by Obert Skye
The two of them had escaped their horrid lives and now were on a quest, searching for a person or thing named Geth. They had spent an entire day down by the river, hidden behind a thin line of trees, experimenting with their gifts. Winter had her ability down. She was able to freeze anything she chose: water, trees, even an abandoned car. Once the object was frozen, she needed only to touch it and it would thaw.
Whereas Winter had full control of her ability, Leven was struggling to manage his. He felt as if fate kept intervening, keeping him from manipulating the future. If he concentrated really hard he could get his brown eyes to burn gold, but unless the timing was just right, he couldn’t clearly see what was coming. The best he achieved was envisioning an older boy crossing the street and being struck by a bicyclist. Leven had concentrated like mad, causing the cyclist to look up at the last moment, swerve around the boy and run instead into a parked car. It was a neat trick that left the boy intact but the cyclist shaken.
After spending a full day practicing, they slept that night under a bridge and woke up cold, hungry, and miserable. They arose and began searching the streets for Geth, a search that seemed futile since they had no idea what this Geth looked like or where he could possibly be.
Clover was of no help. All he did was repeat over and over, “Fate will work it out. We’ll find Geth.”
Clover’s repetitive mantra got old fast and, out of patience, both Leven and Winter finally told him to keep his thoughts to himself. He responded by pulling his cloak over his head and disappearing. In all likelihood, however, he was probably perched on top of Leven’s head.
The town of Burnt Culvert wasn’t much to look at. There was an older downtown section where the burned-out shells of a number of buildings still leaned or rested. A giant charred wall stood all by itself. It was scorched and covered with spray-painted messages and drawings. There was a park in the center of town that had green grass and a small Chat-n-Chew Snak Shack near the playground. Some of the buildings on Main Street had survived the fire and been cleaned up years before to give the town an all-American feel. It was really the only stretch of Burnt Culvert that looked put together. The city had installed some antique lampposts and, depending on the season, a variety of colorful flags were hung from them. At the moment all the flags on Main Street were black with orange jack-o’-lanterns stenciled on them. Surrounding the business district on Main Street were the residential areas.
Leven, Winter, and Clover would have been able to live for a while off the money Winter had brought with her. But for some reason that was still being argued, Clover had thrown away Winter’s purse. That left them broke, hungry, and homeless. Oh, and a bit fed up.
“So do we just keep walking?” Winter asked Clover as day two was coming to an end. “It’s getting dark, and I thought this Geth was supposed to find us.”
“Well, tonight could be the night,” Clover said from the top of Leven’s head.
“You said that last night,” Leven pointed out.
“Fate will work it out. We’ll find Geth,” Clover repeated, which made Winter wonder again if she hadn’t ought to freeze the little pest. She had threatened to before, but he had told her that because he was a sycophant, her gift wouldn’t work on him. She wondered if that were true.
The October night was cold, and there was an ominous feeling in the air. Leven wondered if he would not have been better off staying at home and dealing with his miserable life instead of taking on the task of saving the world. At least he would have had a bed to sleep in.
“What do we do now?” Winter asked as they walked down Main Street for the four hundredth time. “Shouldn’t you be telling us where to go?”
Clover shrugged. “I’m here to get you back, but I think Antsel would be upset if I started making the decisions. I only know that fate will lead us to Geth.”
“Geth, Antsel, Foo,” Winter muttered. “I don’t think anyone is coming for us.”
“Can I bite her?” Clover asked Leven, upset that she was bad-mouthing Antsel, his last burn.
Leven shook his head.
“We’ve been walking all day,” Winter complained. “We’ve gone down every street and block in this city. We haven’t eaten and we’re broke.”
“Well, it’s not my fault that you can’t manage your money,” Clover countered.
“You threw away my purse,” Winter huffed.
“I thought it was an enemy.”
Leven listened to them arguing. The night was dark, and the stars in the sky were not strong enough to shine through the orange glow of the street lamps. Leven squinted and could see the neon lights of a diner down the way. His head cleared, his brown eyes burned gold, and in an instant he could see the future. His gift was working, and as usual he had little control of it. He saw Winter and himself sitting at the counter of that diner with nothing in front of them on the counter. He saw an old man beside him and an old woman walking out. He thought for a second. Lights shot across his view and Leven could feel his thoughts physically touching the woman’s mind. He suggested she hand the nice-looking children some money. Leven finished manipulating the future and shook his head, returning to the present.
“I thought I saw it breathe,” Clover argued, his voice bringing Leven even farther out of his thoughts.
“Purses don’t breathe.” Winter sighed.
“Maybe not here,” Clover said.
Leven stared at the diner down the street.
“Are you okay?” Winter asked him.
“I’m fine,” Leven replied. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“But—” Winter said.
“It’s okay,” Leven smiled. “I’ve worked something out.”
Clover stuck his tongue out at Winter one last time and flipped his hood up.
“It freaks me out when he vanishes,” Winter complained. “He’s probably sitting on top of my head making faces.”
“Let’s eat,” Leven repeated, feeling an urgency to move toward the diner. “And besides, he’s my sycophant, so he’s most likely on my head making faces.”
“So, did you see someone feeding us?” Winter asked as they walked, sounding as if they were animals in a zoo.
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly? What does that mean?”
“It means I helped fate a little bit.”
Winter looked skeptical. “That’s a nice trick. When it works.”
Leven nodded. “Well, if they forget to give us ice in our drinks, you can work a little of your own magic.”
They entered the diner and sat at the counter where Leven had pictured them sitting. They were studying the menu when an old woman stopped on her way out of the diner and handed Winter a twenty-dollar bill. The woman had a puzzled look on her face but said the meal was on her.
“I’m glad you’re on the good side,” Winter said, commenting on Leven’s ability to manipulate fate, and now looking at the menu with renewed interest. “I think I would have made her give me more than twenty dollars.” Winter reached to pat Leven on the shoulder but stopped herself. Leven noticed her pull back.
“So, what exactly happens if you touch me?” Leven asked. “Do I explode or something?”
“I don’t know,” Winter said, blushing just a bit. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not good.”
“How can you know that?” Leven asked. “Maybe that’s what’s holding us back.” Leven reached over as if to touch Winter on the arm.
She drew back. “Don’t!” she warned, loud enough that the man sitting next to them looked over.
Leven pulled his hand back, and Winter smiled to show that it was all in fun.
“The thing is, I don’t think it’s a joke,” she whispered. “Something bad will happen.”
Leven shrugged, too hungry to care at that moment. He turned from her to concentrate on the menu. He tried to focus, but his thoughts kept circling around the room and back to the old man sitting next to him. Once again his gift was acting up. There was nothing unusual
about the old man. He probably had children and grandkids who loved him, but that didn’t exactly do anything for Leven.
Leven’s eyes burned gold.
The old man took a bite of sandwich.
Leven’s thoughts raced and pulsated. He could see the whole diner. He could see the area outside the diner. Lights flashed and buzzed in his mind. He could see Winter, and once again his thoughts raced and settled in on the old man sitting right next to him.
“Can I take your order?” the waitress asked Leven for the third time.
“Lev,” Winter prompted. “She wants to know what you want.”
Leven shook off the feeling he was having and focused on the menu. “I’ll have the open-faced roast turkey sandwich in butter gravy. And a large glass of milk.”
“All right,” the waitress said, walking off.
“What were you doing?” Winter questioned. “She asked you three times what you wanted.”
Leven would have answered her, but his mind was wandering again. In his thoughts the old man was getting up. He saw him throw some money down and flick a toothpick from his mouth onto the floor.
Leven came out of his thoughts and looked at the old man sitting there. He watched him finish his sandwich and begin to pick his teeth.
“Excuse me,” the old man said to Leven. “Could you please pass me another napkin?”
Leven reached for the napkin dispenser and tried to pull one out, but the napkins were packed so tightly it was a struggle to remove even one. He pushed on the dispenser and the silver napkin holder jiggled. Light reflected off of it as it moved and as the glint disappeared Leven thought he saw something in the flash. It was a face, black and hollow. He quickly pulled his hand from the dispenser and glanced to see if anyone was behind him. A thick wisp of black slipped silently out through one of the windows of the diner. Leven would have spent a few moments being frightened, but the old man interrupted him.
“Could I have a napkin?” the man asked again, nicely but still needing a napkin.
“Sure,” Leven fumbled. “I’m sorry, I thought I . . . Do I know you by any chance?” Leven asked politely, confused by what he had just seen reflected in the napkin holder. He handed the man a napkin.
“Not that I know of,” the old man smiled.
The waitress served Leven’s and Winter’s drinks and gave them place settings as the old man stood up. He put down some money, flicked the toothpick he had been using onto the floor, smiled and nodded at Leven and Winter, and left the diner.
“What was that about?” Winter whispered.
“I kept seeing him in my thoughts,” Leven said, confused.
“He was sitting right next to you,” Winter laughed. “Now you need visions just to know who’s sitting by you?”
Leven shook his head. “It wasn’t the future,” he added. “It was something about the scene.” Leven picked up his glass of milk and drank it down in three gulps.
There had been something about that man.
Chapter Fourteen
I Can See Clearly Now My Head Is Gnawed
Leven was halfway right, there had been something about that man, but it wasn’t the man himself: it was the small sliver of wood he had used to pick his teeth and then discarded on the floor.
Fate had taken Geth from being a giant tree that stood proudly in the Oklahoma soil to a toothpick that had been loaded into a tiny, clear, plastic toothpick holder on the counter of Tina’s Diner. Geth, of course, couldn’t see anything; his world had been dark ever since Terry had taken an ax to him. Fate had left him little to work with, only his heart.
He was okay with that. After all, he was alive. He could feel pieces of himself missing, pieces that the machine had shaved off and distributed to other toothpicks—toothpicks too dead to know what they had.
At the moment Geth was crowded into a pile of hundreds of other toothpicks who were as dead as wood could be. He shook internally and his toothpick body vibrated. The vibration caused the toothpicks around him to move slightly. He vibrated some more and made a little more room for himself. He then began to work his way downward toward where Geth hoped the opening of the toothpick dispenser would be. He felt no real urgency in getting picked next, but he knew of no other way to get out and find Leven.
As he vibrated his way down, a strong wave of understanding rippled through his thin body. Geth could tell that Leven was nearby. He couldn’t see Leven, but he sensed his presence. He wiggled more frantically through the other toothpicks, rolling himself down toward the little plastic roller with the notch in it. He could feel the weight of the other toothpicks as he settled deeper into the pile, each shift making it harder for him to move.
He rolled again and felt the base of the container against his backside. The notch was filled with another toothpick. He wiggled his end and was able to wedge himself between the other toothpick and into the notch. He had no breath to catch or nerves to calm, but he was jittery. No sooner had he claimed the notch than the small plastic barrel rolled, and Geth popped out of the dispenser and into the fingers of someone. Geth thought for a moment it might be Leven, but he could tell almost instantly the old hands holding him did not belong to Leven Thumps.
Geth felt something pinch him on one end as his other end was jammed between two hard surfaces. He could feel moisture and a tongue.
The old man rolled the toothpick to the side of his mouth and let it rest with just the tip sticking out. Never had Geth felt more useless. It was one thing for a lithen to travel by fate while he was strong and mobile, but it was a whole other thing to trust in fate when he was the size of a sliver and had no real way of doing anything.
The old man rolled the toothpick with his tongue. He pinched the end again and pulled Geth out. He bit down on the top of Geth and turned him just a bit.
Geth’s mind exploded, and pain jolted his tiny frame. He felt his mind waver and then as if he were having a vision, light began to seep in. The old man bit again and again—more pain, and even greater light.
Geth saw colors, deep rich colors, and bright lights. He could see the old man’s tongue and teeth and bits of food. He was rolled over and stored in the side of the mouth again. The tip sticking out this time was the end where the teeth had perforated him, leaving a hole, and the light was almost blinding.
Geth could see! He saw the diner and the counter and the back of what looked to be a young boy’s head. But from the angle he was on, Geth couldn’t make out if it was Leven or not.
Roll me, Geth thought as loud as he could. Roll me.
The old man rolled the toothpick in his mouth and there, much to the great joy of Geth, was Leven. Sitting next to Leven was a messy-haired girl who had her face down over her plate, eating.
The old man leaned over and asked Leven something. Leven responded, looking confused and concerned. The old man took some napkins from Leven. He blew his nose, which created some terrible turbulence for Geth and was incredibly uncomfortable. Then he stood, tossed some money on the counter, and flicked Geth out of his mouth.
Geth tried to fall in such a way as to land on Leven, but he couldn’t make it happen. He tumbled and fell, light flashing and swirling as he dropped. He hit the floor, bounced, and partially rolled into a crevice between the floor and the metal base of the counter. His eye was wedged into the crack and he couldn’t see anything. He tried to roll himself so he could peer up and out toward Leven, but he couldn’t budge. He couldn’t hear and he couldn’t see.
ii
Leven had never tasted anything better. The open-faced turkey sandwich had been hot and smothered with rich gravy. It had been so delicious he began to think about manipulating fate so as to get himself another one. He thought about the old man who had been sitting by him earlier. As Leven savored the deep-fried, honey battered onion rings dipped in ketchup, he wondered what the connection might be between the old man and Geth. He grabbed a napkin for himself and thought about the hollow, shadowy face he had seen earlier in the polished surface o
f the napkin holder. He closed his eyes and remembered the black vapors that had tried to invade his sleeping porch on the night he had first met Clover.
His mind cleared and his eyes burned gold. He could see the diner from outside. He could see the door open and the counter he was sitting at. He could see beneath the counter and the stool he was sitting on.
Leven leaned over and looked down at the floor. Nothing. He used his toe to kick at a toothpick that lay up against the base of the counter and noticed a dime by Winter’s feet. He leaned down and picked up the coin.
“Can you make wishes on dimes?” he asked Winter. “Or is that just on pennies?”
Winter hadn’t said much because she too had been reveling in the meal they had been lucky enough to procure. She had ordered a roast beef sandwich with creamy horseradish sauce and thick homemade French fries. She had also ordered a big slice of chocolate cake and a foamy root beer that came in a mug shaped like a cowboy boot.
“We couldn’t have wished for better food,” Winter said, as she came to the end of her meal.
“Unbelievably good,” Leven said, smacking his lips. “What now?”
“You’re the decision maker,” Winter pointed out.
They both finished eating. Leven gave the waitress the twenty dollar bill, and she gave him one dollar and seven cents back.
iii
The pain came out of nowhere. One moment Geth was lying there wedged in the crevice, then the force of Leven’s kick ripped him out of the space he was in and slammed him up against the metal footing that anchored the counter to the floor. On the end of the footing was a sharp piece of metal edging. The metal tore into Geth, splintering one side of his body and causing him excruciating pain. Geth lay there wishing for death and realizing he had no chance of getting to Leven now. He tried to roll over to better see where he was and realized he was more mobile than before. He glanced down at his left side where the hurt was so strong, and saw what had happened. The strength of Leven’s kick had shaved Geth an arm—a sliver he could bend and move like a real appendage. He pushed away from the footing and rolled back under Leven’s stool. He could see Leven’s feet and felt his soul soar at the possibility of finally connecting. He pushed off the base and put his newly formed arm to his side so as to roll more efficiently.