by Obert Skye
The man turned and smiled at Leven.
Leven sort of smiled back.
“Antsel,” the Want spoke. “This is Leven Thumps.”
Antsel stood and nodded as if in respect. “The privilege is mine,” he said.
Leven couldn’t tell if he was going to throw up or pass out. Clover, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. He materialized and hopped down from Leven’s shoulder to stand directly in front of Antsel. He was shaking.
“Clover,” Antsel smiled.
Clover jumped to him, but there was nothing to grab hold of. He flew into the back wall and slid down. Clover instantly bounced back up and gazed with admiration at his previous burn.
“You did so well,” Antsel said, looking at Clover. “I knew there was no one but you who could have taken care of the task.”
Leven had never seen Clover smile wider.
“It was no task,” Clover said. “It was my fate.”
“What a perfect sycophant,” Antsel smiled.
Leven glanced around, dumbfounded. “How is this possible?” he asked, looking at the Want.
The Want sighed. “There will come a day when you don’t ask such foolish questions. This room is for the dead. Speak of those who have passed on, and with enough kind words an essence of that being will assemble before your eyes.”
“Is it real?” Leven asked.
“It’s similar to a whisp,” the Want said. “The flame draws bits of the beings from where they are now. But when the fire is out, the essence drifts back to where it came from.”
“What do you mean ’where they are now’?” Leven asked. “Antsel’s dead.”
“As if death were the end,” the Want said. “It’s a border one crosses.”
“Let’s not talk of those things,” Antsel insisted. “My time here will be short and I want to know of the state of Foo.”
“Things are delayed for Leven to rest,” the Want sniffed.
“My legs are tired,” Leven said lamely.
“Let him breathe,” Antsel said to the Want. “Fate has provided this moment.”
Antsel looked away from the Want to focus on Leven. He stepped around Leven, looking him up and down.
“I can see your grandfather in you,” Antsel said kindly. “How fortunate I am to witness this day. What of Geth?”
“He’s here in Foo,” Leven answered. “Restored. We were separated after finding the secret.”
“The secret?” Antsel said, turning quickly to look at the Want.
“It’s been contained,” the Want waved.
“Which secret was it?” Antsel said, still panicked. “And the key, it must be accounted for.”
“The secret belonged to the sycophants,” the Want answered.
Although he was made of nothing but dust and breath, Antsel seemed to go pale. “Who unlocked it?”
Clover pointed at Leven.
Antsel looked at Leven and let his thoughts cool. His countenance dimmed.
“I told him not to,” Clover added.
“Fate must have something interesting in mind,” Antsel said. “Where did you unlock it?”
“In the Swollen Forest,” Leven answered.
“And the key?”
“I’m not sure,” Leven answered sadly.
“The key must be found. What do you make of this?” Antsel asked the Want.
“The sycophants are panicked,” the Want answered. “I’ve sent notice the secret is contained, but they still worry. All of Foo whispers and speculates, but our course of action goes on. The secret is contained, and for some reason Leven was born to know it while it was free.”
“You were whispered to?” Antsel asked.
“Yes,” Leven said. “In the city of Geth, a little less than a week ago.”
“Certainly the Dearth has a hand in this,” Antsel said to the Want.
The Want shook madly. Antsel motioned for him to calm himself.
“I cannot calculate what this means,” Antsel said thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s not mine to figure out.”
Leven’s eyes dimmed like dying coals.
“Pay my words of worry no mind. How lucky you are to be in the thick of it,” Antsel said wisely. “So many times we gathered and spoke of you.”
“Why?” Leven asked.
“The Want will make that clear,” Antsel answered. “Listen to him. His words will lead to actions that will change the world. And he will speak to nobody but you.”
Leven tried to digest what was being said. The message felt heavy but hopeful, coming from Antsel. He wanted to tell Antsel how uneasy the Want made him and how he was worried about Geth and Winter, but Antsel’s tone of voice made Leven’s mind move slowly and with comfortable caution.
Clover jumped back onto Leven’s shoulder so as to be eye to eye with Antsel.
“You’ll stay with him,” Antsel said kindly.
“Of course,” Clover answered, as if there were no other reply.
“You are not the beginning of this,” Antsel counseled Leven. “But you hold the answers to the end.”
Leven had been so caught up in the form of Antsel that he had paid no mind to a second figure who had settled next to Antsel. The figure was now all there, minus a nose and eyes and forehead.
Antsel turned.
More smoke settled, and there sat a beautiful woman. She smiled and looked at Leven. Her hair was long and flowed like a million falling stars. She looked young, but a few years older than Leven. Bits of her were missing, making her look like a negative that wasn’t quite in focus.
“Leven?” she asked with surprise. “It can’t be.”
She reached out and tried to touch Leven under his chin. Her empty touch held a surprising amount of warmth. She was beautiful and seemed so young. Leven’s heart pounded.
“Someone spoke of me,” she said happily.
She moved to stand, and the fire died. In an instant she and Antsel drifted up and away into the darkness.
“Who was that?” Leven asked, his forehead sweaty.
“I believe that was your mother,” the Want answered without emotion.
“Light the fire!” Leven ordered.
“It’s dead,” the Want insisted. “We must move on.”
“She was right here.”
“Was is such a painful word,” the Want said, his body glowing green. “The fire is out. Accept what is before you. There will be time for speaking of the dead later. Now we must go.”
The Want waved his arms at Leven, and Leven stood.
“No,” Leven said, feeling hostile.
The Want moved toward him and his presence pushed at Leven, causing him to back toward the door. Leven craned his neck to look in the direction where he had last seen his mother.
The door opened and light flooded in, exposing the stone walls. The bench running around the walls and the roven pelt on the floor seemed to look out of place. Leven closed his eyes and let the image of his mother appear to him on the back of his eyelids. It burned for a second and then dimmed like a morning star.
“Out,” the Want insisted. “We must move quickly.”
“We’ll come back?” Leven asked.
“I’ll make sure of it,” the Want said. “Now, move as I do.”
Leven did as he was told and followed after the Want. His legs no longer hurt, but he was weaker in the knees then he had ever been before.
Chapter Twenty
Witnessing the War
Addy’s hands hurt. Her wrists were swollen and her knees locked into place from having sat still for so long. She folded another napkin and sighed. She folded another and growled. As a senior creaser for the Wonder Wipes company, she was quite familiar with the action of manipulating each large flat napkin into a smaller, fatter square—familiar and sick of it.
Addy sat on a padded chair in front of a cheap wooden desk. On the right corner of her desk was a small framed picture of a mountain that Addy had never traveled to. On the opposite corner sat a bottle of aspiri
n and a half-empty glass of water. The large room was filled with eleven other desks and eleven other people all busy in the act of folding Wonder Wipe napkins.
Just like Addy had done for years.
The last few days had been a bit different, however. The manager of the plant had brought in a small TV so that they could watch the news reports of all the strange occurrences that were occurring around the world. He had also promised to take the TV away if production fell in the least.
It was on that TV that Addy saw reports of planes being picked on by clouds, and buildings dancing around as if they had minds of their own. She had seen odd tornados in Europe and large dirt monsters in Montana, and she’d heard stories of similar things happening in a dozen other places. She had also heard countless reports of how everyone seemed to be dreaming about the same few things. Counselors and therapists were baffled by the fact that people seemed lately to be dreaming only about vicious clouds and mobile buildings.
Addy looked at the napkin she was currently creasing and moaned. She had been experiencing dreams about dirt monsters chasing her.
Addy pushed those thoughts away and was into a strong folding groove when a giant “News Flash” banner scrolled across the TV screen in the corner. Every folder stopped what he or she was doing and focused on the TV while a confused news anchor showed footage of a man in Canada being swarmed by a bunch of odd bugs. The bugs covered the man while he was running and then lifted him up into the air. The footage followed the flying man as the bugs carried him over to his Tuff Shed and shoved him in the open door. The bugs closed the door and settled onto a rake, a hula hoop, and two baseball bats lying around in this man’s yard. The bugs lifted the objects and began to dance around the shed. Two seconds later the man who had been forced inside opened the shed door and ran out. The bugs then busted up and flew into a million directions.
As with most of the recent news stories, the anchor had no way to explain what was happening.
The man who had been attacked was now being interviewed.
“And you say they bit you?” the young, inexperienced news reporter asked.
“Chomped, eh.” The man smiled unnaturally, as if that was what he was supposed to do.
“And was it painful?”
“Very,” the man said. “I was just raking my yard when out of the trees they came. I thought at first that I must be dreaming. But I wasn’t.”
“Clearly,” the reporter responded. “What did they look like?”
“They looked like the end of my life,” the man said seriously. “Big eyes, about an inch long. Noisy wings and clamplike mouths. That was all I saw before they covered up my eyes and tried to force themselves down my throat.”
The man flashed an unnaturally wide smile into the camera.
“How do you feel now?” the reporter asked.
“Like I won’t be doing any raking for a while.”
The reporter went on asking pointless questions as production in the Wonder Wipes plant all but ceased.
Addy looked at some of the other folders. A couple of them laughed nervously, apparently not knowing how else to respond. The only male folder shook his head and mentioned something about the end of time.
The plant manager came in and tried to inspire them by acting brave and informing them that, despite what happened in the world, people would always need high-quality, hand-folded napkins.
“Fold,” he insisted, following his command with a loud clap.
Addy folded another napkin and growled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Extracted and Strangled
Tim was standing hidden in the trees, like a stalker with nothing to stalk. He had been told to wait where he was, and he had no plans to disobey his orders. Ezra was on his right shoulder yelling at squirrels. They were both on the edge of the Konigsee, the gorgeous lake where Dennis had gone in under the water about forty minutes ago.
The three of them had transported the gateway they had built to this spot and lowered it into the lake after the sun had gone down. The gateway was large and bulky, but they had rolled it to the water’s edge on temporary wheels. Once they had worked it into the lake they had filled the inside of the gateway with a massive industrial balloon and inflated it as much as the gateway’s space would allow.
Then, wearing an oxygen tank and mask, Dennis went into the water and slowly and carefully released tiny amounts of air from the balloon, allowing him to lower the new gateway down to the spot where the previous one had been situated.
Tim and Ezra had watched Dennis go under the water and now they wondered if he would ever resurface.
“Would you care if he didn’t?” Ezra asked Tim, his purple hair twisting wildly. “I mean, would you give a weasel’s backside if you never saw that piece of misguided phlegm again?”
Tim looked around nervously. Ever since Dennis’s last tirade, Ezra had been quietly goading Tim into being a man. He wanted Tim to come to his senses and help him get rid of Dennis. Ezra didn’t care for Dennis, and he knew that with the gateway finished, Dennis and Sabine would no longer need Tim’s strength or Ezra’s leadership.
Unfortunately, the part of Sabine that currently covered the right forearm of Tim was keeping Tim’s mind just foggy enough to prevent him from taking any kind of stand.
“Seriously,” Ezra said, jumping to Tim’s other shoulder, “we are waiting here for someone neither of us wants to ever see again.”
“He said to wait,” Tim said haltingly.
“You used to have a backbone, sponge boy,” Ezra spat with disgust, his single eye blinking madly. “He said to wait? Well, I say don’t wait!”
Tim looked down at his black webbed arm. Dark lines of what had once been Sabine drifted and crisscrossed up and down his forearm and hand like a long rubber glove.
“He said it first,” was Tim’s only reply.
Ezra jumped onto Tim’s pointed nose. “Listen, smooth brain,” Ezra seethed. “Somewhere inside of that vacuum you call a mind is the memory of the person you used to be before you started wearing that black ladies’ glove. I suggest you find that person and rough him up for getting you into this mess.”
Tim stared at Ezra as he stood perched on his nose.
“Worthless,” Ezra spat, his purple tassel waving madly. “It’s like talking to a piece of soggy cardboard.”
Ezra jumped off of Tim’s nose and onto a nearby tree branch. The branch belonged to a tall tree that was covered in pine needles.
“I think it’s about time I started using the trees for my benefit,” Ezra laughed wickedly, enjoying anything that was for his benefit. “For my benefit!”
He laughed so long and hard that the sound of it could be heard bouncing lightly off the surrounding mountain walls. It was a truly wicked laugh filled with mischief and malice. But nobody was around to be bothered by it, so eventually Ezra stopped laughing and self-consciously cleared his throat.
“Whatever,” he said, embarrassed.
He then marched along the length of the branch and leaned into the tree trunk. He touched the tree with both of his tiny hands, looking like a preacher who was hoping to heal the poor thing. He moved back and spun around to look at Tim.
Tim was smiling like a child in a school yearbook.
“You’re quite the intellect,” Ezra said.
He moved in and touched the tree again. Nothing happened.
“I wonder why it’s not working,” Ezra growled.
He leaned back in and touched the tree a third time.
“Move!” he ordered. “Pick up your stupid roots and do my bidding.”
The tree stood its ground.
“How can that be?” Ezra asked Tim.
Tim just smiled.
“Oh, yeah,” Ezra sighed. “What am I doing asking you questions? Currently you’re an idiot. These trees should move. I’ve got the imagination to uproot a building but I can’t get a skinny tree to move? I can’t overtake Dennis on my own.”
Tim shifted on
his feet, as if fighting the urge to move. He rubbed his forehead and opened his mouth several times before he finally said, “I’m in here,” his brain fighting the influence of Sabine.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ezra seethed. “Now we just need you to come out, start that truck, and drive us away from here.”
Tim rocked back and forth on his feet, clenching his fists. He turned to look at the lake. The sun had set, but there was still a soft light covering the entire surface. Far across the way Tim could see a few lights shining from the windows of the St. Bartholomew cathedral.
The water looked so calm and perfect that Tim was saddened by the small crack that split open as Dennis began to rise from the water. He swam closer, but could not get out of the lake by himself.
“Pull me out,” Dennis ordered.
Tim reached down and pulled Dennis from the cold water. He dragged him up onto shore and back into the trees. Dennis was not happy, as it can be quite difficult to feel like a true leader when one of your underlings is pulling you facedown across the ground.
“Stop!” Dennis insisted. “Let me go.”
Tim dropped Dennis’s arms and stood still.
Dennis stood up and dusted off the front of his stomach and face. He pulled up his swim mask and spat out some dirt from his mouth. He glanced around, trying to regain some evil composure.
He looked Tim over. “Where’s the toothpick?” Dennis asked impatiently.
Tim pointed to the tree nearby. Ezra was still on his branch looking bored.
“I missed you too,” Ezra mocked. “Does it work?”
“Does what work?” Dennis snapped.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ezra said sarcastically. “The United Nations’ plan to end world hunger? What do you think I’m talking about? The gateway, does it work?”
Dennis tried to act as if Ezra’s words didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t a very convincing actor.