The Scarecrow of OZ (14 page)

The Tin Man stepped out of the carriage and rose to his full height of nearly eight feet tall. The men all took a half step backward and concentrated their guns on him instead of Caleb.

The only guy without a gun was also the only one who spoke. “Is one of you named Caleb?”

Caleb looked at the large man with tattoos, his voice cracked a little on his first attempt at a reply and he coughed and swallowed twice before saying again, “I am.”

“Ellis wants to talk to you. Follow me.”

Caleb looked to the Tin Man for guidance. He didn’t move, but his speaker crackled softly. “Go see what he wants. I’ll be okay here.”

None of the men took their guns away from the Tin Man as Caleb walked past them and followed Tattoo Head through the door.

He paused at a door halfway down the hallway. As soon as Caleb reached him, he opened it.

“Ellis is inside. He’s been expecting you.”

Caleb stepped through the door and Tattoo Head closed it behind him. He heard the faint sound of a lock being engaged. He wasn’t getting back through that door until they let him out.

The room was lit by candles that flickered throughout the room while a hotly burning fire popped and crackled in the fireplace, the mantle above it was adorned with various trophies, medals, and ribbons. The sweet smell of cherry wood was at odds with the musty stench of old smoke. His eyes adjusted quickly to the semi-darkness. It looked like a sitting room, or a parlor room, from one of the more opulent houses people built in OZ. Various sofas and lounges were placed symmetrically about the room with two overstuffed chairs canted at an angle in front of the roaring fireplace.

One of the chairs was empty, but the one with its back to him had the telltale curl of smoke rising up above it. Someone was seated in the other chair, and whoever they were had spent a lot of time smoking in this room.

A hand, holding a pipe, poked out from the side of the chair and motioned to the empty chair.

“Please, have a seat Caleb.”

Caleb walked cautiously around to the front of the empty chair and sat down. The man was a distinguished looking older gentleman, the polar opposite of the shaved and tattooed ruffians outside. His silver-white hair was combed neatly back and his beard trimmed to perfection. He puffed on his pipe while staring up at the awards on the mantle.

“Why would someone keep reminders of a life that once was, when the life you are living now, is what is most important?”

He shifted in his chair and gave Caleb the once-over with his eyes.

“You’re a tad shorter than I was hoping for. Anyone who tells you that size doesn’t matter is a fool. When you’re going up against the Directorate Army, bigger is always better.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say, or how to respond to this man who puffed on his pipe and blew out the smoke in a long breath.

“But beggars can’t be choosers. We play with the hand we’re dealt.”

Caleb had expected something more, something profound, from how this man looked, dressed, and acted. Instead, he spat out tired old expressions.

“Are you going to tell me how you knew my name, or are you just going to sit there and regale me with platitudes?”

The man puffed on his pipe. “Why are you doing this?”

The man had not answered him, and instead replied with a question of his own. Caleb decided to play the game a little longer before letting his temper get the better of him.

“Why am I doing what?”

“Why have you embarked on this little quest?”

Somehow, this man knew what he was doing. Time to put that knowledge to the test, or see if this old man was fishing.

“I’ve been asked to retrieve something of immense value to the history of the hybrid people.”

Smoke filtered between the man’s teeth as he chuckled. “Immense value. I like how you put that. But it’s not just valuable to the hybrids. If it’s true what this weapon can do, it’s valuable to anybody who gets their hands on it, or paws, as the case may be.”

So, the man knew everything. It would make no sense to hide anything from him then.

“So, are you going to help us, or do you have demands of your own.”

The man smiled with half his mouth while the other half puffed on his pipe. He exhaled another long stream of smoke and pointed to the mantle with his pipe.

“Every one of those awards was given to me for my service in the Directorate Army. They are a constant reminder of what I gave up the day I realized that what the Directors had planned for the world was not peace.

“We were a small group, working from the inside to stop them. Emboldened by a few meaningful successes in hindering the Directors’ rise to world power, we began to recruit with a little less, shall I say, discretion. Here we were, spies working against the Directors from within their organization. We were so full of ourselves, we hadn’t realized, until it was too late, that the Directors had planted a spy of their own.

“When everything came crashing down around us, those too cowardly to kill themselves before being captured, were sent here to live out the rest of their days in exile. By not making our treasonable actions punishable by death, the Directors sent a clear message. Our cause fizzled and died because people are more willing to risk death than they are willing to risk life imprisonment.”

He studied Caleb intently.

“But you. You’re already in prison. All you have left to wager is your life. Before you put your life on the line, decide what it is you’re risking it for. Is it worth it?”

Caleb immediately thought of Dorothy. He had made a vow to himself to help her no matter the cost. He nodded his head.

“It’s worth it.”

“Are you sure she’s worth it?”

Caleb’s mouth hung open. How did he know he was doing it for Dorothy? As if reading his mind, the man answered.

“Nero and I do not keep secrets from each other. Fortunately for the cause, the Directors did not catch everyone. So, even after all this time, we still have someone on the inside keeping the Directors from achieving their goal of world conquest. Right now, our first priority is to keep your ancient hybrid weapon out of the Directors’ hands.

“If I thought you were doing this to prove yourself worthy as their leader, or to help reinstate the hybrids to the status as gods they enjoyed so long ago, I would have ordered my men to kill you as soon as you arrived.

“But you’re doing this for love. Love of a human, no less. I can’t think of any cause more worthy than that. I can get you as far north as Center City. After that, you’re on your own.”

The man stood up and tapped his pipe out into an ashtray.

“Come on, let’s get you back with your team and on the road as soon as possible.”

Caleb followed him out of the room and back to the transport platform. The Tin Man, Toto and Dorothy stood to one side. Nobody was pointing their guns at them, or even paying any real attention to them. Caleb rushed into the room and up to Dorothy.

“Dorothy, are you okay?”

She looked at him, confusion written all over her face. “Do I know you?”

He smiled, allowing some of his own confusion to scrawl across his face. “It’s me, Caleb.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, as if she were desperately trying to recall something important. “Caleb… Caleb… Ah yes! I have a message for you from the Southern Marshal.”

She closed her eyes and her face lost all expression. “I promised to give you Dorothy. However, until you have completed your task, I only give you her body to protect. Her memories will be restored when you return with the Brahmastra. Until then, keep your scarecrow safe.”

Dorothy’s eyes opened and her face returned to the quizzical expression. “Did I just say something?”

Caleb turned on the old man. “What is this?!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. That’s how she was when she arrived.”

That wasn’t good enough. He had been tricked, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I want to speak with her.”

“She’s standing right there.”

“Not her! The Southern Marshal. I want to speak with her now!”

“Sorry, son. Can’t help you there.”

“You must communicate with her somehow. She’s at the other end of your tunnel.”

“It’s an asynchronous relationship. She sends food and, on occasion, messages down the line. I have explicit instructions to always send the carriage back empty. She has made it clear that if I ever break our agreement, she will seal the tunnel, and our fate.”

What was he talking about? If memory served him correctly, this city was surrounded by vast farmlands that fed most of the Western Territories. Why did he have to rely on food from the Southern Marshal?

“How is your fate tied to her?”

“OZ is not the same place you left six months ago. Say what you will about the Eastern and Western Marshals. Their heavy-handed rule kept the people in line. With them gone, lawlessness has become the order of the day. My city has been under siege for nearly two months now. If it were not for the Southern Marshal, we would have starved to death a month ago. Her continued assistance is dependent upon my getting you past that siege and on your way. And that is what I intend to do.”

Caleb looked at the scarecrow who used to be Dorothy. His Dorothy.

He decided he would get the Brahmastra and use it to force the Southern Marshal to return Dorothy’s memories. Then he would take her, and her father, out of OZ forever.

The massive black locomotive sat on railroad tracks that started at the center of the large city and stretched all the way to the external defensive wall. It belched a cloud of steam that engulfed Caleb in a white shroud. He lost sight of Dorothy and the Tin Man for a brief moment until the hot vapor dissipated. When it cleared, he could see them standing with Toto on the other side of the town square from where he stood next to locomotive.

Ellis puffed furiously on his pipe, doing his best to compete with the locomotive, as he spoke to one of his men. “Have you been able to reach the Oracle?”

The tattoo covered soldier, not taking his eyes off the men unloading crates from the locomotive, shook his head. “No sir. The only thing we get on his frequency is static.”

“Keep trying. I want to make sure our friends here are welcomed with open arms and not firearms.”

“Yes sir.”

The soldier ran off and Ellis placed a hand on the oversized wagon wheels that had been fitted to the locomotive. The wheels were as big around as he was tall. His fingers stroked the grooves carved at alternating angles along the edge of the ten-inch thick wheels.

“These grooves might give you a bit of a bumpy ride as you gain speed on the track, but that’s nothing compared to the ride you’ll get when you run out of track. These modified wheels should provide enough traction on the ground to keep you going through the siege camp, and all the way to the center of OZ before you run out of coal.”

Caleb inspected the row of wheels mounted on the locomotive. He didn’t know much about trains, but he knew they had to be on a track to get to where they were going. His eyes follow the tracks the locomotive rested on. They ended against the wall at the edge of the city. Men with shaved heads and tattoos worked tirelessly to clear away stones from the wall, leaving only one layer of protection between the city and the siege camp outside. This would give the locomotive minimal resistance when it hit the wall; and a big surprise for the bandits on the other side who had no idea what was coming.

Still, riding a wild out-of-control locomotive without a guide-track did not sound like the best idea Caleb had ever heard.

“How do we steer the train once we are off the tracks?”

Ellis chuckled. “You won’t be needing to steer her. Think of this length of track as a gun barrel and the locomotive as a bullet. We’ve already aimed you in the right direction. You will just keep going in a straight line until she stops.”

“What if we hit something?”

“You’ll just go right on through it.” He slapped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “There ain’t nothing in OZ that can stop this beast once she gets started. Trust me, you’ll carve a path through everything in your way until you run out of steam. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do to get ready to deal with the big hole you’re about to make in my wall.”

Ellis walked off, smoke puffing up above his head as he moved away, like a smaller version of the locomotive.

As soon as Ellis disappeared into a building, Caleb was shoved hard from behind. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled forward into the side of the locomotive. He singed the fur on the palm of his hand as he braced himself against the boiler before regaining his balance and saving his hands from burning any longer than necessary. As if any amount of burning was necessary.

Tattoo Head, the same guy with the blackened teeth who had ordered them out of the carriage at gunpoint earlier, towered over him. He was easily a head taller than Caleb, and did not look happy.

“Who do you think you are?”

Caleb’s inner fire had just been stoked and he curled his hands into fists ready for a fight. The spring-loaded sword shot out from the armor on his left arm. Tattoo took a step back as a dagger appeared in his own hand.

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Caleb relaxed his hands and the sword retracted back into the armor.

“I’m not your enemy.”

“Are you sure of that! You’ve done more to hurt us in five hours than the enemy could in two months. Because of you, our defenses will be down for the first time, and my soldiers are already exhausted from dismantling the wall. We will be weak and vulnerable, and I don’t think you’re worth it.”

“Ellis thinks I’m worth it.”

“Ellis is a fool. He was not the only one who went up against the Directors and lost. Just because we were banished here does not mean we are out of the fight. We are the ones who’ve maintained our strength, discipline, and our sense of purpose. We should be going instead of you, a cowardly pussycat.”

That was it.

The sword sprang back into action as he swung a tight arc through the air. Tattoo countered with his dagger.