Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  “Come on,” Geth waved.

  They trudged across the field and into the mobile home park. Trash and pieces of building were strewn everywhere. A couple of tractors were moving stuff around while residents were shifting through the wreckage looking for personal belongings or valuables.

  “Reality is messy,” Lilly observed.

  “It’s not always this bad,” Winter said.

  They all followed Geth through the devastation and back to 1712 Andorra Court. That piece of property was completely cleared. All the topsoil was gone, and all that was left was the stump sticking out of the ground.

  “There it is,” Winter smiled.

  Geth stared at his old bottom half as Ezra crawled out from beneath his collar.

  “That’s us?” Ezra asked.

  Geth nodded.

  The stump was wide and hardening already. Ezra jumped down and felt it.

  “It’s cold,” he said. “We came all this way and killed Dennis for a cold stump?”

  “We came to wait,” Geth said calmly.

  “For what?”

  “For Leven.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Ezra barked. “We’re not just going to wait.”

  “I suppose we could help people clean up a bit.”

  “Girl!” Ezra called out. “Big eyes!”

  Winter turned from what she was looking at. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Well, I’m not talking to the pretty one,” Ezra snapped. “Did you know that we came all this way and killed Dennis just to wait?”

  Winter nodded, and Ezra swore accordingly. “Pretty one!” he then yelled.

  Phoebe floated over.

  “Did you know that we were coming all this way and killing Dennis to sit here and wait?”

  Phoebe looked sad. She reached down toward the stump to touch Ezra.

  “Don’t touch me,” Ezra hollered. “You’ll just make me angrier. Listen, I don’t know how the soft half of me operates, but I don’t fly across the world and kill somebody harmless just to wait. That is a sorry plan even if part of me did make it up. Now we’re here—why?”

  “To wait,” Geth said.

  “Not you, you big sack of moisture,” Ezra ranted. “Why?”

  Winter sat down on the ground leaning against the stump.

  “Sorry about Dennis,” she said.

  “What?” Ezra growled.

  “Sorry about Dennis,” Winter said again. “I know how much he meant to you.”

  “Where’s this coming from?” Ezra demanded. “I could care less what happened to . . . Dennis.” Ezra began to sob. He lay down on the stump and cried his eye out while Winter gently patted him on the back with her index finger.

  “He was so stupid,” Ezra wailed. “But he had a sort of janitorial smarts.”

  “I know,” Winter soothed.

  “He saved my life,” Ezra admitted. “And his pants were always so neatly pressed.”

  “He did look clean,” Phoebe tried.

  “And now that big lumpy part of me,” Ezra turned over just enough to point up at Geth. “That big lumpy part just wants to sit here waiting—or, worse yet, wants me to help clean up. I hate cleaning up.”

  “How about you just rest here on your stump?” Winter suggested. “We shouldn’t have to wait long.”

  Ezra turned over and lay flat on his crooked back. With his one eye looking up and his arms stretched out, he looked just about as pathetic as a fancy toothpick could.

  “He really was a decent person,” Ezra sniffed.

  “Just rest.”

  “He didn’t say a lot, but when he did talk it was so funny.”

  Winter looked at Phoebe and Geth, not knowing how to respond to that.

  “He . . .”

  Ezra passed out from exhaustion.

  Chapter Forty

  Sticks and Stones

  The English county of Wiltshire was normally quaint and serene. Thousands of tourists traversed its roads, but most of them were polite and simply in search of a photo op. You see, the county of Wiltshire is home to Stonehenge, one of the world’s most famous landmarks—earthen ditches built around large, oddly stacked slabs of stone sticking up from the green countryside. Yes, normally it was quite a nice place to visit, and certainly the sort of place you would want to bring your camera.

  But things weren’t normal.

  The Dearth had been showing up all over North America. He had moved through the soil at lightning speed, capturing any dark, dead souls long buried there. He had also reached above the soil in over a thousand places, pulling unsuspecting animals or people down into the earth.

  He had shown up in Portsmouth, Maine, at a petting zoo. Children were simply petting and playing when thousands of thin, dark strings had shot up and dragged every last animal down into the soil.

  The Dearth was enjoying the freedom and the seemingly limitless amount of soil in Reality. He had pushed under the Atlantic Ocean, and bits of him had begun to show up all over Europe.

  The world was scared to death.

  In Wiltshire County, not far from Stonehenge, the first signs of darkness had just appeared. A farmer was moving his sheep out of a pasture and into a barn with a solid floor when all of a sudden the ground began to rumble and crack. Innumerable tentacles flashed upward, wrapping themselves around the sheep and farmer.

  Currently dozens of police cars were racing to the scene, not having any idea what they could actually do to stop the phenomenon.

  “Do we shoot it?” one officer asked as they drove. He was sitting in the back of a white van filled with six other police officers.

  “They say bullets go right through,” the lead officer said.

  “Tie it up?” another questioned.

  “I don’t think that’ll work; it’s just a bunch of black strings.”

  “So why are we racing there?” a third one asked. “This is mental. Maybe we should be racing home to our families.”

  “I agree,” another officer said. “The world is a mess. What good can—”

  The police officers’ complaining was temporarily halted. And two of the officers swore—which of course is wrong even though when someone swears with an English accent it never sounds quite as bad.

  The driver slammed on the brakes. There before them, rising out of the green countryside, was what looked like a black, bubbling mountain. It looked almost as if someone had struck oil and now it was shooting out of the earth. Except for the fact that this blackness had a face and arms and was moving forward.

  “I never,” one of the officers whispered.

  The rest began to pray or chatter.

  The Dearth pulled himself up, standing two hundred feet out of the soil. The bottom of him rippled and flowed into the ground while his top half bubbled and popped. His head was gigantic and round, with bits of earth all over it. On his face were two deep pits for eyes and a large, gaping mouth. Long gone was the quaint little friendly Englishman. The true Dearth was alive and huge.

  The Dearth opened his mouth and screamed.

  Millions of tiny stones and bits of earth flew out from around him. A helicopter half a mile away fell from the sky.

  “Turn around,” one of the police officers yelled. “Get us out of here.”

  “But we’ve got to stop it,” another more valiant officer said.

  “How?” six officers screamed in unison.

  The Dearth shuffled toward Stonehenge and picked up one of the massive rocks with his long, sticky right arm. He heaved the rock, and it blasted into one of the police cars, sending it flying hundreds of feet.

  “Get out of here,” those in the van yelled.

  The Dearth grabbed another stone and threw it into a small house, obliterating the two-hundred-year-old structure and creating a crater in the ground.

  The sound of jets approaching from the south grew louder and louder. Then, almost magically, the planes appeared, firing at the Dearth. The Dearth just stood there absorbing every shot that hit him. The
jets circled back and fired heavily at the Dearth again. Once more the Dearth just stood there absorbing their shots.

  As the planes were circling around for a third time, the Dearth began to swell and expand. Then, just as the jets reached him, the Dearth expelled every shot that had been fired into him. The sky was filled with shrapnel flying in all directions. Two jets exploded and a third flew into the ground.

  Some of the police officers were actually crying now.

  The Dearth roared, and any trees within a mile in front of him were stripped of their leaves. The black monster picked up another piece of Stonehenge and threw it toward the police van. It missed, but the vibration from the stone hitting the ground caused the van to jump three feet before settling back down on the road.

  “Get us out of here!” one police officer yelled.

  The van raced down the street with its siren blaring as stone after stone smacked down next to it. The driver swerved and dodged as best he could, believing the next one would destroy them completely.

  A stone came down two hundred feet in front of them on the road, creating a huge divot in the earth. The van swerved and drove out over the countryside.

  “This isn’t good,” one of the police officers said, sweating.

  More jets arrived on the scene, and through the rear windows of the van the officers could see the Dearth sinking back into the earth.

  “How do we beat that?” one cried.

  “I’m not sure we can,” another replied.

  The van sped as quickly as it could away from the action.

  Chapter Forty-One

  All Together Again

  There’s nothing like coming home after being gone a long while. There’s just something you can’t duplicate about walking down the street you once lived on and stepping up to the door of the house you call home. But imagine that feeling if you had been gone for weeks. Or what if you had been taken to another realm and told you would never get back to see the ones you loved and left behind? What if you believed that you would never again touch the dishes you once set the table with or drink from the cups you once drank from or slept in the bed you once slept in? What if you had a husband or a wife and children waiting for you, but you had no way of telling them that you might never make it back? But then, what if you made it back?

  That would be a pretty nice feeling.

  Tim had stayed with Janet for a short while more. He had explained a number of things, told her all he knew about wispy Janet and Osck, and filled her in on Winter. Janet had cried and nodded the whole time, staring at Tim as if he were a ghost himself. At one point she had stopped him and told him she didn’t believe it, that she had just imagined her wispy self. At that point Tim had let Swig materialize and tell her she wasn’t imagining.

  Janet had touched Swig and cried.

  Now Tim was running down the street heading toward his home. He could see that a light was on in the kitchen window and that the grass needed mowing.

  “Which one is it?” Swig asked.

  “The yellow one with the red door,” Tim replied happily.

  They ran up the sidewalk and straight to the door. Tim tried the knob, but it was locked. Fighting the urge to pound the door down, he reached over and pressed the doorbell.

  A polite chime sounded.

  Tim stood there with his heart in his throat and his feet begging to move.

  “Who is it?” Tim’s wife, Wendy, asked through the door.

  “Tim.”

  Never in the history of mankind had three little letters evoked so much happiness and joy. Never had they announced so clearly that things, although bad, were about to get better. And never in the span of time had the name Tim been so wonderful to hear.

  The door flew open, there were screams, and then the kind of hugs that happen when you thought your children were missing and then you found them were given all around.

  “How?”

  “Where?”

  “Winter?”

  “Why?”

  “Foo?”

  Wendy had her red hair down, and her eyes, which had been heavy with sorrow and care just moments ago, now shone with light. She kissed her husband repeatedly on the face and neck. Tim’s two boys, Darcy and Rochester, wouldn’t let go of him. He finally had to fall back into a chair and pull them both onto his lap.

  “You went to Foo?” Darcy asked.

  Tim nodded.

  “No way,” Rochester said.

  Wendy clung to Tim’s right arm as he sat there, as if it were the last life preserver in the time of Noah.

  Swig cleared his throat, and all of them looked around.

  “What was that?” Wendy asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Tim smiled. “I brought you something from Foo. Swig?”

  Swig materialized on top of Tim’s left shoulder—posing in such a way as to look slightly majestic. All three of them jumped back. Wendy screamed.

  “What is it?” Darcy asked in amazement.

  “He’s a sycophant,” Tim said. “His name is Swig.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Swig said, bowing just a bit.

  All three of them let their jaws drop to the floor.

  “Will he bite?” Rochester asked.

  “Not unless you wish me to,” Swig said.

  “You know, Swig,” Tim said, “we’re not in Foo anymore. You’re welcome to think for yourself.”

  Swig smiled. “Well, then, I don’t bite.”

  The whole family gathered around the small, furry creature, marveling over him and over the fact that they were all together again. In a world where everything was wrong, it was nice to feel right, even if for just a moment.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  There’s Nothing Better Than Brisket

  The Rolling Greens Deluxe Mobile Home Park was none of the above. It was more like Burnt Culvert’s newest landfill. Like the rest of the world, it had been picked on by strange things and left for dead.

  Dooley Hornbackle had brought in a number of tractors to remove debris and help clear things out, but so far they hadn’t made a dent. Had the Rolling Greens Deluxe Mobile Home Park been torn apart during an average time in history, its inhabitants might very well have been able to roll up their sleeves, work hard, and one day restore the place. But the park had been torn apart during one of Reality’s most trying and difficult times. There were thousands of places in need, and nobody knew when their needs would be met.

  The only structure still standing was the cement shelter in the middle of the park. Most of the residents had found other places to stay, and only a few were bothering to come back and search the wreckage for salvageable items or personal mementos.

  Geth and Winter and Phoebe and Lilly had left Ezra to sleep it off. They were walking around the park helping anyone who wanted help. But soon the sky began to turn white and red, and what sounded like vulgar thunder rang though the air. The thunder had evidently taken on the bad habit of the thunder in Foo and was calling people names.

  “Pathetic,” the thunder cracked.

  Mr. Hornbackle spotted them and asked Geth to help him lift a bed off of a car. Geth helped, and Mr. Hornbackle then offered them brisket sandwiches and remarkably cold root beer. They sat under a sturdy tent out of the wind, near what used to be the entrance to the park.

  “Oh,” Phoebe said after taking her first bite and sip. “Now I see why people like Reality.”

  “It’ll never be the same,” Mr. Hornbackle said with a loud sigh.

  “What won’t?” Geth asked.

  “The world,” he replied. “It’s been a long time coming. I always suspected things would fall apart; I just didn’t think it would involve a whole other world.”

  “Foo, you mean?” Winter asked.

  “Foo,” he echoed softly. “You know, I was a pilot in World War II. We chased some lights over Germany one time that later became known as Foo fighters. That was a scary time, but now I fear Foo even more.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Geth said. “The
re’s nothing to fear but selfishness.”

  “Another sandwich?” Dooley offered.

  As Dooley handed Geth his second sandwich, Geth noticed the old man leaning to one side. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Dooley didn’t answer but continued to tip until he was lying on his right side with his eyes wide open.

  “Dooley!” Winter said.

  He didn’t blink or move in the slightest.

  “It’s happening,” Geth said.

  “What’s happening?” Winter asked.

  “Everything’s changing,” Geth answered. “We’re moving into the third day. Those who are older will fall first. Dooley might never get up again if Leven doesn’t come through.”

  “My wings don’t work,” Phoebe revealed. “I didn’t want to alarm anyone, but they stopped working a while ago.”

  “I don’t understand how Leven can affect any of this,” Winter said. “He’s so far away. We should never have left him in Foo.”

  “Don’t say that!” Geth snapped, banging the picnic table. The reaction was so unlike Geth that both Phoebe’s and Winter’s jaws dropped. “Those who doubt fate will be among the first to go. Leven will come through.”

  “Are you okay?” Winter asked.

  “I don’t know,” Geth answered honestly. “I need to talk to Ezra.”

  Dooley groaned.

  “Do you think he would mind if I took another one of those sandwiches?” Phoebe asked.

  “I don’t think he’s going to mind anything for a while,” Winter replied, grabbing another sandwich herself and handing it to Lilly.

  Once they were out from under the tent, a timid rain began to fall and the thunder picked up its insults.

  “Flightless,” it mocked Phoebe.

  “It’s so personal,” she said.

  “Hurry,” Geth urged.

  They worked their way back to 1712 Andorra Court. When they were about a hundred feet away, Geth ran to the stump. There was nothing there besides the purple tassel and the bent paper clip. Small flecks of green nail polish lined where Ezra had once lain.