A wave of sweltering heat hit me from behind. My back foot stepped on something soft and grainy, then my other foot followed. I could sense a brightness coming from behind me, and saw a look of wonder on Joseph's face, his eyes the size of silver dollars. Without a word, I pulled the door closed, and saw his face swept away by the aged wood.

The door did not disappear—for some reason I had thought it might. But I could tell right away that in this new place, the door stood in the open just like it had in the watery cavern. When I turned around to catch my first glimpse of the Third Gift's sanctuary, I sucked in dry, scorching air as I saw that this place couldn't be any more different from the one I'd left on the other side of the door.

I was not in a room. I was not in a building. I was outside, in the middle of a vast and never-ending desert.

A sea of orange, glowing sand flowed in undulating dunes everywhere I looked, extending to the distant horizon in all directions, meeting the blue sky with a crisp and defined line. The air was stifling, a slight breeze blowing it into my face like dragon's breath. It was a place that was everything I would have imagined the Sahara being like.

There was an absolute silence in the desert world for the few minutes I took in my surroundings. But then I heard a strange buzzing sound, a rumbling hum that was growing louder. I set off in that direction to investigate, my feet slipping and sliding in the loose sand.

The land rose sharply into a tall dune about twenty feet to the side of the door, and the sound was coming from there, getting louder by the second. I scrambled up its loose slope, putting my hands in front of me, grasping the hot sand, mostly in vain. The sand stuck to my wet shoes. I was three feet from the top when something big and monstrous flew off of the dune from the other side, flying over my head and crashing to the ground behind me. I spun to get a look.

It was a dune buggy.

The four-wheel, glorified go-cart was revving its engines. It had landed and turned around so that it was now facing me. The driver of the desert machine was wrapped fully in white linens, his head wrapped as well, protecting him from sand and sun. I had a very good idea of who this person was, but I sure hadn't expected him to greet me this way.

He cut the engine, and swung his legs out of the vehicle. He walked over to me, paused, then lifted his hand to pull away the cloth covering everything but his eyes. As his arm went to his face and he pulled back the linen, I could see a very familiar plaid pattern.

He revealed his face, then pulled what seemed like a whole houseful of bed sheets off his body. Dusty overalls and plaid flannel met my eyes. No surprise this time—it was Farmer—the mysterious Giver who had become my mentor and friend.

“Hello, Jimmy,” he said.

“Hello to you. Is it your goal to make sure each of our meetings is always stranger than the one before it?”

“Oh, come now, child of the Four Gifts. I may be a figment of your imagination, and I may be an old man, but no one said I couldn't have a little fun.” He smiled and indicated the buggy behind him. But his words had made my heart pause.

“Figment of my imagination? What do you mean?”

Farmer's face grew serious, then broke back into a smile. “Oh, it's nothing like what it sounds, believe me. I am most definitely real, as real as your hand, as real as your heart, as real as your house back in Georgia. But when we meet in these special places, I am more of a recording than anything else. It's very difficult to understand, much less explain.”

He turned and walked back toward his vehicle, indicating with a wave of the hand that he wanted me to follow. I did, again finding it difficult to walk in the shifty sand.

Farmer reached into the buggy and pulled out an old lawn chair, then gave it to me.

“Go ahead,” he said, “have a seat. We have a lot to discuss, and you are getting closer and closer to knowing the full truth of things. Very close indeed.”

I grabbed the chair and unfolded it, reminded of summer barbecues and little league baseball games. It took a little working, but I eventually got the chair settled and stable in the soft sand, then sat down. I was very eager to learn more.

Just as he had in the room of ice inside the Pointing Finger, Farmer sat down on an invisible chair. He leaned back, and put one foot up on his knee, looking like a man ready to watch the big football game.

“My dear boy, I cannot convey to you how happy it makes me to see you arrive here. You have come so far, through so much of danger and worry.” He let his foot drop to the ground and leaned forward. “I am very anxious to tell you more. I think you are prepared more than ever now.”

He leaned back, his look of excitement fading.

“However, it also drains me to tell you some of the things I must. No matter what you have been through, you cannot be prepared for the surprises that are in store for you. You have seen much that has forever changed your perceptions of the world and the universe itself. But it truly has only been the beginning.”

“Farmer,” I said, “you always tell me that you are going to tell me everything, but it sure seems like you never do. What is a Stomper? When are they coming and what will they do to us? I feel like I need to know these things—everything. How else am I supposed to defeat them?”

A gentle wind picked up, blowing grains of sand lightly across the back of my neck. It was very strange that I had not even paused to think how weird it was that I had stepped into a desert through a door standing on the bottom of the ocean.

“I have told you before,” Farmer said, “how there is rhyme and reason to my timing on revealing the secrets of the Stompers to you. You have been patient, and I thank you. But listen to me.” He pointed his finger at me like an executioner. “If I had told you everything in the beginning, you would not be here. You would never, ever have made it this far. And that has a much different meaning than you probably think.”

“See!” I said. “Again with the riddles! What are you talking about?”

“I understand your impatience. Perhaps you are ready. I will tell you everything if time permits, but I want first to bestow something on you, to ensure that it happens before the tides of trouble rise on this sea of sand. You know how our luck has been thus far …”

“You mean the Third Gift?”

“Of course I do.”

He stood and walked to the back of the dune buggy and opened a small compartment. He pulled a small object out and came back to sit on the chair that was not there. I tried to see what he held, but it was cupped in both hands, hidden from view.

I couldn't believe the feeling that consumed me, a tingling excitement that swelled inside of me. The Third Gift. The Third Gift! I thought about how much the other two had completely changed my life, and here I was about to receive the next one. I could hardly stand it.

“Now,” Farmer said. “I told you once before that the second two Gifts were much different from the first two. This is very, very true. But I assure you that each of the Four have their own very distinct purpose in the end. Indeed, I bet you couldn't guess the Fourth Gift—the most powerful one—if I gave you one billion chances.” He let out a little chuckle, like this was all some game to him.

“Come on, Farmer, please.” I had no time to worry about the final Gift right then.

“All right, boy. I say, you have grown up considerably since that day under the door in the woods. Grown up, indeed.”

He pushed his cupped hands out from his lap until they were directly in front of me. Then he revealed what was lying within. A piece of iron, shaped like a crescent moon with an open crevice going down the middle. It looked like an open pea pod made out of cold metal, or a canoe built by an ancient civilization. Four oval objects were placed along the curved opening running down its length.

They were four red beans.

“You must eat each one,” Farmer said, “all together. I think you will find them quite tasty.”

“What are they? What do they taste like?”

“I believe they are similar to … cooked peas, if I'm not mistaken.”

My face turned the color of those demonic spheres of foul flavor called peas that my mom insisted on cooking at least once a week.

“Peas?”

Farmer laughed. He seemed very cheerful for the circumstances.

“I'm only teasing you, Jimmy. Your friend, the one called Joseph, told me you had a certain dislike for that cuisine. Do not worry, it has no taste, just like the other Gifts you have partaken. As for what the Gift can do, eat and I will tell. Surely you trust me by now?”

I only nodded, and then reached down and picked up the four beans. They were heavier than they appeared, their sports-car-red surface shiny and slippery. I almost dropped them. I allowed them to fall into the cup of my palm, then rattled them, looking up at Farmer with a sarcastic raising of my eyebrows.

“I don't know, do I trust you? If you spent too much time with Joseph, this is probably some practical joke food that tastes like dog-doo and then you'll give me the real Gift after I've puked all over the sand.”

Farmer smiled and assured me that was not the case.

I popped the beans into my mouth and chewed the tasteless morsels. They were the texture and consistency of jelly-beans, without the sweet flavor. I finished and swallowed with a big gulp, then looked at Farmer expectantly.

“Well?”

“Ah yes, the Third Gift. The only thing that will amaze you more than this Gift is the promise I make to you that the Fourth Gift is more powerful.”

“Really? What is this one called?”

“It is called the …” He paused. I waited.

Farmer leaned in for effect, his shaggy-bearded face only inches from mine.

“The Anything.”