by Obert Skye
iv
Geth struggled in the mud. It was of no use. No matter how hard he wiggled or strained he couldn’t pull himself out. The foul smell of the storm drain was almost nauseating, and if he had not been a lithen he might have figured himself for dead. But, seeing how he was a lithen and had great faith in fate, he simply closed his eyes and waited.
He had been asleep no more than a couple of hours when the rumbling began. Geth could hear the thunder tearing up the sky outside and above him. In a moment the sky opened up and proceeded to squeeze every bit of moisture out of the heavy clouds. Rain fell like cats and dogs and then tigers and elephants. Water poured off roofs and down rain spouts, running into the gutters and quickly turning the streets into wide, wild rivers. A small dog was washed away, a car was spun around, and store fronts all along Main Street were flooded as the deluge increased. Storm drains were quickly filled to capacity and water surged through them like a runaway train through a tunnel.
Geth just waited.
He could hear the distant rush of water, and then all at once the hole he was in was flooded, the water crashing down on him in a thunderous wave. The muck around him loosened and he could feel his legs again. He wiggled as the torrent of water cascaded over him, and suddenly he was loose and being carried along in the flood in the darkness. Using his one arm, he tried to steer himself, but it was no use. He folded up and let the water take him.
The weight and volume of the water was tremendous. He was flying. It would have been fun had he had any control, but he was being tumbled along and banged into the walls of the culvert, and his mouth and eyes were filled with water. Just as he thought the buffeting would never end, he shot out of the culvert and floated into the middle of the flooded Washita River. The swollen river was foaming and rushing along. Geth pointed his legs and let the current carry him. Gradually the roaring water carried him near the far shore, where he bounced against some rocks and finally came to a welcome stop in a patch of long grass.
The raging river continued to churn past him—water huffing and spitting as it pursued its wild course downstream. Geth stayed there in the tangled growth, marveling once again at how effective travel by fate was.
v
Winter huddled under a storefront awning, wondering if the rain was ever going to stop. It looked like heaven had literally tipped and was spilling torrents of moisture down. She dashed to the next corner and waited beneath a shelter at a bus stop. No one was out. Here and there she could spot a face pressed against a window, gazing out in awe at the deluge, but for the most part, she was it. A huge truck roared down the street, parting the water like a great ship, hurling it up on the curb and drenching her.
Winter was miserable.
In fact, she was as ready as Leven to give up. She didn’t need shadows filling her head with doubt as she dreamt. She possessed plenty of doubt all by herself. She had seen and done some amazing things in the last while, but it all seemed for naught.
They had accomplished nothing.
Clover’s revelation that Winter was assigned to Lev had left her immediately uplifted, but now even that little bit of truth seemed stupid and unbelievable. Big deal. Nobody in their right mind would send a girl like her to take care of anything. She had no experience and no potential. She hated to be a baby, but there beneath the bus shelter, she began to cry. She figured the tears would camouflage well in this weather.
Her jeans and shirt were soaked. She didn’t think she could possibly be more uncomfortable. It seemed as if everything she had ever endured or survived was now a big knot, pushing up inside of her, pleading to be let out.
“I can see you crying,” Clover said softly, not showing himself.
Winter wiped at her eyes. “I’m not crying,” she insisted.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Things are sort of bad.”
Winter wept. The rain had nothing on her.
“Maybe I should show you something.” Clover said.
Winter didn’t respond; she just kept crying. Clover materialized, hanging on her arm. She was so used to him showing up in odd spots she didn’t even flinch. He climbed to the top of her head and wiped his feet in her hair as if cleaning his shoes on a welcome mat.
“Watch the street,” he said.
Winter looked at the street. It was filled with water up to the top of the curbs, flowing wildly. No cars were in sight. She wondered why Clover would tell her that, but before she could question him or complain about him using her head as a doormat, he jumped from her head down into the road. He landed in the rushing water, and his body seemed to dissipate and flow outward, painting the entire street with color and images. Clover was gone, but Winter was mesmerized by what she could see. Reflected in the water, she saw a countryside with an amber sky. The water surged. A moon and a river appeared, framed by a brilliant white braided rainbow.
Winter stared.
She could see a tall woman with straight red hair and strange animals circling around her. What she saw was not Oklahoma or anyplace on earth. What she saw was a bit of Foo. The oddest thing about these scenes was that they were not peculiar to her. She recognized them. She had seen them before.
She saw a tall, dark man on a horse-like creature, surrounded by shadows. She saw the turrets of Foo and the crowds of beings gathering to fight for what she was somehow a part of.
The water rose and flowed on, the images moving down the street with it. She stared at them until they were completely gone.
“Does that help?” Clover asked. Once again he was back on her shoulder and drying his hair with a towel he had pulled from his pocket void.
“How’d you do that?” Winter asked.
“We sycophants are pretty good at a lot of things,” Clover smiled. “I’m not bragging, I’m just telling the truth.”
“The tall man on the horse thingy,” Winter said somberly. “I recognized him.”
“I thought you might,” Clover whispered. “That’s Sabine. I know this all seems pointless and I’m not exactly the perfect traveling companion, but what we are hoping to stop is real and terrible. I promise.”
Winter was silent for a moment. The clouds thinned and the rain softened a bit.
“We’ve got to find this Geth,” she finally said with determination.
“That’s what I’ve been—” Clover stopped himself and smiled. “I know we do.”
“We’ll find Geth and take him to Lev,” Winter said firmly, trying to convince herself she could do it.
“Perfect,” Clover cheered.
“I just don’t have any idea where to start looking,” she admitted.
“Fate will help,” Clover assured her.
Winter smiled at Clover. There is nothing like the joy of having a conversation with a twelve-inch-tall, furry sycophant. She was still scared and unsure of herself, but she had seen something amazing in those watery images. It made her more frightened, but also considerably more hopeful. She pictured Sabine on the horse and shivered. He was part of this, she knew that. She stepped across the street and over to the park.
With the rain letting up a bit, a few people and cars began to make their way through the streets again.
Chapter Eighteen
A Little Disappointed
In some ways Geth had simply moved from one mess to another. No matter how hard he tried, he could not free himself from the tangle of grass near the side of the river. The swollen stream was calming a bit and the sky had cleared, but his body was knotted into the growth, and he didn’t have the strength to break loose.
But he didn’t panic. Not Geth. He relaxed and tried to enjoy the moment. His mouth was just above the water line, but as the water moved it would splash into his eyes and ears and mouth, making things look, sound, and taste wet. He halfway wished he were still a tall tree with the ability to stretch and push his roots around. He missed being able to see from every angle and hear sound from beneath the ground and from the sky.
He missed a few things, but lit
hens never yearn for what was or what could have been. There’s no point in it. There is no moment more precious than the exact moment they are living. And that exact moment has a lot to do with how future moments play out.
Geth bobbed up and down in his watery nest. He closed his eyes and tried to whistle with little success. A fat fish came careening down the way and pushed through the grass at the edge to scratch its belly on the growth. The weight of the fish pushed Geth all the way under. He sprang right back up. The sun touched the top of his head and felt warm.
He was almost content.
In fact, if it weren’t for the entire future of mankind depending on him and Leven getting back to Foo, Geth wouldn’t have minded a bit just living out his days there attached to that grass.
A young girl walking down the edge of the river stopped on the bank near Geth. She was alone and eating a piece of fruit. From where he lay, Geth couldn’t see all of her, but what he could see looked familiar. As she stood there eating fruit, a small, gray sycophant materialized on her shoulder. Geth was speechless. He had seen Clover many times before while standing in Leven’s yard as a tree. Geth’s mouth hung open as he listened to Clover and the girl.
“So I can’t even have one bite?” Clover asked Winter.
“You’ve already had twelve whole ones,” she laughed.
“I would have had more if that farmer hadn’t caught us borrowing from his tree.”
Winter took a few more bites then tossed the core of the fruit toward the river. Geth could see it coming straight toward him. The core bounced off his head, leaving bits of fruit clinging to him. He looked up to see Clover disappear and Winter begin to walk farther downstream.
“I would have eaten that core,” an invisible Clover said.
“Sorry,” Winter smiled. “I forgot that you’ll eat anything.”
“What a waste,” Clover complained. “There was still fruit . . .”
They were far enough down the river that Geth could no longer hear them. He wrestled with the grass, trying desperately to get free. He had to get to that girl. But the hold of the grass was too strong for his single arm to break.
A huge fly landed on Geth’s head and began to nibble at the small bits of fruit stuck on him. Geth waved it away. Not intimidated by a toothpick, the fly flew back and continued to graze on the top of Geth’s head. This time he didn’t wave it away. He bent himself over as far as he could, pushing the top of his head toward the center of the river. The unsuspecting fly licked and bit the top of him, buzzing and spitting.
Come on, Geth thought. Come on.
No sooner had he thought it than a huge fish leaped from the water and engulfed the fly and the top half of Geth. The fish thrashed his head about, breaking the grass and tearing away with both the fly and Geth in his mouth. The fly buzzed madly, thrashing around in the closed mouth, desperate to get free. The poor fish couldn’t properly swallow the pest because the toothpick was poking into its lip and making swallowing near impossible. Geth pulled and kicked, the fish rocked and twisted, the fly buzzed and vibrated. The large trout finally opened its mouth slightly, and Geth was freed. He skimmed across the top of the water until a wave flung him into the air and sent him flying up onto the wet, grassy shore.
He stood and cleared his eyes, marveling at the creativity fate was demonstrating. He wasn’t sure if he’d been flung past Winter or if he still needed to go farther. The question was soon answered. He glanced back up the bank just in time to see a foot coming down directly on top of him. He tried to scream but there wasn’t time. Winter’s heel smashed him into the muddy bank as she walked right over him.
Once again Geth was stuck.
His top half was sticking out, but as he waved and hollered, his small voice was not loud enough to be heard over the sound of the still raging river. He watched Winter walk farther and farther away.
“Amazing,” he said to himself. “So close.”
“Amazing is right,” a voice above him said.
Geth tried to look around but he could see nothing.
“A talking toothpick,” the voice added. “That has to mean something.”
“Who’s there?” Geth asked, with no fear in his voice, only curiosity.
No one answered.
“Hello?” Geth tried.
No reply, just the sound of water rushing by. Geth looked off toward Winter. She was now almost out of sight, but suddenly she stopped. She stood still for a moment and then turned to look back in the direction she had just come. Geth couldn’t tell if she was speaking or not, but in a moment she began walking back. Geth smiled. As she got nearer he could hear her voice.
“A toothpick?” she questioned loudly. “You saw a toothpick?”
“A toothpick,” Clover said enthusiastically. He was still invisible. “Like one of those things you dig at your teeth with,” he explained.
“I know what a toothpick is,” Winter said. “But what would that have to do with us?”
“Antsel said to look for signs.”
“A toothpick is a sign?” Winter said, mildly amused but also frustrated.
“It was talking,” Clover insisted. “How many talking toothpicks have you ever met? It’s there just beside that rock.” Winter knelt down and began to carefully probe the ground with her hand.
“Hello,” Geth spoke up.
Winter shifted her gaze from the spot she was searching and looked directly at Geth.
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
Clover let just his blue eyes materialize. “I was following behind looking for smooth rocks and I just heard him talking,” he explained. “I thought a talking toothpick was worth investigating.”
“I’m a bit stuck,” Geth offered.
“Sorry,” Winter apologized for not helping him out sooner. “Can I just pinch you?”
“Why not?” Geth said pleasantly. “You just stepped on me.”
“I did?” Winter said surprised. “I’m so sorry.”
“No problem, I’m glad you did,” he replied. “Seems to be exactly what fate needed,” Geth added as she placed him on her palm and studied him closely.
He was a thick wooden toothpick with light waves of grain running vertically up and down him. He appeared to be split down the middle on the bottom half, giving him two thin legs. He had one splinter of an arm and a pointed head. His face was a pattern of randomly scattered holes. He had a large right eye and a slightly smaller and lower left eye—the right one being circular and the left having a slant. He had a tiny hole for a nose and a big notch missing for a mouth. He gave Winter a lop-sided grin.
“I’m glad the grain of the wood runs vertically,” Geth joked. “Horizontal stripes make me look fat.”
Winter smiled, genuinely delighted for the first time in a long while. She had no idea what she held in her hand, but it was at the very least highly intriguing.
“Weird,” Clover said, his eyes gazing at Geth.
Winter took it all in—floating eyes, talking toothpicks, no big deal.
“So what are you?” she asked.
The toothpick bowed slightly. “My name is Geth. I—”
Winter snickered while Clover’s blue eyeballs bulged.
“Sorry,” Winter apologized, “I thought you said your name was Geth.”
“That’s correct,” Geth stated.
“But you’re not the Geth, are you?” she asked, a bit of panic in her voice.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“He’s not the Geth,” Clover tried, his eyeballs looking at Winter. “Geth is a great king. He’s wise and handsome with golden hair and an infectious laugh and and . . . well, he’s tall.”
Geth laughed. “I know I must look foolish, but I am Geth. I was brought here from Foo by Antsel in the condition of a seed and was buried from Sabine with the express purpose of bringing Leven back to Foo.”
Neither Winter nor Clover was laughing now.
“You’re a toothpick,” Clover said, materializing compl
etely. “You’re supposed to help us? No offense, but I think I could do a better job than a toothpick.”
“Please say you’re not really who we are looking for,” Winter said seriously, all laughter gone.
“I am who you’re looking for,” Geth affirmed. “You must be the soul who was brought here to bring Leven back. I am the heir Leven needs to succeed.”
“Lev already has hair,” Clover pointed out. “Besides, there have been plenty of bald people who are successful,” he added. “My father—”
Geth smiled. “I mean heir. As in lineage and rulers.”
“Oh,” Clover sniffed, patting his own hairy head.
“I know my shape isn’t exactly impressive, but I can get you back,” Geth said confidently. “Where is the boy?”
“Well,” Clover cleared his throat. “It seems that Lev gave up this morning and returned home.”
“Then we’ve got to give him a reason to go on.”
“And you propose we do that by showing him a toothpick?” Winter asked.
The toothpick straightened itself. “I am the rightful heir to Foo,” he stated. “I am also a lithen of the highest Order of Wonder, and I know there is nothing that can stop me from making it back to Foo with Leven. Fate will make it so.”
“Oh, yeah,” Clover said. “This has disaster written all over it.”
Winter wiped her eyes and stood tall. Her clothes were still slightly wet and completely uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry if I disappoint you,” Geth said softly to her. “I can only promise you that I am who I say I am and that I know how to get back to Foo.”
Winter smiled at him weakly. “Then we should go,” she said bravely.
“What?” Clover complained. “He’s a toothpick.”
“I’m tired of walking around,” Winter complained. “Besides, if I’m a part of this then surely a toothpick could be capable enough. Let’s go get Lev.”
Clover shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
Winter slipped Geth into her front shirt pocket. “Is this all right?” she asked him.
“Perfect,” Geth smiled, holding on to the top edge of her pocket with his one arm and gazing out.