The Takers: Book One of the Oz Chronicles (16 page)

Roy smiled with peanut butter on the corners of his mouth. "This sure is appreciated," he said.

"No problem." I waved his gratitude off. "Look, what are you all planning to do?"

"What do you mean?" Reya said, bitter and insolent.

"I mean do you plan on going with this bandit thing forever or do you see yourselves doing something else?" I treaded very carefully because I knew how intensely committed Reya was to her moniker of bandit.

Devlin raised his head from his frosted apple pie pocket, "What else is there?" Particles of food shot from his mouth as he spoke.

"There is nothing else," Reya snapped.

"I was thinking you might join us," I said.

"To do what?" Miles said after a long sustained belch.

"We're going to Atlanta," I said. I was beginning to get sick watching Miles and Devlin eat. They ended up wearing most of the food.

"Why Atlanta?" Roy asked.

"We don't care where you're going," Reya interrupted. "We're headed someplace else."

Miles stopped eating at hearing this news. He turned to his leader and wiped the slop from his face with his shirtsleeve. "Where we going?"

"Wherever I say," Reya said, her voice shrill yet commanding.

Roy ignored his sister's announcement. "What's in Atlanta?"

I didn't know exactly how to answer. I mapped my argument out in my head before I spoke. "We're on a mission," I said trying to sound as confident as I could. "We're going to fight the Greasywhoppers."

"What's a Greasy whopper?" Devlin asked.

"The monsters," I said.

Everyone stopped eating. They all looked at each other and then me. Roy spoke. "The things? The people-eaters?"

I nodded.

Miles slowly chewed his food. "Why would you want to do that?"

"We don't want to," I assured him. "But it's the only way we can get Nate to the Keepers."

Reya tried to remain indifferent to my story, but she couldn't contain her increasing interest any longer. "Who's Nate?

I pointed to Lou who was changing Nate's diaper. "That's Nate."

Reya laughed. "The baby?" She felt a twinge of pain coming from her dart wound. She flinched and gently rubbed her butt cheek. "We'll just go our own way. You kids go off and get your baby to your Keepers and leave us out of it."

"I'll go with you," Roy said.

Reya was enraged. "No you won't."

"Those things ate Mom and Dad, Reya. You saw them. I'm going to make them pay." The hatred was bubbling up inside of him as he spoke.

"Yeah, I saw them," she said. "There's no way we can beat them. They'll eat us, too."

"We've already beat them three times," I said.

She looked at me. "You lie."

"It's the truth," Lou said, standing with Nate in her arms.

"I don't believe it," Reya said. Her dart wound still burning. "They're too strong and too fast. I've seen them with my own eyes."

I remained as level-headed as I could. "But they only know how to do one thing, eat. We've killed four of them."

"And how many have you lost by fighting?" Reya asked, stern and unwavering in her opposition to joining us in our mission.

I thought about Stevie Spangler and his horrible muffled screams as the Taker swallowed him. "One."

"That's one too many," she said. "We'll do just fine by not fighting."

"That's not true," I said. This time I raised my voice and stood. "They brought the fight to us. They started this. Just because you don't want to fight them doesn't mean they're not going to get you. It's not a matter of 'if'. It's a matter of 'when.' We have a better chance of beating them if we take the fight to them, on our terms, than if we just sit and hope that they won't ever find us. Cowards hide, and they devour cowards."

"He's right," Roy said. "We have to stand up to them."

Reya's lower lip began to tremble. She crossed her arms in front of her and tried not to cry, but the tears slowly formed in the corners of her eyes. "They'll kill us."

"Maybe," I said. "But maybe we'll kill them."

She bowed her head. "I'm scared. I don't want to die."

Miles and Devlin were shocked by Reya's sudden admission. They had never seen her this way before. They saw her as tough and hard-nosed, but there she was, tears falling freely now, hands shaking. She was just a teenager who was running from the horrors she had seen.

Roy approached her and put his arm around her shoulder. "We have to do this for Mom and Dad."

She looked up at him. She wanted to protest. She wanted to get her roughrider persona back, but it was gone. She was shaken to her core. She nodded and laid her head on her brother's shoulder.

I refrained from pumping my fist in the air. I didn't think it was appropriate. I looked at Devlin and Miles. They looked at each other. Eventually they shrugged their shoulders and returned to gulping down their food.

I walked over and shook Roy's hand. "Glad to have you aboard."

He only half-heartedly smiled. "Can't say I'm glad to be aboard, but if there's one thing I've been wanting to do, it's making those ugly monsters pay for what they did to my parents."

I squeezed his hand to let him know I meant what I was about to say, "We will," I said. "We will."

***

We were a caravan now, a 1972 VW bus, two Belgian horses pulling a wagon full of passengers and supplies, and four spotted Tiger horses with young unskilled riders (me included) of different degrees on their backs. Wes held back on his NASCAR driver instincts and drove at a pace we could match. Lou drove the wagon, while I took over Reya's mount, who Devlin for some reason called Chubby even though he was no bigger than the other Tiger horses. Chubby was a bit sprier than Phil and Ryder. He had the urge to run, and I had the fear that he would take off at any moment. I was a more confident rider than I was when Wes first introduced me to the horses in Manchester, but I had not experienced a horse at a spirited gallop yet, much less a full out run. I wasn't all together sure I could handle it. I gripped the reins tightly and tried to fight the run out of him, but he was raring to go.

"Might as well let him get it out of his system," Roy said. He had been shaking his head for the past fifteen minutes watching me fighting the inevitable.

I tried to think of an excuse why the horse should not run, but I could not think of anything. Finally, I just blurted out the truth. "I can't ride that well. I don't know if I can handle a run."

He guided his horse next to mine. "There's only one way to find out." He slapped Chubby on his hindquarters and whistled loudly.

The horse reared slightly and then bolted down the interstate. I spread my arms out and held loosely to the reins. The rest of my body flopped uncontrollably. We quickly passed the VW bus.

"Squeeze your legs to his body," Roy shouted. "Move with him, not against him!"

I was too panicked to listen to his instructions at first, but as the horse grew faster and faster I implemented his advice. Before long, it felt as if I were riding the horse instead of just sitting on him, my fate at the mercy of his whims. I brought my hands in and tightened my grip on Chubby's reins. It was an incredible feeling of power. I could feel the horse's muscles restrict and contract as it moved its hooves across the paved terrain. I steered the mare toward the median to get him off the pavement. Once he touched grass, he dug his hooves in and picked up the pace. We were flying and I involuntarily hooted.

I looked behind me. Roy had his horse, Mr. Mobley, running at full speed. Roy was dipped down in the saddle, almost hugging the animal's neck. They were gaining on us. I kicked Chubby in the ribs and prayed I wasn't pushing my luck. The horse snorted and puffed. I could feel him trying to pick up the pace, but he couldn't go any faster. I looked back again. Roy and Mr. Mobley were even closer now. They would overtake us at any minute. I looked beyond him, and was amazed how far behind the others were now. We had covered an incredible distance in a short period of time.

Roy pulled up beside me. "Looks like you can handle it," he said, his voice raised to be heard over the pounding hooves of our horses.

"Yeah," I said, "but I'm not sure I can get him to stop."

"Just ease back on the reins. Not too hard." He showed me. His horse slowed to a gallop and then stopped.

I followed his example. Chubby slowed to a fast walk. He was out of breath from the exercise. I was out of breath from the excitement.

Roy and Mr. Mobley rode up beside us. "That was fun."

"That was incredible," I said, my voice exuding excitement. I heard a click and a hiss come from the two-way on my belt. I looked back and the caravan was about a mile behind us. The click and hiss came again. I unclipped the radio and pushed the talk button. "This is Oz, go ahead." There was no response. I tried again. "This is Oz."

A voice I didn't recognize answered back. "Hello, Oz." The tone was low and brooding. The words crackled from the radio, cold and piercing.

"Who is this?" I asked the question even though I really didn't want to know the answer. Roy appeared drained and pale. I imagine I looked the same way.

A throaty laugh crept out of the two-way's tiny speaker. "We're coming."

Mr. Mobley and Chubby came to a complete stop. I wanted to drop the radio and have my sturdy Tiger horse crush it with one of its hooves, but I knew I couldn't do it. "Who's coming?" We peered up in the sky, and watched in amazement as the clouds spelled out the word, "Délons."

The laugh shot out of the two-way again, and then in a sing-songy voice the answer came over the radio, "The Délons are coming, the Délons are coming."

I looked at Roy. He was white as a sheet. "What are Délons?"

"Day longs," I said. I turned Chubby around. "C'mon, we have to get back." I nudged the steed in the ribs and bounded toward our caravan.

"What are Day longs, then?" Roy and Mr. Mobley were running neck and neck with us.

"Don't know," I said, "but they're not the welcome wagon, that's for sure."

We rode back to the caravan at an even greater speed than we left. Lou did not recognize the alarm in our expressions when we pulled to a stop next to the wagon. She rolled her eyes at what she perceived as boys-will-be-boys antics on horseback. "You two having a good time?"

I climbed down from Chubby. "Stop!" I yelled.

Wes looked out of the van's window. "What for?"

"Just stop," I said, sounding more demanding than I had intended.

The bus and the others came to a stop. Everybody eyed Roy and me curiously. "We've got visitors. Who's got the two-way?"

Wes disappeared back into the VW bus and then returned to the window holding the two-way radio. "It's right here."

"Did you just hear… something?" I asked.

"On the radio?" He looked perplexed. "No. Did you try to call?"

I shook my head. "Okay we need to be alert. Wes, Roy Lou, and Reya, grab the crossbows and quivers. Everybody else grab the hunting vests and load the pockets with firecrackers. Make sure to get a pocket blowtorch." I jumped up in the wagon and searched through my stuff until I found what I was looking for, J.J.

Wes stepped out of the bus. "What's going on?"

"Day longs," I said. "Make sure Ajax stays put. He's in no condition to fight." I climbed back on top of Chubby.

"Where are they?" Lou asked.

"Don't know," I said. I watched as the others scrambled to get ready for a fight.

"They called us on the radio," Roy said.

"What's a day long?" Reya asked.

"Délon," Roy said, pronouncing it like the sound of a single horse gallop. He looked at me. "At least I think that's what he said."

"Whatever," Reya snapped. "What is it?"

Lou pointed to the purple crack in the sky. "It made that."

Devlin pulled out his air pistol.

"Don't think that will do much good," I said.

"Damned if it won't," Miles said, holding his air pistol. "We shoot the suckers in the eyes, you can bet it will do some good."

"Are you that good of a shot?" I asked, not really hiding the doubt in my tone.

"Heck, yeah." Devlin smiled.

"You better be," I said.

Everybody armed themselves. They all stood around waiting for my next set of orders. It was only then I realized that I had taken charge of our defense. It was not a conscious choice on my part. I was simply reacting to what I thought was an impending attack. I struggled to find the right words to say to them. I wasn't the oldest. I wasn't the strongest. I wasn't the most experienced combatant. But there I was with a group of fighters waiting for instructions from me. Finally I spoke. "We should keep moving. I saw a sign for an Alltoona Lake not too far ahead. We'll need somebody to ride point to scout it out."

Roy cleared his throat. "I'll do it."

I considered his offer. I felt like I should do it, but I didn't want to put that much separation between Nate and me. After all, I was ultimately responsible for him. "Fine." I threw him my two-way. "Take this."

"Why does he have to go?" Reya was fuming. She didn't like her brother being sent on such a dangerous mission.

"Because I volunteered, Reya." Roy was coarse with his sister.

Reya stomped over to me. She looked up at me sitting on Chubby's back. "Send somebody with him."

"I can't," I said. "We have to protect our cargo." I motioned toward Lou and Nate.

"I'll go with him," Reya said.

"No you won't." Roy turned Mr. Mobley south. "If we're going to survive this thing, we stick together and do as Oz says." He kicked Mr. Mobley and darted down the interstate.

Reya pursed her lips together and sighed deeply. "Who made you boss?" she asked.

It was a question I couldn't answer so I ignored her. "Everybody load up, and keep your eyes peeled."

Reya thought about asking the question again. She wanted to defy me so badly I could see it in her face, but she didn't. I don't know why exactly, but I'm guessing her concern for her brother began to take over her every thought. She turned and climbed back on the wagon.

Our caravan moved slowly. The sound of a small VW engine and bounding horse hooves echoed across the empty interstate. We all kept a wary eye on every inch of road, countryside, and sky. We didn't speak. We were all afraid that any distraction would be a costly one. I rode in front of Wes's tiny bus. Devlin and Miles brought up the rear. We looked like we were from an old western movie I had seen with Pop, a group of marshals giving a Wells Fargo stagecoach an escort to Dodge city.