"Look out!" came a desperate cry. Desperate cries were not good, especially if they came as a warning. "Heads up!"

We looked up quickly to see a shadow overhead that was coming our way. I didn't have time to register or to react. Luckily, Mark Dimond did. Elli and I were half tackled, half shoved out of the way. Mark wasn't being gentle, either. He manhandled us toward the wreck of a car and pretty much threw us behind it.

"What is it?" I gasped.

"Trouble."

Oh. I figured that.

I barely had time to peek up from behind the barrier to see what he meant. The shadow was a helicopter. I expected it to start firing at us, but its path was too steep. It was flying straight for the ground. Actually, it wasn't flying at all. It was falling.

Elli gasped. A second later the large black chopper smashed into the ground. The cabin crumbled and bucked forward. The rotor dug into the dirt. I was transfixed by the destructive violence. It was a good thing Mark was still thinking. He grabbed us both and pulled us down behind the car wreck. The next sound we heard was the squealing of tortured metal, followed by the sharp thumps of shrapnel that hit the far side of the wreck. The rotors had broken up on contact, spewing sharp pieces everywhere. The car windows exploded, raining gla.s.s down on us. Chunks of metal flew overhead and dug into the ground behind us. If we had been standing up, we would have been shredded. Elli clung to me in fear.

It was a rude welcome to Third Earth.

I looked to Mark. He was staring backward, his gaze fixed. This wasn't the Mark I knew. Besides being older, he had an intensity that I'd rarely seen. In anyone.

The grinding sound of the crash continued for a few more seconds, then ended. No more falling parts. No more screaming engine. All we heard was the soft hiss and tick of hot metal.

"Are the Ravinians attacking?" I asked.

Mark's answer was to jump up and sprint for the destroyed chopper.

"Wait here," I said to Elli, and followed him.

Mark ran straight for the wreck. A few others came running from other directions. A quick look around told me that we were back in the empty lot in Manhattan where Mark and I had landed the chopper we hijacked from the Conclave of Ravinia. The garage that held the stolen helicopters was off to our right. It looked as if this doomed helicopter barely cleared the top of that garage before crashing. The downed helicopter no longer looked anything like a flying vehicle. The engine was winding down. The cabin had become a twisted ball of black metal. The rotor was gone, having been flung in pieces every which way. I still didn't know who was inside. Was Mark running to make sure that a Ravinian dado wasn't going to jump out and attack? I didn't think so. It seemed like he was more worried about helping the guy who was inside.

He got to the wreck and yanked on the door. Or what was left of it. Mark had to pull with all he had. With an agonizing screech of metal, he managed to muscle it open.

"It's okay," he said to the guy inside. "We got you."

"No," came a cry from inside the chopper. "I can't move."

I made it to the wreck and looked over Mark's shoulder to the horror within. The pilot wasn't a dado. The blood and his pained expression told me that much. He didn't look like a Ravinian, either. His clothes were too shabby. This was definitely a friend. It was a gruesome sight, because his body was impossibly contorted inside the twisted wreck.

Mark reached for his arm and pulled. The guy screamed in pain.

"Don't!" he cried. "My back." The guy was in a seriously bad way. He took short, quick breaths as his eyes darted back and forth, focusing on nothing. I figured if his back was broken, there was no way he would survive. The blood wasn't a good sign either. There was lots of it. Medical care on the new Third Earth was nonexistent. At least, outside of the Ravinian conclave.

"Okay, okay," Mark said, trying to calm the poor guy. "We'll cut the wreck away from y-you."

Mark stuttered. He may have been all strong and in charge, but he was still Mark and he was under stress. He gave me a look that said it all. His friend wasn't going to make it. The others crowded around, trying to get a glimpse, but Mark put his arm out to hold them back. He took a breath to calm himself. There was nothing he could do to save the guy. It was now about making his last few moments less terrifying.

"You made it," Mark said, soothing. "You got back. I'm proud of you, Antonio."

The guy, Antonio, focused on Mark and smiled. "Don't think we'll be able to use this chopper though." He spoke in pained gasps.

"Sure we will," Mark said, faking confidence. "There's only a couple of dings. We'll get it back in the air."

"Good," Antonio gasped. "We're going to need it. We're going to need everything we have."

"What happened?" Mark said, leaning in close to the doomed man.

"They're coming," Antonio said between labored breaths. I wasn't sure if his eyes were wild from pain, or from fear. "Worse than we thought." Antonio started to sob. He was out of his mind. "Get out, Mark. Get everyone out. Out of the city. Away from here. What we saw a it's impossible. But it's real. I saw it."

"What was it, Antonio?" Mark asked with a touch of desperation. "What did you see?"

"The factory," Antonio said. His eyes closed; he was losing consciousness.

"Antonio!" Mark barked. "What about the factory?"

"Where they build the choppers. We stole one a nearly got away a but they attacked. My guys a all killed."

"How many?" I asked Mark quietly.

"Four, including Antonio" was his answer.

"Were they exiles?" I asked.

Mark nodded.

Three more exiles had been killed. Of the original twenty exiles who came here with Mark from Cloral, nine were left. I was afraid it would soon be eight.

Antonio leaned forward. The small move was painful. I saw it in his eyes and the way he winced, but it didn't stop him. He needed Mark to understand.

"I think they've found them," he whispered.

"Who? Found who?" Mark asked.

"We heard them talking. After they finish us, they're going after them. That's what they've been doing. All this time, they've been getting ready to go after them."

"Who, Antonio?" Mark begged. "Who are they going after?"

Antonio could barely get the words out. His voice was growing weaker, but I heard. "They found the rest of the exiles."

"What!" I shouted.

Antonio didn't expect to hear another voice. His eyes looked around in confusion, searching for who had shouted. I pushed next to Mark, so he could see me. "Where are they, Antonio? Where are the other exiles? Are they here on Third Earth?"

Antonio shook his head. I don't know how he found the strength. Maybe it was easier than speaking.

"I don't know," he said, defeated. "After they come for us, they're going after the rest. Get out, Mark. Run. Hide. We can't stand up to what they've got. It's over."

Antonio closed his eyes for the last time. His face grew relaxed. He was at peace. I wondered if his spirit had joined the others in Solara.

Mark didn't move. He stared at his fallen friend. I didn't say anything. There was too much to absorb and process. I didn't know Antonio, but in those short few momentsa" his lasta"I found out that he was a very brave guy. A hero even.

Mark looked away from his fallen friend, to me. It was the old Mark. The young Mark. His expression was a cross between grief, confusion a and fear. I sensed he was looking to me for answers. I had one, but it wasn't the time to tell him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a few of his other friends watching. They were close enough to have heard all that Antonio said. They looked worse than Mark.

Elli was there too. She heard it all. She stood alone, looking lost and afraid.

"Let's get him out of here," Mark announced with authority. "Then we have to hide this wreck. We don't want anything to be seen from the air." He looked at me and added, "Are you here for a while?"

"For as long as it takes," I answered.

"Good," he replied. "You can help."

They put me in charge of digging the grave. It was an experience I'd managed to avoid up till that point, but I guess with all that had happened over the past few years, it was inevitable. I made sure that Elli was safe inside the warehouse, then found a shovel and walked across the street to a spot that Mark had directed me to. It was an empty schoolyard. I saw the vague outline of a baseball diamond. Toys were scattered around. A deflated kickball. A ballerina slipper. The arm of a doll. I wondered when the last time was that these toys had been played with. I had to force myself to stop thinking that way. As important as this job was, I didn't want to spend time looking back. There was trouble ahead. That's where we needed to focus. Burying the dead was looking back. Still, it had to be done.

I got to work digging a long, narrow hole among the sad reminders of a past civilization. The ground was soft, I was glad to discover. It allowed me to work fast. The mindless act of digging gave me the chance to dissect Antonio's last words. The Ravinians were planning an attack. That much was clear. It sounded like Antonio and his team had found the factory where they built their gunships and didn't like what they saw. It could mean that the Ravinians were building a lot more choppers, in order to launch some kind of ma.s.sive aerial a.s.sault. Was this the final plan for Third Earth? Were the Ravinians going to wipe out every last non-Ravinian they could find?

Or was it going to be practice for their ultimate goal, which was to wipe out the exiles, and the remaining spirit of Solara along with them? If they were building helicopters, did that mean that all the exiles were somewhere here, on Third Earth? It seemed likely. That would be the ultimate turning point for Third Earth. If the last hope for Solara was here, destroying the exiles would give Saint Dane his final victory. Halla would be his.

The more I thought of this possibility, the more it made sense. The exiles had to be here. The Ravinians were preparing to attack them. And what was I doing? Digging a grave, not knowing what to do about any of it.

The sun was going down. Though I wasn't in an official graveyard, it still gave me the creeps to be standing in an open grave while shadows grew long. I finished the hole quickly and got the heck out of there. I brought the shovel back to the garage and saw that the wreck of the helicopter was gone. They probably salvaged any parts they could use on their own choppers, then ditched the carca.s.s in one of the surrounding buildings. As I walked to the garage, a door opened. Six guys came out, carrying a body wrapped tightly in a white cloth. This was going to be Antonio's final journey. The procession went past me. I stood there and bowed my head out of respect. One of the guys came to me and took the shovel. I may have dug the grave, but the job of burying Antonio would be theirs. With a nod of thanks, he rejoined the funeral procession. I watched them for a few moments, then went inside.

Mark and Elli were sitting at a table among several of the stolen helicopters. He had put out food for her, but Elli wasn't eating. I wasn't much interested in food either, but I knew we had to eat when we had the chance. I sat down and looked over the feast. It was basically a bunch of canned fruit and vegetables that had been opened and spread out across the scarred, wooden table. A single fork was in each can.

Mark must have seen the look on my face. He said, "Not exactly the Manhattan Tower Hotel, but it's good. And it's safe. There's a ton of canned food all over the city."

"Looks good to me!" I said, lying. I picked up the least vile-looking can and scooped out a big chunk of something that looked like half of a peach. At least, I hoped it was half a peach. If it wasn't, I didn't want to know. I popped it into my mouth and tried to swallow it without chewing or tasting it. Not an easy thing to do. It was sweet, that much I could tell. It slid down and I didn't gag. I hated canned peaches.

"Try to eat, Elli," I said. "You never know when we'll get another chance."

She took a couple sips of water. Mark sat staring at the table. His mind was somewhere else.

"Who was he?" I asked.

"My best friend" was his answer. He quickly looked up at me and added, "After you, that is. We got shoved into the flume in the Bronx at the same time."

"I'm sorry" was all I could say. I didn't think it could even begin to help him feel better.

Elli looked sick, and I didn't think it was because of the canned peaches. She had retreated into herself, hugging her waist in a way that looked as if she were trying to protect herself. As we sat there, I realized there was something we had to talk about. Neither of them were going to like it, but I didn't see any way around it.

"Mark, this is Elli. She's the Traveler from Quillan."

Mark looked up and nodded politely. I wondered how long it was going to take for him to connect the dots. He smiled at her, then his face went blank. The smile was gone. The dots had been connected in about three-point-two seconds.

"Elli Winter?" he asked, to confirm. Elli nodded.

"Nevva's mother," Mark stated flatly.

I had to cut in. "This is Mark Dimond, Elli. He's been my friend since we were kids. We grew up together on Second Earth."

"I know," Elli said, her voice cracking. "You're the one my daughter's been manipulating."

"She's been manipulating a lot of people," Mark shot back.

I wasn't sure if he was angry or hurt. I also didn't know how he would relate to Elli, knowing that her daughter had threatened to kill his parents and generally made his life miserable. It was a tense moment. I didn't know what to say to diffuse it.

Elli took care of it for me.

"I'm sorry, Mark," she said kindly. "I've heard a lot about you and how you were tricked into helping Nevva. If I could undo the things my daughter has done, I would. It's why we're here."

Mark shot me a questioning look.

"It's true," I said. "We're scrambling, Mark. I thought Elli might be able to get through to her daughter."

"And do what?" Mark asked sharply.

"I don't know," I answered lamely. "Make her see reason. Show her another side to this whole thing. Maybe even shame her into acting like a human."

"There's nothing human about that witch," Mark spat. "She's heartless."

Elli winced.

Mark stood up, throwing back his chair. It clattered to the floor as he walked away from us. I went after him.

"Whoa," I said, heading him off. I got close to him, speaking softly but with intensity. Elli didn't need to hear what I was saying.

"I hear you," I said. "I know she's a witch. There are worse words to use. n.o.body knows that better than I do, except for you. But Elli isn't Nevva. She's a Traveler."

"So what? Nevva's a Traveler too."

I thought about getting into the whole thing about Elli being Nevva's natural mother, but that would have meant explaining to Mark about Solara and the fact that none of the Travelers were actually from their home territories. I figured he had enough to deal with.

"I know. Nevva's a traitor. You get no arguments from me. But there were times, you said so yourself, that Nevva showed there might be more going on with her. Remember when she forced you into giving up your ring?"

"She threatened to kill my parents."

"Right, and when you gave it to her, you said she was disappointed, like she'd wanted you to fight for it. Saint Dane wanted that ring. Her mission was to get it. But she was disappointed when you gave it up."

"Yeah." Mark sniffed. "Because she probably wanted to kill my parents."

"Or maybe she was having second thoughts. I've seen it too, Mark. There might be some humanity in there somewhere. I figured if anybody could find it, it would be her mother."

Mark glanced over at Elli, who sat staring at the table.

"We have to do something, Mark," I continued. "Your friend died trying to get back here to tell you an attack was coming. If those Ravinians are coming after you and the rest of your friends, that's bad enough. But if Saint Dane knows where the rest of the exiles are, the ball game's over. It's all about the exiles, Mark. They are the last, best hope to save Halla."

"Why? How?" he asked.

"I can explain it all to you, but I think it would only make things more confusing. It'd be a lot easier if you just believe me. We have to find those people. We have to make sure they're safe. That includes you and your friends. I think Elli gives us a shot at doing that. I don't know how else to say it to you. It may be desperate, but it's the only thing I can think of doing."

"So you're just going to walk up to the gates of that fortress and ask if Nevva can come out and play?"

"I don't know. I haven't figured that part out."