The Never War Read online

  “Every one of these good people are witnesses. This isn’t some lonely back alley. You can’t hide in the shadows. Your dirty work is on display for everybody to see, and remember.”

  The old guy definitely had the gangsters thinking. Now even the nasty guy looked unsteady. In the meantime, we were moving closer to the open subway door. All I could do was hope it wouldn’t close before we got there.

  “I believe you two are smart gentlemen,” our friend continued. “You understand what I’m telling you.”

  I didn’t think the gangsters understood anything. I thought the old gent was confusing them. But that was okay. If it gave us time to escape, I didn’t care what was going through the minds of these bad guys. The old man turned us around so we were still facing the gangsters. Our backs were now to the open subway door. He kept us moving though. He gently pulled us backward and onto the subway train. A few seconds later the three of us stood inside the car. Now I prayed for the doors to shut.

  “I am so proud of you gentlemen,” said the old man to the gangsters with a smile. “You are two upstanding individuals.”

  Everyone waited for something to happen. The gangsters stood with their mouths open. Every single person in the station was afraid to move. Spader, the old guy, and I stood just inside the open subway door.

  Time stood still.

  Then a bell rang on the subway train and the doors started to close. That woke the gangsters up. They both jumped for the train. They were a ways behind us, so they leaped onto the train through the set of doors farther back on our car. At that instant, the old man shoved Spader and me forward. We all jumped off the train and back onto the platform at the exact moment the doors closed behind us…with the gangsters trapped on board!

  A second later the train began to pull out of the station. The three of us watched as the subway car slid past, along with the two gangsters. The nasty gangster grabbed at the door, angrily trying to pull it open. But it was too late. Next stop for them…someplace else. The old guy smiled and gave him a wave as they disappeared into the tunnel ahead. All around us, people started to move again. They all seemed a little shocked, but none more than Spader and I.

  “That was incredible!” Spader shouted. “You had them stupefied.”

  “You saved our lives,” I said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  The friendly smile dropped off the old man’s face. In an instant he went from a warm, charming grandpa to a serious man on a mission.

  “Follow me,” he said sternly, and walked off.

  Spader and I didn’t move. “Should we?” Spader asked me.

  A second later people started to gather around us. They were moving in like we were two escaped animals from the zoo. We had caused a pretty big disturbance, and they wanted to know why. This was not a good place to be.

  “Absolutely,” I answered, and ran to follow the old man.

  The guy may have been old, but he was quick. He was already halfway up the stairs to the street. Spader and I barreled through the turnstile and ran after him. I was in such a hurry to catch up that I didn’t stop to think about what we would see outside. But when we got to the top of the stairs, reality hit me square in the face.

  We had arrived in a different time.

  This was the same section of the Bronx where Uncle Press first brought me to begin this adventure…over sixty years from now. But as much as it was sort of familiar, it was also way different. I recognized many of the buildings. Even in my time there were no modern steel-and-glass structures in this neighborhood, so a lot of these same buildings would be around sixty years from now. The only real difference was that in 1937, they looked clean and new.

  The big, obvious difference that jumped out at me was the cars. They were all so old. But they weren’t old. Here in 1937 they were the latest models. Very strange. Traffic was just as hectic here as in my time, and the street was jammed with ancient vehicles. There was an odd smell, too. It was kind of like chemicals. It took me a while to realize that this was long before people worried about clean air and car emissions and unleaded gasoline and all those things that are supposed to keep pollution down. These cars were all spewing old-fashioned, full-leaded, full-stink emissions. It reeked.

  Another thing that caught my eye was the billboards. They were everywhere, advertising things I never heard of. There was one showing a lady with a big smile who brightened her teeth not with toothpaste, but with tooth powder. Another had a guy looking all sorts of happy because he gassed up his car with “Esso” gasoline. Still another showed a group of quintuplets, all girls, who were advertising a soap made with olive oil. Gross. Wasn’t that like washing with spaghetti sauce? I knew this was Earth, but it sure felt like a different planet.

  Spader stood right by my side, looking dazed. This all must have been strange to him, too. But in a very different way.

  “You two going to stand there all day?”

  We looked to see the old African American guy standing by a yellow cab, holding the back door open for us.

  “Look,” I said. “Thanks for bailing us out and all, but we’re not gonna get in that cab with—”

  “Vincent Van Dyke is my name,” he said with a smile. “My friends call me Gunny.”

  “O-kay, Gunny. Like I was saying, we got things to do so—”

  “I know you do,” Gunny said. “I know all about it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Spader asked. “What do you know?”

  Gunny chuckled and said, “I know that if you want to start looking for Saint Dane, you might need my help.”

  It was like the whole world had stopped again. Did he really say what I thought he said? I turned to Spader. He looked as shocked as I felt.

  “Yeah,” Spader said. “I heard it too.”

  The old guy didn’t move. He stood with his hand on the open cab door and a smile on his face.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Like I said, my friends call me Gunny. And I’m pretty sure we’re all gonna be good friends, seeing as I’m the Traveler from First Earth.”

  He held up his hand to show us that he was wearing the familiar silver ring with the dark gray stone in the middle.

  Our visit to First Earth was getting more interesting by the second.

  JOURNAL #9

  FIRST EARTH

  “Fifty-ninth and Park, my good man,” Gunny said to the cabbie as we got into the car.

  It was a big, old-fashioned cab with lots of room in back. I think I have to stop calling things “old-fashioned,” though. This was First Earth. This was 1937. This was the past, but it was today. Totally whacked.

  The cabbie pulled into traffic and headed toward Manhattan. Along the way I kept looking out the window to see the differences between First and Second Earth. The odd thing was, it really wasn’t as different as you might think. I wasn’t exactly an expert on history and all things New York, but from the view of a kid from Connecticut who had only been to the city a few times, I was surprised to see how similar things were.

  Like I wrote before, the most obvious difference for me was the cars. I’d seen old cars before, but always in some black-and-white movie or picture. When I was a little kid, I thought the whole world was black-and-white in the “olden” days. But I’m here to tell you, things were definitely not black-and-white in 1937. The sky was just as blue, the sun was just as yellow and the grass in the parks was just as green as on Second Earth. But the cars were mostly black. Some were cream colored and a few gray, but black was definitely the most popular color. They rode a little rough, too. The three of us bounced around in the back of that cab every time we hit a pothole. Yeah, they had potholes in 1937 too.

  As much as I wanted to check out the wonders of the past, the guy sitting in front of me was more important. He said he was the Traveler from First Earth. I had no reason to doubt him, especially since he wore the ring. But still, he didn’t fit the profile of all the other Travelers. First off, he was old. I couldn’t tell exactly how old, but
he had to be up there. Maybe sixty? All the other Travelers were young. Uncle Press was older. So was Osa. But not this old. Besides, they were gone. They had passed the torch on to a younger generation of Travelers. Did that mean Gunny’s days were numbered too? I decided not to ask him. That wouldn’t have been cool.

  He seemed like an okay guy. It was incredible the way he had controlled the gangsters and helped us escape. He had a soothing voice that made you feel like everything was all right. As I had learned, Travelers have the ability to be very persuasive. It’s like a hypnosis thing. I’ve tried it myself. It works, sometimes. I’m still not very good at it.

  “You two sure do believe in making a dramatic entrance,” Gunny said with a chuckle. “My heart’s still pounding.”

  Wow. If he was scared back in that station, he sure didn’t show it. Add that to the list. The guy was cool under pressure.

  “We didn’t expect a welcoming committee,” I said. “But we’re sure glad you were there.”

  Gunny nodded thoughtfully. “I’m guessing you’re Pendragon,” he said, then looked to Spader. “Which one are you?”

  “Vo Spader, mate,” answered Spader proudly. “Aquaneer supreme from the territory of Cloral.”

  “I like that!” Gunny laughed. “I have no idea what an aquaneer supreme is, but it sure sounds fine!”

  “What’s your story?” I asked, still not sure how far we could trust this guy.

  “I could bore you for hours with my story.”

  “Go for it,” I said.

  “Start by telling us where the name Gunny came from,” Spader said.

  “The army,” Gunny answered. “It’s sort of a joke. I signed up back in seventeen to fight in the Great War. Not sure why they called it that, but who am I to say? Trouble was, I couldn’t bring myself to fire a gun. I tried, mind you. I really did. But it was the strangest thing. I’d pick up a rifle, point it, but couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Didn’t matter how much they hollered at me, I couldn’t do it. That’s when I got the nickname. Spent the rest of the war cooking and cleaning pots.”

  “Did you know you were a Traveler back then?” asked Spader.

  “Nope. Found out two years ago,” Gunny said. “I’ve lived most of a life thinking things were one way. Come to find out it wasn’t that way at all. I can’t say I’m too happy about it, but I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  No, he didn’t. Neither did we. Welcome to Travelerhood. I glanced quickly up at the cabbie, wondering what he would think of this conversation. My guess was New York cabbies had seen and heard far stranger stories than this.

  “How’d you find out?” I asked.

  “I work at this hotel,” Gunny explained. “Near twenty years now. Started scrubbing pots, now I’m a bell captain. One day this fella showed up. Nice enough gentleman. Soon as I showed him to his room, he started telling me things. Things about me he never could have known.”

  “Like what?” asked Spader.

  “He knew about my family; about where I was raised down in Virginia; about things I said and did forty years before that I near forgot myself. I have to tell you I was a little scared of this fella. But he calmed me down and said everything was going to be fine. He said it was time I knew about my true calling.”

  “So he laid the whole Traveler gig on you right there?” I asked.

  “Not exactly. He asked me to take a trip with him. Uptown. If I had known just how far uptown he meant, I’m not so sure I would have gone with him.”

  “I guess he took you to the flume,” I said.

  “That’s right. Before I knew it, I was flying through space. I was lucky my poor old heart didn’t give out right then and there. We landed at a place called Ta Da or some such thing.”

  “Zadaa?” I asked.

  “That was it. Zadaa. It was this beautiful city in the desert, with a river running under the ground.”

  Spader and I shared looks. We had been there too. It was Loor’s home territory.

  Gunny continued, “And he introduced me to the most beautiful lady I had ever seen.”

  “Osa,” I said.

  “That was her!” Gunny stopped talking for a second. I could tell his mind was back on Zadaa, with Osa. She was Loor’s mother and like Gunny said, an amazingly beautiful woman. Gunny came back to the present and said, “She’s the one who told me all about being a Traveler and how it was up to us to stop this Saint Dane fella from causing trouble. I wanted to know why I was chosen, but both of ’em said I’d find out in due time.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I said.

  “It was too much for my brain to take in all at once. I’m still not sure I understand it all, even now. The gentleman took me on a few more trips, just to show me more of what was out there. I never thought I’d ever see such wondrous sights. Then he brought me back home. I asked him what I was supposed to do, and he said I didn’t have to do anything except wait and keep my eyes open. That was two years ago. After a time I began thinking I dreamed the whole thing. I kept my eyes open, but there was nothing to see. That is, until today.”

  “The guy who took you to Zadaa,” I asked. “What was his name?”

  “Went by the name of Tilton. Press Tilton. I suppose you know him.”

  “He was my uncle,” I answered.

  “Your uncle!” exclaimed Gunny with a smile. “Now that explains a few things. He told me all about you. Said you’d be showing up someday. He talked about you like you were the upside of buttered bread. Now it makes sense!”

  “Upside of buttered bread?” said Spader, giving me a sideways look.

  “Hold on,” Gunny said. “You said he was your uncle?”

  “Yeah,” I answered quietly. “Uncle Press is dead. I hate to tell you this, but Osa is too.”

  The smile dropped from Gunny’s face. He looked down, letting this information work through his head. “I am truly sorry to hear that,” he finally said. “He was a good person. I can say the same for Osa. The world is worse off without them.”

  “Thanks, but there’s more you gotta know,” I said.

  “I’m not so sure I want to,” Gunny shot back. For the first time since we’d met, he looked nervous.

  “Those gangsters back at the subway station,” I began. “They’re the ones who killed Uncle Press.”

  “No!” exclaimed Gunny. “Press came back?”

  “No. We were at a flume in another territory. Saint Dane took off, but before we could chase him, bullets came back at us through the flume.”

  I could feel Spader grow tense next to me. This was a tough memory for him.

  “Uncle Press was killed by those bullets,” I continued. “Saint Dane had his hand in it. I’m sure of that. He’s the only one who could have activated the flume to send those bullets through.”

  Gunny looked away. The expression on his face grew dark. He needed to get his mind around this. After several seconds he finally spoke.

  “I guess that means it’s starting,” he said softly.

  “What?” asked Spader. “What’s starting?”

  Gunny was anxious. His mind was racing to places I didn’t think he wanted to go. “I hear things, you know?” he said nervously. “Being at the hotel and all, I see and hear it all. Maybe that’s why I was chosen for this Traveler business.”

  “What did you hear?” I asked.

  “Those gunmen at the subway station, they are a couple of bad apples. I heard rumors that there was going to be a hit. Somebody was going to get killed, you know? I hear things like that all the time. Usually it’s just rumors. But the thing that made me take notice this time was the place it was supposed to happen. It was that subway station. The one with the flume thing. I was hoping it was just a coincidence, but I had to see for myself. That’s why I was up there today.”

  “And then we showed up,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Gunny. “And a Traveler died. I’m afraid that can only mean one thing.”

  “Yeah,” Spader said to Gunny.
“Looks like your days of watching and waiting are over.”

  “Whatever Saint Dane’s plan is for First Earth,” I said, “it’s on.”

  The car came to a stop and the cabbie slid the glass partition back that separated the front seat from the back. “Fifty-ninth and Park,” he announced.

  I wondered how much of our conversation he’d heard. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have made any sense to him.

  “Where are we?” asked Spader.

  “This is my home,” said Gunny. “The Manhattan Tower Hotel. They all come through here sooner or later—movie stars, politicians, captains of industry. And gangsters.”

  “Gangsters?” I said with surprise.

  “Yes,” answered Gunny. “After what I’ve seen and heard today, I’ve got a feeling they’re the reason we’ve all been gathered together.”

  “Welcome home,” I said to myself and stepped out of the cab.

  JOURNAL #9

  FIRST EARTH

  Gunny paid the cab fare as Spader and I gazed up at the Manhattan Tower Hotel. It was a real swankadelic place. It was thirty stories high and definitely the tallest building in the neighborhood. The front entrance was set back from busy Park Avenue to make room for an elaborate garden in front. There were trees and fountains and everything. It must have been a full-time job for a team to take care of, because even though it was March and kind of chilly, the garden was green and packed with colorful flowers. It was a dense, colorful jungle in the middle of a gray city.

  The building itself stood out from the others because of its color. Every other building was some shade of cement. But the Manhattan Tower Hotel had a touch of pink to it. I’m not talking pukey-bright, Pepto-Bismol pink; it was softer than that. It made the place look warm and inviting. I couldn’t remember if this hotel was still around on Second Earth. But then again, like I said, I’m not an expert on New York history.

  “Let’s try something,” Gunny said as he joined us on the sidewalk. He took off his long woolen coat to reveal he was wearing his bell captain uniform underneath.