by Obert Skye
“That is correct. There are those who would lead you to believe in fables and fairy tales. We are here to make sure you understand how foolish that is—how dangerous that is. People who believe in fairy tales are foolish. Do you understand?”
Leven was silent, his brown eyes clouded over and dull. He couldn’t fight the strength of the shadow.
“Understand?” the shadow whispered again, blowing his words into Leven’s right ear.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” Leven said, as if in a trance.
“That’s a good boy,” the shadow approved. “We wouldn’t want you trusting in foolish dreams only to end up hurt . . . or worse.”
Sabine’s shadow was a perfect example of uneasy. He didn’t speak English, he spoke anguish. His vowels made the hair on the back of Leven’s neck stand up, and his consonants sent shivers down his spine. As he spoke, the shadow’s essence swirled around Leven, stealing any hope or confidence from him.
“You don’t want to get hurt, do you?” it asked.
Leven looked at the glowing eyes of Sabine’s shadow. Its narrow shoulders were crooked, and its wide, thin-lipped mouth was full of jagged, decayed teeth. It seemed to Leven as if he had seen this vision before—maybe in a book, or in a dream, or on a napkin holder.
“Go home, Leven,” the shadow reasoned. “Forget what you have heard—before you make a mistake, before it’s too late.”
“But—” Leven tried.
“No!” the shadow hissed. “You can affect nothing. Remember that. You can affect nothing. We would hate to see you or someone you care for hurt because of your foolishness.”
It patted Leven on the head. Its touch was empty.
“Trust no one,” it whispered.
A low wind blew, and Leven brushed his bangs back from his eyes. The shadow had vanished. After a few moments Clover whispered. “Is it really gone?”
Leven continued to stand there.
“That was a strong shadow,” Clover said, all the playfulness gone out of his voice. “We have to find Geth and Winter and get out of here.”
Leven just stood there.
“That will involve walking,” Clover pointed out, motioning for Leven to go forward.
“He was telling the truth, Clover,” Leven finally spoke. “I don’t belong in this. Someone could get hurt.”
“Truth is so subjective,” Clover waved. “Besides, we’ve all been hurt before. Windy Stein,” Clover mocked, his ears fluttering. “Who does she think she is? She didn’t even try to get to know me,” Clover sniffed. “I would have made—”
Leven’s stare stopped Clover.
“Right, we should get going.”
“You don’t understand,” Leven said seriously. “I’m out. Find Winter and let her know. If she still believes in all this she can take you and that toothpick back to Foo.”
“You are so fickle,” Clover complained. “You’re stronger than the shadows,” he urged.
“I can’t go,” Leven replied.
“What will you do? In all honesty I’m not supposed to leave your side.” Clover panicked. “I’m already going to get it for some of the things I’ve done here.”
“Sorry,” Leven said kindly. “But I didn’t tell you to come.”
Clover frowned. “There’s no way of talking you out of this?”
“No,” Leven answered, his eyes betraying his true discomfort over being himself at the moment.
“Well, I hate to do this.” Clover disappeared.
“Do what?” Leven asked the air, looking around for Clover.
Clover sank his teeth into the back of Leven’s neck and shook his head, releasing tiny drops of fluid that instantly knocked Leven out. A little known fact about sycophants is that they love to serve, but every once in a while, they just plain get sick of helping others. For such times and needs, nature has blessed them with a secret weapon: a venom that knocks out whomever they bite and allows the sycophants to have a little needed me-time. The truly wonderful thing about the venom is that it doesn’t actually cause its victims to sleep, it just puts them in a trance where they are shown pictures and scenes of sycophants and learn how wonderful sycophants are.
Clover released his bite, and Leven dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Sorry,” Clover said, pushing on Leven to roll him behind a thick stretch of tall corn. “Pleasant viewing.”
Clover jumped away in search of Winter.
iv
Winter and Geth weren’t too terribly hard to find. Winter had planted herself at the main bus stop on the main road into town, hoping whenever Leven did wander back she would see him. She was sitting there wishing she had something to eat when Clover showed up. Actually, he didn’t exactly show, but he drew near to her and spoke.
“Miss me?” he asked.
“Clover,” Winter said with excitement, to nothing but air.
“Save the gushing,” Clover smiled, his blue eyes materializing. “I have Lev.”
“Where?” Geth spoke up from within her pocket.
“I sort of bit him.”
“Sort of?”
“I mean, it’s not like I took a chunk out of him. He’s all right. Just sound asleep.”
“He shouldn’t sleep,” Geth said with concern.
“Um,” Clover hesitated. “It’s not exactly sleep. He’s kind of under a spell.”
Confused, Winter shook her head.
“Let’s go get him,” Geth ordered.
Clover hopped on top of Winter’s still-shaking head and gave her directions. It was dark, but they found Leven lying there on the ground, peaceful and quiet.
“He looks so young when he’s resting,” Clover cooed. “He’s growing so fast.”
“What happened?” Geth asked. “Why’d you bite him?”
“He wanted to leave again.”
“Again?” Winter questioned.
“When he got me down from the fence he was ready to dash. But I talked him out of it,” Clover said proudly. “But then he changed his mind.”
Leven shivered and shifted. He muttered something about sycophants being great.
“Oh, I wish I had a blanket,” Clover said in a motherly tone. “Silly me,” he said, slapping his furry forehead. “I do.” Clover reached into his void and pulled out a pretty pink blanket with lace around the edges. Winter smiled.
“It’s my sister’s,” Clover explained defensively.
Winter smiled wider.
Clover laid the blanket on top of Leven, and the lace contracted and worked itself until Leven was wrapped snuggly. Clover continued talking.
“Anyhow, Lev and I were working our way back across the prairie, and we ran into a tall shadow with really bad teeth. I’m sorry. I think even if you’re going to be sinister you can take five minutes a day to floss and brush. I had a short spell when I was a kid when I wasn’t exactly the best sycophant, but I always—”
Winter cleared her throat to bring Clover back to the conversation at hand.
“Oh, yes. Anyway, this shadow was tall and spoke uneasily.”
“Sabine’s shadow,” Geth said softly. “We saw him, too.”
“He started talking junk to Lev about fairy tales and not trusting people. Lev seemed to buy into it, said he was done, and that I should tell you two to go on without him.”
Winter and Geth stared at Clover.
“So I bit him,” Clover added nonchalantly. He gazed dreamily at Leven. “I hope he’s seeing good things.”
“We have got to get him out of here,” Geth said authoritatively. “I think it will help him change his mind once we are on our way. Besides, the time is getting short.”
“Where are we going?” Winter asked.
“To the gateway.”
“Is it far?”
“Only halfway around the world,” Geth said casually.
Winter shrugged as if it were no big deal to travel halfway around the world with a toothpick, a sycophant, and an offing who didn’t want to be there. I suppose i
f a person had been through what she had been through, they too might not see any great challenge in simply traversing thousands of miles to make their way to the mysterious gateway.
“How are we going to carry Lev?” Winter asked.
The ground began to lightly vibrate and then rumble. Winter’s face turned as pale as new paper. She probably would have passed out, figuring it was a new herd of avalands coming to get them, if it had not been for the low whistle that accompanied the vibrating.
Somewhere in the distance a train was coming.
“Do you think you can drag him to the train tracks?” Geth asked Winter.
“Sure,” she replied. “But there’s no way we’re going to be able to get him onto a moving train.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Clover promised, evaporating into the air.
“I’d help you drag him, but . . .” Geth smiled apologetically.
“Don’t worry about it,” Winter said. She pulled Leven’s arms out of the blanket and took hold of his wrists. She began walking backward and dragging his limp body toward the sound of the approaching train.
Chapter Twenty-Four
All Aboard
Bennett Williams was a train engineer. He had been one for just over seven years. In high school he had wanted to be a biologist who lived by himself out in the wilderness, observing the living habits of wolves. But then he met a nice girl who didn’t share his dream, so he became an engineer. It wasn’t a bad deal. He got to spend a lot of time by himself, watching the world fly by, and still go home to a wife and family.
At the moment Bennett was hurtling over the state of Oklahoma, pulling fifty cars and two additional engines and whistling a song he couldn’t quite name but thought sounded mournful. He wasn’t alone, thanks to Roy, his fireman, who was sitting in a soft chair nearby, snoring blissfully.
It was well past midnight, and Bennett was making good time. The cab of the locomotive was a bit warm, and it felt good to occasionally hold his head out the open window. He checked his gauges and routinely adjusted a couple of controls. When he looked up, there appeared to be a misshapen cat in a doll’s dress hovering in the air and staring right at him. Startled, the engineer flinched, and the cat thing was gone.
Bennett looked around the cab, his adrenaline suddenly racing. He glanced over at his companion, who was still sleeping. He rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the strange creature was flying right at his head.
“Ah!” Bennett threw his hands up in front of his face to protect himself, but the creature was gone again.
The noise had been enough, however, to wake Roy. Roy looked over at Bennett and blinked. Bennett was still holding his hands in front of him and frantically looking around the cab of the locomotive.
“Are you okay?” Roy asked.
“I’m not sure,” Bennett breathed. “I think I saw . . . well, I was . . . oh, I’m sure it was nothing,” Bennett waved, too embarrassed to explain.
Clover appeared on the top of Bennett’s head, then quickly disappeared. Roy’s jaw dropped as he pointed to where Clover had been.
“What was that?” Roy gasped.
“What was what?” Bennett asked, twisting to see behind him.
“It looked like—”
Clover showed up on Roy’s head, and Bennett hollered. Clover was at the window. Gone. He was on Bennett’s head. Gone. Flying though the air. Gone. On Roy’s leg. Gone. On Bennett’s face. Gone. Clover was appearing and disappearing at such a rapid rate it looked like he was at least fifty sycophants in the air.
Bennett and Roy were swatting and screaming and brushing and stamping. Roy was having the most difficult time, crying and cursing and begging for whatever it was to go away. Bennett was swatting the air around his head and trying to catch his breath.
“Stop the train!” Roy screamed. “Stop the train!”
Both of them were too busy swinging and kicking at nothing to notice the big smile on Clover’s face as Bennett frantically worked the brakes.
Clover’s plan was working perfectly.
ii
Leven’s wrapped-up heels created a wavy track in the dirt as Winter struggled to drag him across the prairie and toward the train tracks. In the distance, she could see the lights of the engine as it barreled closer. Winter stopped to wipe her brow, and Geth looked up at her from the inside of her pocket and grinned.
“I’m not sure why you’re smiling,” Winter said. “There’s no way Clover can stop that thing.”
A loud screeching noise screamed out into the night. It was high-pitched and sounded like a pack of howler monkeys being slowly squashed by a steamroller.
With its brakes locked, the train was slowing. Geth smiled even wider. Winter tugged on Leven’s wrists and began straining backward again as the wheels of the heavy train screeched in protest at being slowed down.
Winter reached the side of the tracks just as the locomotive came to a shuddering stop. Dust and steam and the smell of burning coal filled her nose and burned her eyes. Winter stopped and dropped Leven’s arms to catch her breath. Her messy blonde hair was wet with perspiration. Winter was standing about in the middle of the train’s length, but even in the dark she could see two men jump out of the cab of the engine up ahead, frantically swatting at the air around their heads and yelling.
“What’s that all about?” Geth asked, peeking out of her pocket.
“I have no idea,” Winter replied, looking down the length of the train for an open car. “There,” she pointed. She picked up Leven’s wrists again and dragged him behind her. The boxcar was high, with an open door that Winter herself could have easily gotten up into, but she didn’t know how to work Leven up. He was a couple of inches taller and weighed at least twenty pounds more than she did.
“Hang his hands on the edge and lift him from the legs,” Geth suggested, apparently trying to think of a solution as well.
Winter somehow wrestled the limp Leven to his feet and stood behind him, holding him up in her arms. She managed to lean him forward and drape his hands on the floor of the boxcar in the open doorway. But they just kept slipping off.
Frustrated, she laid Leven face down on the ground and hooked his blanketed heels on the train and lifted him from his shoulders, trying to push him up and on. It was no use; his limp body just kept folding.
“Can’t we wake him up?” Winter asked as the train began making noise. “They’re starting back up.”
“Only Clover can wake him up from his bite.”
Winter looked around, wondering where Clover was.
“You could freeze him again,” Geth suggested.
Winter shrugged. She laid Leven down with his face up and his feet pointing toward the train. She pulled his arms up over his head and pictured him frozen.
In an instant he was just that.
She picked his rigid body up by the shoulders and strained to carefully lean him up against the train.
The engine whistle sounded.
Winter put her arms around his legs and lifted. It felt as if Leven weighed four hundred pounds. She lowered him back to the ground.
“I can’t lift him,” she cried.
“You have to,” Geth yelled above the noise of the train warming up.
“He’s too heavy,” Winter protested. “Let’s wait for the next train, or for Clover.”
“No,” Geth said in an unusually stern voice. “We don’t have the time to waste.”
Winter looked around frantically. “I could freeze him to the train,” she said, half jokingly.
“Do it,” Geth said, as the train began to inch ahead. Winter lugged Leven to the couplings between the boxcars. With the train beginning to move, she hoisted him up and balanced him on the hitch and pictured him frozen there. Again, her gift worked perfectly, and Leven was securely attached to the train.
Backing out of the space between the slowly moving cars, she jogged alongside the moving train, glancing at Leven’s face. He looked relaxed despite the fact that he
was iced. The frozen blanket wrapped around him made him appear almost cozy. Winter couldn’t help but smile at her handiwork.
“Jump on,” Geth shouted, reminding her that all her work would be for nothing if the train got away without her.
It was gaining speed. Winter ran as fast as she could to keep ahead of the boxcar. She grabbed the door, her feet flying and her hands gripping tightly. She counted to three, bounced her feet, and pulled herself up, rolling onto the wooden floor. Her head was spinning, but except for some sore muscles and scrapes, she was still intact. She felt her pocket to make sure Geth was still there.
“I’m here,” he said as she pinched him.
She rubbed her side where she had scraped it on the train and crawled to the open door of the boxcar.
“Is he still there?” Geth asked.
“I can’t see him, but I can’t imagine where he would have gone,” Winter smiled.
There was a pile of packing quilts in the corner of the empty car, and Winter spread them out to make a half decent bed. She folded one to create a pillow.
“Where do you think we’re going?” she asked Geth as she made herself comfortable.
“East,” was Geth’s only reply.
“Is that good?”
“Perfect,” Geth smiled. “We should run into Germany eventually.
“Germany?” Winter asked.
“Germany.”
“Why?”
“That’s where the gateway is,” Geth said, yawning.
Winter pulled a quilt over her, thinking of Leven still frozen to the moving train. “He did say my hair was ratty,” she rationalized.
Geth smiled.
“Germany,” she whispered, wondering what a foreign country looked like and if they would actually make it. If Sabine was there, she half hoped they wouldn’t. Exhausted, she fell asleep before she could question Geth further.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leaving on a Midnight Train to Danger
Winter, Geth, Leven, and Clover reached the town of Cincinnati, Ohio, a day and a half later. Clover had joined the others shortly after Winter had fallen asleep. He would have gotten to them sooner, but he had wanted to hear the conversation the train engineer and his fireman had after they had stopped the train and started it up again. Clover didn’t really think staying for the conversation had been worth it, seeing how the two of them had basically just bawled and agreed to never speak about the incident to anyone ever.