by Obert Skye
Clover looked around. “I thought it was just you and your lack of balance.”
Leven stepped off the drawbridge and walked under a large stone arch and into a rock courtyard. On the other side of the courtyard there were two double doors that were wide open.
Clover disappeared as if instructed.
“Hello,” Leven called out as he walked through the doors. “Anyone here?”
Inside the building, the ceilings were ripped up and there were pieces of beat-up furniture all over the place. The wallpaper on the wall was torn and moldy, and the smell of animal urine and rotting wood was so strong that Leven had to plug his nose.
“Who decayed in here?” Clover whispered.
Leven waved his right hand in front of his nose. In the far corner of the filthy room was a small round table with a couple of empty glasses tipped over on it. There were also some crusted plates of petrified food.
“Hello,” Leven hollered out again. “Anyone?”
“No need to yell,” a sickly voice sounded from the far corner.
“Who’s there?” Leven asked, holding his hand above his eyes.
On the far side of the table, hiding in the shadows, Leven could see a blurry definition of a dark, ragged being. The body shifted and gasped.
“Hello,” Leven greeted. “I was . . .”
The shadowy figure began to cough violently. It hacked something up and out of its throat and then moaned pathetically. Whatever had come out of its throat was now on the floor. A swarm of bit bugs scurried over to it and began to feast.
“That’s disgusting,” Clover whispered.
“Shhhh,” Leven insisted.
More coughing, but no throat glob.
“Is this your home?” Leven asked.
“Yessss,” the figure hissed, sounding as if it didn’t have the energy to finish the word.
“I don’t know where I am,” Leven said.
“I do,” the voice rasped. “You’re making your way to the tree, Leven.”
Leven stepped closer. “How do you know me?”
“I was one who failed to stop you,” the voice said sadly.
Leven moved in even closer. He could see the being much more clearly now. It was missing bits and pieces of itself and looked like a smeared version of the person Leven remembered. But the image still caused the hair on the back of Leven’s neck to stand up.
“Sabine?”
Sabine nodded and coughed violently.
Chapter Eleven
On the Rocks
Like everyone else, including you, I occasionally make assumptions based on too little information. If, for example, you were to tell me that you grew up in a small town, I would instantly assume that you spent your afternoons swinging from tire swings or skipping rocks in a small stream. Or maybe you used to sit out on the front porch while your apron-wearing mother brought you tall, chilled glasses of homemade lemonade. I would also blindly assume that the small town you had grown up in had no more than a few quaint buildings, and that in the center of town there was an old courthouse with a town clock that didn’t quite keep correct time. Life was slower, people were kinder, and the cost of living was well below that in the Big Apple or Madrid.
Well, if someone were to say they were from the small town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico, I would assume all the above, but maybe instead of a courthouse with a clock I would envision a battlement covered in stucco. And maybe, in the past, my assumption would not have been too far off. But right now? Today?
Well, things were considerably different from the way my assumptions would have painted them. The small town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico, was exploding. Never had their borders experienced so many people flooding their streets and taking up their space. Every motel was full, and many of the residents had rented out parts of their homes to news crews and people who had money and were interested in what was happening.
What was happening was that the small sinkhole known as Blue Hole Lake was now the most talked-about body of water in the world. Dennis, the one-time janitor, with the help of Antsel’s robe that Terry had found, was now challenging the world to gather around the hole in anticipation of its opening. He challenged them to be ready for those who would soon be storming into Reality from Foo.
Of course, anyone who was anyone knew that the real power and drive were coming from Ezra, one very powerful and ticked-off toothpick. Ezra was not the same toothpick he had been just days ago. After being captured by the military and placed in a jar, he had accidentally caught on fire. And the only way Dennis could put him out was to kick him into a barrel of orange glowing liquid that had been sitting there since three wars ago. Ezra now glowed, his hue changing with his mood. His green-nail-polished body shone like a glow stick, and his paper-clip right leg was shiny and sharpened. And whereas he had been a bothersome and insulting little pest before, now he was completely evil and seemed to possess powers that were growing and changing daily, thanks to the orange goo bath he had soaked in.
At the moment Ezra and Dennis were being flown in a helicopter to Clovis, New Mexico. Apparently the president of the United States was there and wanted to talk to them. Dennis was shaking, his wrists wet with perspiration. Ezra, on the other hand, was salivating and fighting himself to keep from laughing.
Elton Thumps was in the front seat of the helicopter with the pilot. Elton was wearing a light brown suit and had his dark hair slicked back. He had on scholarly, large-rimmed glasses that fit his elitist personality and strong chin. Elton was tan and tall and had more arrogance than his thin frame seemed capable of holding. Yes, he was Leven’s father, but he had been brainwashed for years and now, much like some of those in Foo who had let selfishness dictate their fate, he was confused and very much touched by the prospect of power.
Dennis had large earphones on to muffle the noise of the helicopter. There was a microphone attached to the right earphone. The microphone bent down and in front of Dennis’s mouth. Ezra pushed the left earphone up and wiggled beneath it.
“You ready for this?” he screamed in an effort to be heard over the whirl of the helicopter.
Dennis put his hand over the microphone and pushed it up so as to not be heard. “I think so,” he replied, scrunching his large, bland facial features into a tight wad.
“What have I told you about thinking?”
“Right,” Dennis said.
“I’ll tell you what to say,” Ezra hollered. “But you’ve gotta make it sound important and powerful. You’ve gotten better.”
“Thanks,” Dennis yelled.
“Stop being so polite,” Ezra ordered, his body pulsating with green light. “I told you I’d lay off the insults, seeing how you saved my life, but I’m only wooden—don’t make it so easy.”
Dennis growled.
“That’s better,” Ezra said happily.
The helicopter veered hard to the right, tilting like a toy in a child’s hand. It picked up speed and raced forward.
“The president of the United States,” Dennis blurted out. “I can’t believe that I’m going to meet the president of the United States.”
“I suppose if I were you I’d find it hard to believe as well,” Ezra said nicely.
“Not too many weeks ago I was a janitor—a janitor being yelled at for not filling the copy machine with enough paper,” Dennis reminisced loudly. “Or being picked on because a trash can was put back a couple of inches in the wrong spot, or a computer screen had smudges on it.” Dennis opened and closed his fists. He held them tight until they were white and then slowly relaxed them.
Ezra hissed. He looked at Dennis and smiled as if Dennis were a stew he had been brewing for years, and he could tell it was now done and ready to be served to mankind.
“Now?” Ezra asked maliciously, his voice a loud static cackle. “How do you feel now?”
“I feel invincible,” Dennis said softly.
“And?” Ezra egged him on. “Invincible and . . .”
“Invincible and better than the same peop
le who once made it perfectly clear that they were better than me,” Dennis barked.
“Which, if you remember correctly, was everyone,” Ezra screamed.
“Everyone!” Dennis chanted.
“Nice,” Ezra glowed. He himself was shaking from a small, self-induced frenzy. His purple hair was twisting madly and his single eye stared directly at Dennis. “Go on! You’re invincible and better than everyone. And . . .”
Dennis considered for a moment. “I think that’s it.”
Ezra smacked his forehead with his right palm. “That’s it?” he yelled. “That’s it? Don’t you feel evil?”
Dennis shrugged and patted his arms. “Not really.”
“Ahhhhh,” Ezra screamed, jabbing his metal leg into Dennis’s shoulder. “I need you to feel—”
The helicopter dropped a few feet and sped in a diagonal line to the east. Dennis’s headphones came to life.
“The military base is a few miles away,” Elton Thumps said. “We have word the president is already there and waiting.”
Dennis just nodded.
“The president will want to know everything you know—and quickly,” Elton said.
“We weren’t planning to reminisce,” Ezra balked. “But we’ll tell him what we want or he can go jump in a cake.”
Dennis snorted. “Don’t you mean ‘jump in a lake’?”
“What’s so bad about jumping in a lake?” Ezra screamed.
“What’s so bad about jumping in a cake?” Dennis argued.
“All that frosting and sugar and sticky stuff,” Ezra pointed out. “It would take hours to wash it off. Plus, a cake is small, and you’d jam your head on the plate. A lake, you jump in, jump out, dry yourself off, and you’re fine.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Dennis yelled.
“Then tell them that we will say what we want and if they don’t like it we will tie them to a pole in the coldest region of the world, strip them of everything but their stupidity, and use their frozen fingers and toes as ice cubes to cool our drinks.” There was no bounce or lilt in Ezra’s voice.
Dennis just sat without replying.
“You can paraphrase if you want,” Ezra growled.
“I’m not saying that to anyone,” Dennis insisted.
“Fine,” Ezra growled. “I’ll do the talking.”
The helicopter dropped rapidly and then leveled out a few feet above the ground. It twisted a full circle, swung over, and settled on a cement landing pad without so much as a bump.
Elton Thumps took off his headphones and jumped out of the front door. He opened the back door and waved Dennis and Ezra out. The dying blades of the helicopter blew back the hood on Dennis’s purple robe. Dennis’s head was clear, with no trace of Sabine on it, and he walked as tall as a person with extraordinarily high self-esteem might walk.
The path from the helicopter was lined with soldiers all standing at attention, weapons in hand. Ezra jumped up on top of Dennis’s head and crouched down, facing forward. He looked up at the rising sun and blinked his single eye. He eyed the line of soldiers and laughed.
“Do they think this will scare us?” Ezra yelled.
Dennis didn’t answer.
Ezra opened his arms, and the soldiers lining both sides of the path flew back and onto their rears. Their guns scraped against the ground, and one gun down the line accidentally went off, firing into the air. The soldiers scrambled to get back up and stand at attention as Ezra laughed.
“Having fun?” Dennis asked.
“I’ve had funner,” Ezra replied.
A round man in a general’s uniform came storming toward Dennis, his right fist raised and shaking. The man had a large, blocky head, short arms, and legs as thick as garbage cans. The steam coming from his ears was a pretty good indicator that he wasn’t in a pleasant mood. He stopped six inches in front of the two of them and shoved his large red face up into Dennis’s grill. His wide brown eyes looked up at Ezra, who was lying casually on Dennis’s forehead.
“General Lank,” he informed them.
“Dennis,” Dennis replied.
Ezra yawned.
“Listen up,” General Lank said, pointing toward the shaken soldiers. “Did you do this?”
Ezra raised his hand. “Guilty.”
“I don’t know what kind of trick this is,” General Lank said. “A mobile toothpick. But the president feels you’re worth talking to. If you were my assignment, I would treat you differently.”
“There’s some green stuff in your right ear,” Ezra said.
General Lank stuck his right pinkie into his ear and twisted while his big, blocky face reddened. “You caused one of them to fire a weapon into the air. Bullets come down, you know.”
Ezra stood up on Dennis’s head, stretched, and reached his right hand up. Two seconds later a thin whistle could be heard. One second later Ezra extended his wooden arm farther and caught the bullet as it fell to the earth. “Was this the bullet you were talking about?”
General Lank’s mouth dropped open, exposing how poorly the military had taken care of his teeth. “How?”
“Don’t question us,” Ezra swore. “Take us to the president, and if we are in the right mood, we just might enlighten him.”
“But—”
“Don’t call yourself names,” Ezra growled.
“You have—”
Ezra bit off the tip of the bullet and spat it at General Lank’s forehead. The bit of bullet bounced off and fell to the ground.
“Now,” Ezra said sweetly, “are you ready to take us?”
General Lank gritted his teeth, turned on his meaty heels, and reluctantly led the way.
The landscape around the military base was dusty, hot, and barren, with an oppressive feeling of isolation. But once they were inside in a secured room, things didn’t look too bad for Ezra and Dennis. The room was filled with soft chairs and four couches. There were plush rugs on the floor, and the walls were covered with real artwork. The room was rectangular, and on the far end there was a giant wooden desk with a small American flag on the corner of it.
Dennis and Ezra were alone in the room.
Dennis was sitting with his legs crossed in a green wingback chair, wearing the purple robe. Ezra had thrown a fit about there being no chair his size, so a couple of soldiers had fashioned a small seat out of an empty Coke can and some fabric. Ezra was so happy about his throne that he had been sitting in it humming for the last few minutes.
“This isn’t too bad,” Ezra stopped humming to say. “Just think what it will be like when we rule the world.”
“And how are we going about that again?” Dennis asked.
“You ask the worst questions,” Ezra answered, sitting up in his throne. “Why are they making us wait?”
Dennis just shrugged.
“Have you ever impressed anyone positively?”
“I don’t care if I have,” Dennis said honestly.
“What?” Ezra asked. “That almost sounded gutsy.”
“My mind’s clear.”
“You mean empty?” Ezra asked. “Now, what does this president of yours look like?”
Dennis pointed to a huge oil painting behind the desk. At the bottom of the painting was a gold plaque that read, “President Myron H. Topple.”
“That’s him,” Dennis said.
“Really?” Ezra smiled. “He looks weak—I know I can take him.”
Dennis shook his head. “I’m all for stopping this Dearth, and I can see how I might enjoy being one of the leaders of this movement and all that will come with Foo. But I’m worried about you and the power you now have.”
“Worried about me?” Ezra laughed.
“You’re not real stable,” Dennis pointed out.
Ezra jumped out of his chair and pumped his fist. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
The far door opened, and four armed guards came into the room. They were followed by a dozen other important-looking people. Finally a man matching the
portrait hanging behind the desk walked in. He smiled like he did in the portrait and walked directly over to Dennis.
Dennis stood up and awkwardly bowed-curtsied-nodded.
President Topple stuck out his hand, still smiling. Dennis wiped his right hand on his robe and then reached out to shake the president’s hand.
“President Topple,” the president said. “And you must be Dennis.”
Dennis nodded.
“Sit down,” President Topple said. “Please.”
Dennis sat down as President Topple took a seat on the edge of the large desk. “I’ve been excited to meet you, but I must admit I am most interested in your friend.”
“That’s using the term friend a little liberally,” Ezra said. “Now, what do you want?”
President Topple looked at Ezra in awe. “You know, if I hadn’t seen some of the things I’ve seen in the last few weeks, I’m not sure I would have believed this.”
“You haven’t seen anything like me,” Ezra said, bothered. “If you’re comparing me to a bunch of wind or bugs or dirt monsters in the field, then you’re a larger dolt than that painting makes you out to be.”
President Topple’s smile faded. He tugged on the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and sniffed. “I apologize. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Ezra’s offended by everything,” Dennis said casually. “Don’t let it get to you.”
President Topple smiled weakly.
“And Dennis is baffled by everything,” Ezra retorted.
“Listen,” President Topple said, “I’m sorry if I don’t know the proper etiquette for talking with a toothpick, but there are very important things we need to discuss. If what you have told my staff is true, some very big things are about to happen, and I need to know what we should do to prepare for them.”
“You’re asking me?” Dennis said happily.
“We want not only to be ready for whoever or whatever is coming but to be prepared to occupy the land they have come from.” President Topple was not smiling now.
“Occupy?” Ezra asked. “I’ll decide who occupies.”
President Topple stood up. “We have tremendous resources lined up and in use,” he said. “We have built large, fenced-off stations to hold those who might come through, and we have organized thousands of troops to march into this Foo, when the time is right, and make sure our interests are taken seriously. And I’m prepared to extend you every courtesy, but I will not have a toothpick calling the shots. I am the president of the—”