Shadows of the Emerald City

by J. W. Schnarr

  “Toto! Quiet.” She smacked him on the nose. He looked up at her reproachfully, but stopped. “Why were you hurting that poor man?”

  “I’m not a man, I’m a Scarecrow,” the figure on the ground said cheerfully.

  And indeed he was. His clothes were spread out across the ground, a green jacket and mismatched red pants tucked into worn leather boots. His face was just a painted sack. The jacket was torn open at the belly and straw was scattered all over.

  “Tin Man, will you let the Lion go, please?”

  “He’s a hungry predator.”

  “Please?”

  He set the Lion on the ground, who collapsed in a pathetic heap. The poor thing was nothing but skin and bones. He was missing clumps of fur and he was covered in sores.

  Toto sniffed him tentatively, without taking his eyes off Dorothy.

  “Mr. Lion, why would you want to eat a Scarecrow?”

  “He doesn’t mind.” The Lion’s eyes never left the Tin Man. “I use him to build up the nerve to attack real animals. He lets me rip out his guts. It doesn’t make my stomach feel any better, but I can use the straw to make a nice warm bed so I can nap.”

  “It’s a win-win,” said the Scarecrow. “He gets to practice being ferocious, and his fleas keep me company for days after.”

  “Why are you so hungry, Mr. Lion?”

  “Because I’m—I’m scared! I’m too terrified to chase anything bigger than rabbits and squirrels. Even those take a big lump of courage—they have such sharp little teeth. Can you get your dog away from me, please? I’m afraid he’s going to bite. I think he’s foaming at the mouth”

  “He is not foaming. He just has a runny nose. All he wants to do is smell you.”

  “First smelling, then biting, the next thing you know it has its jaws around my throat and I’m done for.”

  “Toto, leave him alone. He’s scared of you.” Toto gave her a skeptical look, but she reassured him by stroking his ears. “Did you say you eat cute little squirrels? I was teaching Tin Man here that killing is wrong.”

  “It is? I’m a bad kitty!”

  “Dorothy,” the Tin Man said. “He’s a predator. If he doesn’t kill, then he dies, simple as that.”

  Dorothy shook her head.

  “He must be able to eat something else.”

  “Felines are strict carnivores. They need meat to survive.”

  “If he were more courageous, he could eat the bigger, uglier animals. Lion, I would rather you didn’t eat the little cute ones. Would you like to be my friend? Would you like to go to the Wizard? I bet he could give you courage.”

  The Lion’s face lit up.

  “Oh I’d like that. Can I travel with you? You can keep me safe.”

  “Please don’t take my friend away from me,” said the Scarecrow.

  “Friend?” the Tin Man said. “He was disemboweling you.”

  “That’s right.” The Scarecrow nodded proudly. “And later today the farmer will come and re-embowel me. That’s the way it always goes. I don’t see either of them for weeks and then I see both come on the same day.” One empty shoulder twitched in a semblance of a shrug. “When it rains, it pours.”

  “We could put your stuffing back in, if you’d like.”

  “No thanks. If my stuffing’s in, I’m not sure the farmer will visit me.”

  The Tin Man bent down over the Scarecrow. “How are you even alive, with nothing but straw inside you? Every creature needs a brain.”

  “What’s a brain?”

  A wonderful idea came to Dorothy.

  “You can come with us! The Wizard grants wishes. He can give you a brain.” It would give her some company besides the murderous giant, and what harm could he be? A man of straw couldn’t be hurt, so he’d be safe even with the Tin Man around.

  The Tin Man crouched beside and whispered in a clearly audible booming voice.

  “You want to take him along? He doesn’t even care about his own body.”

  “Excuse me,” the Scarecrow said. “I don’t want to go to the Wizard. Why waste my life wishing when I’m happy just the way I am? No thank you, I’m content staying right here.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, having a brain,” Dorothy said.

  “I’m sure. But feel free to visit any time. I always enjoy a good disemboweling.”

  “I can still come, can’t I?” The Lion’s voice shined with hope.

  “On one condition. You can’t kill anything.”

  “Of course not!”

  The Tin Man straightened up.

  “You’re being cruel.”

  Dorothy crossed her arms and turned away.

  “I don’t have to listen to you.”

  “It will take two weeks to reach the Emerald City at your pace. He’ll die before you’re halfway there.”

  “He’ll be fine. Won’t you, Lion?”

  “Whatever you say, Dorothy.” The Lion’s eyes were huge with anticipation. His tongue hung out of his mouth.

  “You wish to watch him die slowly of starvation. This is love?”

  She ignored him.

  They walked on, with the Scarecrow’s voice following after them. “Don’t forget to visit!” They were slowed to a snail’s pace to allow the malnourished Lion to keep up. Finally they found a meadow to settle for the night. Toto curled up against her belly, and the Lion curled up at the edge of the meadow.

  When she woke, she was surprised that her belly was cold. Toto was gone!

  “Where’s Toto?” She looked around. The Tin Man was watching her. “And the Lion?”

  “After he was certain you’d fallen asleep, the Lion snatched Toto up in his jaws and carried him off into the woods.”

  Dorothy’s voice rose into a shriek.

  “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “What was I to do?” He held out his hands toward her. “These hands are not made for delicate work. I could never have extricated the dog without killing one or both of them, and you’d forbidden me to harm either one.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “So you could fight a starving Lion with the taste of blood on his tongue? I saved your life by letting you sleep.”

  “I don’t care. You should have woken me.”

  “You’re angry because I prevented you from throwing your life away. This is love?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  She could see the trail left by the Lion, the blood smeared thickly across the brush. She followed the trail until she came to Toto’s carcass. A heap of bones and fur with a dog collar were all that remained of her best friend. She found a flat rock to dig a small hole and buried him the best she could. She kissed the collar and clutched it in her hand. It smelled of blood, but it was a part of him, all she had left.

  She lay down and cried herself to sleep. When she awoke, it was dark and her body ached from the hard ground. A day and a night and another day passed, leaving no more than a fleeting impression on her memory.

  She woke up and she was so cold. Only her feet were warm. The slippers were massaging her soles. Or trying to eat them. She didn’t much care one way or the other.

  “You’re going to die of exposure if I don’t do something. This is love? A trigger for suicide?”

  She fell asleep again, and woke with a start. She was falling. No. They were moving, with her cradled in his hand. He was carrying her somewhere, covering ground quickly with his long strides.

  She tried to say something, but all that came out was a hoarse gasp. Her throat was so dry. She lifted her head, but her strength gave out and her head fell again. She slept.

  She woke to the feel of cool sheets. She didn’t open her eyes, wanting a moment to think first.

  She opened her eyes and saw green. The ceiling was green. The walls were green. The door was green. The desk in the corner was green, as were the papers heaped atop it. The man sleeping in the green chair was green-skinned and wearing a green suit. She held her hand up in front of her face. I
t was a reassuring pink.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered. Her voice came out in a dry rasp. The man stirred, shifting his head before falling still again. “Excuse me.”

  His head turned toward her. His eyes drifted open slowly in her direction, then suddenly snapped open, quick as a mousetrap. He jumped to his feet.

  “You’re awake. You’re awake!” He ran to the door, opened it, and shouted “She’s awake!” He rushed back to Dorothy. Only then did she realize how little he was. This troubled her somewhere deep down where she was afraid to examine. “How do you feel? Is your vision blurry? Are you hungry, thirsty? You’re definitely not the right color, but maybe that’s normal for your kind? Can you walk? Please, please, please say you can walk.”

  Two nurses burst in, likewise green-skinned and green-clothed.

  “I don’t know if I can. I haven’t tried yet. I am hungry, but first, can I talk to Auntie Em?”

  “I don’t know who that is, darling, but you have to leave the moment you are able. The giant has threatened to kill us all if you don’t get better. Please, please, get better. I have children to take care of.”

  So it hadn’t been a dream. With Toto gone, she just wanted to lie down and sleep forever, but that would be wrong to doom these people because of her grief. There had been enough killing.

  She lifted herself out of bed. Her legs wobbled under her and she sat back down.

  “Can I have something to eat?”

  “Of course! Anything you want, deary.”

  He fed her a hearty green soup and hustled her out the door the moment she felt strong enough to walk.

  The Tin Man was waiting for her, alone.

  She ignored him and picked a direction and started walking. The city was a wreck, green people digging through green rubble on every side. People goggled at her, and scurried out of sight.

  “What happened here?”

  “I told the doctor to make you better. He needed convincing. I didn’t know if you’d ever wake up. Where are you going? The Emerald Palace is the other way. The Wizard has granted us an audience on the condition that I don’t destroy any more of his city. Don’t you want to go home?”

  She stopped. Kansas would certainly be better than anything here.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  The Palace was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It seemed to be carved out of one gigantic emerald ten stories tall. Distorted lights from inside traveled through the outer wall and mixed with reflections, making the surface change constantly.

  The gates opened as they approached. The corridors inside were large enough to accommodate the Tin Man without trouble. He strode down the central corridor, lined by hallways leading in every direction. After a long walk, they reached a huge set of doors. The Tin Man pushed them open.

  He stepped into the chamber first, and Dorothy followed behind him, trying to hide. She was so scared, she could barely walk.

  The only thing in the room was a throne on the opposite side. It looked like it had been grown from crystals, all sharp, imposing edges. It seemed normal-sized at first, but it grew in perspective as they walked toward it. By the time they neared the throne, she had to crane her neck back to look up at it. The Tin Man could have sat with room to spare.

  “Where’s the Wizard?” she whispered.

  Two large panels slid open in the wall behind the throne, windows to kaleidoscoping colors, shifting through every shade Dorothy had ever seen. After the constant green of the city, she was dazzled into silence.

  A crack formed beneath the colored windows—it was a giant face built into the emerald!—and a deep voice filled the room.

  “I am everywhere and nowhere. I am the breath of wind that tickles the back of your neck. I am life and death and nothingness. I am the great and powerful Wizard of Oz. Who are you? Why do you disturb me?”

  “I am the Tin Man, and this is Dorothy.”

  The eyes flashed red, then returned to their cycle of colors.

  “Why do you travel with her, Tin Man? A creature as powerful as you needs no one.”

  “She is my tutor. She is teaching me of love.”

  “What use is love to you, a heartless hunk of manufactured metal.”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need a tutor.”

  “Why do you come before me, then?”

  “If I can’t love without a heart, then that’s what I desire.”

  “A heart? Hearts break. Hearts fail. Hearts are for sentimental fools too weak to do what is necessary. Hearts force the hard-working to tolerate the lazy, cause victims to forgive their abusers, and perpetuate the useless dreck of society. You wish for a heart?” A flash of white from the great mouth in the wall to the Tin Man’s hand. “Take this instead. It will do you more good any human heart.”

  “I want a heart, all the same.” The Tin Man let the object fall from his hand. Dorothy picked it up. It was a playing card: the ace of hearts.

  “And you, little girl? What do you demand of me?”

  “Thank you for seeing us, sir.” Her heart raced as she thought of an idea. If he was really so great and powerful… “More than anything, I want to wake from this nightmare to find Toto alive again.”

  “This is no nightmare. Reality is enough of a nightmare, but even I have my limits. I cannot raise the dead.”

  Her heart fell.

  “Then the best I can hope for is to go home to Kansas to be with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”

  “In this land, no one gets anything for free. You must complete a task for me, and then I will grant your requests. You must kill the Wicked Witch of the West. Bring me her hat as proof that she is dead.”

  The Tin Man spoke up.

  “I made a promise to Dorothy that I would not kill. Killing is wrong.”

  “Is that so? Tell me, has Dorothy told you about parental love?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She said that everyone is supposed to obey their mother and father, because they always know what’s best for you.”

  “I am your creator, your father. Look inside you and you’ll see the truth. My voice is imprinted on your programming. Every logical construct in your brain was designed and implemented by me.”

  The Tin Man whirred for a moment.

  “He’s right, Dorothy. He is my father.”

  “So, you must obey me over the girl. She’s just a friend. Part of the responsibility of love is that you must make choices about who to love. Do the right thing. Obey your parent.”

  The Tin Man stood, seeming to consider.

  “Of course. If you’re truly my creator, I should listen to you. We will return as soon as we can.”

  “But—” Dorothy began, but the Tin Man picked her up and carried her out of the throne room.

  Soon they were on the road. Dorothy was relieved to be out of the greenness of the city. She hadn’t realized how oppressive the green had been for even such a short visit.

  “You shouldn’t listen to the Wizard. Killing is wrong, Tin Man.”

  “But you said that I must obey him if I am to understand love.”

  “I know I said that, but—”

  “Have you ever disobeyed your parents?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then how can you ask me to disobey mine? You would sacrifice my chance at love when you aren’t willing to sacrifice your own?”

  He was right. She hated to admit it.

  “I can’t demand it of you, but you should at least think about it.”

  “What if I lied? What if I chose not to kill the Witch, because it’s wrong, but I told the Wizard that I killed her?”

  “Lying is wrong too. You have to be honest with the ones you love. If they really love you, they’ll forgive you anything if you’re honest and you apologize.”

  “So I must choose between three wrongs. I could kill, I could lie, or I could stop your only chance of ever going home. It’s an impossible decision. This is love?”


  Dorothy shrugged. She didn’t know the answer.

  They traveled for two days, and Dorothy survived on berries and fruits she collected early in the journey.

  As they walked the plant life thinned out, leaving only a gray and barren wasteland. The sun shone weakly through a haze of clouds and seemed to drain the color out of everything.

  She allowed the Tin Man to carry her at intervals to allow for quick progress. She didn’t like sitting on his hand and smelling of its dry blood, but she wanted to leave this land so badly she was willing to suffer through it.

  Suddenly the land grew dark. Dorothy looked up to see a black mass cross over the sun at an impossible speed. It poured over the landscape like a plague of locusts, obscuring the trees in its passage.

  “Run!” she shouted.

  The Tin Man did run, holding her tight in his hand. He pumped his arms up and down for further speed. The jostling made her sick. She was facing backward, and she watched the cloud approach. Birds? She wasn’t sure. It made a terrible din, flapping and screeching like a pack of banshees.

  “Duck!” she shouted, fighting to be heard over the noise.

  The Tin Man threw her to the ground and crouched on his hands and knees around her, providing her a little safe space.

  “What are they?”

  “Flying monkeys. Minions of the Witch. I’ll keep you safe.”

  The Tin Man shook from an impact, but maintained his position. More blows came, shaking him from every side, a constant barrage. The shrieks grew in. The Tin Man didn’t move.

  Suddenly everything went silent.

  He pulled one arm in around her, pulling her up to his midsection.

  “They’re gathering, poised to strike. Even I don’t stand a chance against so many united, Dorothy. I’ll do what I can—”

  The impact was so sudden, so forceful, she lost consciousness for a moment. When she came to, the world was a blur, spinning every which way past her vision. The only constant was the Tin Man’s arm held firmly against her chest keeping her safe. The shrieking was back again, and she was buffeted by wings. The Tin Man’s free hand slapped at the flying beasts, spattering blood everywhere, but there were too many. Each beast came closer to breaching the boundary.