by Obert Skye
Addy glanced up. “You look important.”
“I’m just the same person I always was.”
Terry wailed.
“I was a horrible aunt,” Addy hollered.
“Well, actually, you were my mother’s half sister.”
Addy cried even harder.
“Sorry,” Leven said.
“Wow,” Clover whispered from the top of Leven’s head. “You’ve got some emotionally unfinished baggage.”
As Leven continued to pat their heads, their bodies began to break up into myriads of little pieces and drift away. Addy smiled before her fat face was gone, and Terry looked relieved. Eventually there was just a small pile of dusty residue at Leven’s feet.
“I still don’t like them,” Clover insisted.
“Well, don’t waste your time on it,” Leven smiled. “They’re gone.” Leven looked down at the thin skiff of white dust. He thought of all the times he had been yelled at and ignored. All the abuse and anger they had brought into his life. He thought of the times when he would have given anything to have them simply be kind to him. Now they were gone, and everything in the past had the ability to either drag him down or propel him forward. He was sad—not at the loss so much as at what could have been.
“So, all this is supposed to prepare you?” Clover asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Leven jumped over the residue of his once-guardians and continued on the glass road.
“What time do you think it is?” Leven asked.
Clover pulled out a deck of cards from his void. “Does this tell time?”
Leven shook his head.
“This?” Clover asked, pulling out the bottom half of a Barbie.
“Really?” Leven asked in amazement. “How would that tell time?”
“Don’t clocks have legs?”
“If somehow we really do save the world, I’m going to be amazed,” Leven laughed.
“That’s so weird,” Clover said honestly. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Finding What You Didn’t Know Was Missing
Winter, Geth, and Phoebe had joined the ranks of refugees working their way to Reality. Winter and Phoebe were wearing the red robes that Geth had borrowed for them, and so far not a single being had given them a second glance. The masses of refugees were made up of rants and nits and cogs and echoes and every other being that had ever been curious enough to wonder what Reality had to offer. Foo was a place of wonder, but it was also a place of service, of making the dreams of those in Reality become huge. So many now wanted to get out and have the chance for their dreams to come to life.
The three of them were in line directly behind two fat nits and in front of a dozen black skeletons. Winter looked back over her shoulder at the endless stream of beings.
“I hate this,” Winter said. “I feel like we’re abandoning Leven.”
“That’s sweet,” Phoebe said kindly.
Winter wanted to reach out and throttle Phoebe. It wasn’t that Phoebe was mean to her; it was just that she was way too perfect. Whatever Winter said, Phoebe would always react in an interested, happy manner.
It just wasn’t right.
Plus, Winter couldn’t count on her own feelings. She knew Phoebe’s effect was mellowing, but she didn’t know how much. So she couldn’t tell if she was feeling like she did because of Phoebe’s ability to make people nuts, or because she really felt that way.
“There’s nothing sweet about leaving Leven,” Winter argued.
“Look at you,” Phoebe said kindly. “Your cheeks are as red as our robes.”
“Geth,” Winter seethed. “Are you going to do something about her?”
Geth smiled at Phoebe and back at Winter. “Let’s just keep moving. I know you’re tired, but the sooner we get through, the sooner we can start looking for Leven.”
“Looking for Leven?” Winter asked, disgusted. “We’re leaving him behind.”
“We’re going where he said we should,” Geth pointed out.
“Geth’s right,” Phoebe added.
Winter held her own head in her hands and shook. “Is that you?” she asked Phoebe.
“Excuse me?” Phoebe asked nicely.
“Is that you making my mind so nuts?” Winter questioned. “I feel like my brain is on fire and my cheeks are going to burst into flame. My stomach is hungry and yet repulsed by the idea of eating. I can’t see straight, I keep thinking about Leven, and my feet hurt.”
Phoebe smiled. “I can’t help your feelings for Leven. If they’ve intensified, it’s because of things moving in the direction they should. And I’m sorry about your feet.”
“She’s not to blame,” Geth said.
“What do you know, Geth? You’re useless,” Winter moaned. “You’re too smitten to be objective.”
“That’s probably true,” Geth agreed. “But even with Phoebe around I am not distracted by what fate has us doing.”
“And just what is that?” Winter asked, frustrated.
“Helping Leven,” Geth answered. “Come on.”
Geth’s line of reasoning made no sense to Winter, but she walked quickly and with determination, looking as if she truly believed in what she was doing. The three of them reached Sycophant Run, and Winter was struck dumb by the sight of so many sycophants floating in the water along the shoreline.
“Are they dead?” Phoebe asked.
“No,” Geth said. “They’re wounded or stunned, but not dead. It would take the bones of their own to completely steal their lives. Of course, they probably wish they were dead. Look what all this has done to their home.”
Winter looked around. Sycophant Run, once beautiful, was now trashed. The beaches were trampled and covered with unwelcome visitors and debris. And a thick river of beings ran from off of the gloam into Sycophant Run.
“This is so horrible,” Winter whispered. “I can’t look at it.”
“It’s one of the reasons you felt so passionately about helping us,” Geth said. “You wanted to prevent this from happening.”
“It looks like I failed big time.”
“You’ve done your part,” Geth said kindly. “This is the result of selfishness. It has come about due to hundreds of wrong decisions.”
“So do we follow the crowd?” Winter asked.
“Of course not,” Geth smiled. “Follow me.”
The three of them broke from the string of beings and hiked toward a distant, mushroom-shaped hill in the opposite direction. Nobody seemed to notice or care that they were marching to their own beat, and in a short while they were off the beach and surrounded by beautiful trees and large, empty sycophant farms.
“It’s so quiet in this part,” Winter pointed out. “Where are we going?”
“I have friends here,” Geth said. “I need to see if they’re all right.”
“Really?” Winter asked. “Isn’t that kind of silly? I mean, is anyone all right?”
“I need to check,” Geth said.
“You’re so thoughtful,” Phoebe said sincerely.
Winter rolled her dark green eyes again.
Away from the shores, Sycophant Run was quiet and still. There was no sign of a single sycophant anywhere.
“Where are all the ’phants?” Phoebe asked. “When I flew over this area a couple of days ago, there were so many out and about.”
“Most are probably hiding,” Geth answered her. “They’ve never known this kind of fear and chaos. There.” Geth pointed to a tiny dirt trail that twisted up and onto a thin knoll where a large, bare tree stood. “Come on.”
Geth walked quickly, sliding down a grassy slope and jumping onto the trail. Phoebe followed him and Winter took up the rear, still bothered by what she had seen on the shores and wishing her complete memory would come back. She could still recall only the things she had last been through in Reality. She couldn’t remember her first stint in Reality, before she had ever been snatched into Foo. She couldn’t reme
mber her first time in Foo, and the things she had done to fight against Sabine and to put into motion the plan to bring Leven in.
Winter jammed her right foot against a hard root and tumbled to the ground. She sat there in the dirt wondering who she really was and wishing Leven were here.
Geth ran back and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”
“No,” Winter said. “I feel like rot. Was this the plan?”
“Yes,” Geth said happily.
“Seriously?” Winter argued. “Our plan was to come to Sycophant Run and see all the hurt sycophants and then wander off without Leven and end up in the dirt? That was the plan?”
“You—” Geth started to say.
“Don’t talk about fate,” Winter growled. “If you say one more thing about fate, I think I’m going to puke. Of course, it does seem sort of fateful that you’re here making eyes at Phoebe, but for the rest of the world things are falling apart.”
“Making eyes?” Geth smiled.
“It’s like you’re a child,” Winter complained.
Phoebe raised her hand as if she needed permission to ask a question. “Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Geth?”
“What?” Winter guffawed.
“Feelings for Geth,” Phoebe said again. “You seem to have more than a usual amount of intensity over all this.”
“I . . .” Winter scoffed. “You’re insane. Just because I have a strong opinion doesn’t mean I’m hot for Geth.”
Geth just stood there staring at Phoebe.
“Besides,” Winter argued, “when you’re around, he has no clue I’m even alive.”
“That’s not true,” Geth said, looking at Winter. “Phoebe’s not insane.”
Winter threw up her arms. “I give up. Where are we going?”
“Excellent,” Geth said as if he had not noticed she was being sarcastic. “We’re almost there.”
The three of them stepped quickly up the small, jagged trail. On top of the hill stood a bare tree with dark bark and thousands of thin, naked branches. The branches swayed in the light wind. The tree itself was only about three times the height of Geth, with an exceptionally fat trunk. Geth reached out and touched the tree.
“This is what you were looking for?” Winter asked.
“It’s a sacred place for the sycophants,” Geth answered her. He gently tapped the bottom of the tree with his right foot. Five seconds later a small section of bark in the upper part of the tree slid back to reveal two tiny eyes looking out. The black eyes widened, and then the bark snapped quickly back into place. A large piece of the trunk at the bottom of the tree hinged open like a door, and an older sycophant with light fur and wide, wet eyes emerged.
“Geth?” the sycophant said happily, clapping his small hands.
“Rast,” Geth bowed. It seemed as if the two of them were going to hug each other, but they held back and respectfully just nodded toward one another.
“You’re alive,” Rast said. “Nothing could please me more.”
“And you, as always, are too kind.”
“There must always be room for kindness,” Rast said happily. “It would be a mess even uglier than the scene before us if all kindness were gone.”
“Oh, great,” Winter whispered to Phoebe. “He talks like Geth.”
“You’re right,” Phoebe said. “How fortunate.”
“Yeah, we’re pretty lucky.” Winter dropped her kilve and pulled off her robe, then sat down in the long, soft grass. She folded her robe up, placed it behind her head, and lay down on it. Phoebe sat down next to her with her legs crossed and her eyes barely open.
Geth and Rast continued to talk.
“This is the second great surprise I’ve had today,” Rast told Geth. “How I wish the feelings in the air weren’t so heavy. We would be celebrating, and the whole of Sycophant Run would be filled with laughter. Instead . . .”
Rast let his last word hang like a wet towel on a sagging clothesline—heavy and damp.
“Instead we hide and hope that others can fix our mistake,” Rast finally concluded. “It is a sad day.”
“Your mistake?”
“It was our responsibility to keep the exit hidden,” Rast reminded Geth. “We let the key get away and failed to shatter the map. Now hundreds of thousands flow freely through the exit.”
“It’s the failures of many that have brought us here,” Geth said. “Not you and your people. The darkness had been building in the sky for years. However, there’s still much to take place.”
“But is there hope?” Rast asked desperately.
“Oceans full,” Geth smiled. “Keep your people safe, Rast, and in the near future we will celebrate in a way much more fitting.”
“You always were my favorite lithen,” Rast smiled. “Now tell me, who are the beautiful beings you travel with?”
Geth looked at Phoebe and introduced her.
“Of course,” Winter mumbled from her spot on the ground. “Her first.”
“And this is Winter . . .”
Rast’s smile faded and his fur seemed to fade to a lighter shade.
“She’s been . . .” Geth started to say.
Rast held up his small right hand. The sign of the star was visible on his palm. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but could you hold for just a moment?” Rast moved back into the tree trunk and shut the door.
“Did you offend him?” Phoebe asked.
“Yeah,” Winter said, her eyes closed as she rested. “Was he mad that you were trying to out-philosophize him? Or that you said fate two times more than he did? Or that you were spending precious time introducing me when there was more to say about Phoebe?”
Geth sat down next to Winter just as the trunk of the tree opened once more. Rast stepped out, followed by another sycophant.
“Lilly,” Geth said happily.
Lilly’s eyes were red from all the tears she had cried in the last few hours. The sight of Sycophant Run and the horror over what others were doing was too great for her. More than that, however, had been the realization that Winter had left her to save her people and that she, Lilly, had behaved like a spoiled child. She had also been the one to retrieve the key to the sycophant secret. All the misery and pain her people were now going through was due to her. Winter had only wished to help. Lilly’s white fur was dusty, and her tall ears were folded forward. Geth looked from Lilly to Winter.
“Winter,” Geth said urgently. “Sit up.”
“What is it?” Winter asked.
“It’s Lilly,” Geth said, smiling.
Winter sat up and looked at Lilly. “Lilly?”
“Your sycophant,” Geth said.
Winter’s mind raced like a toy car that had been overwound and quickly released. She looked at Lilly, searching her brain for any hint of recognition. Lilly, on the other hand, needed no reminder. She bound up from where she stood and sprang toward Winter. She wrapped her small white arms around Winter’s neck and chattered excitedly.
“You’re back,” Lilly cried.
Winter began to cry—she wasn’t exactly sure why, but the moment just seemed to call for it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Peel Away the Skin and We’re All Quite Similar
The New Mexico sun beat down like a high-voltage heat lamp, warming up all the thousands of beings locked behind the tall chain-link fences. At first those from Foo were pretty patient, waiting calmly behind the fences for someone to tell them when they would be free. But as the scene became more and more crowded and the day got hotter and hotter, nits, cogs, and other beings began to lose it. There was hollering and shoving, and over the past few minutes the chain-link fences seemed in danger of being pulled down.
Still, despite all the anxiety and unknowing, the stream of refugees continued to flow up and out of Blue Hole Lake.
The Dearth was currently tucked away in the scuba shop waiting for the president of the United States to make a visit. Ezra, Dennis, General Lank, six guards, two other generals
, the ambassador from France, a Mexican liaison, and a doctor who was currently examining the Dearth were waiting with him.
Dr. Nook listened to the Dearth’s chest with his stethoscope. He moved the stethoscope around and then looked into the Dearth’s ear with a small light. Dr. Nook then took a pen from his pocket and jabbed it into his own leg.
“What the heck?” General Lank said.
Dr. Nook moaned, “Oww.”
“What are you doing?” Ezra hollered.
“I thought I might be dreaming,” Dr. Nook said. “I mean, a toothpick that’s alive, and now this person with the feet growing into the ground who has no heartbeat or pulse . . . or blood, for that matter.”
“He’s from Foo,” Elton explained.
“Amazing,” Dr. Nook said. “He will need to be further studied.”
“Now?” the Dearth asked mildly. “I have been most patient with all this, but I think it is about time you let me and those who have come go free. We were told that America was the land of the free.”
“That might be,” General Lank said. “But we just can’t let a couple hundred thousand aliens start wandering around the desert.”
“Aliens?” the Dearth said, bothered.
“You know,” General Lank said. “The Reality-challenged.”
“Stop being so nice to him,” Ezra barked. “I know we’re waiting for that bulb-headed president of yours to come here and tell us nothing we don’t already know, but you don’t have to treat this dirt clod so gently.”
The Dearth laughed as if Ezra were joking.
“I think what Ezra’s trying to say is that our feelings have changed,” Dennis informed them all.
“What?” Elton asked.
“Ezra and I have talked,” Dennis said. “We’re being fooled.”
“Fooled?” General Lank said.
“This old man sits here saying nice things and winking, and we’re falling for it,” Dennis said. “While he winks, all those he has brought with him are getting restless. They’re planning something.”