Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  Free of its victims, the snake shook its giant head and whipped its tongue, creating small whirlwinds of dust. It glared at Winter and Leven and hissed loudly, then lifted its huge head and thrust it down into the earth, returning to where it came from.

  “We’re free?” Winter coughed, standing up and inhaling as deeply as she could.

  “You two did it,” Geth smiled. “Can you unthaw him?”

  “I think you mean, thaw him,” Winter said, flipping her hands and flinging gook around. “But not yet. I don’t appreciate people calling my hair ratty.”

  Geth liked that.

  Winter wiped some of the gunk from her face and spit more dirt from her mouth. She looked down at Leven under the quarter moon and smiled. He wasn’t exactly in a very dignified position. Thanks to being crammed in a snake’s belly he had been frozen in a rather grotesque way. One leg was bent up toward his stomach and the other was sort of twisted and bent back. His hands were in front of him as if he were a very uncoordinated person about to play peek-a-boo. His facial expression was the most unflattering thing. He was bug-eyed, and his mouth looked like a goldfish’s out of water, trying to suck in air.

  Winter took Geth out of her pocket to give him a better look. She had never seen a toothpick laugh so hard.

  “Should I thaw him now?” she asked.

  “Unless you want to carry him.”

  Winter touched Leven on the arm, and he instantly thawed. He stretched out and moaned. In a few moments he was a limp body lying on the prairie floor. He coughed a couple of times, opened his eyes, and looked up. He blinked. Winter was leaning over him with her hands on her knees and her ratty hair hanging down toward him.

  “It worked?” Leven shivered, looking around in amazement.

  “It worked,” Winter smiled, extending her hand and helping him up.

  “Sorry about the hair comment,” Leven said. “I just needed you to want to freeze me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Winter grinned. “I haven’t given it a second thought,” she lied. “So, what now?”

  “Is there really a toothpick?” Leven asked.

  Winter took Geth back out of her pocket and placed him in the palm of her hand. She held him out for Leven to see. Geth bowed.

  “Leven Thumps,” he said formally, “I am Geth.”

  Leven didn’t know if he felt worse being in the stomach of a snake miles underground or being on top of the soil and realizing his future was dependent on a talking toothpick.

  “You’re so small,” Leven said in shock. “You can’t be Geth.”

  “I am,” Geth reconfirmed, giving no apology for his state.

  “You’re a toothpick.”

  “At the moment.”

  “Clover said the fate of our world depends on you.”

  “In a sense that’s true,” Geth said humbly.

  Leven looked at Winter. “I can’t do this,” he complained to her, his mind still under the influence of the memory of the shadows. “I barely believed in myself when I thought Geth was a great and powerful king. Now, we’re supposed to save the world with the help of a sliver? What are we going to do, poke people? Clean their teeth for them?” Leven’s thoughts were still black.

  “Lev—” Winter tried.

  “I’m sorry,” he waved. “This is all wrong. Someone is playing a joke on me. Where are the cameras?” He looked around as if this were all some elaborate scam.

  Leven turned back to Geth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one to take us to . . . Foo?” he said sarcastically. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see you being capable of taking us anywhere. If it were up to you we would still be in the stomach of that snake, waiting for fate to figure things out.”

  “Fate did,” Geth said strongly.

  “I did,” Leven pointed out.

  “With the help of fate,” Geth added.

  “Fate did nothing. If fate is so great why shouldn’t I just lie here on the ground and wait for it to carry me off to Foo?”

  “That would be foolish,” Geth said honestly.

  “Arrgh!” Leven hollered, throwing up his hands, the white in his hair bristling. “I can’t do this.”

  “Lev—” Winter tried again. “Sabine is—”

  He waved her off. “I need to think.” Leven looked at both of them, his brown eyes full of hurt and confusion. “I don’t exactly like being chased by shadows and swallowed by snakes. I told you, I’m not the right one. I’m sorry.” He shook his head sadly and walked off.

  “Should we follow him?” Winter asked Geth, her head throbbing.

  “No, he’ll find us,” Geth replied casually.

  Winter put Geth in her pocket and looked out toward Leven as he slouched away. She sighed and turned to walk in the opposite direction toward town.

  ii

  “A toothpick?” Leven asked himself as he shuffled across the prairie. “A toothpick? Not even a stick or a log, but a toothpick? The world’s in jeopardy,” Leven mocked. “I know, let’s send an orphan and a toothpick. That should take care of the problem.”

  The ground crunched beneath Leven’s feet as he walked across the moonlit prairie. He looked up at the fuzzy moon and twisted to see if he could still spot Winter walking away from him. She was long gone. As he turned back to face forward he practically ran into the tall chain link fence they had scaled earlier. He had been so busy dwelling on his misfortunes, he hadn’t even seen it coming.

  “Clover,” he said, remembering.

  Leven followed the fence toward the east, wondering if Clover had been able to get himself out. Before long he began to hear the muffled sound of someone singing.

  “Forty-seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety pretty nits on my mind. Forty-seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety. Take one out? No! Too full of self-doubt. Forty-seven thousand, eight hundred and eighty-nine pretty nits on my mind. Forty-seven thousand—”

  Leven ran to the sweatshirt dangling from the barbed wire and yelled up.

  “Clover!”

  “Lev?” Clover said, stopping his song, his voice muffled by the sweatshirt he was tangled in. “Oh, great, now I lost count.”

  Leven climbed up on the fence and reached up. He tugged at the sweatshirt, but it would not come unhooked from the barbed wire.

  “I’m trapped here forever,” Clover lamented casually, as if he were just doing what was expected.

  “I’ll get you out. Hold on.”

  Leven held onto the shirt with one hand and jumped down. He hung there for a second until his weight caused the sweatshirt to rip away, dropping Clover and him straight to the ground.

  Leven got to his knees and unwrapped Clover.

  “You’re supposed to be saving me,” Leven smiled, happy to see his friend.

  Clover grinned. “This makes us even.” Clover bounded up as if to hug Leven, but he stopped, cleared his throat, and stuck out his hand for a shake.

  Leven accommodated him.

  “Besides,” Clover went on. “I could have gotten myself out. I was just resting.” He smiled at Leven. “Now, where are Winter and the sliver?” Clover asked.

  “I left them back there,” Leven said, pointing, the smile erased from his face. “I’m not going with them,” he added.

  “What? Are you crazy?” Clover jumped. “What else would you do?”

  “I’ll think of something. Something that doesn’t involve dying,” Leven said bitterly.

  “Like what?” Clover said, interested.

  “I don’t know. All I’m sure of is that in the last couple of days I have almost been killed at least twice.”

  “Wow,” Clover said, confused. “I’ve seen things way differently. It seems to me that in the last few days you were finally living.”

  Leven was silent. Clover’s reasoning seemed to hit home. His head was just so full of dark thoughts and confusion. Sabine’s shadows had really worked a number on him.

  “I just can’t do it,” Leven finally said. “It’s impossible.”

&
nbsp; “Exactly.” Clover smiled, as if they had just had an incredible breakthrough. “It seems impossible. That, Funny Man, is why we must get you to Foo.”

  “Funny Man?” Leven asked.

  “I’m trying to come up with an endearing nickname for you,” Clover said. “Ever since Winter came and started calling you Lev. I had that first, you know.”

  “Well, keep trying,” Leven sighed. “Funny Man doesn’t work.”

  Clover cleared his throat. “So let’s get you to Foo.”

  “The space between possible and impossible,” Leven said, imitating Clover’s voice.

  “Exactly.”

  Leven shook his head tiredly. “You’re so agreeable.”

  “So will you go?”

  Leven sighed. “Geth is a toothpick,” he complained.

  “Winter is a thimble?” Clover replied hesitantly.

  “What?”

  “Oh, sorry. I thought we were talking in code,” Clover shivered. “We have to get back. You’re confused, but you will see clearly someday.”

  Leven sighed again. He picked up Clover and set him on his shoulder.

  “So we’re going?” Clover asked again, wanting to be sure.

  “I guess so,” Leven said unenthusiastically.

  “That’s the spirit,” Clover cheered, his robe sparkling under the slight moon.

  Leven looked at the moon, gauged where they were, and began working his way back to a girl he still barely knew, and to a talking toothpick that claimed he could save the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Strength of Shadows

  Winter walked quickly through the trees. She had wanted to go around the grove, but Geth had assured her that they would be fine. The landscape was a mess. The ground before her was the very place where the avalands had risen out of the earth and run after them. Trees lay strewn about and dirt was heaped up in mounds all over.

  “Where did they come from?” Winter asked Geth as she walked nervously through the trees. “The avalands, I mean.”

  “This was the work of Sabine and his shadows. Their touch brought them to life. Sabine understands earth.”

  Winter stepped over fallen tree limbs and made her way around the jagged holes in the ground. Moonlight filtered through the blasted trees, creating a pattern of shadows in the dark grove. She looked to the moon, and when she glanced forward again there was someone or something standing in front of her.

  Winter gasped, placing her hand to her heart.

  In front of her hovered a single shadow, thin and black, wearing a cloak and a hood. Though his face was dark, his evil features were visible—a long, narrow face, a nose that twitched as if smelling something foul, and deep, sunken eyes that glowed against the darkness of its hood. His stance suggested superiority.

  “Hello,” the shadow whispered hoarsely. As he spoke his open mouth looked like a hole right through him.

  “Hello,” Winter responded weakly, moving to go around him, her heart thumping wildly.

  “Do not be frightened,” it said coldly, his voice a hollow echo. “Stop yourself.” He held up a long, thin hand with slim, crooked fingers.

  Winter stopped.

  “That’s better,” it whispered. “We know you.”

  Winter held her eyes down, trying to squelch the fear inside of her. She was having trouble breathing.

  “You are not from here,” the shadow breathed. “You are not from here.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said quickly, knowing she had been recognized.

  Sabine’s shadow placed its hands behind its back and drifted slowly around Winter, looking closely at her.

  “You are alone?” it asked.

  Winter thought about mentioning Geth, but something held her back.

  “I am alone,” she whispered bravely, pushing her hair back so the shadow could see the strength of her eyes.

  “Where is the boy, Leven?” it questioned.

  “He gave up.”

  Sabine’s shadow smiled. “He’s smarter than we give him credit for. You would do well to follow his example,” it exhaled.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Winter insisted.

  “We think you do,” the shadow hissed softly. “There is another.”

  “Another what?” Winter said harshly.

  “Another spirit,” it shuddered.

  “There are thousands of spirits,” she pointed out. “Billions.” She turned to follow the eyes of the shadow as it continued to circle her.

  It laughed, its laughter sounding like a cold, wicked confession that sent chills down Winter’s spine all the way to the pads of her feet. She wanted to run away, but she felt as if her ankles were shackled to the ground.

  “Not just any spirit,” the shadow clarified. “This one is different.”

  “Well, I can’t imagine what it would have to do with me,” Winter lied. “I’m done with all this.”

  The shadow’s eyes burned. Something in the last thing Winter had said to it caused its dark soul to churn.

  “You are Winter?” it questioned in disbelief. “Winter?”

  “I’m going,” she said, stepping quickly away and picking up her pace.

  Sabine’s shadow didn’t follow. But it watched her as she fled, then it slowly dissolved, leaving nothing but moonlight in the grove.

  ii

  Looking frantically over her shoulder, Winter splashed quickly across the river and ran toward Burnt Culvert. She wanted to be as far away from what she had just seen as possible. Her heart was thumping even harder than when she had been chased by the avalands.

  She reached the edge of town and felt some relief. Winter could see a couple of people and lights and life going on. She ran up the street and stepped into the doorway of a new hotel. No one was near.

  “Who was that?” she asked Geth quietly. She had still not caught her breath completely.

  “Sabine’s strongest shadow,” Geth answered. “He’s here for me and Leven. They give Sabine the chance to view us from Foo.”

  “We need to get back to Lev.” Winter was panicked. “He’s out there alone. Sabine will find him.”

  “We can’t stop that from happening now,” Geth said honestly. “It’s out of our hands.”

  “But what if we—”

  “Leven will be okay,” Geth said calmly, interrupting her concern.

  Winter had her doubts.

  “I remember him,” Winter whispered. “Sabine.”

  “You should,” Geth said, “he tried to destroy you once. Antsel stopped him.”

  “How is that possible?” she asked.

  “You’ll understand soon.”

  “Now we’re heading back to him?” Winter asked, sounding more panicked than she wanted to admit.

  “And he’s heading toward us,” Geth said seriously.

  Winter shivered. She had more to fear then she had thought.

  iii

  Leven’s head was clearing, and he was beginning to feel a bit better. It just felt kind of normal for him to be with Clover, heading toward Winter. Clover was right that Leven was leaving nothing great behind. Leven had nothing to lose by following this adventure to the end. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t get his mind to believe it.

  “Want some gum?” Clover asked, reaching into the pouch on the front of his cloak.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Who says no to gum?” Clover teased. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I don’t normally say no, but I’ve been burned by some of your snacks before,” Leven reminded him.

  “How was I to know you wouldn’t like the taste of roaches? This is different,” Clover smiled, taking a chunk of gum out of a round tube. He tossed it in his mouth and began to chew.

  “Stop it!” a voice rang out.

  Startled, Leven looked around. Clover kept chewing.

  “Help me. Oh, someone, please help me!”

  “Is that you?” Leven asked, alarmed that he couldn’t pinpoint exa
ctly where the cries were coming from.

  “Nah, that’s just my gum,” Clover chewed. “It’ll stop complaining in a moment.”

  “Please, won’t somebody help me?” the gum hollered. It made a gurgling sound.

  “Is that normal?” Leven asked.

  “It’s Tarmarts’s argumint flavored gum. In a second it will begin to apologize. It’s a vicious cycle. It’s noisier than complimint flavored, but I like it better.”

  “Oh, won’t somebody please help me,” the gum wailed. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Clover continued to chew.

  “Oh, that feels nice,” the gum said.

  “Would you please spit that out?” Leven asked, feeling like the whole world could hear them as they pushed through a corn field toward town.

  “No one can see us,” Clover pointed out.

  “I still think we should be quiet.”

  Clover swallowed it. Leven could hear the gum screaming the whole way down Clover’s throat. “I promise I’ll change . . .” its yelling trailed off.

  “See why I think your candy here is boring?” Clover asked.

  “I’m not sure I want to go to Foo,” Leven said, looking down at Clover. “I don’t think I’m—”

  “Good evening, Leven,” a new, hollow-sounding voice spoke.

  “What is that?” Leven asked, thinking Clover had put in another chunk of gum. “Creepimint flavor?”

  Clover was too busy disappearing to answer. Leven looked up. Sabine’s strongest shadow stood only inches away from him. Leven jumped at least a foot.

  “I’m sorry. Did we startle you?” it asked, its voice seeping from its mouth and swirling around Leven’s ears.

  “Not really,” Leven lied. “Do I know you?” His head fogged up, and his mind became stickier than it had been. Leven tried to fight it, but his mind went black.

  “We’re meeting for the first time,” Sabine’s shadow sniffed. “We think you need to know something.” Sabine’s shadow smiled.

  “Okay,” Leven said listlessly and as if drifting off into sleep.

  “There are those out there who wish to harm you,” the shadow whispered.

  “People?” Leven questioned.