by Obert Skye
“How?”
“Look at me!” Terry yelled. “I’m in a car with a stranger driving someplace I don’t think I’ll be happy to arrive at.”
“Did he ever talk about a place called Foo?”
“I don’t know what he talked about,” Terry said. “Addy did all the child rearing.”
“But your house was frozen?”
“The trailer wasn’t even paid off.”
“How could he have done that?” Dennis asked. “Don’t you wonder why you can float and how all that happened?”
“I was never good with biology.”
“What about all the things happening in the world?”
“Things?” Terry questioned. “Like the Super Bowl?”
“No, things like on the radio and TV. Things like those dirt creatures and bugs that pick people up. Or what about those tornadoes and clouds that attack people?”
“I don’t pay much attention to politics,” Terry confessed.
“You haven’t seen the news?” Dennis asked. “You haven’t seen pictures of buildings moving and airplanes being turned upside down?”
“I’ve seen some stuff,” Terry admitted.
“What if I told you I know what’s happening,” Dennis said. “And that Leven’s involved.”
“I’d tell you I’m listening,” Terry answered. “At least until we get decent radio reception again.”
“Well,” Dennis said. “Here’s what I know and why I believe you might be the right person to tell the world about it.”
Terry spit the rest of his sunflower seeds into the cup and placed it between his legs.
“Go on,” he signaled.
Dennis began to spill it all, and for the first time in Terry’s life he really listened. Dennis told him why buildings were moving and planes were being turned upside down. He told him about bugs that can carry people and things called avalands. He told him about Foo and how he had spent weeks in Germany trying to build a gateway. He told him about Sabine and how meshing Foo with Reality would bring great powers—powers much like those woven into the robe Terry was now wearing. He told him what he knew about Leven and Winter.
“Is that why my house froze?” Terry snapped.
“Most likely,” Dennis said.
“Children have no sense of responsibility.”
Dennis told Terry everything except for the part about Ezra. Terry just sat there digesting the information and staring into the distance while driving.
“It’s a lot to think about,” Dennis admitted.
Terry was still silent.
“There’s more,” Dennis finally said. “I didn’t find this all out on my own. I had help.”
“Who?”
“He’s actually here with us now. His name is Ezra.”
“Is he like the Force or something?” Terry whispered nervously.
“No—he’s right here in the car.”
Terry looked around suspiciously. “Is this one of those hidden camera shows?”
“No.”
“Then you must be out of your mind,” Terry complained angrily. “No, I take that back, I must be out of my mind. Believing you and falling for this Foo junk.”
Terry slammed on the brakes and the car skidded off the road, coming to a stop in a tremendous cloud of dust on the dirt shoulder. Addy was thrown forward onto the floor behind the front seats. Her impact into the seat backs knocked Terry and Dennis into the dashboard and sent the bag of Cheetos flying into Dennis’s lap.
“Get out,” Terry said. “No, give me your money and then get out, Mr. Make Believe.”
“What’s going on?” Addy screamed, trying to pull herself out of the floor space she was wedged into.
“This loon is trying to take us for a ride,” Terry yelled. “And I just now came to my senses.”
“No,” Dennis said. “I’m not—”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Addy screamed directly into Dennis’s ear as she leaned over the front seat. “What’s that?”
Addy pointed to the dashboard where Ezra was now poised. He was standing as tall as he could, his plastic purple hair wriggling and his green nail-polished body shining under the light of the sun. Ezra was tiny, but he would have looked almost impressive if it had not been for the Cheeto he had stuck around his torso.
Terry reached out as if to flick Ezra away.
“No,” Dennis said, hitting Terry’s arm. “That’s Ezra.”
Terry pulled his arm back and grimaced.
“I don’t know if I should feel better or worse,” Terry whispered.
“What’s going on?” Addy snapped. “One minute I’m sleeping peacefully and the next moment I’m thrown around and looking at a toothpick.”
“Way to sum things up,” Ezra sniffed while trying to push the Cheeto down from his middle.
“Here,” Dennis said, picking up Ezra. “I’ll get that off.”
“No,” Ezra complained. “I can . . .”
“Just let me pull it . . . there.”
“Would you get your . . .”
Dennis set Ezra back on the dashboard. Ezra cleared his throat and repositioned his feet to steady himself.
“I seen a lot of things,” Terry said quietly. “A lady next door to us had a dog with two tails. But I never seen a thing like that. Is it real?”
“Is it real?” Ezra said, disgusted. “Have you bathed recently?”
“Can I touch it?” Addy asked Dennis.
“If you’d like your eye pierced,” Ezra growled. “And don’t think for a moment that Mr. Boring here’s the one you should ask permission from.”
“Terry and Addy,” Dennis said graciously, “I’d like to introduce you to Ezra. He was once a part of your tree.”
“The same tree that messed with my house?” Terry asked, making fists with his hands.
“That was Geth then,” Ezra spit. “If it had been just me I would have burned the place down.”
“How rude,” Addy said.
“With you in it,” Ezra added.
Terry smiled and then tried to look mad.
“So this Foo place is real?” Terry asked.
“Six words strung together clearly. That’s probably close to a record for you,” Ezra sniffed. “Yes, Foo is real, and if you listen to what we say you’ll be the one to inform the world and profit from it.”
“We’re not taking orders from a toothpick,” Addy barked.
“Hush,” Terry said. “Hear the man out.”
“Man?” Addy ground her teeth. “It’s a sliver of wood.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Dennis tried. “But it’s true.”
“Thank you, white bread,” Ezra said. “Now could we get moving?”
Terry put the car into drive and slowly eased back onto the road.
“And if the large one in the back can stay quiet for a bit, I’ve got some things to say,” Ezra declared.
Addy started to talk but Terry signaled her to stop.
“She’ll be quiet,” he said.
“I most certainly will not,” Addy snipped.
“Do you want to be rich?” Terry asked.
Terry, Addy, and Dennis were quiet as Ezra paced back and forth across the dashboard telling them all they would need to know to help bring Foo to Reality. He explained his vision for Terry and the part he thought he should play. And he talked quite passionately about how excited he was going to be to finally pay back Geth for what he had done to him. Ezra then cackled and laughed until everyone in the car was either uncomfortable or deeply concerned.
Chapter Nineteen
There Is No “I” in Abduct
Nobody enjoys lifting heavy things. If you meet people who claim they do, they are either not telling the truth, or they are part of a confused group of people whom someone should keep a close eye on. Who in his right mind lines up for the chance to heft a piano or a safe filled with gold bricks?
Not me.
Of course, I would rather lift a car above my head than carry the hea
vy feeling Brindle was holding while working his way through the Invisible Village.
Halfway across the valley Brindle could hardly remember his name, much less the reason he had come. He kept running up against obstacles he couldn’t see and people who were even more depressed and confused than he was.
After getting trapped for over an hour in what must have been a courtyard, Brindle finally found a wide road that went straight for more than three hundred feet. He almost felt a bit of hope—almost. But then he hit another wall and simply didn’t have the will to find a way around it.
Brindle fell to the ground and crossed his small legs. More than anything he wanted to be back on Sycophant Run laughing and feeling good, but he couldn’t shake the heavy feeling holding him in place.
A sad-looking, skinny nit stuck in a second-story room paced back and forth right above Brindle. The nit had long, dirty hair and an unshaven face. He was wearing wide striped pants and a green, ratty vest. Brindle looked up and called out to him.
“Hello?”
The nit looked down and sighed.
“Hello,” he called back, his voice muffled by the invisible walls and floor he was having to talk down through.
“Are you okay?” Brindle asked.
“Is anyone here okay?” he answered.
“Are you stuck?”
“I can’t find the door out,” the skinny nit said. “There’s a window but I’m scared to jump.”
“You should just—”
“Don’t talk to him,” a new voice interrupted. “He’s a stupid nit who was foolish enough to step up into an unknown room.”
Brindle turned to face the direction the voice had come from.
“Who said that?” Brindle asked.
“Excuse me?” the voice asked back. “Just who are you?”
“The name’s Brindle. I’m a sycophant.”
“I can see that,” the voice snipped. “I hate sycophants.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m looking for . . .” Brindle couldn’t clear his head to remember his mission.
“I’ve heard what you’re looking for,” the voice said. “Why?”
“If you tell me what I’m looking for I’ll see if I can remember why,” Brindle said.
“You’re looking for a white sycophant.”
“That’s right . . . Lilly,” Brindle said in a fog.
“Why?”
“Her father,” Brindle said. “He needs her.”
There was silence for a few moments. Brindle looked above him and could see right up the skinny nit’s nose. The nit was kneeling on the second floor trying to hear what was being said.
“He needs her to come home,” Brindle clarified.
“When has my father ever needed me?” Lilly said, materializing, her voice angry. “He’s a foolish sycophant who lives by the rules of a backward tradition.”
“Lilly!” Brindle gasped.
“Of course,” she answered. “How stupid he is to think you can come fetch me. I am not at his beck and call. I’d sooner burn the whole of Sycophant Run than return.”
Lilly was no more than twelve inches tall, but her leafy ears gave her a couple more inches of height. She was completely white and wore a pale yellow robe with blue on the edges. Her green eyes were wide and wet around the rim. She looked like a friendly stuffed animal, not a threat to anyone.
“If you won’t return, then what of the key?” Brindle asked.
“Oh,” Lilly sniffed. “That makes much more sense. He wants the key. I knew he didn’t want me.”
“He wants you, but if you refuse to come, at least give us the key.”
“What a thick breed,” Lilly said. “I don’t have it.”
“You took it.”
“Brilliant deduction,” Lilly said. “But I . . .”
Lilly couldn’t finish her own words, her emotion slipping up into her throat.
“Gave it to Winter,” Brindle finished for her.
“Don’t say her name!” Lilly screamed, scratching at her own ears. “Don’t ever say that name around me.”
“She has returned,” Brindle said.
“I know that,” Lilly said impatiently. “The whole of Foo felt the Lore Coil she set off.”
“She’ll want to see you,” Brindle said.
“How dare you,” Lilly spit. “How dare you lie to me? How could you know that?”
“She was your burn.”
“She abandoned me,” Lilly snapped. “Set me down and walked away.”
“I don’t know her reasons,” Brindle said. “But I know she fights for . . .”
“You know nothing,” Lilly yelled.
“Come with me,” Brindle said, his strength building as he argued. “You can find her. Besides, what have you here but misery?”
“You have no idea what I have,” Lilly snapped. “And you are as big a fool as my father if you think I would ever come with you. She left me, and every sycophant I have ever met answers in the same way: It’s fate.”
Brindle looked around and sighed.
“Isn’t that what you believe?” Lilly challenged hatefully.
“I believe your father loves you,” Brindle replied.
“Then you’re a half-wit with far more heart than brain,” Lilly seethed. “I will never return. Not even to die. My bones will rest here.”
“I am sorry for your hurt,” Brindle said sadly.
“You know nothing about me,” Lilly snapped.
Brindle looked around at the Invisible Village.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Brindle gave in. “Can you lead me out?”
“I’m inclined to let you rot,” she said. “But I would loathe running into you ever again. If I lead you out, will you leave for good?”
“Get me out of this valley and I promise I’ll never come back,” Brindle said.
“Come,” Lilly growled.
“Can I follow?” the skinny nit above shouted.
Lilly turned and started to walk away. Brindle looked up at the man and shrugged.
“If you can get out,” Brindle yelled. “You can follow.”
The man frantically raced around the upstairs room looking for the door. Unable to find it, he jumped out of the upstairs window and fell down to the ground a few feet away from Brindle. His shoulder snapped but he jumped up, too afraid of being left behind to complain.
Lilly wound through the Invisible Village as if she could see every wall and road. Brindle and the nit followed her, trying hard to make sure they were always only a few steps behind.
“How do you know the way?” Brindle asked.
“I’ve had years to map it out,” Lilly called back. “I’ve seen it covered in snow many times. Now stop talking.”
“Why’s it invisible?”
“Stop talking,” she growled.
It took over an hour to walk back across the valley and up to the ivy-covered cliff side Brindle had first come down. Lilly stopped just below the cliffs.
“There,” she pointed. “Go straight up and over and you will be out of the village. Don’t come back.”
The skinny nit pushed past both of them laughing with glee. He ran up the path and into the cliffs towards freedom.
“Thanks,” Brindle said. “Can I tell your father anything?”
“You can do what you please,” Lilly sneered. “I personally prefer he think me dead. I want no part of any of it or any of you.”
Brindle stuck out his hand to shake Lilly’s good-bye. Lilly put out her hand without thinking and as quick as a snake Brindle grabbed her wrist and bit down.
Lilly had no time to react. She looked at Brindle with surprise and then collapsed into a small heap on the ground.
“Sorry,” Brindle whispered sincerely. “But he said I could bite you.”
Brindle picked up Lilly and slung her over his shoulder. He then slowly hiked up into the cliffs and over the path, happiness returning to his heart with each step he took.
Chapter Twenty
Not Everyone’s Attractive
My favorite number is thirteen—I don’t know why, it just always has been. I can’t remember ever preferring another number more. Sure, seven’s okay, but I’m most happy with thirteen. If I have to pick a number between one and twenty I’m going to pick thirteen. If I were a race-car driver I’d have the number thirteen painted on my car. And if I were a world-famous football player my jersey would have thirteen on the back of it. True, I’ll most likely never be a race-car driver or a famous football player, but it’s still a great number. Of course, some people think there’s something wrong with the number thirteen. Most hotels don’t have a thirteenth floor simply because people are superstitious about it. I know a man who won’t go out on the thirteenth of each month and a lady who will never buy any groceries that expire on the thirteenth.
People are different.
For example, I learned while wearing a costume and playing cards that Leven’s favorite number is eleven, and the Dearth likes thirty-two. Of course, at the moment neither one of them were thinking about their favorite numbers. The Dearth was thinking about Leven while Leven was wondering how in the world anyone could have designed a bed as comfortable as the one he was lying on.
The beds in the safe house were made from the feathers of Tea birds and air-filled shavings of gunt. The mattresses were covered in material that the Children of the Sewn had made from the remnants of the softest and lightest dreams. To Leven it felt like sleeping on a cloud that was lying in a hammock that was propped up by marshmallows.
There were twelve (one less than thirteen) of the soft beds lining the edges of the room. The walls were covered in thick, green, velvet wallpaper, and small wooden shelves hung every three feet. On each shelf a fat orange candle with a yellow flame burned upward. The ceiling was a web of small twigs strung together with black twine and ivy, and the single large window was propped open to let the soft breeze drift in.
Leven, Geth, and Clover picked beds near the window, while Winter took the largest one on the opposite side of the room.
“What’s the deal with these beds?” Leven slurred, his face resting against a giant pillow.