“They’reall missing,” she said soberly.
Mark quickly grabbed the phone and dialed a number.
“Who are you calling?” asked Courtney.
“I’m dialing Bobby’s number.” He did, and what he got was a recorded message from the operator that said: “The number you have reached is not in service.” Mark slammed the phone down.
“That’s impossible!” he shouted. “I just called him yesterday! A whole family can’t just vanish!”
On a hunch, Courtney took the phone book and flipped through it. She got to the “P” section and searched for “Pendragon.” She checked, double-checked, triple-checked and then announced: “It’s not here. Their name isn’t here.”
Mark grabbed at the book and looked for himself. Courtney was right; there was no listing for “Pendragon.”
“Is their number unlisted?” asked Courtney.
“No,” answered Mark quickly. This seemed to upset him more than anything else. “And I’ll tell you something else. Bobby and I looked up his number in this very book about a year ago. I was goofing around and next to ‘Pendragon’ I wrote ‘Sucks.’ I know, lame joke, but I did it. And now it’s n-not there. It’s n-not erased, it’s n-not cut out, it’s just…not there, like it was never there!”
This had gotten out of hand. A whole family was missing. There was only one thing to do. They had to report it to the police. This wasn’t the kind of thing they wanted to do over the phone, so the two of them headed right for the Stony Brook Police Station.
Stony Brook was a little town in Connecticut that wasn’t exactly a center for criminal activity. There was an occasional robbery, or fight, but most of the time the Stony Brook Police Department kept itself busy by making sure people obeyed the traffic laws and cleaned up after their dogs.
When Courtney and Mark walked into the police station, they weren’t exactly sure what they were going to say. They decided that they would stick to the obvious facts, which were that Bobby and his family were nowhere to be found and that their house was gone. Telling them about the ring and the parchment and the wild story that supposedly came from Bobby would be a bit much to throw at them at first. They spoke to a policeman by the name of Sergeant D’Angelo sitting behind the large front desk. Courtney did the talking. Mark was too nervous. She explained how Bobby hadn’t shown up for the game last night and didn’t come to school today. She told him how they had gone to the Pendragon’s house to find that it wasn’t there anymore, and none of the other family members were where they should have been. Sergeant D’Angelo listened to everything they had to say and took notes on a form. Courtney had the strange feeling that the policeman didn’t believe a word they were saying, but he had to go through the motions because it was his job. After he finished the form, he walked away from the front desk and went to his computer. He clicked away on the keyboard, read the screen, and occasionally glanced back to Mark and Courtney. Was he scowling? Finally, he stood up and came back to the desk to face them.
“Look kids,” he said with a frown. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but you’re wasting my time and taxpayers’ money.”
Mark and Courtney were stunned.
“What are you talking about?” asked Courtney. “Didn’t you listen? A family is missing. Isn’t that the kind of thing the Stony Brook Police should be worried about?”
This didn’t impress Sergeant D’Angelo. “Pendragon, right?” he said. “Two Linden Place?”
“That’s r-right,” answered Mark.
“I just went through the town registry,” said the sergeant with force. “There is no family by that name living in Stony Brook. There is no house on Two Linden Place. There has never been a house on Two Linden Place. So the only possible explanation is that you’re either pulling some kind of joke, or you’re talking about a family of ghosts and no, the Stony Brook Police are not interested in tracking down a family of ghosts!”
With that, he tore up the form he was filling out and tossed it in the wastebasket. Courtney was livid. She was all set to leap over that desk, grab the smug cop and force him to go to their school where everybody knew Bobby. She might have done it too, except for one thing.
The ring in Mark’s pocket started to twitch.
Mark’s heart instantly leaped into his throat.
Courtney leaned closer to the desk, looked up at the cop and said angrily: “I don’t care what your computer says. I know the Pendragons! Bobby is my-”
Mark grabbed Courtney by the hand and pulled her back with such force it actually made her stop talking.
“We gotta go,” was all Mark could say. In his pocket, the ring was starting to shake harder.
“No way! I’m not going until-”
“Courtney! Let’s go!” He shot her a look that was so intense she got the message. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Mark was serious.
Mark backed toward the door, pulling Courtney with him. But Courtney wanted the last word with D’Angelo.
“I’m coming back!” she shouted. “And you better hope those people are okay or it’s going to be on your head!”
Mark pulled her out of the door, leaving Sergeant D’Angelo alone. The policeman sniffed, shook his head, and went back to reading the newspaper.
Outside of the station, Mark pulled Courtney into an alley to get away from the main street. Though Courtney was bigger and stronger than Mark, he would not be denied.
“What is your problem?” she shouted.
Mark dug into his pocket and pulled out the ring.
“This,” he said while holding it out in front of him.
The gray stone had already turned crystalline and rays of light once again shot from its center. Courtney watched in wonder as Mark placed the ring on the pavement and took a few steps back. The ring twitched, flipped over, and started to grow.
“Oh…my…god.” Courtney breathed, dumbfounded.
Within the growing circle was a black portal where the road should have been. From this portal came the musical notes that Mark had heard in the boys’ room at school. The sparkling lights flashed against the walls of the buildings and even though it was daytime, they shone so brightly that Courtney and Mark had to shield their eyes. The musical notes grew louder, the stone gave off one last blinding flash, and that was it. The lights ended, and the music stopped.
“Is that it?” asked Courtney.
Mark walked cautiously over to the ring. It sat on the road, right where he had left it. It was once again back to normal size and the stone had returned to its original gray color. But something else was there too. Lying next to the ring was another scroll of parchment paper tied with a leather cord. Mark reached down, picked it up gingerly, and turned to Courtney.
“Mail’s in,” was all he could say.
Journal #2
Denduron
Uncle Press is going to die tomorrow.
So much has happened since I wrote to you last, Mark. It’s been strange, scary, confusing and sometimes even sort of-dare I say it-fun. But the bottom line is, Uncle Press is going to die tomorrow.
Right now I’m sitting in a small cavern that must be two hundred feet underground. I’m writing this by the light of a candle because there’s no electricity. I’m looking around and all I see are rocks. Tons and tons of black rocks that look as if they might collapse on my head at any second. I better stop thinking about it because I’m freaking myself out. The cavern isn’t going to collapse. I’m safe here, at least for now. The guy who is in trouble is Uncle Press.