The Last Of The Big Blue Marble Keepers

By Judie Gerber

After billions of years of service, the last of the Big Blue Marble Keepers must settle a score before leaving Earth at the mercy of humankind and Vile — that pervasive poisoner of people-hearts intent on accelerating the Sixth Mass Extinction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judie Gerber
• Release date: Feb 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9780978788179

Book preview

Chapter One

Disturbance of the Peace

Magical predawn light silhouettes the majestic Tibetan Himalaya Mountains. In the distance, midway up the tallest snow-capped peak, a Buddhist monastery glistens gold and red.

As the sun rises, it sends its most divine rays in a concentrated beam to a cave mouth atop the skyscraping mountain. Thirteen-thousand feet of switchback trails and ladders below the cave’s entrance, a figure in a blue snowsuit stands outside the monastery gazing up at the omen.

ATOP THE TOWERING MOUNTAIN, the beam of rich white-gold light floods into the cave opening and its spacious chamber. Ancient Tibetan tapestries hang on the polished stone walls. Handwoven rugs cover the floor. At the back, an elegant dinner table set for eleven, with a wooden bench along each side, and a magnificent throne of fresh flowers at one end.

In the sunbeam’s center, a forty-five-year-old sumo wrestler-sized man clad in an orange T-shirt, khaki pants, worn leather sandals and socks, and a pricey watch, sits on a cushion on the floor and meditates. His eyes are closed to the stunning view he faces outside the cave.

The fresh candle on the floor before him alights with flame.

IN THE PRECISE CENTER of the sprawling metropolis of New York City, four storefronts, each with a cozy apartment above it, cluster in a well-swept Alley off of Seventh Avenue. Off the street to the left, DARLING PAWN has been a friendly neighborhood fixture for nine decades. Out-of-business SPARKS’ CONVERSATION PIECES nestles next to it.

There’s a gate to the park in the six-foot-tall brick wall running along the end of the Alley. An old LOST CAT poster blows off it, revealing a scuffed metal plaque that reads: CULMINATION ALLEY.

Opposite Sparks’ defunct store, SISSY’S CRITTERS & VARMINTS displays agonized ceramic animal statues in the front window. Past her garage, on the corner, stands the glittery, neon office of HOT POTATOES RAG-MAG.

In the fading fall afternoon, a scrawny, olive-skinned seventeen-year-old girl in baggy clothes, Frankie Sparrow Fullbright, steps into the Alley through the open park gate. She eyes Sparks’ shop with troubled recognition, then ogles Darling Pawn with a little fear.

Sparrow spies the statue of a twisted giraffe in Sissy’s window. Below it, in the sewer drain, a dark ooze with sallow eyes — Vile, that predatory, primordial, pervasive poisoner of people-hearts in one of his many forms — emerges.

Recoiling from Vile’s putrid smell, Sparrow steps back as the puddle of stinky slime glides across the ground like a sidewinder snake and slips under Sissy’s door.

The door falls open an inch.

Intrigued, Sparrow steps toward Sissy’s door.

Grating, androgynous mumblings waft from inside. More. More. More, the irksome voice grunts.

Sparrow fiddles nervously with the angel charm on her silver bracelet. Comforted, she reaches for Sissy’s door.

Shiny. Shiny. Shiny, the raspy voice squeals.

Sparrow slowly opens the door. She tiptoes inside the dark store into a world filled with tortured wild animal statues. Ten steps to the right, light spills from the open door to the garage, along with the unsettling voice chanting, Me. Me. Me.

Sparrow stops outside the door, its surface plastered with NO TRESPASSING, PRIVATE, and ARTIST AT WORK signs.

Inside the garage, a loud burp, then the disturbing voice pants breathlessly, Money. Money. Money.

Sparrow peers into the garage at the back of a frumpy, fiftyish man, Slick Snide, his greased-back hair glistening. Dressed in preppy chinos and a sweater-vest, he peers into a wooden crate.

Now a black creature the size of a fat housecat with yellow eyes, Vile crawls from the crate onto Slick’s shoulder. Vile’s bulbous head on his round blobby body bobbles weirdly. His two long, spindly, talon-tipped arms and two legs knead Slick’s neck as he mutters, Dead. Dead. Dead.

Slick groans with pleasure

Sparrow recoils as Vile inserts his long tongue into Slick’s ear. Slick giggles as Vile’s tongue protrudes out Slick’s other ear and tickles its lobe.

Sparrow gasps in horror.

Slick and Vile whirl around. Both hiss at her.

Sparrow turns and runs out Sissy’s front door. She races across the Alley into the park.

Slick follows her, faster than you’d reckon he could.

Sparrow’s bracelet catches on a bush and breaks off. No matter. She sprints full-speed to the other side of the park into the street opposite. A screech of car brakes and a thump later, she lies unconscious on the pavement.

Slick stops yards away and watches, unnoticed, as others go to Sparrow’s aid. Curling his lips in an evil snarl, he heads back toward the Alley.

IN THE HIMALAYAN CAVE, Roman opens his intense amber eyes. His pupils look like actual pieces of amber.

The candle flame before him flickers blue.

A gloved hand grips the ledge outside the cave opening.

Roman frowns. Annoyed.

A second gloved hand helps hoist the lithe, twenty-five-year-old Eartha Mumsy, clad in her flattering blue snowsuit, onto the ledge outside. She shakes back her hood, and just like in the movies, her flowing hair spills out. Her seductive face is perfection personified. She wears cute Earth-globe earrings and a terribly guilty smile.

Everything’s gone to shit, hasn’t it, Mumsy? Roman barks.

Mumsy walks over and pecks him on the cheek. There’s been a glitch, she affirms.

Unamused, Roman eyes her expectantly.

Mumsy admires the elaborate dining table. The others won’t be here for the dinner, she informs him, avoiding his glare. And neither will we. She meets his extraordinary eyes. The modified plan is because of you.

Roman raises an eyebrow. Pourquoi? he inquires.

Mumsy sits on the floral throne, smelling its blossoms. Apparently, you still have an agreement to honor before you leave us all for good, she replies curtly as she strides past him and paces unhappily in the cave’s opening.

I have always lived virtuously, Roman insists.

Mumsy smiles faintly. Everyone knows that. But the Big-D is ultimately in charge, she reminds him. So, you’ve got to get back to your shop now. The others will meet you there.

Smiling slyly, Roman rises to his feet. It’s that dying singer I met fourteen years ago, isn’t it?

Mumsy stops in her tracks. Nods.

It wasn’t an official agreement, Roman explains. What is a hospice volunteer supposed to say to a woman on her deathbed wrought with guilt about abandoning her children?

You promised her they were fine.

Roman sighs in frustration. Was her daughter at the shop that day the Dreamholder arrived? he asks.

Mumsy nods.

She must be seventeen by now, Roman estimates.

Mumsy stiffens. Pain washes over her face. She’s on her way to Sleeper’s Meadow, she blurts out.

What? Roman is incredulous. We just shut the place down.

Mumsy stands strong. She cannot die. If she does, and you leave an agreement undone, then you can’t leave your gift and I don’t stand a chance. Nothing does.

Shit, Roman mutters.

You have no idea what we’ve gone through to intercept her from almost certain death, Mumsy vents. Slick–

Rage fills Roman’s bulky being and ignites his fiery amber eyes. Snide, he seethes through gritted teeth. Roman growls as he tosses a packed parachute to Mumsy, then grabs one for himself. They expertly strap them on. I did not want our last hours to be like this, he offers apologetically. But as you are aware— He hands her a roll with skis and poles, tucks one under his arm, and leans in close to her, their lips not quite touching.

That’s life! they laugh together, then kiss fervidly before reluctantly breaking apart.

Roman whispers in her ear, Let’s bring a few lost Earthkeeper’s home, shall we?

Mumsy nods.

Hand-in-hand, they run to the outside ledge and leap off.

Chapter Two

Nosy Neighbor

In the window of the two-bedroom apartment above Darling Pawn, a woebegone boy’s pinched, freckled face peers down through the dining room curtains at the Alley.

Behind fourteen-year-old Beau Hollow, the apartment is a cluttered sanctuary of fine antiques, misfit knickknacks, top-of-the-line exercise equipment, and books galore. Reproductions of beautiful portraits by long-dead painters fill all the walls and ceiling too.

In the elegant dining room, a festive birthday dinner table is set for five. On the confetti-laden sideboard, a FULLBRIGHT’S DELIGHTS BAKERY cake box sits next to the clock that reads: 10:00 PM.

The wiry runt of a boy staring outside, turns his attention to the vibrating cell phone in his hand. He frowns at the on-screen message: DAISY: 6TH CALL. He stuffs the phone in his oversized jeans’ pocket as he briefly pats his breast