by Obert Skye
He was onto something.
Sabine lifted the glass table off the rug and pulled the rug aside. He stepped to the window and pulled the drapes closed, blocking out any trace of light.
The room was pitch black, yet there on the wood floor, a dim light shone through the cracks in the wood. Sabine dropped to the ground, his hands fluttering maniacally over the floor, his dirty long nails searching for something to grab or pull. He wedged his fingers into a thin crack and yanked. To his surprise the plank came up in a thick, long, rectangle-shaped piece. The dirt beneath the flooring glowed. Sabine’s mouth went dry, his eyes on fire. The dirt was moving, smeared with blotches of red, orange, and green colors, swirling wildly around in circles.
Sabine stared at it in dark awe.
He had found the gateway.
iii
Good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue. In time all things are possible. You cannot rush perfection. Blah, blah, blah. Winter thought the drive across the ocean would never end. She was usually the one with the best of spirits, but this was just one long stretch of nothing. Her head hurt. Plus, the wind working at their backs was so loud, a person couldn’t have a calm thought if she wanted to.
Leven had stayed conscious due to his need to stay focused on the future and the wind, but Winter was worried about how much longer he could hold out. Clover had complained and complained about how hungry he was and then they discovered him eating some actual humble pie back behind the seats. They wouldn’t have caught him if they hadn’t heard the extremely humble pie loudly apologizing for its flavor and promising it would taste better next time.
“You have food?” Winter scolded. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“I’m hungry for other things besides what I have,” he argued back, his leafy ears twitching.
“Well, could you share some of the stuff you’re sick of?”
“Here,” Clover said, handing her what looked to be a square cracker.
“This is it?” she complained. “A cracker? I’m starving.”
“Just eat it,” Clover insisted.
Winter bit off one half and chewed. It tasted good. She stuck the second half into her mouth and did the same. “Do you have any more?” she asked.
“Trust me,” “Clover said, rolling his blue wet eyes. “You don’t want more than that. You really shouldn’t have eaten the whole thing. I thought you’d just nibble a corner.”
“Why would I just . . .” Winter’s stomach started to sound.
“I’d get out of her pocket before you’re penned in,” Clover said to Geth.
Winter suddenly looked frightened. Heeding the warning, Geth quickly clambered out and onto the dashboard. Leven had his hands on the wheel and was driving with his eyes closed, concentrating on keeping the wind coming. His arms were locked into position so that the car traveled straight down the path. He was focusing so intently on what he was doing that he didn’t even hear Winter and Clover talking.
“What was that you gave me to eat?” Winter panicked.
“A Filler Crisp,” Clover said, his eyes seventy percent concerned and thirty percent mischievous. Now even Geth looked frightened.
“You gave her a whole Filler Crisp?”
“I thought she’d nibble the corner. I didn’t think she’d be so greedy.”
Winter’s stomach began to expand and her arms and legs started to swell. Then suddenly, as if someone were inflating her with an air pump, her whole body expanded. Even her hair got fatter. She could feel something coming up in her throat and all at once what looked like shaving cream burst from her mouth and nose, filling the front seat of the car and oozing everywhere. The foam rushed out of her with such force it knocked Clover back and flung Geth up against the front window, where he remained pinned to the glass.
Winter wanted desperately to scream, but her mouth was too busy competing with her nose to see which orifice could shoot out the most goo.
Clover screamed enough for the both of them, causing Leven to take his mind off the future for a moment and open his eyes to join in the scream-along.
Panicked by what was happening to her, Winter momentarily stopped managing the ice path. The frozen road came to a sudden end, and the car rocketed off and slammed into the water. Winter flew out of the vehicle and bounced across the water like a bloated beach ball. She finally settled on her back, bobbing, swatting, and kicking as the white goo continued to ooze out of her mouth and nose. Clover grabbed Geth from off the car’s window and climbed on top of Leven, who was frantically swimming up and out of the now sinking car. In no more than a few seconds the vehicle had completely disappeared under the water, and the four of them were bobbing about on the surface of the ocean.
Even Geth looked a little concerned.
Leven splashed his way over to Winter as she bobbed up and down on the waves. She was on her back, flailing her bloated arms and legs about wildly, while white foam continued to spew from her mouth and nose, making her look like a marshmallow fountain. Her green eyes were wide with panic and disbelief. Leven grabbed onto her ankle, surprised and happy to find how buoyant she was.
“What happened?” Leven yelled.
“I didn’t think she’d eat so much,” Clover explained. “She’ll stop doing that in a few minutes.”
Leven looked at her as she continued to spout. “I sure hope so.”
“I think the more important question is, what should we do now?” Clover asked.
Leven looked into the distance and wondered how they would ever get out of this. He wanted to simply hold onto Winter’s ankle and go to sleep. He was so tired and too spent to go on. He wasn’t sure he would even care if a shark began to nibble on his legs, as long as he could go to sleep.
Winter’s mouth continued to spew white foam as she kicked and swatted the water like mad. Leven couldn’t blame her. She looked terribly uncomfortable. She kept slapping the water and oozing foam. Each time she turned toward Leven she sprayed foam in his face. Fortunately, the white goo immediately dissolved when it came in contact with the seawater.
“I think it’s biodegradable,” Clover said.
Winter glared at Clover, who was holding Geth in one of his hands while clinging tightly to the top of Leven’s head.
“He didn’t think you’d eat the whole thing,” Leven said, sticking up for Clover, still slightly indoctrinated by his bite. “Besides, Clover says it will wear off before long.”
“Thanks for backing me up, chief,” Clover said kindly.
“Chief?”
“No good?” Clover asked.
“Keep trying,” Leven insisted.
Winter splashed and kicked as if she were trying to say something. She gestured awkwardly above her head with one of her bloated hands.
“What is it?” Leven asked, treading water. He spun Winter around and pushed her up-ocean a bit. He could see instantly what she had been trying to point out. In the not-so-distant distance was a big fishing boat. Winter’s swollen body had been hiding it completely from his view. Leven began to holler and wave as Winter finally began to deflate.
The ship had seen them and was heading their way.
Winter’s stomach began to contract and her arms and legs hissed as they shrank back to size. She was still burping up foam and having a hard time speaking, but by the time the boat got to them she was almost back to normal—well, as normal as a person could be after having thrown up foam for half an hour.
“Bonjour,” a tall dark man on the bow of the boat hollered, then began jabbering in a language that sounded like French. He could tell by Leven’s blank stare that he had not understood. “Can we be of assistance?” he asked in English.
“Please,” Leven hollered back.
The crew helped Leven and Winter up onto the boat and asked them where their raft was.
“We don’t have a raft,” Leven said.
“I thought I saw you with one when I first spotted you,” the captain said.
Le
ven smiled, knowing that what he had spotted was a bloated Winter. Winter frowned. They both, however, were amazed to discover that they were only fifty miles off the coast of France. They were questioned about how they had gotten where they were, but when they hemmed and hawed a bit with their answers, the captain simply said, “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t ask you what you are doing fifty miles out in the ocean if you won’t ask me why I am fishing in an area I shouldn’t be. D’accord?”
“Deal,” they agreed.
The captain fed them some soup and bread that tasted marvelous to Leven. Winter didn’t eat any due to her recent history, so Leven gladly had her share. Two hours later the boat docked just outside the town of Granville, and Leven and Winter set foot on the shore of France.
“So do you know any French?” Leven asked as they walked along the dock.
“No important words,” Winter replied.
“How about you, Geth?”
“I’ve always wanted to learn,” he replied.
“Clover?” Leven asked.
There was no answer.
“Clover?” both Leven and Winter asked in unison.
Nothing.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Leven asked.
“When we got on the boat,” Winter said. “That’s when he slipped me Geth.”
“Clover!” Leven hollered, attracting stares from the waterfront crowd.
“Don’t worry, he’ll show up,” Geth said. “We have to keep going.”
“This is France,” Leven pointed out needlessly. “Clover has no idea where to go.”
“He’s a sycophant,” Geth said calmly. “They always return to their burn. We have to keep going.”
“He wouldn’t leave you,” Winter said. “I know he’ll show up.”
Leven looked around hopelessly. “Clover!” he yelled one last time.
Nothing.
The three of them walked down a cobblestone street, two of them worried about Clover and all three of them waiting for fate to point out what their next ride would be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Physical Again
Sabine could not possibly have been more surprised by the sudden rush of freezing water. He had stepped into the colored dirt in Hector Thumps’s room thinking he would simply walk out into the world and begin his final quest. Instead, he plunged into water so cold it took his breath away. He tried to scream, but his mouth filled with water. He pushed out of the gateway and swam toward the surface as fast as he could. His dark, wet robes were no longer just a dreary fashion statement, they were suddenly a death trap. He pushed them up over his shoulders and frantically thrashed upward.
It is true that in the eternal scheme of things, Sabine was one of the truly bad seeds. He was totally selfish and as power hungry as anyone could be. He cared not a whit for the soul or salvation of anyone other than himself. He was cruel, looked frightening, and was feared by thousands. His only concern was his own self-interest.
All that aside, he looked pathetic, frantically trying to swim to the surface, like a baby squid flailing its tentacles for the first time.
Sabine came up gasping for air but in a beautiful setting, in the middle of a large lake, surrounded by forested mountains. He looked around. The sun was shining in a perfectly clear, blue sky. In the distance he could see a small boat gliding away from him. It was a scene as picturesque as any that might be imagined. Of course, Sabine hadn’t come to take photos.
He had come to take control.
He dogpaddled his way to the nearest shore, his face a perfect picture of disgust. He hauled himself out of the water and onto dry ground and shook himself like an uncoordinated dog with no rhythm. He bent over to touch again the physical world he had been snatched from many years before. His teeth were chattering so violently he couldn’t fully exult in his triumph. Wet to the bone, he glanced around, trying to get an accurate idea of where he was so he could easily return to the gateway when needed.
He was a stranger here, but he felt invincible. He looked around, understanding that all he saw was real. In Foo, Sabine had control and power over the elements and beings; here he had none of that . . . yet. With access to the gateway he would be able to move freely between reality and Foo—and enjoy the ability to achieve the impossible in a world where all others had limits.
Sabine looked at his own hands. He had not been real for many years now. He was only nine when he had been snatched from reality and sent to Foo. He had been out playing with two of his friends late one autumn evening. He could still remember the sound of crickets chirping and the sweet coolness of the fall air. He could hear their mothers calling them all to come in. They had pretended not to hear, in hopes of playing just a bit longer. So they ran farther down the road, kicking a ball and talking excitedly like nine-year-old boys do. The only interruption was when the dark sky showed off a beautiful shooting star. All three boys had looked up at it in awe.
“Maybe it’s a rocket,” one of them said.
“I bet it’s an alien spaceship,” the other suggested.
They turned to get Sabine’s take on it, but he was gone. There was nothing but empty space above where a sidewalk and a side street came together in an imperfect junction.
That was the last Sabine had ever seen of reality for himself. For years his shadows had scoured the planet at his direction, but their vision and reports were only two-dimensional.
This was what Sabine had longed for. He breathed in deeply, expecting his shadows to rush to him. Nothing happened. He inhaled as deeply as he could and still not a single black patch of shadow came to him. He positioned himself so he could cast a new, earthly shadow. The sun did its part, but the new shadow just lay there, two-dimensional and black. It also vanished the moment he stepped out of the sun’s rays. Apparently his shadow thing didn’t work in reality.
This was a concern. Sabine had anticipated being able to use his castoffs here. Now he would have to make an adjustment. He wondered where his shadows were if they were not responding to him. He worried about it for a moment, then brushed his concern aside, smiling, his tiny numerous teeth clicking against each other. The possibility of ruling everything was finally in his grasp. He could always slip back into Foo and create more shadows. Only one thing could stop him now, and that one thing was a boy by the name of Leven Thumps. Only Leven had the power to destroy the gateway leading in and out of Foo. Sabine knew what he needed to do. Leven Thumps had to die.
Sabine drew his wet robe about him and moved silently through the thick forest of trees and along the shore. He could feel Leven and Geth and Winter drawing ever closer.
ii
Leven was exhausted. He had not slept for days, and his mind was spent from the effort he had focused on conjuring the ocean wind. He could barely walk straight, and Winter constantly telling him to stay awake put them at odds with each other. So far he was not enjoying France.
Plus, they needed money, so Leven decided to try out his offing gift. He spotted a woman in a shop about to buy a few expensive dresses. He closed his eyes and manipulated fate to the best of his ability. Somewhat to his surprise, she actually decided not to buy the dresses, and when she walked out of the exclusive store into the street, she spotted Leven and simply handed him the money she had saved. Once again Winter was impressed. Sure, it was a neat trick, but Leven didn’t exactly feel good each time he did it. Nor did he have any real accurate control over it.
In all honesty, he had really only been trying to manipulate the woman into just offering them a ride. Instead, she had handed him all her cash. He kept thinking he would someday repay the lady who had bought them food in the diner, the snotty young man whose car they had driven across the ocean, and this woman who had given up her shopping spree to provide for their needs. But he knew that would not be an easy thing, seeing how he didn’t know any of them.
Leven purchased a new shirt with some of the money, one with a pocket in front for Geth to ride in and no Wonder Wipes logo. The
shirt was on sale and had the words essuie-tout stenciled on it. Leven figured it was the name of a French rock band or something cool. Winter also got a new shirt and some pants for herself. They felt rich, pulling out all that money and paying the bill. The French clerk had been very rude to them, probably because of their appearance and the fact they couldn’t speak French. But when they showed him the cash, he started treating them nicely.
After purchasing new clothes they took a few minutes to eat at a French McDonald’s. It looked just like an American McDonald’s except the Grimace statue was wearing a beret.
“We’re in France eating at McDonald’s,” Winter said with astonishment, her green eyes becoming increasingly alive each mile of their journey.
“I’m still not sold on this being more than a dream,” Leven replied, his eyes partly cloudy.
“I could pinch you again,” Winter offered.
Leven tried to smile back.
Clover was still missing. Leven wanted to go back to the docks and search for him, but Geth had insisted there wasn’t enough time. After eating, they hailed a taxi, showed the driver the money they had, and told him to drive them as fast as he could across France and into Germany. He insisted on seeing their passports. When they told him they had misplaced them, and was there any way he could get them out of France and into Germany, he asked to see their wad of money again.
He then said yes.
The ride across France seemed to take forever, even though they were speeding a hundred miles an hour across the surface of the earth.
Leven wanted more than anything to go to sleep, but Winter kept him awake by continually poking him and pulling the hair on his arms. He would beg her to let him rest, and she would pinch him in reply. To distract him, Winter constantly pointed out the villages and landscape they were flying by. On a good day Leven couldn’t see very clearly, now as the taxi blew over the road he could make out even less. Everything his eyes took in at the moment was a blur.
