The Never War by D.J. MacHale Page B

stood there frozen, then Gunny broke and ran for the building. Spader and I followed right behind him. I didn’t want to see what had happened, but I was sure I needed to. Chances were this had something to do with the gangsters and this Winn Farrow dude.
    The victim had fallen onto the roof of a car and pretty much caved in the whole thing. There was no way anybodycould survive that. I couldn’t bring myself to look closer. Neither could Spader. We stood several feet away, while Gunny did the tough thing and walked over to investigate.
    While we waited for him, Spader saw something and nudged me. I looked and saw someone standing on the steps of the hotel. It was one of the gangsters. The nervous one. He looked at us like he wanted to say something, but decided not to and ran off. The question was, where was the other guy?
    Gunny walked back to us and said softly, “It’s him. The ugly one from the subway. He’s dead.”
    That answered my question. Spader and I shared disbelieving looks.
    â€œI guess that means he won’t be trying to kill us anymore,” Spader said, sounding numb.
    This was unbelievable. When I first saw the falling body, I thought somebody had made a suicide jump. Now that I knew it was Mr. Nasty Gangster, nothing made sense anymore. Why would he jump? He had other things on his mind, like hunting for us so he could gun us down.
    I stared up at Gunny. He looked sick.
    â€œYou gotta tell us what you’re thinking, Gunny,” I said.
    Gunny glanced back at the body. People were starting to gather and stare.
    â€œI’m afraid we’re going to have our own war pretty soon,” Gunny said. “Right here in our backyard. It may not be as big as the one brewing over in Europe, but it’s going to be ugly just the same.”
    I heard a police siren scream in the distance. It was a far-off, sorrowful wail that was headed our way.
    The show was definitely on.
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    I’m going to end this journal here, Mark and Courtney. I wish I had my ring so I could send these pages to you. Hopefully, it’ll turn up soon. But until it does, I’ll keep these pages safe and keep writing. I’m beginning to get the hang of this typewriter.
    I hope this journal finds you well, and that your lives are much simpler than mine.
    It’s March 11. It’s my birthday. Do I still turn fifteen, even though it’s 1937?
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    END OF JOURNAL #9

JOURNAL #10
FIRST EARTH
    I ’m getting ready to launch to another territory.
    It’s been nearly two months since I finished my last journal, and I can’t tell you how worried I am. I don’t want to leave here. At least not now.
    But I think we found the turning point.
    Gunny was right. I think that if we can change the outcome of this one event, there’s a really good chance we can stop World War II. Is that incredible or what? The idea of saving the lives of millions of people is almost too good to be true. Gunny was right. The turning point isn’t as big as a war between tribes like on Denduron, or the poisoning of an entire territory, like on Cloral. It’s actually one single event. One big, stupid, spectacular event.
    But it’s going to be hard to stop it from happening. Dangerous, too. Big surprise, right?
    Since I wrote you guys last, we have crossed paths with some truly foul characters. It’s getting hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys. If we have any hope of stopping this event, we’ve got to go up against these guys again, and I can’t guarantee we’ll win.
    That’s why I’m fluming to another territory. We need some information and there’s no way we can get it here. But I’m nervous about leaving because I don’t want to miss anything. I’m typing this to you guys on the night of May 5. Tomorrow is the day everything is going to hit the fan. That much we know for sure. We absolutely, positively have to be back in time and leaving now