Read Online The Lost City of Faar by D.J. MacHale - Free Book Online Page A

We’re in the middle of an ocean.”
    Uncle Press put his air globe back on and swam close to me. “He’ll bring us to our skimmer. You okay?”
    â€œI feel like I was stretched on a medieval rack and beaten with a club. Other than that, I’m cool. But I don’t think I can swim.”
    â€œYou don’t have to. Put your globe on and grab my belt.”
    I did as I was told. I put the air globe back on and it instantly conformed to my head. I then reached out for UnclePress’s belt. I made sure to use my left hand. My right arm had taken a bit too much abuse. It was probably two inches longer now, too.
    Uncle Press gently squeezed the throttle on his water sled and we started our journey toward the skimmer that would take us . . . somewhere. Luckily the water was calm so the trip was easy. Good thing, too. I needed to catch my breath. As Uncle Press pulled me through the gentle swells, I floated on my back and looked up at the sun. Yes, the sun. There was only one, unlike Denduron where there were three. It was a hot sun, too. So far everything about Cloral gave me the feeling of being someplace tropical. Both the water and the air were warm, but not so hot as to be uncomfortable. Of course, the whole quig thing made the place feel a little less like paradise, but you can’t have everything.
    We had only traveled for a few minutes when Uncle Press slowed to a stop. I let go of his belt and saw that bobbing on the water in front of us were two water vehicles—skimmers. Spader had actually found his way here with the help of his watch. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack. I was impressed.
    Spader had already climbed aboard one of the vehicles. They looked kind of like Jet Skis. But these sleek vehicles weren’t toys. They were way too high-tech for that. Each frame was about the size of a very shallow bathtub. They were pure white and looked to be made out of plastic. The bow was pointed and the stern was straight across. To control it, the driver stood at a column that looked like motorcycle handlebars. Behind the driver’s space was a molded seat for a second passenger. The sides only came up a few inches. I guess water getting inside wasn’t a problem.
    You’d think they’d be unstable, but that was taken careof. The skimmers had wings. If you’ve ever seen an outrigger canoe with beams that project out to the side, with pontoons on the end, you’ll know what I’m talking about. The skimmers had outriggers on either side. Right now they were lifted up out of the water, which gave them the look of a bird frozen in midflap. On the ends of each outrigger were torpedo-shaped pontoons. My guess was that when under way, the outriggers would be lowered into the water to make the skimmer stable.
    Spader’s skimmer was identical to Uncle Press’s, except that he had a float thing that was attached to the back like a caboose. It was some kind of equipment carrier that floated behind the main skimmer.
    No, these skimmers weren’t toys. They looked more like those sleek, high-end corporate jets that big shots fly around in. I have to admit, they were way cool.
    As Uncle Press climbed up on his skimmer, I watched this Spader guy. Who was he? Was he the Traveler from Cloral? Whoever he was, he was pretty confident in the water. But I guess you have to be if you come from Cloral. His skin was really dark, but I don’t know if that was natural or because he was out in the sun so much. Probably a little of both. He was about six feet tall and looked pretty strong. Not a muscle guy, but definitely lean and mean. His black hair was long and shaggy and nearly came to his shoulders.
    But the thing that stood out most about him was his personality. I know that sounds weird, especially since I had just met him and all, but right from the start I knew this guy had it all going on. He was concerned enough about Uncle Press that he went looking