Chapter Twenty-Seven

Snapped

The media had no idea what to make of it—a full-sized plane landing upside down in the middle of a busy freeway with no fatalities? Baffling. The only injuries reported were some scrapes and bruises and two broken arms, both belonging to the same person.

Some who witnessed the incredible episode claimed that fiery, demon clouds had softly set the plane down. Those who reported the story refused to even humor such a silly account. Regardless, traffic along Interstate 40 was backed up for hundreds of miles as everyone scratched their heads and wondered just how to move an upside-down 747.

Dennis sat on the edge of the freeway next to a number of other stunned passengers. He had a small, blue, airline blanket wrapped around his shoulders and was drinking some bottled water that a Red Cross volunteer had handed him. He really had no idea what had happened, but he was pretty sure he had something to do with it. He figured it would be best not to point that out to others.

After everyone had been evacuated from the plane, Dennis had noticed a small patch of black moving behind some foliage off to the side of the road. He watched it glide from one tree to another, almost as if it were stalking him. He could see it even now, lying beneath a large bush.

Dennis unzipped the fanny pack and looked down at Ezra.

“Did we do this?” Dennis whispered.

“We helped,” Ezra said, jumping out of the fanny pack and up onto Dennis’s shoulder.

“What is that blackness?” Dennis asked, motioning with his head to the bush at the bottom of the embankment.

“Not exactly sure,” Ezra said. “But it’s from Foo like me. It tried to talk to me—called me Geth,” Ezra spat.

Dennis put his head in his hands and sighed. “I should never have ordered a sandwich.”

The black shadow wriggled beneath the bush down below as trucks and cars drove by, people gawking and honking at the plane up above.

“Follow me,” Ezra said to Dennis.

Ezra jumped from Dennis’s shoulder and dropped down the side of the tree-lined embankment.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to . . .” Dennis slapped his forehead. “Ahhh,” he gasped, stumbling over the guardrail and rolling awkwardly down the embankment after Ezra.

As usual, nobody noticed Dennis.

When he stopped rolling, Dennis scrambled to his feet and ducked behind some trees near the bush where the black spot was lying. The blackness fluttered away, moving deeper into the growth, with Ezra right on its tail. Dennis limped along after them, rubbing his sore knees and elbows. In a few minutes they had moved into a forest, far enough away from the freeway that they could barely hear the noise of the traffic. To Dennis it felt as if they were miles away from civilization.

The black shadow stopped, hovering above a decaying tree that lay sprawled out on the forest floor.

“Who are you?” Ezra yelled.

The blackness pulsated and whipped itself into a more ghostlike form. It had two small hands, tiny eyes, and an oozing mouth.

“Who are you?” it hissed. “You’ve been touched by Foo.”

“‘Touched,’ my ankle,” Ezra raged. “I’ve been cheated by Geth. He lives, complete and free, while I am nothing but anger.”

“Geth,” Sabine hissed.

“We are heading to the gateway to make things right,” Ezra sneered. “If you wish, you can be my servant.”

Sabine laughed wickedly. “You fool,” he hissed. “The gateway is gone.”

Dennis knew Ezra well enough to know that he was going to have to hold him back. He grabbed onto Ezra’s legs and tiny tail as the furious toothpick swung with his arms and swore, trying to get at Sabine. Dennis could feel the anger raging through Ezra. It seemed to bleed out of the toothpick and into Dennis’s blood. The sensation was almost overpowering.

“Fool?” Ezra seethed at Sabine. “I’ll show you who the fool is.”

Sabine withdrew a couple of feet.

“Listen,” Dennis said, trying to calm things down and to understand the rage he himself was beginning to feel. “I think . . .” he stopped to soak in the rage. He opened and closed his eyes slowly. “I think . . .”

“Who are you?” Sabine hissed, drifting up to Dennis. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dennis,” he answered, his body trembling with gathering anger.

“He’s nobody!” Ezra yelled, his purple tassel writhing like a nest of snakes.

“Nobody?” Dennis whispered, his head beginning to pound.

“Nobody!” Ezra screamed. “I’m only using him to get me to the gateway.”

Dennis couldn’t remember feeling more agitated.

In the far distance the sound of sirens screamed. Dennis looked down at Ezra. He was holding the angry toothpick between his thumb and finger, and he studied the little monster’s ugly face. It was contorted with rage and hatred. Dennis fed off the anger. He thought of all the times his father had been disappointed in him. He thought of how his mother had always wished he were taller or smarter. He thought about his employers and how they had always dismissed him as a nobody. He knew they weren’t even aware that he had left. And he thought of what he was doing. Sure, it was a ridiculous quest, but it was a purpose.

The anger Dennis felt was so strong he couldn’t stop shaking. He looked down again at Ezra, who was still screaming.

“Nobody!” Ezra repeated. “Didn’t you hear me? I said—”

Dennis couldn’t help himself. He grabbed the top of Ezra and in one angry motion bent him in half. It was so sudden and unexpected that Ezra had no time to react.

Dennis stared at the bent toothpick. Ezra’s upper half was connected to his lower half by only a thin splinter of wood. The top half of Ezra stared up at Dennis in total shock.

“You . . .” Ezra sputtered. “I . . .”

Dennis looked at Ezra in his palm and felt no pity. In the distance the sirens grew louder.

“I’ll be making the decisions now,” Dennis seethed, a look of determination on his face such as he had never had before.

Stunned into silence, Ezra blinked weakly, and Sabine withdrew a couple of inches.

Dennis looked up, his eyes red and wet, his blood filled with anger.

“Dennis,” Sabine hissed.

Dennis reached out with such surety that Sabine didn’t even flinch. He grabbed Sabine and twisted him around his forearm like a thick rope. Sabine responded by spreading up and around Dennis’s shoulders, forming a ragged, black cloak. Sabine’s eyes and mouth lay two-dimensionally at the neck of the cloak.

“I’ve never dreamed before,” Dennis said angrily.

“I can fix that,” Sabine hissed.

“I want to see this Foo,” Dennis demanded.

“Of course,” Sabine hissed. “Of course, Darrin.”

Dennis turned and lowered his head so that Sabine’s white eyes were directly in view of his. “My name is Dennis,” he spat angrily.

“Of course,” Sabine hissed.

“Listen . . .” Ezra weakly begged.

Dennis wasn’t in the mood to listen. He stuffed Ezra’s broken body into the fanny pack, Ezra moaning the whole time. Then, straightening his wrinkle-proof pants and wearing Sabine as a tattered, open cloak, Dennis stood tall and puffed out his chest. He smoothed the sticker the bank teller had placed on his chest, viciously zipped up his fanny pack, and stomped farther into the woods, leaving behind the scene of the accident and the person he once was.

Dennis felt invincible.

ii

Tim Tuttle was slightly nervous about flying. Normally, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but the strange story he had just heard about a plane landing upside down on a freeway was making him a bit uneasy.

Uneasy but determined.

People were also talking about the twenty-four-story office building in North Carolina that had simply gotten up from the corner it was on and “walked” to the opposite side of the street. A plane landing upside down, a building changing location: nobody had a logical explanation for either event. Some thought it was the result of earthquakes and tornadoes, but the problem with that theory was that there was no other indication that any earthquake or tornado had actually occurred. One television network reported that these incidents were illusions staged by a clever magician who was trying to make a name for himself. They retracted their story a couple of hours later.

The world seemed like a crazy place. What made Tim most uneasy was that in the very back of his mind he couldn’t help but think that all these things were somehow connected to what Winter was going through.

Before his flight, Tim had spent the day at the library, researching newspaper stories from around the world. If it was true, and Winter did have some way of freezing things or hypnotizing people, there certainly had to be an article documenting something odd going on somewhere. And Tim figured that if that odd thing had something to do with ice, then he might be back on the trail.

Unfortunately, the newspapers were full of odd people and odd events. But nothing he had found had any obvious connection to Winter or Leven or ice.

There was one brief article, buried in a London newspaper, describing a bizarre incident that had taken place in a Munich, Germany, train station a few days previous. According to the report, something had turned the station into a chaotic mess, with travelers being hurled around or lifted up by unidentified assailants. Blame was tentatively placed on a malfunctioning new heating system at the station, but nobody who had been there bought into that at all.

There were quotes from passengers who had lived through the ordeal. Tim would have thought it was simply another odd story, except for the last quote from a Frau Dent. She had said: “A young boy and girl started clapping, and for some reason that seemed to help settle things down.”

There was no mention of ice, but the young boy and girl stood out. Tim had printed the article and stared at it for hours, thinking. When he called his wife, Wendy, to tell her what he had found, she encouraged him to do what he thought best.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Germany,” Tim said, “and my passport’s current from that convention of the International Waste and Litter Society last year in Nottingham.”

“Then go find her,” Wendy urged.

So, Tim was now on a plane crossing the Atlantic Ocean, wondering what in the world he would find when he landed in Germany. Winter had meant a lot to his family, but this quest was more than that. For the very first time he was truly beginning to understand just how important Winter was. The secret the old lady had whispered to him was finally beginning to make sense—sort of.

“She holds the seventh key, but does not know it. Watch her carefully.”

Tim turned off his overhead light and pulled his ball cap down over his eyes. He needed sleep, and he had a feeling this might be his last chance to get some for a while.

“Seventh key,” he whispered as he drifted off, wondering how he could watch Winter when he still had no idea where she was.