by Obert Skye
“Thank you, young man,” the Dearth said as he was helped up.
“No problem, sir.” The soldiers boosted him onto the lake’s edge near the waiting general.
The Dearth stood as tall as he could, took off his felt cap, and smiled for the cameras. General Lank looked at the Dearth’s feet where they were connected to the dirt. He then extended his right hand, and the Dearth shook it.
“Are you in charge?” Lank asked.
“I believe so,” the Dearth said softly.
The Dearth stepped away from the edge as hundreds of beings began to spill up over the lip of the empty lake behind him. Rants by the dozens crawled up and over each other, anxious to get a look at Reality.
Groups of U.S. soldiers moved in and began as politely as possible to usher the visitors into the large, fenced-in areas that had previously been set up. The river of rants and nits and cogs moved down the wide, guarded road and into their designated areas. There were tables all over the place filled with bottles of water and some sort of military fruit bars for the visitors to eat.
A tall rant stopped and looked up at the single sun. He pulled back the hood of his robe, and his body began to solidify into one complete being. Other rants followed suit, looking at their now-whole bodies while cheering and crying triumphantly.
General Lank took the Dearth by the elbow. The Dearth shuffled slowly, his bare feet attached to the earth. Soldiers lined the dirt road, holding their weapons and standing at attention. The Dearth, escorted by three huge soldiers, was taken into the old scuba shop, where Ezra and Dennis were waiting. The scuba shop was so old that part of the floor had rotted away, allowing the Dearth to stay connected to the soil.
Dennis was wearing the purple robe that Antsel had once worn. He was rubbing his head, amazed at how clear his thoughts suddenly were. Ezra was perched on Dennis’s right ear, staring at the Dearth with his single eye.
“He looks weak,” Ezra complained. “And that mustache? Come on.”
Next to Dennis and Ezra was Elton Thumps, who was busily looking at something on a clipboard while talking on his cell phone. He snapped his phone shut.
The Dearth stopped in front of Dennis and bowed slightly. Dennis was trying hard not to throw up. It hadn’t been too many weeks ago that he was an ignored and underachieving janitor. Now the whole world was watching him and expecting him to say something important. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet.
“Hello,” Dennis finally said.
Ezra slapped his toothpick forehead.
“Hello,” the Dearth answered, his British accent in full form. “I am the Dearth.”
“The Dearth,” Elton asked. “Is that your first or last name?”
“My only name,” the Dearth said with charm. “And your names?”
“I am Dennis, and this is General—”
“I’m Ezra,” Ezra said as if that was the only introduction that needed to be made.
“Pleasure to meet you all,” the Dearth said. “I’m not one for crowds. But here today, so many people—certainly this large welcome isn’t for us.”
General Lank spoke. “The entire world is interested in you.”
The Dearth smiled, and everyone in the room seemed to relax.
“Come on!” Ezra screamed. “You’re really the Dearth? I don’t believe it. You’re a walking pile of dust. Shouldn’t you be home napping or planning an early high-fiber dinner?”
“Ah, youth,” the Dearth said, still smiling.
Ezra’s eye widened to the size of a pea. “Listen, you senile old bump, I find it hard to believe that you can command anything, much less the thousands of beings now flowing in from Foo.”
“I don’t command them,” the Dearth said sappily. “They’re here of their own free will.”
“Still, Ezra raises a good question. What are your intentions in coming here?” the general asked. “What exactly do you want?”
“We seek a new place to live,” the Dearth said defensively. “We seek to coddle our curiosity and know more about Reality. And, in return, you will be given access to Foo. Not everyone is coming to Reality. There are those who are happy in Foo. But there are many thousands who have family here and wish only to return to them . . . or to know more about you.”
“What about Leven Thumps?” Elton spoke up.
The Dearth’s right eye twitched just a bit, and Ezra took notice.
“Leven Thumps?” the Dearth asked. “What is your connection with him?”
“We have questions for him,” Elton said. “And I especially am interested in his well-being.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ezra complained. “This gutless twig is Leven’s father. It’s a real touching story. If you’re ever in the mood to puke and cry, just let him tell it. What we need—”
“You’re Leven’s father?” the Dearth interrupted.
Elton nodded. “He was raised by others.”
The general’s radio crackled and buzzed. He spoke into it, then turned to the Dearth. “Just how many of you are there?”
“Quite a few,” the Dearth said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead. “I hope we’re not causing you trouble.”
“Oh, no,” the general grumbled. “We do this for everyone.”
“A bit of sarcasm,” the Dearth said. “I suppose it’s merited.”
“Listen,” General Lank said. “This is the United States of America, and we take security very seriously. Now we have thousands and thousands of unidentified beings marching out of a hole in the earth, and the only guarantee we have that you aren’t our enemy is the word of a toothpick.”
Ezra was sitting on top of Dennis’s head, yawning.
“That fellow there?” the Dearth asked. “What a surprise.”
Ezra stretched and stood up.
“The surprise is that you’re their leader?” Ezra asked casually, hopping down onto Dennis’s left shoulder.
“I suppose it is,” the Dearth smiled. “But I’m really just a volunteer helping my fellowman.”
Ezra looked disgusted. “You’re an impulse guided by darkness.”
“Now, now. They needed someone to walk them out, and I had the key.” The Dearth pulled a gold key out of his sweater pocket. The key was tied to a leather strap. He handed it to the general as a gesture of trust.
“There’s a door down there?” the general asked.
“A large one,” the Dearth smiled.
The general looked at Elton and then at Ezra. He gritted his teeth.
“Listen,” Ezra said, his tiny body buzzing. “I’m not sure who this old man is, but the things I’ve read on Dennis’s dumb head don’t match up with him.”
“What do you mean?” General Lank growled.
“This doddering old coot can’t possibly be the Dearth I read about on Dennis’s head.”
Three soldiers raised their guns and pointed them at the Dearth.
“Now, now,” the Dearth said again, holding his hands up nervously. “I’m not sure what this splinter’s been telling you, but we’re not here to hurt you. There are those from Foo who are here to become whole, and others who wish to reunite with loved ones, but there are not any here who wish to do you harm. Let our people come, and you’ll be free to walk in and experience Foo.”
“I think I’ll hold onto this key,” General Lank said, “just in case.”
“Suit yourself,” the Dearth said pleasantly.
“It’s a copy anyway,” Ezra grunted.
“How do you know that?” the Dearth said, looking genuinely surprised for the first time.
“See this noggin?” Ezra asked, pointing to Dennis’s large bald head.
The Dearth nodded.
“Up until a few hours ago, it used to tell me things,” Ezra informed him. “All kinds of things. Now it’s just a large skin ball.”
“Thanks,” Dennis said.
“You’re welcome,” Ezra replied. “I’ve gotten soft. But I’m not mental, and I know that there’s something up with
you, Dearth. What’s the deal with your feet?”
“Beg pardon?” the Dearth said, not sounding quite as cute as he had just a few moments ago.
“Your feet,” Ezra pointed. “Am I the only one here who can see that he’s like a potted plant, rooted to the ground?”
“People are different,” Elton said.
“I’ll say,” Ezra growled. “Just look at your hair. But I’m not talking about choices in wardrobe or dry skin, I’m talking about the fact that this elderly chump’s feet are intertwined and growing into the ground.”
The Dearth blinked his eyes and then spoke slowly. “I am connected to the soil. I’m sorry if that is unsettling to you, but my type need to stay connected to the dirt. You’ll soon see things stranger than I.”
“What would happen if we were to lift you off of the dirt?” Ezra asked.
It wasn’t very obvious, but a person looking closely enough could have seen a slight flush of red rising from the Dearth’s collar and crawling up his neck.
“I thought we were walking into a civilized nation,” the Dearth said coolly.
“Civilized but suspicious,” General Lank said.
“I’m attached to the dirt.” The Dearth shrugged. “I can step off of the dirt, but it is more comfortable and wise for me to stand upon soil. Is this a problem?”
“I suppose not,” the general conceded.
The noise outside the scuba shop grew louder and louder as more and more beings spilled up out of Blue Hole Lake and into Reality. The large strips of land where those who were coming were being corralled into were filling up fast. And there were some screams and some additional photos taken as a large bunch of black skeletons leapt from the hole and marched proudly in a line toward the fenced areas. The rhythm of their feet shook the ground and their bones clicked and clacked.
“Keep the troops on high alert,” General Lank said. “No one is to use force of any kind unless they hear my voice say so.” He turned to the Dearth. “We have others we’d like you to meet.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
General Lank escorted the Dearth to the other side of the scuba shop, with Elton tagging along. Ezra jumped up onto Dennis’s left ear.
“Something’s wrong,” Ezra said.
“I don’t understand,” Dennis replied.
“That should be your motto,” Ezra snapped. “I just don’t see how that fossil could lead anyone anywhere. Once all those who are flowing into Reality arrive, he’s going to be easier to slap around than you.”
Dennis cleared his throat.
“Right, you saved my life,” Ezra conceded. “I’m just saying that taking care of him and ruling the world might be even easier than I had anticipated.”
Dennis flipped up the hood on his robe, hiding his bald head and the small toothpick on his ear. He stepped out of the tent and watched in wonder as wave after wave of fantastic-looking beings marched into Reality and past him.
“Nervous?” Ezra said from beneath the hood.
Dennis nodded his head.
“I can tell by the sweat,” Ezra commented. “You know, you might want to invest in some sort of head deodorant.”
“Thanks,” Dennis laughed, still watching the river of beings flowing in.
“You’re lucky I’ve got your back.”
Dennis felt the rumble of those marching roll up through his feet and shake his entire body. He felt anxious, he felt worried, he felt scared, he felt inadequate, he felt alone, and he felt like he was going to hyperventilate.
Dennis felt a lot of things, but not one of them was lucky.
Chapter Eighteen
Never in His Wildest Dreams
The island of Alder grew greener and greener and steeper and steeper with each step. The trees were so thick it was hard to pick out one trunk from another. Birds with long feathery wings jumped from treetop to treetop, spreading their wings like umbrellas and drifting down to lower branches. The ground was covered with dark, rich soil and rocky outcrops forming intricate patterns. The path of glass was still visible, but it was almost completely overgrown in spots.
“Okay,” Clover said, “so what about in fourth grade?”
“I don’t want to do this,” Leven protested weakly.
“You should be prepared,” Clover pointed out. “Fourth grade?”
“I can’t remember fourth grade,” Leven insisted. “And I don’t think the unfinished business that Sabine was talking about has to do with what happened in fourth grade.”
“Okay,” Clover said. “What about fifth grade?”
“Honestly?” Leven asked.
“All right,” Clover conceded. “What about here?”
“I don’t know,” Leven said. “To be honest, I thought Sabine was finished.”
“What about that rant he hung out with?”
“Jamoon?” Leven asked.
“Sounds like a made-up name,” Clover said. “But yeah, him.”
“He fell hundreds of feet and was buried by a mountain of stone.”
“People can be resilient when stressed.”
“He wasn’t stressed,” Leven pointed out. “He was dead.”
“Okay,” Clover said. “Then what about your grandfather?”
“We finished that.”
Clover was silent as Leven hiked between two mammoth boulders and through a meadow filled with braided orange grass. Leven turned around. “I really think someone’s following us,” he whispered.
“It makes me nervous,” Clover admitted.
“That somebody’s following us?”
“No,” Clover said. “It makes me nervous not knowing what’s coming.”
“Well, then, pretend you’re Geth,” Leven smiled.
Clover cleared his throat. “Oh, I can’t wait to be killed by whatever comes my way,” he said in his best Geth imitation. “I hope it happens soon.”
Leven laughed and walked quicker. Once past the meadow he stepped carefully across a stream filled with thick red water and through a large, tree-covered patch of ivy. The incline of the path was getting steeper, and all around were moss-infested piles of stone and dilapidated walls and structures. It was obvious that at one point long ago this section of Alder had been fairly well populated.
“Hello, Leven,” a voice sang out.
Leven stopped and looked around quickly. He could see nothing but trees and ruins.
“Did you hear something?” Leven whispered.
“Maybe,” Clover whispered back. “Did it sound like a rooster coughing?”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Clover said, disappearing.
Leven took another step, moving around a leaning pillar of stone.
“Hello, Leven,” the voice repeated.
Leven looked to the trees. Something was moving beneath the shadows of a wooden structure. Leven’s heart began to thump like a foreboding drum.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
The sound of ivy being stepped on rubbed against Leven’s ear. He slowly and quietly pulled his kilve out from behind his back.
“See anyone?” Leven whispered to Clover.
“Not a thing.”
Someone was moving behind the trees; then, as if she had been pushed out, a woman sprang from the woods. The woman stumbled a bit and then gained her balance. She stood up straight about ten feet from Leven. It wasn’t the most graceful entrance ever, but the visitor was beautiful. She wore a white dress with a blue robe over it. Her long, brown hair was pulled back behind her head with a white, twisty ribbon. She smiled with her eyes, and Leven was struck by how familiar she appeared. The wisdom behind her dark eyes made her look a bit older than Leven.
“Hello, Leven,” she said again, taking one step closer to him.
“Hello,” Leven said cautiously, slipping his kilve back behind him. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
“Sort of,” she laughed.
Leven’s heart began to beat even faster. “We’ve met?”
; “The circumstances were not pleasant,” she laughed. “And I was a bit different in appearance, but I’m your grandmother.”
Clover materialized on top of Leven’s head and gasped loudly enough for all of them.
“My grandmother?” Leven said, staring.
She nodded.
“Amelia?” he said bewildered. “That’s . . . you were . . . I don’t . . . how?”
“Gunt’s an amazing substance,” Amelia smiled. “If I remember correctly, it was gunt that Winter used to revert back to a baby. You didn’t leave me to die, Leven, you left me to grow younger.”
“But you’re so much younger,” Leven said, walking slowly around her looking for strings or mirrors or some sort of explanation for what he now saw. He stopped in front of her, pushed back his long, dark hair, and smiled. “Amazing.”
“You’ve changed as well,” she said. “You’re not exactly the child I pulled through the gateway.”
Leven stepped closer. “I don’t understand. How come you’re here?”
“This is Alder?” she said, looking around.
Leven nodded and Clover disappeared.
“And you’re moving through the ruins and toward the center?” she asked.
“To be honest, I’m not sure where I’m going,” Leven said, sounding a bit more like an actual grandkid. “Clover and I slipped through some thick shadow and started walking. I’ve already run into what was left of Sabine.”
“What a useless soul,” Amelia cursed. “Well, I suppose I’m more unfinished business. Fate snatched me from the gunt and placed me here.”
“Unfinished business?” Leven asked. “You?”
Clover showed himself again, this time clinging to the front of Leven’s robe. “He doesn’t have to kill you, does he?”
Amelia smiled. “No, I’ve come simply to see you and wish you well.”
“Really?” Leven said with relief in his voice. His body relaxed and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So the unfinished business can be good?”
“Of course,” she answered. “In the past, most unfinished business was good. Foo was a remarkable place.”