The Lost City of Faar Read Online Free PDF

I know there isn’t an inch of dry land anywhere. This cave is part of a coral reef that’s about sixty feet underwater.”
    â€œYou’re kidding?” I interrupted. “Who lives on this territory? Fish?”
    Uncle Press laughed and reached toward one of the vines that clung to the rocks. Behind the colorful flowers, attached to the same vine, were dark lumpy-looking things. He plucked one off like an apple from a tree and tossed it to me. I caught it awkwardly and saw that it looked like a small, dark greencucumber. It was kind of rubbery, so I guess it was really more like a pickle than a cucumber.
    â€œBreak it in half,” he said.
    I held both ends and snapped the strange tube in half easily. The green skin on the outside was so dark that it was nearly black, but the inside was bright red.
    â€œTry it,” he said while plucking another one for himself. He took a big bite and chewed. I figured if it didn’t kill him, it wouldn’t kill me, so I took a bite and it was delicious! It was like the sweetest little watermelon I had ever eaten. Even the skin was good, though chewier and a bit more salty than the sweet pulp inside. No seeds, either.
    â€œI think there may have been a time when the people of Cloral lived on dry land,” he continued. “But that was centuries ago. There aren’t any records of it. Whatever happened to the planet, no one knows. But the land is long gone.”
    â€œSo how do they live in water?” I asked while wiping the sweet juice from my chin.
    â€œThey don’t,” he answered. “They live on floating cities called ‘habitats.’ Whole communities are built on these monster barges. Some are so big you’d swear you were on an island.”
    â€œThat sounds impossible,” I said. “Where do they get food? And building materials? And—”
    â€œWhy don’t I just show you?” Uncle Press interrupted.
    Good point. We could sit here talking about it, or I could see for myself. I hated to admit it, but I was kind of interested by a world that was always floating.
    Uncle Press wiped fruit juice from his mouth and walked carefully across the rocky ledge until he came to a thick mound of vines near the base of the wall. He pulled them away and I saw that the vines had been covering a pile of clothing andequipment. I immediately remembered the cave on top of the mountain on Denduron where Uncle Press gave me the leather clothes of that territory. It was against the rules to wear anything from other territories, so we needed some Cloral clothes.
    â€œI don’t get it,” I said quizzically. “If you didn’t know we were coming here, how did you know enough to have this little stash of stuff ready?”
    â€œWe aren’t alone, Bobby,” he said while picking up and checking out something that looked like a clear-plastic bubble the size of a basketball. “There are acolytes who support us on every territory. They brought this gear here.”
    Acolytes. That’s who supposedly took care of the motorcycle back in the Bronx.
    â€œWho are they?” I asked. “How come I’ve never seen one?”
    â€œYou won’t,” he answered. “At least not often. But they’re around.”
    â€œIf they’re so helpful,” I added suspiciously, “how come they didn’t help us out a little more on Denduron?”
    â€œIt’s not like that,” he said. “They aren’t Travelers. They can’t play a direct role in our mission. All they can do is help us blend into the territory. Here!”
    He tossed the plastic bubble to me. It was light, but solid. One section of the globe was open so it looked kind of like a big, round fishbowl. There was also a small gizmo attached to it that looked like a silver harmonica.
    â€œPut your head in it.”
    Yeah, right. Sticking my head into that alien object is not something I’d do by