by Gary Foshee
“For what?”
“For this.” Urium knew what he had to do. It was in his nature
to carry out orders even if what he was doing didn’t make sense.
He pushed Caboose over the ledge and shouted, “Anchors away!”
With eyes as big as Mushy Marts, Caboose fell through the
air waving his limbs. The wave from his splash plumed up soak-
ing Urium. Caboose had told the truth, he couldn’t swim. Yelling Urium’s name, he fought to stay afloat but gradual y sank beneath the surface. Under water he stopped fighting. Hearing the splash, hundreds of venomous creatures surrounded him from all directions. Caboose boisterously trying to protect himself, stretched out all his limbs in an attempt to appear larger than he real y
was. The creatures moved closer and closer blocking any means
of escape. Petrified with fear, Caboose prepared for the worst.
The creatures closed in from every side and then froze in place, their attention averted behind him. In unison, they tucked tail
and swam away, disappearing into the shadows.
Flabbergasted, he smiled and gloated, thinking “I showed
them who was boss. I’m the man! Don’t mess with Mr. C.”
Feeling a terrific moment of bliss and forgetting that he was
still about to drown, his eyes glimpsed a shadow blanketing him
just before the craggy serrated teeth of Leviathan, the fearsome creature of the deep, closed, swallowing him whole. Leviathan
jumped out of the water revealing his long terror-gripping body
for all to see. His back was like shields tightly sealed together, each so close air couldn’t penetrate its seamless contours. His
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chest was hard like a rock and his snorting threw out flashes of light. His eyes were like the rays of dawn. Firebrands streamed
from his mouth and sparks of fire shot out, pouring smoke from
his nostrils. He landed on his side igniting a huge tidal wave that overtook the cliff and knocked the crawler into the sea.
The crawler dueled with the creatures of the deep. It swung
its legs at the sea creatures shooting out venom and webbing until final y being consumed piece by piece.
Urium shook himself off and watched as Leviathan’s shadow
disappeared into the deep.
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C H A P T E R 1 0
Bamboozled
Although they claimed to be wise, they
became fools.
Like a tree by abundant, fresh-flowing water, The Augur had
planted Thunder Juice Town; an orchard of juicy apple,
orange, and pear; jujube, cherry, and peach; fig, olive, and plum trees: a variety of every kind of fruit yielding their harvest freely to al . Large leafy green boughs sheltered, shaded, and healed, all supported by thick muscular branches that stretched long and
high into the air. Deep roots firmly established in The Redmadafa remained safe and well watered.
Fascinated, yet confused, Old Juicy now sent out its roots
toward another great eagle. It stretched out its branches toward him for water from the plot where it was planted. Like cattle being 212
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led to slaughter, the exodus began. The Augur, whose hands had
formed them by clay, whose truths had established their boundar-
ies and safeguarded their lives, had been replaced by the cunning tongue of The Horn Swoggler.
Lucifer, with great pomp and circumstance, told the peo-
ple about a lush garden, filled with delicious fruit, juicier than Thunder Juice Town. A garden filled with jewels and a water supply that was far greater than their old but faithful Redmadafa.
He told the people that everyone would eat from their own vine,
drink cool water from their own cistern, and eat fruit from their own fruit trees. He promised to take them to a land of abundant
grain, and thunder juice, a land of bread and vineyards, a land
of olive oil and of honey, so that they would live and not die. He eagerly led the way as droves of residents packed and headed for the Promise Land.
Mack and his mother packed for the new land. They were out of
money and the eviction notice, swaying in the wind on the door,
gave them until the end of the month to be out of the house. This was a blessing from the gods thought Mrs. Davoo, as she packed
up the last remaining things. Mack, being the natural born leader that he was, wanted them to be the first ones to enter the garden.
He planned to claim his own stake of land and provide for his
mother—after al , he was now the man of the house.
Mack needed to do this for his mother and himself. Way
down deep inside, he was scared and insecure, and although he
would never admit it, and would punch anyone straight in the
nose for even thinking it. The loss of his father only made things worse. He used the lixoars to act tough and pick on people, but
without them, he wasn’t that tough. Moving to a new place and
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starting over might give him the confidence he had always longed for. For him it was a challenge and he wasn’t afraid of a challenge.
Mack longed to get away from Thunder Juice Town, in fact, it
was a surprise to many that he hadn’t run for the gate years ago.
But it real y wasn’t the town he wanted to get away from. It was his father—Hyben. His father often came in late at night from
the tavern and would beat him and his mother for the slightest
reason—or no reason at al . He was a man filled with violence
and anger, especial y after a night of thunder juice indulgence.
Hyben had fooled everyone at work with his outgoing personal-
ity highlighted by his elaborate jokes. At work he was loved and respected. His knowledge of the mines and many years of experience were looked up to and admired—even though others saw it
in his eyes and smelt it in his sweat.
Hyben had been addicted to thunder juice since he was a
teenager. He too had grown up in a violent home and turned to
the juice to help ease the pain. Thunder juice helped him discover a side of himself that he had never known before, a funny side, a side others liked and liked to be around. At the tavern he was the life of the party, the one everyone circled around. It gave him recognition and a feeling of belonging he had never felt at home. But it was all a lie. It was fueled by liquid courage and its foundations were built upon a delusion. He drank all the time; even his lunch gourd was spiked with it. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t use the juice to numb the pain of life, guilt, and the shame that stirred inside—the shame that he had followed in his father’s footsteps both at work and home.
Mack was embarrassed of his family. His father and mother
fought so loudly that neighbors a mile away could hear them
screaming. So, he learned to put up a front. His tough-guy act was a mirage, an act, a mask to hide the anger and embarrassment he
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felt inside. If anyone ever found out, his cover would be blown
and the small amount of power he felt by bul ying others would
come to an end.
He walked outside and approached the cart. He looked it
over shaking his head. His mother loaded another basket with
many more still waiting at her feet.
“Mom, you can’t pack the whole house, we don’t have enough
room on the cart for all these things.” He walked behind the cart and pushed trying to make more room. “Look at this. Do you
real y need this,” he said, holding up a funny looking garment,
quickly throwing it aside bef
ore someone saw him with it?
“I don’t know what we will need when we get there. I hate to
leave so much behind,” his mother said, feeling abandoned and
alone, still mourning the death of her husband.
Mack lifted up a basket and discovered some of his dad’s
things buried at the bottom. “Mom! We can’t take dad’s things
with us. If you put one more thing on this cart, it will break, and then we won’t have anything.”
“Ok, ok,” she motioned, slipping a few more items on the
back—Mack grabbed his head in frustration, “It’s useless, I’m
talking to a stone wal .”
* * * * * * *
Rammer, disgusted with his father, slammed the door and fell on
his bed. With most of the neighbors fleeing Old Juicy before the serpent and his army arrived, his father didn’t think they should leave.
“He never comes to my races. We never go out to eat. We
never take vacations, and now that we have a chance to go
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somewhere new, now he wants to start making the decisions and
lead the family. Why me? Why me?” vented Rammer on his bed.
“Rammer, open this door!” shouted his father pounding
loudly.
“You never cared before, why start now?”
“You better open this door right now, I mean it!” shouted his
father.
Rammer jumped up and opened the door. He ran past his
father straight into the living room where his mother sat quietly.
“Why are you letting him do this to us? Tell him we’re going.
Tell him.”
“Rammer, sit down, there is something your father needs to
say.” His mother was not used to this and wasn’t sure what to do now that his father seemed interested in their affairs.
Rammer stood puzzled. He didn’t understand why his
mother wasn’t standing up for him. His father, standing in the
doorway listening, walked in and sat down.
“Son, please sit down, something happened that I need to tell
you about.”
In protest, he plopped on the divan with his arms folded,
staring intently at the worn-out boards nailed to the floor.
With a jumpy voice he said, “Rammer, I’m sorry.” He paused
and looked away fighting back the tears.
“I know I haven’t been here for you and your mother. There’s
no excuse, as to why I’ve acted the way I have. I mean…I don’t
expect you to understand what I’m saying. I’ve been working
so hard all these years to be recognized by my boss, trying to…
be the best at what I do. But, in the process, I’ve neglected you and your mother and, wel , there’s no excuse. I didn’t tell you, but when the eagle arrived the other day, I remembered what
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someone told me. I realized that what I was doing and trying to
achieve, was wrong.”
Rammer wasn’t listening. He refused to listen to anything his
father had to say.
“Many years ago, I was just like you.”
Oh boy, didn’t I just hear this lecture from coach the other
day. Yeah right, thought Rammer, even though he wasn’t listening.
“I was athletic and could race with the best of them. Your
grandfather came to almost every race; I think he may have only
missed one or two. He pushed me to be the best, to beat every-
one at everything I did. He spent hours and hours, training and
coaching me, so many that there were days I wished he wasn’t
there. He was so demanding and tough on me that sometimes I
didn’t even want him to come. My bel y turned in knots knowing
if I didn’t win, he would find some reason it was my fault…if I
would’ve only listened to him…I would’ve blown every one away.
I said when I grew up I would never treat my son like that. But, I never meant to take it to the other extreme. You want to hear
what’s strange. Although he’s gone, I still hear his voice pushing me, driving me, to beat everyone at work, to be the best. At times, I still think he’s controlling my life.”
“Then why can’t we just leave with everyone else and start
over? Everyone is leaving,” said Rammer, refusing to look at him.
His dad looked over at his mother and smiled. “Wel , a few
days ago I would have. I probably would’ve been the first in line, but your coach came by my work.”
Stunned, Rammer answered, “My coach. Why did he
do that?”
“I was busy and couldn’t see him. I told my assistant to send
him away I would talk to him when things slowed down. But, I
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he was still sitting there. I had a few minutes so I let him in. He came in and sat down. I sat down behind my desk and went over
a few numbers and said, ‘So, what’s on your mind. I hear Rammer
got tripped at the end of the race the other day…bunch of cheat-
ers, I don’t know why he likes racing in that stupid race anyway.’
Your coach didn’t say anything he just sat there staring at me.
Then he said, “I don’t want to take too much of your time but I
need to share with you something that happened to me a few
years ago.”
‘Does this have something to do with Rammer?’ I asked.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, it does.”
He moved to the edge of his seat and said, “A few years back,
I enlisted in the military. After training, I tried out for an elite group which called themselves, ‘Leather Necks.’”—Apparently
they called themselves that because of the thick wide strap of
leather they wrapped around their necks to hold their heads up
high and protect against saber slashes.
“We trained hard, real hard. I had never been around men so
committed to honor and integrity—they were always faithful for
the cause. Anyway, about two years in, we took a trip around the circle in a big Tree Floater—number 44. We sailed across the sea and pulled into a port of a unique tribe of people—they too were an elite group that had been chosen to complete a mission—a
very special mission.
We left the Tree Floater and went into the desert to train with
their army. For weeks we ate, slept, and trained with them in the hot sun learning how to survive in that type of an environment
and how to live off the land. We trained so hard and long we
didn’t even have time to take a bath. When we returned to the
floater, I was one of the first ones to strip down, walk across the 218
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passageway and take a bath. When I finished cleaning myself, I
was one of the first to come back into our berthing area.”
‘I stopped Coach at this point and asked him what this had to
do with you.’ “Everything,” he replied, and then continued.
“When I walked into the berthing area where we slept, I
almost fell down dead because of the stench from our clothes.
We hadn’t taken a bath for weeks and couldn’t smell the dirt and sweat that reeked on our bodies and in our clothes.”
I stopped him again at this point and said, ‘Coach. I real y
appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to come see me, but I am real y busy and I don’t see what this has to do with my son.’ Coach stood up and walked ov
er to my desk.
“We couldn’t smell how much we stunk until we were clean.
This story is not about your son,” he said. “It’s about you. This room is filled with the stench of a father who has buried himself in his office and is neglecting the most prized possession a man could ever possess—a family. A family that loves him very
much…A family that if he doesn’t clean himself fast—he will
quickly loose.”
My head almost exploded from the blood rushing to it. I
jumped out of my seat furious and put my nose against his. I
was just about to throw him out when he said, ‘Rooter, don’t you remember me? I used to race against you. I used to watch you and your Dad prepare before each race—I longed to have my father
stand by me the way yours stood by you. Rammer needs you. He’s
changing and fast. He needs you by his side more than ever.’
When he said that, it was like a Magondrea ran right over
me. Scales fell off my eyes revealing the truth to what I was real y doing. It was then that I realized in my attempt to rebel against my Dad, I had abandoned you and your mother. I don’t deserve
to be your father. You deserve a whole lot better.”
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Rammer broke. He fell into his father’s arms. “I love you. I’m
so sorry for being mad at you.”
“And I…” said Rooter, looking down at his head, “Love you,
son. I love you and your mother very much.”
Still grasping his father and without looking up, Rammer
asked, “But I still don’t understand. Why can’t we leave with
everyone else?”
Rooter pulled him away with both arms and gazed straight
into his tear-filled eyes. “Before coach left, he told me something else. He told me about The Augur. He told me how The Augur
chose this town and its people. How he formed its wal s, built
the temple and how he was the power behind the split rock from
which The Redmadafa flows. Son, all I can tell you is that when
I prayed with coach, something happened. Something that, right
now is still hard for me to explain. But when I saw the eagle the other day and heard him speak, I knew he was not The Augur. I
know I don’t have the right to ask you this but I need you to trust me. Something just isn’t right. Coach is a good man. I don’t think I have to tell you that. If he’s staying, we’re staying.”