The Quillan Games by D.J. MacHale

whole scene was disturbing for all sorts of reasons.
    I kept to the shadows, observing. I didn’t want to get in the way or be involved. What I really needed to do was findthe two nut jobs from the video screen. Veego and LaBerge. Whatever Saint Dane was doing on Quillan, it was obvious that Veego and LaBerge had something to do with it. Since they seemed to be the people who staged the contests, and I was given the uniform of a challenger, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together in a way that made me a little nervous. Would I eventually end up high on that platform, fighting for my life the way the Traveler from Quillan did? The thought made me want to find my way down to the warehouse basement, dump these challenger clothes, and get the hell off Quillan. But that’s not the way it was meant to be. I needed to be here and face whatever Saint Dane had set up for me. That’s the way it worked in the life of Bobby Pendragon, lead Traveler.
    â€œDo not move,” came a stern, gravelly voice that had the unmistakable growl of a dado. I really, really hoped he wasn’t talking to me. Slowly I turned to see . . .
    He was talking to me. Swell.
    Two dados stood side by side. I wasn’t sure if they were the same goons that had chased me out of the arcade. It didn’t matter. One of them had his golden pistol out. It was aimed at me.
    â€œYou talking to me?” I asked innocently. “I didn’t bet on the contest, see?” I took off my jacket to show them that my loop wasn’t flashing yellow. It was flashing purple. I had forgotten. Oops. What the heck did purple mean?
    â€œChallengers must never enter the city without an escort,” the second dado said. “Come with us.”
    I wasn’t going with them. No way. I needed to be on my own to find Saint Dane. Besides, I didn’t want to be the next one on that platform and risk facing the same fate as Challenger Yellow. I pulled my jacket the rest of the way off and took a step toward the dados.
    â€œOkay,” I said casually. “But first let me do this—”
    Without warning I shoved the jacket into the face of the dado with the gun. At the same time I ducked down, spun my leg, and swept the legs out from under the second dado. He slammed into the dado with the gun, knocking him off balance, making him fire his gun. The sound it made wasn’t a crack like you’d hear from a gun on Second Earth. It was more like a short, sharp discharge of energy that gave off a hollow echo. Fum. I had no idea what kind of ammunition it fired. I didn’t want to know. I needed to get away. Before they could get their balance back, I took off into the crowd.
    The chase was back on.

JOURNAL #24
    (CONTINUED)
QUILLAN
    I ’d been on the run from the moment I hit Quillan. How long had it been since I landed? An hour? At that rate I was going to drop from exhaustion before anything actually happened. Still, I couldn’t imagine anything good coming from getting nabbed by a dado, so I bolted.
    I made the quick decision not to run down the crowded street. I was afraid the pedestrians would get in my way, and step aside for the dados. So I made a flash decision and ducked into the store with the sign FOOD over the door, hoping there would be a back exit. If not, I’d be trapped, but at least this way I felt I had a chance.
    The store was like no other grocery store I’d ever seen. There were long aisles like at home, but rather than seeing an array of different products, everything in this store came in similar rectangular containers. They were different sizes and colors, but they all fit squarely on one another like Legos. I didn’t stop to browse, obviously, but as I ran by I saw that the labels were marked simply VEGETABLE and MEAT . Not exactlytantalizing. One said TRIBBUN , whatever the heck that was. My Traveler brain always translated the local language for me, unless it was something unique to