Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

  When the thin man stopped just inside Germany to use a pay phone, Clover didn’t waste any time. He secretly hitched a ride with a nice German couple and their new baby. That didn’t last too long. The baby kept crying and keeping Clover awake. Clover appeared to the child so as to be a delightful, soothing surprise. Well, the child did like Clover. In fact, she held him and cooed. When the parents turned around to look at her and saw their child holding a furry, living creature, they needlessly panicked. The car swerved and rocked as the parents practiced their parental screaming skills. Disgusted with the noise, Clover climbed out through the half-open sunroof and jumped into the bed of a passing truck with an open back. He settled into a roll of insulation it was carrying and rode, somewhat peacefully, closer to Leven.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Occidental Tourist

  Leven liked Germany. At least the little bit of it he had seen. It was beautiful and green and vaguely reminded him of someplace he had been before. Berchtesgaden, however, was even prettier than the rest. It was a lovely town with quaint-looking buildings, beautiful flowers, and friendly people. Thousands of tourists filled the streets, and he could hear polka music coming from two different directions at once. There were a lot of men with moustaches walking around.

  “I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat,” Leven said as they passed a gasthaus and the smell of cooked sausages and onions filled the air.

  “No time,” Geth insisted. “See that sun?” he pointed from Winter’s pocket.

  Both Leven and Winter nodded.

  “When that sun goes down we have to be ready. If we don’t make it tonight, it will be too late.”

  “Too late?” Leven said in amazement. “Too late for what?”

  “They have gotten through,” Geth replied.

  “Who’s gotten through?” Leven said, so hungry he wasn’t speaking clearly. “How could you know that?”

  Geth smiled. “It’s fate. Don’t worry.”

  “So you’re saying if we had not made it here right now we would have been out of luck?” Winter questioned.

  Geth nodded.

  “What if we hadn’t found you on that shoe, or a boat hadn’t picked us up, or—”

  “What-ifs are for fools,” Geth interrupted. “We are here because we are meant to be. Now let’s hurry.”

  Leven was always tempted to point out how easy it was for Geth to say hurry. After all, he was riding along while they did all the walking. He also knew that Geth wasn’t compelled to stop and get something to eat because, well, he had no digestive tract. And Winter wasn’t about to help him fight for a meal break because she was still full from the cracker Clover had slipped her in the ocean.

  Leven sighed and inhaled the aroma of cooking food as they walked along the tourist-packed street, heading toward the Königsee, or the “King’s Sea.”

  “So what do we do when we reach the Königsee,” Winter asked.

  It was a silly question for Winter to ask. She knew from the pain in her head and the fear in her soul that the time was finally here to face Sabine and step into the gateway.

  “We wait,” Geth answered.

  “Well, can’t we stop here and wait and eat at the same time?” Leven begged.

  Geth smiled as if Leven were joking, and it was obvious to Leven that he was going to have to take getting something to eat into his own hands. They were passing dozens of tourists, many of them eating as they strolled along the quaint streets. Leven spotted sausages and pretzels and ice cream. He decided to try to clear his mind in an effort to manipulate fate just enough to make one of those passersby offer him food. That way he could just keep on walking, and they would have lost no time.

  He spotted a woman wearing a large hat, carrying a huge pretzel in her hand. He willed fate to have her reach out and give it to him. Instead, she patted him on the back, looking very surprised that she was doing so. Leven kept walking. He saw a man with a thick, delicious-looking sausage sandwich. It was made out of dark bread and had sauerkraut on it. Leven tried really hard to manipulate fate, but as they passed, the man just handed Leven his used napkin.

  Leven tried one last time on a woman who was enjoying some bread and cheese. As she got closer, she smiled, made a fist, drew back her hand, and punched Leven on the chin.

  She was as surprised as Leven was.

  Leven staggered backward and tried to right himself. His brown eyes saw bleached white stars. Winter turned to see him stumbling and ran to his side.

  “I am so sorry,” his assailant said, displaying both her remorse and her American accent. “I have no idea what came over me.”

  Leven eyed her bread and cheese. “Is that mine?” he asked in fake confusion.

  “Well, honey, actually . . .”

  “I only remember being hungry, “ Leven added.

  “Well, you just help yourself,” the woman said, handing him her food.

  Leven smiled weakly as she walked off, shaking her head in disbelief, wondering with her friends about the strange thing she had just done.

  “Way to use your gift,” Winter scolded.

  “I’m starving,” Leven defended.

  “That doesn’t make it right,” Winter insisted. “I could think the whole world besides us was ice and we could simply skate to the lake without interference, but that wouldn’t be right.”

  “I can’t skate,” Leven admitted, taking a welcome bite of his newfound food.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Leven smiled smugly at Winter, his bangs covering his right eye. “I won’t do it any more,” he chewed. “At least not today. Besides, I still haven’t gotten the hang of it. If you hadn’t noticed, I just got myself punched.”

  “Serves you right,” Winter said nicely.

  They reached the shore of their destination.

  The Königsee was a large, beautiful, blue-green lake surrounded by impressive, pine-covered mountains. It was a jewel in the lush German landscape and a favorite vacation spot for government dignitaries and military officers. On the far shore was St. Bartholomew’s, a church that had stood for thousands of years. Day in and day out visitors came to take a boat ride across the lake.

  When they reached the center of the lake the motor would be shut off, and absolute silence would descend over the scene. Then a solitary musician would stand on the deck of the craft and play his trumpet. The mountains encircling the lake produced an unbelievably clear and rich echo, which allowed the trumpeter to play a duet of sorts with himself. The performance never failed to move those who heard it. Even the most jaded individuals could not resist the serenity of the setting and the beauty of the music.

  Years before, Leven’s grandfather, Hector Thumps, had discovered the soothing effect music has on the planet. As he searched for a lake with a constant temperature, he had been delighted to discover the Königsee and its remarkable mountain echoes. This extraordinary coming together of natural beauty and beautiful music created a mood similar to that a shooting star might stir up.

  It was fate.

  It was also the most beautiful place Leven and Winter had ever seen.

  “So what do we wait for?” Leven asked, looking up at the mountains and taking in the entire view.

  “We need to get on a boat,” Geth instructed. “It will take us across the lake, and from there we can walk to where we need to go. You can both swim, I hope.”

  “No!” Leven quickly said.

  “Not at all?” Winter questioned. “You swam in the ocean.”

  “That wasn’t swimming,” Lev insisted. “That was panicking.”

  “Well, you’ll need to panic yourself down to the gateway,” Geth said seriously. “We have no choice.”

  Leven looked at the huge lake and let the panic begin.

  They bought tickets for the boat ride, and with the few Euros left over, Geth had Winter purchase a small pocket knife in case of an emergency. The price of the tickets and the knife added up to the exact amount of money they had left.
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  It felt sort of fateful.

  They boarded the next boat and were soon on their way across the lake. The scenery was spectacular, but as the small boat glided across the green water Leven kept his eyes down, hoping to see the gateway. Unfortunately, the green water didn’t reveal anything.

  As advertised, halfway across the water the captain turned off the engine and the boat glided to a stop. The passengers quieted themselves and prepared for what was about to happen. It was so still, it was almost as if the entire planet were holding its breath.

  An authentic-looking German with a long mustache and lederhosen stood on the deck of the boat and put a trumpet to his lips. He played, and the clear notes drifted across the water. As if answering back, the mountains replied in perfect tune.

  The effect was so beautiful it gave Leven chills and caused Winter to tear up. It also left them speechless.

  After a couple of songs, the boat started back up and carried everyone to the far shore where St. Bartholomew’s stood. Leven and Winter got off and walked back behind the old church. The crowds weren’t as dense as those on the other side of the lake, and as Leven, Winter, and Geth moved farther into the woods, the little group soon found itself quite alone.

  “So, how does this work?” Leven asked Geth. “What do we do?”

  “See those bushes?” Geth pointed to a clump of thick growth farther down the faint trail they were on.

  They both nodded.

  “We need to wait there until the last boat of the day makes its return trip. On the way back we will get into the water and wait. When the timing is right, we will swim underwater toward a very faint glow. That glow is the gateway. Swim in, touch the mismatched floor, and you will be in Foo.”

  “That’s it?” Leven asked. “No secret knock or challenge?”

  “That’s it,” Geth answered. “You have nothing to be afraid of. Actually, that’s not really true. The water is near freezing. The multiple of seven is not always some balmy temperature. Your lungs probably have just enough capacity to make it down. If you don’t make it into the gateway, you will most likely not pop back up alive. You can’t stop swimming, understand?”

  Leven took a moment to inventory his life. Being warned of your potential death by a toothpick can make a person quite reflective.

  “What if the gateway is not working?” Leven asked. “What if we get down to it and it’s out of order? Or what if the earth’s no longer happy?”

  “As long as we get in before the effect of the music fades, the gateway will work,” Geth said. “If it were breakable it would have been destroyed by Antsel and me years ago. The gateway is unchangeable. It is a perfect creation made unbreakable by the will of your grandfather. It is also the one thing that can destroy Foo and eliminate all dreams. With no one in Foo to bring dreams to life, everyone here would be without hope. This existence would be dark and completely full of despair. Sabine has no idea what his selfish scheme will ultimately bring about.”

  “So I guess I can’t back out now?” Winter asked.

  “Back out?” Geth asked, surprised Winter would even say such a thing.

  “Well,” she said defensively, her head pounding, “I have no idea where we’re going. Clover showed me some images, but . . . what if we swim through that gateway and it’s worse than this?”

  “It’s not perfect there,” Geth conceded. “It is filled with turmoil and confusion now, thanks to Sabine. But it is a place unlike any you have seen before. You belong there,” Geth reminded her. “You chose to come here, but it was only with the promise that you could come back.”

  “I just wish I could know.” Winter’s green eyes darkened.

  “Listen,” Leven said, “I have no idea what’s going on. A few weeks ago I was in school, worrying about my aunt’s temper and Brick picking on me. Now, here I am, after crossing the world, listening to a toothpick tell me I had better swim fast enough or I’m dead. So, I’m a little confused. But the one thing I’m sure of is that I couldn’t have done it without you,” Leven said to Winter. “If not for you, I would have been digested by a giant snake or drowned in an ocean. I wouldn’t have even made it across the Oklahoma state border without you, Winter. I can’t imagine what we’ll find on the other side, but somehow I think it will be okay, if you’re around.”

  Winter and Geth stared at Leven in astonishment.

  “Are you okay?” Winter asked, reaching out to touch his forehead.

  “Seriously,” Geth added. “Maybe that cheese you ate was bad.”

  “Oh, knock it off,” Leven said defensively. “See if I ever say anything nice again.”

  Winter smiled. “Thanks,” she said, her face red. “I couldn’t have done this without you and Clover . . . he should be here now.”

  “It’s odd he hasn’t caught up to us yet,” Geth added.

  “I wish we could wait a bit more,” Leven said. He looked to the sky as the sun began to settle behind the nearby mountains. “It doesn’t feel right to go without him.”

  “He’ll make it back to Foo,” Geth said confidently. “If he doesn’t, then it is his design to remain here.”

  The three of them moved into the bushes Geth had indicated and made themselves comfortable on the ground. They were all silent and deep in thought about what lay ahead. Leven looked at everything around him with new eyes—eyes that understood he might never see any of this again.

  “You okay?” he finally asked Winter.

  “I’ve never been more scared in my life,” she answered.

  “Good, me neither,” Leven smiled.

  ii

  Clover had no idea where fate was leading him. He was simply following the feeling inside himself. Sycophants are naturally drawn to their burns—there is a constant pull for them to return to those to whom they have been assigned.

  The insulation truck had taken him quite a way. When it began going in a direction contrary to his feelings, Clover had abandoned the truck and hitched a ride in a tour bus filled with American senior citizens. As fate would have it, they were on their way to the Königsee so they could take some pictures and prove to their friends back home that they were really living. The problem was, Clover felt they were going way too slow. He figured he would help them all out by squeezing in next to the driver’s feet and pushing down on the gas pedal.

  Clover had never heard such sustained, high-pitched screaming.

  The bus flew as the driver frantically tried to slam on the brakes and stay on the road. Clover positioned himself so he could push the brake pedal up with his legs and hold the gas pedal down with his hands. The poor driver had no choice but to accept his fate and simply steer in an effort to keep the bus on the road.

  It was a new model bus with a huge engine and lots of power. It sped down the autobahn at breakneck speed with everyone inside screaming and praying. An elderly gentleman with flowing white hair, wearing baggy shorts and dark knee socks, fought the g-forces and worked his way up the aisle of the bus, pulling himself forward by clinging to the seats.

  “Stop this bus!” he yelled at the driver.

  The driver was too occupied to reply. His main concern was trying to keep the bus on the road. The old man figured the driver just didn’t understand English, so he got out his English-to-German dictionary and, while hanging on for dear life with his left hand, tried to look up the words with his right.

  “Stopen die auto!”

  The driver looked up at him as if he were crazy. “We’re all going to die,” the driver said in perfect English.

  The old man turned back to the rest of the passengers and conveyed the message. Clover once again was amazed by the volume of noise the nice group of senior citizens was able to make.

  As they barreled down the road, Clover grew jealous of the others, who were able to look out the window and see the passing scenery. He had grown quite fond of seeing the world fly by while driving himself earlier, and now he wanted to take just one look. When he took his weight off the gas pedal
to squeeze out, the driver felt the bus slow and began frantically stomping and kicking at the pedals beneath him in hopes of stopping the vehicle. Caught in the fury of the attempt, Clover took quite a thrashing before he was able to crawl out from under the driver’s feet and haul himself up onto the dashboard.

  The driver was finally able to get the bus under control, and the passengers began to fan themselves and put their hands to their hearts instead of just screaming.

  The bus came to a stop directly in front of a small sign that read: Berchtesgaden.

  “That feels right,” Clover said to himself. He waited for the driver to open the door and hopped off as if he didn’t have a care in the world, happy they had made such good time.

  iii

  Leven and Winter could do nothing but wait. The last boat would not be leaving for an hour, and Leven was anxious and scared. Wanting to be alone for a moment, he left Winter and Geth in the trees and wandered back down the lakefront and to the small white church with the funny red roof.

  St. Bartholomew church was hundreds of years old. It was a small, white cathedral, with big red onion-like domes on top of it. Originally, it had been used as a hunting lodge for great kings. Now, it was more of a photo opportunity for wealthy tourists. Leven wished his eyesight were clearer, but from what he could see he loved the look of St. Bartholomew against the lake and wished his life could be as peaceful as the scene before him. Going to Foo would seem much less of a sacrifice if the gateway had been in a barren desert or in the middle of a congested city.

  Leven slipped into the dimly lit chapel and sat down on the back row of pews. A number of tourists wandered about, looking over everything and whispering. Leven turned from gazing at a family with two young kids and noticed a dark being sitting right next to him. He was so startled that he hollered out and jumped in his seat.

  “Hello, Leven,” the voice said, low and menacing. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Leven’s heart was suddenly racing. It was not hard to recognize the rat-like features of Sabine. He looked just like his shadows, only bigger. There was also a dark aura around him.