given me the chance to write this journal and think about all the things that Saint Dane said to me.

The thing is, I don't know how much of it to believe. I get all that he told me about Blok and how Quillan is such a messed-up territory. I've seen plenty of evidence to know that what he said was the truth, or close to it. What's bothering me more is the challenge he gave to me. I'm trying to get inside his head. Is this really all about him trying to destroy my confidence? Like I wrote to you before, I have to believe
that for Saint Dane, a big part of controlling Halla is about beating the Travelers, and me. This may be a weird thing to say, but it feels like Saint Dane is not only trying to push each territory into chaos, but he's also trying to convince me that Halla would be better off under his guidance. How twisted is that? Does he really think I'd buy that?

As much as I know that this is a battle for all of Halla, and it's crucial that we Travelers fight it, part of me is tempted by his offer. I know, it would be idiotic for me to risk my life, but imagine how much stronger we Travelers could be if we understood the nature of our existence. Uncle Press knew, but he died before he could explain it to me. There are so many unanswered questions, and no one has any more answers than I do. Would we have a better chance against Saint Dane if we had a few of those answers? Is it worth risking my life for? Am I being selfish by not taking the chance?

I don't know. My head hurts too much to come up with an answer. Hopefully by the time I write again, the way to go will be much clearer. Until then, I'll sit and wait to find out why I'm sitting in a dark cell that smells like fish, in a deep basement, somewhere on a doomed territory.

It looks like my trip home is going to have to wait.

And so we go.

END OF JOURNAL #25

SECOND EARTH