It was an arrow. Pain tore through his body. Four of Mordo's men stepped out from behind trees with their weapons aimed at him.

The scouting party. Mark had completely forgotten about them. They obviously didn't know that Mordo was dead and the rest of the army was scattered.

Mark pretended to raise his hands in surrender and then abruptly dived into the cover of some trees. Willie rolled off as Mark hit the ground. The little monkey-bear climbed the nearest tree, clicking in terror.

Mark made it to his feet and started running. The scouts were right behind him. He crashed through the jungle, not caring which direction he was taking. His only thought was to get away.

He couldn't shake them. His arm was going numb and he felt weak. He kept running, dodging to the right and left.

A loud clap of thunder crashed through the air. The sky lit up with flashes of lightning. Mark ran through the pouring rain with Mordo's men now only yards behind him.

He spotted a boulder to his left and sprinted toward it. If he could just reach it he could use it for cover. He half fell behind it, reached for an arrow and slid his crossbow off his arm.

His wounded arm was too weak to pull the string back. The scouts were pounding toward him. With all the strength he could muster he dragged himself up on the boulder. He pulled out his sword and prepared to leap down on them.

Lightning struck the boulder, sending b.a.l.l.s of electricity shooting in all directions. A tube of blue light enveloped Mark and brutally shook his body.

He could feel himself falling.

Mark could hear people standing over him, talking. He felt for his sword. Somehow he had to stand and fight. He was determined to take down a few more of Mordo's men before he died.

Groggily he rose to his feet, swinging his sword. He heard screaming and the sound of people calling to him in a strange language.

He focused. In front of him was a strange little fountain. He was no longer in the jungle. Instead he was inside some type of building. The people staring at his clothes and weapons were not from Transall.

A small boy stepped out of the crowd. "Mister, do you need a doctor? I think there's one here in the mall."

Mark pulled the arrow out of the fleshy part of his arm. There was no wound. He looked up at the people.

The little boy had spoken to him in English.

This was his time.

His world.

The blue light had brought him back.

EPILOGUE.

Twenty Years Later.

"Dr. Harrison. Dr. Mark Harrison, report to the second floor."

The voice continued to boom over the intercom.

Mark felt someone jostle his elbow. He looked up from his microscope. "What is it, Karen? Did you find something?"

The young lab a.s.sistant smiled. "They're calling you again, Dr. Harrison." She pointed to the intercom.

Mark looked at his watch. "Oh, great. Looks like I'm late for the board meeting again. Get my briefcase, will you? And a copy of that data we were working on this morning."

"It's all here." Karen handed him the case. "Don't forget your tie."

Mark fumbled in his pocket for the wrinkled clip-on. "I hate these things."

"I know. But you are trying to make an impression."

Mark sighed. "Right. Maybe this time I'll convince them." He headed for the door.

"Good luck, Doctor. We're all rooting for you."

Mark waved and disappeared through the door.

A dark-haired young man in a white lab coat walked over. "Do you think he has a chance for the grant money?"

Karen shrugged. "I hope so. He's obsessed with finding a cure. He's already come up with several possible vaccines for the virus. But he has to convince the government that these diseases are a matter of global importance."

"He's a strange one. Last night, when he did the final tests on the new Ebola virus inoculations, he looked at the ceiling and whispered, 'Megaan, this is for you,' or something like that. I mean, what's a megaan? Weird . . ."

"He's all right," Karen said. "I think he just needs a break from work. Some friends of mine and I are planning a hike in the desert this weekend through the Magruder Missile Range. Maybe I'll invite him to come along."

"The doc?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"He's such a bookworm. I doubt he'd last a day out there in the wild."

"I don't know. I think he might surprise you. There's something about him. Have you noticed? It's a look he gets sometimes, almost like he's . . ."

"What?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it. But it's like he's . . . almost savage."

"Ha! The doc is as tame as they come. And if you decide to invite him to go, you guys had better take it real easy on him."

"He'll be fine." Karen laughed. "It's just a hike in the desert. What could happen?"

WANTED FOR WAR CRIMES DEAD OR ALIVE.

THE WHITE FOX.

The year is 2057. Endless wars have torn the USA apart and enslaved Americans to the evil CCR, the Confederation of Consolidated Republics. Growing up in wartime has made fourteen-year-old Cody Pierce wise in survival skills. Now he's the White Fox, rebel leader of the children's barracks in a CCR prison camp. Cody manages a terrifying escape and then plays cat and mouse with the CCR. Every day brings him closer to capture, but closer as well to his goala"to return and liberate the children he left behind.

Coming soon from Laurel-Leaf Books.

GARY PAULSEN is the distinguished author of many critically acclaimed books for young people, including three Newbery Honor books: The Winter Room, Hatchet and Dogsong. His novel The Haymeadow received the Western Writers of America Golden Spur Award. Among his newest Delacorte Press books are My Life in Dog Years, Sarny: A Life Remembered (a companion to Nightjohn), The Schernoff Discoveries, Brian's Winter (a companion to Hatchet), Father Water, Mother Woods: Essays on Fishing and Hunting in the North Woods, and the first three books about Francis Tucket's adventures in the Old West. Gary Paulsen has also published fiction and nonfiction for adults. He and his wife, the painter Ruth Wright Paulsen, live in New Mexico and on the Pacific Ocean.

ALSO AVAILABLE IN LAUREL-LEAF BOOKS:.

NIGHTJOHN, Gary Paulsen.

SARNY: A LIFE REMEMBERED, Gary Paulsen.

THE WINTER ROOM, Gary Paulsen.

BRIAN'S WINTER, Gary Paulsen.

THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen.

A KILLING FROST, John Marsden.

TOMORROW, WHEN THE WAR BEGAN, John Marsden.

THE DEAD OF NIGHT, John Marsden.

ANGELS ON THE ROOF, Martha Moore.

BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE, Annette Curtis Klause.

end.