by Obert Skye
“What about Geth and Winter?” Leven asked. “They’re in Reality.”
“They will stay there,” Frond said. “The exits will be closed and new keys will be required.”
“So I die and they’re trapped there?”
“I didn’t say it just like that,” Frond argued.
Leven looked at the axe. He looked at the tree and saw age and softness and wisdom.
“I still don’t understand,” Leven said.
The tree creaked and moaned.
“It’s not an end,” Frond said sadly. “It’s a beginning prophesied from the creation of time—a renewal. Everything decays, and it is time to clean the rot. And you’re the only person alive who can do it.”
Frond sobbed.
Clouds moved in above the tree and great bolts of pink light flashed over the tops of the mountains. Leven wobbled as the ground rolled.
The tree moaned loudly.
“What did it say?” Leven asked.
“Nothing,” Frond lied. The tree poked him from behind. “I can’t say it,” Frond cried and then disappeared.
Leven looked at the axe in his hands.
“It’s a beautiful tree,” Clover said reverently.
Leven threw back the axe and swung.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Explaining to Yourself
The town of Dependence, Iowa, was as scared and crazy as all of the other towns and places Tim had just driven through. The only difference was that this was home. Tim’s heart raced and his hands became sweaty. He had honestly thought that he would never make it back. Now here he was with Janet, Osck, and Swig.
“It looks like the city has been picked up and shaken,” Janet said weakly.
All over there were cars overturned and stores with broken windows. Three police cars passed them going south while two passed them going north. Tim looked at the gas gauge.
“We barely made it,” he said to Swig.
“I know,” Swig replied. “She’s hardly there anymore.”
Tim looked in the rearview mirror and his whirling heart fell. Janet was fading fast. He pushed on the gas and exited the highway, flying down into their old neighborhood.
Tim knew the city of Dependence well. He had picked up trash at almost every home there. And he knew the street he was now on particularly well. He could see his home at the end with the red door, but he turned into the curb instead, coming to a stop in front of Winter’s old house. Tim could see the curtains move as somebody peeked out.
“Hurry,” Tim yelled.
Osck tried to help Janet out of the jeep. There was even less for him not to be able to hold onto than before. They stepped along the very same uneven sidewalk that Janet the whisp had been created on and up to the door. Tim reached out and rang the doorbell.
There was no answer.
“I know someone’s in there,” Tim said, ringing the bell again.
“There’s a key beneath the rock,” Janet said weakly.
Tim picked up a big rock near a dead shrub and pulled out the key. He stuck it in the lock and opened the door.
“Hello,” Tim yelled out. “Janet?”
“Who is it?” the fleshy Janet yelled back from somewhere in the house. “I have a gun.”
“It’s me, Tim Tuttle. I live down the street. I was here about Winter.”
“So what?” Janet yelled back. “What’d you want? My money? My food?”
“No,” Tim hollered, stepping into the house.
“How’d you get in?” the fleshy Janet demanded, still not showing herself.
“It’s complicated,” Tim answered.
He motioned for Osck and wispy Janet to follow him. He then positioned wispy Janet in front of a white section of wall where she showed up best.
“Get out of my house,” fleshy Janet yelled.
“No,” Tim said back.
“Janet,” wispy Janet said to herself. “Come out, it’s me.”
“Who said that?”
Fleshy Janet slowly emerged from the kitchen holding a baseball bat. She was wearing the exact same yellow housecoat as her whisp version, but her eyes were puffier and her hair was as ratted and messed up as a crow’s nest.
Janet looked at her whisp self and gasped. “What is this?” she asked, frightened. “Is it a trick?”
“No trick,” Tim said gently.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at Osck.
“That’s Osck.”
“This isn’t right,” she insisted. “Get out.”
Tim ignored her request and kept talking. “A couple of weeks ago when you walked out to get the mail you accidentally stepped where you shouldn’t have and part of you was taken to Foo.”
“Foo?” fleshy Janet asked. “The place they keep talking about?”
Wispy Janet nodded.
“That’s me?” she pointed.
Another nod.
“I don’t believe—”
“Shut up,” wispy Janet ordered. “Just be quiet for a second. You—we—always did have a hard time letting anyone else speak. But I’m dying. In a few moments I’ll be gone. And I don’t care so much about that as I do about dying without you realizing how wrong we were. We had Winter for almost thirteen years and we treated her like garbage. No offense, Tim.”
“None taken,” Tim replied.
“Still, somehow she turned out to be a remarkable person who is at this moment trying to save the world.”
“Winter?” fleshy Janet said.
Wispy Janet nodded. “I—you—were wrong. So wrong to have treated her the way we did.”
“I did my best,” fleshy Janet said indifferently.
“We did our worst,” fading Janet cried. “We should have loved her. I know . . .”
“She’s going,” Swig said with alarm.
Osck tried to grab at her, but it was useless. Wispy Janet pulsated lightly and then faded, and faded, and faded.
“Be sorry,” she mouthed to her bulkier self as she disappeared completely.
Osck fell to his knees crying.
“No,” he wailed.
He turned over and over on the rug, writhing in agony. He then stopped, arching his back. His body flared a bright red; then, like a cold brick of coal, he dimmed to nothing but white ash. His form collapsed on fleshy Janet’s floor in a small pile of grey dust.
Janet looked at Tim, her eyes as wide as Frisbees. “That was real?”
“Very.”
“I came back to tell myself I was sorry?”
Tim nodded.
“I’ve not been feeling well for weeks,” she cried.
“You weren’t completely yourself.”
Fleshy Janet stepped over to her couch and sat down. Then, in a display of mucus, tears, and old makeup that might never be duplicated, she began to sob.
“I can’t believe anyone ever wanted to leave Foo for this,” Swig whispered reverently.
At the moment Tim had no rebuttal.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cloverine
The axe swung swiftly and silently through the air. The tool felt like an extension of Leven’s body. The act felt so natural, which is why what happened next was such a surprise to Leven.
Frond pounced from the tree and onto Leven’s arm, throwing his swing downward and into the ground. Bits of glass and soil shot up as Leven fell to the ground rolling. The axe bounced and flew across the courtyard while the clouds above began to rain blue streaks down.
“What are you doing?” Leven yelled.
“I won’t let you do it,” Frond screamed, baring his small white teeth. He leapt up from the ground, aiming for Leven’s neck.
“No way,” Clover hollered, moving in from the right side and knocking Frond down. “Nobody bites my burn but me.”
Frond and Clover rolled across the ground swatting at one another.
Foo shifted, and Leven had to brace himself against the tree to keep from falling. The tree moaned and creaked.
Frond disappeare
d.
“Alderam Degarus!” Leven yelled.
Frond reappeared midleap, diving for Leven. Clover sprang up and grabbed Frond by the ankles, causing both of them to hit the ground inches away from Leven.
“This isn’t about you,” Frond yelled. “You filthy sycophant.”
“Do you sing to your mother with that mouth?” Clover yelled back.
Frond looked confused. He grabbed Clover’s arm and yanked it backwards. Clover yelped and twisted, falling onto his back against the ground.
“Chop the tree,” Clover yelled out.
Leven scrambled onto his feet and ran for the axe. He picked it up, spun around, and got a face full of Frond. Frond was on his head scratching away at his hair and pulling clumps out.
“Stop!” Leven screamed.
Clover scurried up Leven and attacked Frond from behind, desperately trying to pull the sycophant off of Leven.
“I speak for the tree,” Frond screamed.
“Who cares?” Clover screamed back. Clover ripped Frond from Leven’s head and the two of them flew to the ground, crashing into a protruding root. Clover cried out and tried to twist out from under Frond, but Frond was kicking madly. He grabbed Clover’s ears and pulled.
A high-pitched screaming, like that of a yodeler being branded, rang out.
“Clover!” Leven yelled.
“Just chop the tree,” Clover yelled back.
Leven looked at the axe in his hand and then swung. Frond barreled into Leven’s left leg, causing him to flip forward and land on his face.
The axe slid up against the tree.
Clover jumped onto Frond’s shoulders, grabbed Frond’s eyebrows, and yanked up as hard as he could. Frond screamed and threw his head forward, propelling Clover down hard against the ground.
“Stay out of this,” Frond demanded.
“No way,” Clover yelled.
“You have no idea what’s at stake!”
“I don’t think I’d act any differently if I did,” Clover smiled.
“I speak for the tree,” Frond insisted.
“I speak for myself,” Clover insisted back.
The two of them leapt forward simultaneously, smacking into each other and tumbling to the side. Frond wrapped his right leg around Clover’s waist and spun him like a top. Clover whirled away yelping.
Leven got up and looked around for the axe. Frond spotted it first. He picked it up and hurled it across the courtyard.
“What are you doing?” Leven hollered. “You told me to cut the tree down.”
“I changed my mind.”
“What does the tree think?” Leven asked. “Foo is falling apart.”
The clouds above broke up just enough to show the smallest sun falling from the sky. The wind up above the monastery was swirling madly and pushing down into the courtyard.
“The tree will live,” Frond said.
Clover dashed in from the side, wrapped his arms around Frond, and tackled him. Leven didn’t waste a second. He ran to the axe, picked it up, and threw it at the tree. The axe whirled through the air but was stopped by Frond, who had pulled away from Clover just in time.
Frond threw the axe away as the tree smacked him from behind. The axe flew across the courtyard and through one of the windows.
“Get it,” Clover yelled. “I’ll hold him off.”
Leven scrambled to his feet and raced across the courtyard and into the building. The axe had flown through a third-story window, so Leven had to find some stairs. He spotted some at the end of the hall. He ran quickly, took the stairs three at a time, and spilled out on the third floor.
The axe was in the third room he checked. He picked it up and shoved the handle down the back of his pants. He then ran down the stairs and outside. Clover had just thrown Frond down against the glass path, and Frond was now picking glass from his fur and calling Clover names.
“Nit lover,” Frond yelled. “We have served for too long. Our moment is now.”
“I don’t even really know what that means,” Clover admitted, jumping on top of Frond and punching him directly in the face.
Frond’s small nose began to bleed. Clover looked at his fist, amazed by what he had done. Frond used the moment to flip Clover back over and pin him to the ground.
“No axe?” Clover yelled out as Leven came running up.
“I couldn’t find it,” Leven lied. “You’re faster.”
Clover rolled out from under Frond’s hold and shot toward the building. Frond followed after him. Leven moved to the tree and pulled the axe from the back of his pants.
The tree moaned deeply.
“Man, I hope you’re telling me to chop you down,” Leven said seriously. He then drew the axe back and with all his strength threw his arms forward. Leven spun in a circle and stumbled to the ground.
Frond had stolen the axe from his grip at the last moment.
“I’m not stupid,” Frond wailed.
Leven leaned up on his hands. “Well, you’re confusing.”
Clover was back. “I couldn’t find . . . hey, I thought you . . . oh.”
The sky turned red.
“I have obeyed every wish this tree has ever whispered,” Frond said. “But I’ve decided that I can’t let you chop it down. I love this tree.”
Leven closed his eyes. It had been some time since he had felt the kind of calm he needed to rest his eyes and look to the future.
There was nothing there. It reminded Leven of the scene he had witnessed when the Dearth had shown him the future. It was so dark and depressing Leven could barely breathe.
“Are you okay?” Clover asked. “Your eyes are wigging out.”
Leven stood up and looked down at Frond. “Give me the axe.”
“No.”
The tree jabbed Frond hard enough in the back to cause him to throw the axe forward. It landed at Leven’s feet. Leven picked it up and turned it in his hand.
“Move,” Leven commanded.
“I won’t let you do it,” Frond raged. He sprang toward Leven’s arm with his teeth bared. It was greatly forbidden for one sycophant to bite another sycophant’s burn—especially if it was out of anger. But Frond’s mind was warped, and the bit of his brain that showed him right from wrong was buried by a much larger, angrier bit that was looking to protect the tree.
Clover pulled one of the sticks he had refused to burn from his void and, holding it with both hands, shoved it toward Frond. Frond’s teeth bit down, hit the stick, and snapped it in two.
“How dare you?” Frond screamed. “If you had any idea of position and rank, you would bow to me and do my bidding.”
“Well, I guess I’m lucky I have no idea,” Clover yelled back.
Frond jumped forward and pushed Clover’s shoulders back down and against the ground. “This isn’t your fight.”
Clover closed his eyes and threw his hands to the side as if to deflect the blows. No blows came.
Clover opened his eyes.
Frond was sitting on him looking baffled. There were dark red marks across Frond’s chest, and the marks seemed to be oozing. Clover looked at his hands and marveled.
“Finally,” Clover whispered.
Leven looked down at Clover and smiled. “You got your claws.”
Most sycophants’ claws grew in when they were posted as guards on the shores of Sycophant Run. The claws would stay for the few years they served and then fall off. Clover, however, had never gotten his claws. It was a source of great embarrassment to him. Now, right when he needed them most, they had finally appeared.
“Claws?” Frond said, confused. He jumped off of Clover as quickly as he could.
Clover sprang to his feet and swiped his claws though the air. Frond looked like he had just swallowed something disgusting.
“Leven,” Clover said calmly, “chop down that tree.”
Frond turned as if to make a move, but Clover simply scraped his claws together. The sound was full of pain and portend. Frond began to sob.
“Do you cry for the tree as well?” Clover asked.
Leven gripped the axe, stepped forward, and swung. The axe sliced into the tree’s trunk, sending out sparks of fire from bits of metal in the wood. Leven fell down unconscious next to it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hurry Up and Wait
There are people who believe in you. You might not always believe that yourself, but there are—parents, teachers, neighbors, relatives, me. I know that no matter what is thrown at you, you’ll recover amazingly.
Leven lived the first thirteen years of his life surrounded by people who didn’t believe in him. They may have stunted his growth or knocked him down a hundred pegs or so, but they couldn’t erase the fact that he was something much more than they believed. Every time they told him he was nothing, they simply made it that much more difficult for him to believe he was something. But once the darkness of their influence and attitude was removed from his life, Leven truly began to understand that he was much more than he had ever thought. And part of the reason he felt like he did now was because of Geth.
Even as a toothpick, Geth had made sure that Leven understood what he really was. And as a man, Geth had followed through, never wavering in his belief in Leven.
Never.
Geth knew that in the end Leven would not only become what he must, he would believe wholeheartedly in what he was doing.
“I hope Leven comes through,” Winter said.
“Don’t worry,” Geth smiled. “He will.”
The helicopter settled onto the ground and the rotors instantly began to slow. Geth, Winter, Phoebe, Ezra, and Lilly jumped out.
“I can’t believe we made it,” Winter said.
“Not all of us did,” Ezra said angrily.
“Sorry,” Winter tried.
Ezra crawled under the collar of Geth’s robe.
“Where are we?” Phoebe asked.
“Burnt Culvert, Oklahoma,” Geth answered.
The helicopter had landed in the field just next to the Rolling Greens Deluxe Mobile Home Park. They had seen the rubble and debris from the air and decided it would be best to land outside of it. The weather was calm at the moment, but they had seen avalands and telts not too far away while flying.