Record Play Stop Fast-Forward Rewind Eject
Winter watched the clouds and the sun move in reverse. The piles of torn-up mobile home blew away like sand in the wind and in a few movements they were standing in an untouched prairie staring at the trunk. She felt dizzy and tired and wanted desperately to lie down on the soil.
“Don’t do it,” Geth said, watching her lean toward the ground. “I can feel it too, but we have to keep standing. The Dearth is everywhere, but he’s so consumed with taking over that he’s not paying attention to us.”
The sound of a record being played in reverse scratched out across the landscape as the roads and buildings in the distance became overgrown and then disappeared completely.
“What’s happening?” Winter yelled, her voice competing with the screeching. “Where is everything going?”
“It never was,” Geth said, taking Winter’s hand.
The soil around the stump began to churn and pop. Large dirt clods shot up into the air as the roots of the stump twisted in the soil.
“The Dearth will catch on soon,” Geth said. “But if Leven can fell the tree before he even realizes we are right here, we might not have to fight.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Winter asked.
Wind blew back and forth across the prairie. Large herds of buffalo could be seen running in the distance. And then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.
“Is this happening all over?” Winter yelled.
“At different speeds,” Geth answered. “Time as we know it is no longer a factor.”
The wind became so strong that Winter could feel herself being pushed backwards.
“Hold onto the stump,” Geth ordered.
Winter crouched down beside the stump and threw her arms around one of the roots. She locked her fingers together and held tight. Geth was right beside her hanging onto his own root.
“Don’t let go,” Geth yelled.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“And don’t drift off.”
The stump pulsated as it was sucked up and down like a plunger. It pounded against the earth and dug in with its roots.
“Are we going to die?” Winter yelled.
“Maybe,” Geth yelled back.
Dirt and rocks and debris blew up against them like angry, supersized rain. A small branch whipped Winter in the face, drawing blood on her right cheek. As she turned her head, she saw a massive wall of dirt rolling across the prairie. The dirt lifted up and came crashing down toward them.
Without even thinking about it, Winter froze the dirt. Flakes of snowlike ice crackled and drifted down on them.
“Did you see that?” Winter asked, dumbfounded.
“I was wondering when it would come back,” Geth yelled happily, a large fist of snow filling his mouth. “It’s like your gift was never stolen.”
Winter smiled, showing off her own ice-filled teeth.
“Lilly!” Winter yelled. “Are you there?”
“I’m here,” Lilly said from the side of Winter. The small sycophant was tucked up under Winter’s arm and holding on for dear life.
“I can freeze things again,” Winter said.
“I’d clap, but I’d probably blow away,” Lilly yelled back.
The ground shook and the wind stopped completely. Every bit of dirt or rock it was blowing around dropped instantly to the ground. The scene had become a vacuum.
Winter tried to speak but no sound came from her voice. Geth was no more successful. Lilly tried to scream. The three of them began to grasp at their necks for air.
As their faces turned red, a large “Pop!” sounded and a rush of air flooded back into the prairie like a tsunami.
All three gasped for air.
“You’re sure we’re going to make it?” Winter screamed.
“I’m still sticking with maybe,” Geth answered.
The two held onto the roots of the tall stump as the world continued to fall apart.
“So if I can freeze things again, how come you’re not turning back into a tree?” Winter yelled.
There was no answer.
“Geth, can you . . .” Winter turned her head and saw that Geth was gone. “Geth!”
The root she was holding onto began to warm, and Winter looked up at the huge, swaying branches and millions of leaves above her.
ii
Clover continued pouring water over Leven’s face. He had been out cold for almost fifteen minutes, and in that time the scenery surrounding them had completely changed. Gone was the monastery, the three mountain peaks behind them were now four, and the soil on which Leven lay was growing darker and richer.
The oldest tree stood by itself being beaten by the wind. The tree leaned well to the left, its branches drooping.
Frond lay on the ground, bound and shivering.
“You’re going to drown me,” Leven said to Clover. “Where are we?”
“Same place,” Clover told him. “Everything keeps changing. I think I actually saw a siid flying overhead.”
“The monastery?”
“Gone.”
Leven turned himself over and got up onto his knees, holding his right side. He winced with pain and closed his eyes. Unlike before, when he could see nothing, now he saw light and out-of-focus images. He waited for the images to come into focus but they just faded away.
Leven stood hunched over and gazed at the tree. The poor thing was creaking loudly.
“He’s suffering,” Frond cried.
Clover handed Leven the axe.
“Everything comes from the soil and air,” Frond wailed. “Let it return.”
“I believe in mankind,” Leven said.
“Why?” Frond argued. “I know your history. You were abused by mankind from the beginning. Why have faith in them?”
“It can be better,” Leven said.
Frond began to laugh. His laugher grew until he was shaking and his teeth were showing. “Do better? The one thing men have proven is their inability to learn from their mistakes. They strive only to be comfortable and then let the world slide away for the sake of a soft seat. Do better? Men will do only what they can to believe they have some control. They are experts at reacting and champions of selfishness.”
“Well, then,” Leven said, “just chalk this up to me reacting.”
Leven took another swing at the tree. The sparks were bright and the gash was now halfway through the huge trunk. Leven’s arms contracted and his legs felt like stone. He gasped for air as his chest tightened like a drum. His shoulders dropped and his knees collapsed, sending him forward onto his face. He dropped the axe and his forehead scraped against the path of glass—blood began to run down and into his glowing eyes.
Clover watched Leven suffer and shivered.
“You can’t let him go on,” Frond said. “He’ll die, and what then? Look at him—such pain.”
“It’s not my decision,” Clover said softly. “If he wanted to stop, he would.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Frond said. “He’s obsessed. I watched him hike up Alder never caring about anything but doing as he was told.”
“So?” Clover said slowly.
“He doesn’t make his decisions, which means you too are just toeing the line,” Frond said sinisterly. “Now look at him. He’ll die and leave you to be blamed for all that has happened. You’re the only one who can stop him from completely destroying Foo and Reality.”
Clover turned to look at Frond. He looked back at Leven. Leven was spitting and coughing up blood while on his knees. The moon moved backwards across the sky again and the roots of the oldest tree wriggled throughout the now-empty courtyard.
“I’ll make sure they know,” Frond said desperately. “It’s your choice. Every remaining sycophant will know that you saved us all.”
Clover looked at his own hands. His razor-sharp claws extended from the backs of his knuckles and looked impressive under the swift-moving moon. He watched Leven pick the axe back up and
then stumble toward the tree. Clover could see quite clearly that there was no turning back. Foo was completely changing and would never be the same.
Leven stood up straight. His body faded in and out like a neon sign on the fritz. He touched his chin and wiped his free hand on his shirt.
Leven stepped up to the dying tree.
“I’m not sure what’s happening,” Leven wheezed. “Why I’m connected to all this . . . I’m not sure. But when I close my eyes, I know I have to do this. And I know it sounds nuts, but I’d rather be dead and right than alive and all wrong.”
The tree creaked.
“I thought you’d understand.”
Leven screamed in agony before the axe head even hit the tree. His body was a bruise on top of a bruise on top of a bruise on top of a throbbing wound. He let the pain bounce around inside of himself and followed through with the tenth chop. A tremendously large wedge of wood flew from the tree, missing Frond by a couple of inches.
Leven dropped the axe and closed his eyes, begging his body to absorb the pain and then get rid of it. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes and there was no separation between his arms and legs. He felt like a solid brick of sorrow. His heart shifted inside his chest and blood began to ooze out of the corner of his mouth. He was standing, but not because he had the strength. It was more like he was a statue on the verge of imploding.
Stars spread out overhead, spelling messages of doom and finality. The ground dropped three feet and then settled with a tremendous click.
Leven still stood.
He tried to close his eyes but he didn’t have the energy. He could see Winter and Geth and Amelia. He could sense that Clover was on his shoulder and patting his head, but he couldn’t feel it. More than anything, Leven wanted to be done—and if it took death to do it, then so be it.
Leven stood still.
“You have to stop him,” Frond pleaded.
“He looks pretty stopped,” Clover answered.
“Our fate will be your fault,” Frond yelled.
As Frond argued his point, large roots began to spring up around the tree. The roots shot up ten feet, curling at the ends, and were lighter than those of the oldest tree. On the ends of the roots were wicked-looking weeds.
One root shot up directly in front of Leven, catching the attention of both Clover and Frond and sending Leven toppling to the ground.
The soil around the tree bubbled and surged. Frond disappeared, and the dark sky became wet and heavy.
Clover picked up the heavy axe and looked at it. Thunder screamed, “Sheep!”
The oldest tree moaned and screeched as it leaned forward. It used one of its longest branches to take the axe from Clover.
“You going to do it yourself?” Clover yelled. “I’m not sure he has it in him.”
The oldest tree bent his branch back and then catapulted the axe into the air. It flew miles and miles away.
“I’m not getting that,” Clover said.
The tree then reached out and picked up Leven. He hoisted Leven up into his highest branches and then threw him as hard as he could back down against the soil.
Clover disappeared.
Chapter Forty-Six
To Be or Not to Be
“Geth!” Winter yelled, clinging to one of his roots and not knowing if he could even understand her. “Geth!”
The wind blowing across the prairie was so forceful that Winter knew she couldn’t hold on much longer. The sky rolled backwards again and the sound of some eerie music filled the air. The music stopped, the sun turned green, and the wind blew even harder.
“Lilly?”
There was no answer.
“Geth!”
Geth reached down with two of his limbs and pulled Winter up into his branches. The wind was tearing off his leaves and screeching through his limbs. Winter stood on one of the high branches and wrapped her arms around the trunk of the tree.
The wind stopped.
“Please, Geth,” Winter pleaded.
A fantastic sucking sound rumbled across the Oklahoma prairie. Winter looked to the north and watched as the ground about a mile away began to buckle and rise. She thought at first it was just an avaland, but the soil was too dark, and the mound rose hundreds of feet into the air.
Winter had never seen the Dearth in all his dark glory. She had seen him as a kindly old man, but something was different about him now. It very well could have been the fact that he was taller than a twenty-story building, as thick as a mountain, and bubbling like black tar. Winter could see his round head and watched as he opened his mouth and blew out enough dirt to fill the Grand Canyon.
“He’s coming this way!” Winter yelled.
Dark roots shot out of the dirt and up toward Winter. She looked down from Geth and could see dozens of those dark roots popping up from the soil and wrapping themselves around Geth.
Geth shot his own roots downward, mixing with the roots of the oldest tree. The two trees stiffened and clung, each trying to pull the other under.
“What are you doing?” Winter screamed. “The Dearth.”
The Dearth rose even higher, pushing across the prairie like a filthy flood. His bulk absorbed everything in his path. He threw his face down into the soil and took a massive bite out of the ground.
He spat and for a number of minutes it was raining dirt.
Winter clung to Geth, crying as the Dearth moved closer. She felt like a sacrifice waiting to be devoured.
“Leven!” she yelled. “Where are you?”
The wind began again, and the ground felt like it dropped ten feet as Geth wrestled with the roots of the oldest tree.
“Leven!”
The Dearth moved ever closer as the sun and the moon appeared to bump up against each other and then roll backwards.
Winter closed her eyes and froze the Dearth. The black beast stood still for almost a full second and then dropped back down into the soil, leaving its icy shell to shatter and fall.
Instantly the Dearth was back up just like before, except now he was bothered. He shot thousands of dark strings up out of the soil and into the branches, reaching for Winter. Winter moved through the branches like a cat, freezing the strands and breaking them as she pushed upward.
The Dearth roared and took another bite out of the ground.
“Please, Geth,” Winter pleaded, frightened by the desperation in her own voice.
More dark roots shot up and coiled around Geth’s trunk. Winter could feel the entire tree being pulled down into the dirt. She climbed madly to the highest branches.
It was no use. The Dearth loomed larger than a mountain up above, and she and Geth were being dragged down below, where Winter knew the Dearth had even greater power.
The tree dropped ten more feet. It was being sucked into the soil.
“Come on, Geth,” Winter begged as she held tightly to the tallest point of his trunk. “Come on!” Geth was pulled in further.
The Dearth shot out more thousands of tiny black strings that wrapped around Geth’s branches and pinned Winter to the tree. She froze them and then busted out of their grasp, sending shards of ice into the surrounding dirt.
The tree dropped again. Winter’s legs were now under the soil.
“Anyone!” she cried.
Again Geth sank; he was now completely buried under the earth. The Dearth thundered and shot upward like a dirty gusher. He then slammed down against the ground, chasing after Geth.
ii
Clover had no idea what to do. He looked around him as mountains pushed up from the soil and then leveled out. The air was as thick and sticky as maple syrup and it took three breaths to equal just one gulp of air.
His tiny body shivered as he tried to pull Leven away from the tree. It was a lesson in futility. The oldest tree had drastically changed his mood. It was as if self-preservation had kicked in. He was clacking and hollering and pounding the ground with his branches. His roots were whirling and slithering through the soil so heated
ly that the ground looked like it was boiling.
A thick branch shot out and wrapped around Leven’s ankles. The tree then picked the unconscious Leven up and pounded him against the ground a few times. As he was about to toss him, the tree seemed to slip and sink into the soil a few inches. He dropped Leven and moaned, pulling himself back up.
“Leven,” Clover pleaded. “Get up.”
Leven’s eyes flashed open and then shut.
“Get up,” Clover begged.
“No,” Leven whispered. “The tree doesn’t wanna go.”
“You have to,” Clover yelled.
“I can’t.”
“I wish I were Geth so I could beat some sense into you.”
“Geth’s probably dead,” Leven moaned. “I’ve failed.”
Three volcanoes shot off in succession in the background. The sound rocked the ground as massive waves of ash blew toward them.
“I think Geth’s alive,” Clover tried. “I think those are his roots tugging on the tree.”
“I can’t do it,” Leven pleaded, his body still lying motionless on the ground. “I’ve hit that thing dozens of times. He’s not going down.”
“Actually you’ve hit him ten times,” Clover said. “The next one will be eleven.”
Leven’s eyes flashed open and stayed open. “Between ten and eleven,” he mumbled. He screamed and ripped his body from the dirt to sit up. He looked toward the oldest tree and watched as the tree struggled with the roots beneath him. The tree would lift up and then be dragged under a couple of inches, only to lift up again later.
“Where’s the axe?” Leven asked, wiping blood from his lips.
“He threw it that way,” Clover pointed.
Leven coughed and turned onto his hands and knees. Then, like an elderly dog, he lifted his front hand. As if by magic, the axe returned.
Unfortunately, the oldest tree noticed.
The tree slammed a branch down against Leven’s back. Leven collapsed against the ground and the axe flew from his grip. The tree reached for the axe while desperately trying to fight off Geth’s root beneath him. Clover leapt from the ground and landed on the branch. With one swift move he sliced the branch off.