by Obert Skye
“I’m worthless,” he whispered bitterly. “Don’t you understand?”
“Let him be,” Geth said. He—”
The ground shook.
“What was that?” Winter asked.
Geth stood as tall as he could in her pocket and looked around. The earth hissed. Winter turned to see the end of the bridge they were under lifting upward. The structure groaned and wailed as bolts sheared off and welds began to snap. Winter could see the ground rise and recognized what was happening.
“It’s back,” she yelled.
“Back?” Geth hollered.
In the distance Winter could see a gigantic mound forming to the left of her and another to the right. Two more heaved up behind her. She struggled to pull Leven up. He stared blankly at her as the entire earth seemed to mound up and take shape around them.
“Wake up!” Winter yelled.
Leven blinked dumbly. Clover materialized, clinging to the front of Leven, and took a little too much pleasure in slapping Leven awake.
“Wake up,” Clover screamed. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
The end of the bridge heaved upward and began to roll toward them. Winter took Leven by the hand and pulled him to his feet, and the two of them began running. She bolted into the trees, dragging Leven behind her, just as the avalands rose out of the earth and took full shape. There seemed to be hundreds of them this time, pushing up from the bottom of the river and covering the entire prairie like an eruption of gigantic, mutant groundhogs, beating their scaly chests and stamping their fat legs. They were spewing mud and raging.
Winter dodged trees and jumped over bushes with Leven in tow. At each step Leven became more and more conscious of his surroundings. He could see Winter pulling him and recognized clearly that they were in real trouble. The earth roared. Clover was clinging to Leven’s neck and watching out behind them all as he bounced up and down. He could see great mounds of rock and earth surging from the ground and galloping toward them. There were too many avalands to count. Some stood on their back legs and roared as others lowered their heads and charged after Leven, Winter, Geth, and Clover. It looked as though the whole planet was rolling toward them.
As the avalands reached the trees some blasted through, snapping entire trees and sending splintered limbs and branches everywhere. Most of the beasts dived deep into the earth before they reached the trees and burrowed swiftly in the direction of Leven and Winter.
“Where are we going?” Geth hollered to Winter.
“I don’t know for sure,” she hollered back. “There’s a cliff out this way. Lev used it to destroy one last night.”
“Amazing,” Geth commented as if this were all sort of exciting. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s killed an avaland. To be honest with you I didn’t think it was possible,” he yelled.
“Great,” Winter huffed, sweat pouring from her forehead. “Interesting and all,” she screamed, “but we’re about to be eaten by dirt!”
“Amazing,” was Geth’s only reply, as he tucked himself deeper into Winter’s pocket.
Winter had no idea what she was doing. Her only thought was to try to do what Leven had successfully done the night before.
“Run faster,” Clover yelled, still clinging to Leven’s head. “They’re right behind us.”
Leven was now thoroughly awake. He picked up his speed, and in a few strides he passed Winter and began pulling her along.
“This isn’t going to work,” Leven yelled. “There are too many this time.”
The world continued to mound up behind them as the avalands thundered closer, the sound of crumpling earth rumbling across the prairie. Winter and Leven could feel themselves being lifted up by the approaching avalanche of dirt.
“The cliff is just up there,” Winter screamed.
Leven looked forward and could see the ridge that led to the steep drop off. He held tightly onto Winter’s hand. Just before they would have plunged over the cliff they jumped to the side and rolled away from the edge, their hands and knees scraping across dirt. Winter looked up, expecting to see at least a few avalands fly past them and over the cliff. But apparently these were wiser than the one who had pursued them the night before.
Not a single beast flew off or out of the cliff. Instead, the entire herd thundered to a halt and began to circle Leven and Winter. Ring after ring of huge earthen beasts surrounded them, creating what looked to be a small, circular mountain range. The hideous beasts stamped the ground and blew mud from their mouths and nostrils, focusing their fiery eyes on the two helpless kids.
Leven held Winter’s hand and the two of them faced the raging circle. Hearts racing and breathing heavily, they stared at the unbelievable sight and the impossible odds. They were ringed in.
“We’re dreaming, right?” Leven exclaimed. “Please say we’re dreaming.” The fear inside of him was so strong it was almost paralyzing.
“I don’t think so,” Winter answered, her back to Leven’s as they cowered in the face of the menacing ring. Her hair was all over, and she looked paler than usual under the partial moon.
“This isn’t possible,” Leven insisted.
“There’re too many of them,” Winter said.
As if on cue, the beasts all began to groan and shake. Then, one by one, domino-like, each mound began to bleed into the mound next to it, forming a gigantic ring of earth that towered over Leven and Winter.
“Is this good or bad?” Winter asked, breathing deep.
Leven would have replied, but he became distracted by the end of the coil of dirt as it took on the shape of a giant serpent’s head, displaying its massive fangs. The snake was coiled in concentric circles, and the moonlight reflected dully off its scaly skin. Rings away, the beast lifted its massive tail and rattled it. The noise was deafening.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Leven said desperately, his brown eyes as wide open as they could be.
“What do we do?” Winter cried.
The humongous snake lifted its hideous head high and hissed. A long dusty tongue whipped out and back—Leven and Winter could feel the wind from it as it snapped inches away from them. The snake rose higher and, like lightning, thrust its massive open mouth down toward its victims. Winter and Leven leaped to one side just in time. The snake recoiled and hissed again, its monstrous tongue flicking in and out, its beady black eyes focused directly on them.
“Let’s get out of here!” Leven cried.
He pulled Winter by the hand and ran directly at the coiled body of the snake. He pushed her up and onto the serpent’s back, and she pulled him up after her. The snake writhed, recoiled, and struck at them again, but they had already jumped to the next coil and the beast bit into his own dirty skin. Enraged, the giant serpent thrashed to uncoil itself, flinging Leven and Winter off its back, away from the cliff and back toward Burnt Culvert.
They hit the ground running and took off like there was no tomorrow, which certainly could have been the case, seeing as how the very dirt of the earth was out to get them.
Tucked down in the hood of Leven’s sweatshirt, Clover peeked out at the snake behind them. In a few moments the snake had straightened itself out and was slithering across the prairie behind them with one objective: to devour Leven and Winter.
Leven spotted a chain-link fence in the distance, the length of it glistening in the soft light of the slight moon. It was a high fence with three strands of barbed wire running along the top of it. It struck Leven that if they could get over that fence the snake might not be able to get them. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it is very hard to think up great plans when enough earth to fill ten football stadiums is slithering after you at the speed of dirt. Leven looked behind him, amazed at how close the serpent was.
“Get ready to climb,” he yelled at Winter.
She, of course, was already pretty sure what Leven was thinking and was mentally ready to scale the fence as fast as possible. Leven pulled off his sweatshirt as he ran. He reached th
e fence and sprang up toward the top, scrambling to get higher. He frantically tossed his sweatshirt over the barbed wire and laid his body on it. He glanced down to see how close Winter was. She was not only close, she was right behind him on the fence.
“Climb up my back,” he shouted. She did so and went over him and dropped to the other side of the fence. She put up her arms to catch Leven as he followed her, but he landed heavily next to her, sprawling onto the hard ground.
“Nice catch,” he grunted, trying to retrieve the breath that had been knocked out of him. He wanted to lie there and moan for a few minutes, but he had his life to worry about.
They scrambled to their feet and watched through the fence as the huge snake slithered to a stop. It raised its head and hissed madly at Leven and Winter, its fiery eyes burning in the dark night. The snake tried to roll itself over the fence but the sharp barbwire sliced its stomach and gave it pause.
It hissed violently again.
Leven wiped his forehead and tried to catch his breath. He wondered why Winter was yelling in a muffled voice and was startled to turn and see that she wasn’t saying anything.
“Who’s saying that?” Leven asked.
“I think it’s Clover,” Winter said, equally out of breath.
“Clover,” Leven yelled. “Where are you?”
Winter pointed toward Leven’s sweatshirt that was still snagged on top of the wire. It was hanging down, and there was a wad of something in the hood, which was swinging back and forth.
“He’s in there?” Leven asked, panicked.
“He must have been in your hood,” Winter breathed.
The huge head of the serpent lifted and swung from left to right. It was only a few inches away from the sweatshirt.
Leven almost asked Winter what they should do, thus opening up the philosophical debate over whether they should attempt to get Clover or try to save themselves. Leven could see decent arguments on both sides. They could be snatched off the fence by the snake as they tried to untangle Clover, making their efforts in vain. Plus, one could argue that Clover was here to save Leven, and Clover himself would insist that Leven leave him and save himself. Of course, Leven had grown to sort of like the little guy, and in all honestly he couldn’t bear to just leave him for dead. These are thoughts and things that almost happened. What transpired in earnest, however, was that while thoughts such as those were racing through Leven and Winter’s heads, the fat serpent shoved his huge face straight down into the ground and began tunneling under the fence. It all happened so fast Winter and Leven hardly had time to gasp.
Leven looked toward his Wonder Wipe sweatshirt as it hung there with Clover trapped inside. Before he could climb for it, the earth opened up beneath him, and the gaping mouth of the beast rose straight around Winter and him. The snake clamped its jaw shut, capturing them.
Instantly, it was pitch black and dirt filled Leven and Winter’s noses and mouths. The snake writhed and moved the muscles in its throat to swallow. It felt like a tremendous vacuum trying to pull them down.
The huge serpent whipped its ugly head back and up. Then with irresistible force it shoved its face into the ground. The big head penetrated the earth, taking Leven and Winter and Geth with it. The rest of his long body followed, slithering down into the dirt as if it were a noodle being slurped up by mother earth.
In less than thirty seconds the scene was completely quiet: quiet except for the worried questioning of poor Clover trapped in the hood of a tangled sweatshirt at the top of a fence.
“Guys?” Clover laughed. “Ha, ha, I get it. Trap poor Clover.”
Silence.
“Hey, is everything okay? Very funny. Guys? Winter? Lev? Toothpick?”
The moon grew fuzzy, and the night went on as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Swallowed Whole and Alive
In the darkness of the snake’s mouth, Leven couldn’t see a thing, but he could feel plenty. Winter was screaming and he could feel her kicking madly. He could also feel the muscles of the great snake working to move them deeper into its belly, massaging them into its stomach. Thick mucus coating the snake’s mouth and throat made it impossible to resist and they moved steadily downward. In their struggle they had created enough air pockets to still have a little oxygen to breathe. It wouldn’t last long.
Everything swirled and twisted as the huge serpent continued to bore deeper into the ground.
“He’s crushing me!” Winter screamed. “I can’t breathe!”
“Push out!” Leven yelled.
“It’s too heavy.”
The muscles surged and rolled, squeezing them deeper into the snake. Each squeeze left them with less and less of the hot air to breathe. Eventually the snake leveled out and began to slow down. At what felt like somewhere near the center of the earth it finally stopped completely. There it wriggled Leven and Winter down farther into its belly to begin digestion. Leven had a small air pocket in front of him and Winter had a slightly bigger one for her. They both were struggling to even breathe. They knew their oxygen wouldn’t last much longer.
“Why’d he stop?” Winter whispered, the air deathly quiet except for their breathing. The beast’s hot belly smelled of sweat and dirt and decaying flesh.
“I have no idea,” Leven whispered back, scared to death.
“He’s resting,” Geth spoke up. “He’ll lie here until we’re digested.”
“Who said that?” Leven asked in shock, not having yet been introduced to Geth.
“That’s Geth,” Winter cried.
“Geth’s here?” Leven asked in amazement. “Where?”
“In my pocket,” Winter choked. “He’s a . . . toothpick.”
There is nothing quite as painful as a truly awkward silence. If you have fallen in love and you tell the object of your affection how you feel and she simply stares at you, the air still and empty, that’s awkward. Perhaps you finally get up the nerve to ask your boss for a raise and after you muster the courage to blurt out your request he lets it just hang there in the open air. That can be an awkward silence as well. But for some reason both those examples pale in comparison to the kind of uncomfortable silence a person might experience when trapped in the stomach of a colossal earth snake, miles under the ground, where there is nothing but total darkness and the sound of your own self taking your final hot breaths of musty, stale air, after you’ve just received news that the one person who you believe could save you because he is so big and powerful is hiding out in the pocket of a friend as a . . . toothpick.
“A toothpick?” Leven gasped.
“For the time being,” Geth replied. “I won’t always—”
“The Geth we were searching for is a toothpick?” Leven interrupted, still in complete shock.
“He is,” Winter breathed hard.
Leven wished he could turn his head to scream, but the walls of the snake’s belly held him so tightly he couldn’t even wiggle his toes.
“A toothpick is going to save us?”
“Fate will figure this out,” Geth said without emotion.
“Fate?” Leven came undone. “That’s your plan, to wait for fate?” The claustrophobic conditions were too much to bear.
“There is wisdom in—”
“There’s no air,” Leven yelled. “I have got to be dreaming this,” he rambled, anxiety now totally overcoming him. He began talking to himself. “It is impossible for giant dirt clods to turn into a snake and swallow me and take me to the center of the earth with a toothpick and a girl who can . . .” Leven stopped himself to think. “Winter,” he whispered, “Can’t you freeze this thing?”
“What good would that do?” she moaned. “We would just be really cold and stuck in a frozen snake.”
Leven closed his eyes, which really wasn’t necessary due to the dark, and thought. Nothing came to him. He tried to manipulate the will of the snake, but no matter what he thought or concentrated on, nothing happen. Then, it hit h
im. His eyes jumped open.
“Freeze me!” Leven blurted.
“What?” she said in disbelief.
“Freeze me solid.”
“No way, I can’t see how—”
“Listen,” Leven interrupted again. “You and your half-brained attempts are part of why we are in this mess and if you can’t do what I ask just say so, and you and your dumb little toothpick and ratty blonde hair can live happily ever after in this grave.”
Leven’s tactic worked.
“If you’re going to be a jerk about it, I’ll gladly freeze you,” Winter seethed. She simply thought it and it was done.
Leven was now a block of human ice.
“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Geth commented.
Winter began to cry.
“It’ll be okay,” Geth tried.
She was about to point out how hopeless their cause was, but she was stopped by the snake’s movement. It twisted a bit and rolled its stomach. The chunk of ice inside of it was making the poor beast uncomfortable. It slithered and rocked, turning Winter upside down.
“It’s working,” Geth whispered. “That boy’s pretty smart.”
The uncomfortable snake couldn’t take it. It angled its head upward and began to frantically slither its way to the top, moving at a speed that was at least double the one they had been going on the way down. The movement threw Winter against Leven, who was still frozen solid.
The serpent burst from the earth and opened its huge mouth. It rolled around and began working its muscles as if to gag itself, constricting its body from its tail forward in an attempt to eject the chunk of ice in its stomach. Winter and Leven were squeezed forward.
“I think we’re going out,” Geth observed needlessly.
The snake gave one last gigantic heave, and Winter and Leven were spewed out of its mouth and onto the ground. Leven’s frozen body slammed up against her, remaining intact but giving her a huge bruise up her left side. The two of them were smeared with mud and mucus.