The Lost City of Faar (36 page)

Saint Dane was in a submarine. It was a huge, black, monstrous-looking craft with a flat bottom and rounded body. My guess was that it fired underwater missiles, just like the battleship he used to attack Grallion. There was no doubt about it, this was a weapon of war, and it was at Saint Dane's command.

“About time you two showed up!” came a voice from behind us.

Spader and I both spun around to see four raiders floating there, each with a water sled and holding spearguns on us.

“Looks like you were the last to leave the party,” one laughed. “There's somebody wants to see you.”

Two of the raiders moved to either side of us, while the other two trailed from behind, guarding us with their spearguns. They motioned for us to swim along with them. There was nothing we could do. We were trapped and on our way to Saint Dane's submarine.

SECOND EARTH

The phone rang next to Mark's bed
.

“Don't answer it,” ordered Courtney. She was too involved in Bobby's adventure to stop reading, even for a moment.

“I have to,” answered Mark. Though he didn't want to. He was afraid of who might be calling.

“Hello?” Mark answered tentatively.

“Mark Dimond?” came a familiar man's voice over the phone.

“Yes,” Mark answered. He wasn't giving up any more information than necessary.

“This is Captain Hirsch, Mark. Stony Brook Police.”

Mark's heart instantly started beating faster. This was it. This was the call he was dreading.

“Hi, Captain, how are you?” Mark asked, trying to sound more together than he felt.

At the sound of the word “captain,” Courtney's ears pricked up.

“Mark, you're aware that there's a reward out for any information that would lead us to finding the Pendragons, right?”

“Yeah. Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“That's right. Do you know where Courtney Chetwynde is?

I called her home but her parents said she was out.”

“Well, yeah. She's here with me.”

He looked at Courtney. Courtney raised her eyebrows as if to say, “He's asking about me?”

“That's good,” Hirsch said. “I wonder if you two would mind coming down to the station. There's something here I'd like to show you.”

Uh-oh. Mark thought he knew exactly what Captain Hirsch wanted to show him.

“Uhh . . . . I guess. We're kind of in the middle of something now though.”

“How about an hour?” asked Hirsch. “We could send a car for you.”

“An hour? Uh . . . y-yeah, okay. I guess we could be finished in an hour. You have my address?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Hirsch. “Oh, Mark, one more thing. Do you know a guy named Andy Mitchell?”

That was it. The door holding back Mark's fears was blown wide open. Andy Mitchell had stolen Bobby's journals and it took him all of one day to take them to the police, figuring he'd collect the reward money. The only thing that truly surprised Mark about it was that he'd thought it would take Mitchell a week to read those first four journals.

“Mark, you still there?”

“Y-Yeah, I'm here.”

“Do you know Andy Mitchell? Is he a friend of yours?”

Two completely different questions. Mark wondered what Mitchell had said to the police about their relationship. He wondered if Mitchell admitted that he was a bully who had blackmailed Mark into showing him the journals, only to steal them and turn them in for a reward. No, Mitchell probably didn't go into that kind of detail.

“Yes, I know him. But he's not exactly a friend of mine.”

“Okay then, we'll see you in an hour.”

“Bye.” He hung up the phone.

“That was Hirsch? What did he want?” asked Courtney.

“He wants us to come down to the station to show us something.”

“Did he say what it was?”

“No,” answered Mark. “He's sending a car here in an hour. I figured we'd be finished reading by then.”

Mark's mind raced. The drama with Andy Mitchell was going to end in an hour, one way or another. But as anxious as that made him, it didn't even come close to the drama that was playing out on the pages of Bobby's journal.

Courtney said, “I don't want to think about the police until we finish. My mind's not there. That okay?”

That was
more
than okay with Mark. His mind wasn't there either. He didn't want to have to discuss Andy Mitchell or the missing journals or his being an idiot who got blackmailed until they found out what happened to Bobby and Spader and Uncle Press.

“Yeah,” Mark answered. “We gotta read.”

Mark got back on the bed. He and Courtney stretched out on their stomachs, side by side, with the journal in front of them, ready to discover what happened on that dark day under the oceans of Cloral.

Y
ou'd think things couldn't have gotten any worse than they were at this moment: Faar was destroyed. Its entire population was now homeless and floating in the ocean. All but one of the haulers were stuck under tons of water and rubble, unable to save the underwater farms of Cloral. Uncle Press, Kalaloo, and several Faarians were trapped down there as well. If they weren't dead already, they would be soon.

And now Spader and I were being escorted into an ominous-looking submarine full of killer raiders that was commanded by Saint Dane.

As the raiders brought us toward the hovering sub, I said to Spader, “I didn't know they had these on Cloral.”

“Same as with the battle cruiser,” answered Spader. “Warships were built long ago in case there was a territory war between the habitats. They never had to use them, and a few were hijacked by raiders.”

“Quiet!” shouted one of our guards.

It now made sense. Saint Dane was able to fire underwater missiles at Faar. He just kept pounding away at the dome until it couldn't take it anymore.

We were now directly underneath this war machine. I wasn't sure where we were going until I saw a large door slide open in the bottom of the hull. It led up to a large, flooded chamber. It was probably big enough to bring a truck inside. The raiders directed us to swim up and in. I looked into the black chamber above me and stopped. I didn't want to board this evil boat. But a sharp jab in my ribs from a raider's speargun told me we didn't have a choice. So Spader and I swam up inside Saint Dane's city-killing submarine.

We floated in this dark chamber while the hull door slid closed below us. We were now inside, in pitch darkness. A hiss of air told me that they were pumping the water out of the chamber. It didn't take long. Soon we were standing on the hull door that had just closed. The water level kept going down until the chamber was dry. That's when the lights kicked on and I saw something that made this horrible situation even worse.

Sitting next to us in this large chamber was the one and only hauler that had been launched from Faar. Saint Dane must have captured it the instant it left the underwater city. This was totally depressing. Now there was no chance for any of the underwater farms. Saint Dane had won a complete victory. He didn't leave any loose ends.

I looked to Spader, who seemed as deflated as I was.

“Drop your gear!” ordered one of the raiders.

We took off our air globes and dropped our water sleds.

“Let's go. He's waiting for you,” commanded the same raider.

With another jab in the side from his speargun, Spader and I were escorted out of this chamber and through the submarine to meet Saint Dane. I had never been in a submarine at home. I had only seen pictures and movies. But compared
to the high-tech subs from Second Earth, this vehicle looked pretty simple. I expected to see all sorts of tubes and pipes and valves all over the place, but there were none. It was cramped and the walkways were narrow, just like you'd imagine, but there were very few signs of the technology that ran the thing. It was just like walking down a narrow corridor, with rooms off to either side. I guess that made sense. The Clorans definitely had water technology down cold.

Suddenly there was a jolt. The submarine shuddered and we all nearly lost our balance.

“What was that?” I asked.

“We're surfacing,” answered one of the raiders. “Keep moving.”

We got to a ladder that led up. Two raiders went up first, followed by us, followed by the other two. They were taking no chances with us. I wasn't exactly sure why. It wasn't like we were going anywhere.

The ladder led us up to what looked like the control room of the sub. Again, it wasn't as high-tech looking as the submarines we know. There were two raiders sitting at dual steering wheels forward. Three other raiders manned various control stations. I'm sure one of them controlled the weapons that were fired at the city of Faar. There was only one other person there, and I'm sure you can figure out who that was.

It was Roder, the pirate pilot. Of course, we knew that it was really Saint Dane. He stood between the two guys steering, looking out of a narrow window at the underwater seascape.

“We found only two,” said one of the raiders to him.

Saint Dane turned to us.

“Welcome aboard, my friends,” he said with a warm smile. “I just love the toys they've got here on Cloral, don't you?”

We didn't say anything. What was the point? I glanced at Spader and saw that he was grinding his teeth in anger. His hatred for Saint Dane because of what he did to Spader's father had come flooding back. I really hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid.

“And where is my friend, Press?” he asked. “Not still on Faar, I hope.”

I didn't answer. But Saint Dane walked up to me and looked me right in the eye. I didn't want him to think that he scared me, so I looked right back at him. It was like he was searching my mind. After a few seconds he shook his head slowly.

“It's all in your eyes, Pendragon,” he said. “Press is dead. I am sorry. He was a worthy adversary, but as I've told you before, I cannot be beaten. This is the way it was meant to be.”

“No, it isn't,” I shot back at him. I couldn't stand hearing those words. “Cloral isn't done yet.”

Saint Dane chuckled like I was some kind of stupid kid who didn't know what he was talking about. I hated that. Mostly because he was right.

“Is that what you think?” he asked. “Let me show you something.”

He pointed forward and I now saw light outside through the window. We were no longer underwater.

“All clear,” announced one of the raiders at the controls.

A raider who had been guarding us stepped to the rear of the control room to a round door in the wall. There was a wheel on the door that he spun to disengage the locking mechanism. He then pulled the door in on its hinges and sunlight flooded into the submarine.

“Please,” said Saint Dane, gesturing for us to go outside.

I walked to the door and stepped out, followed by Spader.

The control room was inside the tower above the main body of the sub, so when we went outside, we stepped right onto the top of the hull. The sub was big. I'm guessing from the bow to the tail it was about fifty yards long. The control tower was about two-thirds of the way forward. I also noticed that there were long guns jutting from the control tower. They weren't as big as the battle cruiser's, but I'm sure they were just as deadly.

Saint Dane walked past us and strode toward the bow of the ship.

“Come,” he ordered.

Spader and I had no choice but to follow. Saint Dane walked almost to the bow of the ship and the three of us stood there, alone.

“Do you see that?” he asked.

We looked ahead and I didn't see anything at first, but once our eyes adjusted to the light, we saw what he was talking about. It was a giant whirlpool. And I mean, giant. There was no question as to what was causing it. This was the spot directly above the shattered dome of Faar. The swirling water was pouring into the doomed city, creating this monstrous whirlpool. Saint Dane stood there with his arms folded in front of him, smiling, enjoying his handiwork.