The Tower of Air by James Dashner

Author:James Dashner [Dashner, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Adventure, YA
Publisher: Cedar Fort, Inc
Published: 2012-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

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.

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