The Wizard of OZ

by S. D. Stuart

  He swung a balled fist at her head. She ducked under his swing and went in to strike at his solar plexus. He quickly deflected her arm and they both hopped back several feet as they continued to circle, bouncing on the balls of their feet like professional boxers in the ring.

  Edward smiled. “You’re getting faster.”

  Dorothy brushed away a strand of hair that fell across her face. “I’ve been practicing.”

  “And just who have you been practicing with?”

  “I’ve practiced on the cows.”

  Edward laughed aloud. “I think I’m a little better than a cow.”

  Dorothy grinned. “Prove it.”

  “Not going to work Dorothy, you can’t goad me into striking first. I practice self defense, not offense.”

  She reached in and he batted her hand away.

  “Maybe that worked on the cows, but you are going to have to do a lot better than that if you’re going to beat me.”

  He swiped at her and she swatted his hand away just as easily.

  They continued to circle as they faced each other across the center of the barn.

  More kids finished their chores and joined the small crowd that was growing around them.

  Dorothy breathed in time to each step as she hopped from foot to foot and danced around in a circle with Edward.

  “When do you go back to London?” she asked as if they were sitting down for tea instead of trying to knock each other to the ground.

  “I leave next month for the opening of my academy.”

  “So, is this my last test?”

  “You’ve either mastered it by now, or you never will.”

  “If I haven’t mastered it by now, maybe it’s not a very good fighting style.”

  “Don’t blame my advanced style for your inadequacies. It’s going to be a huge hit in England.”

  Dorothy laughed. “A huge hit,” she said putting emphasis on the word hit. “I like that. Have you thought about a name yet?”

  “I was thinking of calling it the Academy of Arms and Physical Culture.”

  “Not your school silly, the name of your fighting style.”

  “I’m not really sure what to call it. It’s a mixture of so many different things all blended together into the perfect form of self defense.”

  Dorothy smiled. “Well Mr. Bart, why don’t you call it Bart’s Jitsu?”

  He lowered his arms for a moment. “I told you Dorothy, I don’t like being called Mr. Bart.”

  As if on cue, all the kids gathered around them started chanting, “Mr. Bart, Mr. Bart, Mr. Bart.”

  He turned his head slightly to admonish the chanting kids and she saw her chance.

  She kicked the insole of his left foot, causing him to do the splits and start to fall backward. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and took full advantage of his downward momentum. She swung him around and slammed him face first on to the dirt floor of the barn. She placed both her feet on the back of his knees, yanked his arms behind his back and pulled up on his wrists.

  “I would like to submit my final for grading. Let me see if I have the essential principles for Bart’s Jitsu correct. Number one; disturb the equilibrium of your assailant. I took advantage of your distraction to knock you off balance. Check. Number two; surprise him before he has time to regain his balance and use his strength. I threw you down onto the floor of the barn. Check. Number three; subject the joints to strains that they are anatomically and mechanically unable to resist.”

  She pulled up harder on his wrists and he let out a pained cry. Dorothy smiled. “Check.”

  Later that night, when the house was completely still and Uncle Henry’s snoring lulled the last of the children to sleep, Dorothy stuffed the last of her things into the tiny pack and slung it on her back. She glanced once more at her room to make sure she had not forgotten anything. There wasn’t much for a 15-year-old girl to own, so her pack was rather light.

  Aunt Em would never let her leave the farm to search for her father if she asked. She practically forced her to sneak out. There were plenty of other kids, other orphans, staying at the farm. She would barely be missed. She tried to keep her promise to William and only ran off a few times during the past five years when she thought she saw her emerald heart glowing. But she hadn’t heard from him in over a year and had no other choice but to go out looking again. Every day she spent at the farm, her father’s trail grew colder.

  So here she was, sneaking out in the middle of the night.

  Only this time she knew she was ready.

  She had finally bested her teacher that afternoon in the barn and was ready to face whatever obstacles stood between her and her father.

  She gritted her teeth with each creak of her bedroom door as it opened slowly. When the door was open just enough for her to slip out, she peeked out into the hallway.

  All clear.

  She backed out slowly as the door creaked shut.

  As soon as she heard the lock click, she spun around and a face emerged from the darkness. Dorothy’s heart fluttered and she clamped a hand over her own mouth to keep from yelling out.

  The shadows formed into Eloise, another orphaned girl who had been sent to the farm. She was only a couple years older than Dorothy was and would be leaving when she turned eighteen next year.

  “What are you doing Dorothy?” Eloise whispered.

  “I’m just going to the bathroom.” Dorothy whispered back.

  Eloise frowned. “With your backpack?”

  Dorothy raised her hands, pleading. “Don’t tell anyone, Eloise. Please.”

  “They’ll find you again. They always do.”

  “That’s because you always tell them when I leave.”

  Eloise crossed her arms. “It’s not safe out there alone.”

  “I can take care of myself. Please don’t tell anyone this time.”

  “You know I can’t promise that.”

  “Then at least give me a few hours head start.”

  Eloise seemed to be waging a battle of her own inside her head. Finally, she let out a big sigh.

  “When they notice you don’t come down for breakfast I’ll say I thought you were going to the bathroom.”

  Dorothy ran to the window and, with half her body already outside, leaned back. “Thank you Eloise. I won’t forget you.”

  Eloise shrugged. “See you soon.”

  Dorothy smiled. “Not this time.

  Dorothy stood at the front gate by the main road. She looked up one way and then the next.

  It would be several hours before the sun came up, but the full moon cast a pallid glow over the long and straight road.

  If she went either direction, she would be discovered by anyone who passed by. They would see her walking long before she heard the clatter of horse hooves. She looked across the road to the thickening woods. Traveling through the forest would be slower going, but she could get all the way to town unseen.

  She tugged her pack tightly to her back. The woods it was then.

  She took one step forward and the ground lit up brightly all around her while she projected a long and dark shadow across the road.

  Her heart skipped a beat and she crouched low.

  Spinning around, she saw that every one of the recently installed electric lights blazed brightly in the main house.

  Eloise had already squealed.

  She swore silently under her breath.

  She took two steps back away from the road and crawled into the ditch. She had not made it to the safety of the forest, but for the moment, she was out of sight and no longer cast a tell-tale shadow.

  She hazarded a peek. Uncle Henry was standing on the porch slowly scanning the road in both directions.

  Good. He hadn’t seen her yet. Aunt Em tugged her robe tightly around her body to ward off the chilly air as she joined him on the porch. She was too far away to hear what they said but when Uncle Henry pointed to the barn Dorothy swore again, this time using stronger words.

>   She had to get into the forest and through the creek if she had any hope of getting away tonight.

  She peeked up again to see Uncle Henry heading for the barn. If she didn’t run now, she would never make it to the creek in time.

  She pointed herself back to the road, crouched like one of the barn cats stalking a mouse and took three deep breaths to force oxygen into her blood. She was going to need every ounce of strength she could muster if she planned to outrun what was coming after her.

  She sprang up from the ditch and ran full speed across the road and into the woods.

  She could just make out Aunt Em shouting for her to stop.

  She ran full speed for nearly ten minutes through the forest. Her lungs burned, her muscles ached, and her feet tripped over the unsteady ground more often than not.

  She leaned against a tree and tried to listen to the forest around her.

  It was nearly impossible to hear anything except her pounding heart and gasping breath. She stifled a cough and shut her eyes.

  She reminded herself why she was even out here. She thought of happier times with her mother and father and let a smile play on the corners of her lips. Her heart quieted down and her breathing slowed.

  For a moment, the silence of the forest greeted her.

  A slight breeze rustled the leaves above her. It cooled her overheated face.

  But the soft breeze did not bring only relief. The cool night air also carried the sounds of Uncle Henry’s dogs as they yelped their excitement for another chance at hunting her.

  Her body begged her to sit down and wait for capture.

  She couldn’t do that.

  Mind over body. That’s what her father always said. Probably because he was more of a scientist then he was an athlete.

  Her mind forced her body to obey as she pushed off from the tree that kept her from falling over from exhaustion. She realized she was still half a kilometer away from the creek. She had to do something to get the dogs off her trail. The creek would have worked, but she would never reach it before they surrounded her.

  She didn’t think they would kill her. Uncle Henry would never allow it, and they only did what he allowed. But being bitten was not fun, either.

  She had to slow them down.

  Her father’s voice sprang into her head again.

  Mind over body.

  Right, Father, she thought back. I’m forcing my body to keep moving even though it wants to stop.

  Her father’s voice sounded even more insistent.

  Mind over body.

  What was he trying to say to her?

  Mind over body.

  She stopped and listened. The dogs were closer. They were faster than she could ever be.

  Mind over body.

  “I heard you the first time,” she said aloud.

  She jumped at the sound of her own voice. But it was in that moment she knew what she needed to do.

  She could never outrun them. But she could outsmart them.

  Mind over body.

  A plan immediately formed in her mind. “Thanks Dad,” she said aloud.

  She looked around her at the forest. She scanned every tree looking for the one that would serve her purpose.

  She stopped at one. This tree was perfect.

  The barking was getting louder. Whatever she had to do, she had to do it quickly.

  She circled the tree several times, dragging her backpack on the ground around it. Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she began the harsh climb up the tree.

  The dogs would easily find her.

  Uncle Henry stopped every minute and listened. The dogs yipped rapidly. The trail was getting fresher the closer they got to her and they were getting more excited.

  He silently cursed Dorothy for her stubborn refusal to accept the truth. A truth that solidified for every year that passed.

  There had been no ransom. No indication from anybody that Dorothy’s father was alive.

  She insisted that he was out there somewhere and that, despite the best efforts of the New Kansas police, a little girl could strike out on her own and find him when they couldn’t.

  She had to face reality.

  Her father was not out there to be found.

  Maybe it was time to put a lock on her door so they could all start getting a full night’s sleep.

  He stopped again and listened. The yelping was closer and sporadic. They had stopped their pursuit. And since they were not near the creek, it could mean only one thing.

  They had found her.

  Uncle Henry increased his pace and caught up with the dogs as they were taking turns leaping at the base of a tree. They stopped as soon as he arrived and all sat down in strict obedience. Half of them looked up at the tree while the other half looked to him for instructions.

  He twisted the focal lens on his lamp and shone it up the tree. Dorothy’s backpack reflected back his light.

  “I know you’re up there Dorothy. Come on down.”

  Dorothy gripped the tree to keep herself from falling. Her dry tongue scraped across her chapped lips. Her muscles screamed for relief. Climbing the tree had sapped nearly all her remaining strength.

  It had been much harder than running through the forest.

  She had stopped sweating, nearly all the excess water in her body depleted.

  The only water she had brought with her was in her backpack in the tree across the creek.

  She hoped she had jumped far enough that there was a break between her scent around the tree and the new path she carved toward the creek.

  Dorothy let go of the trunk of the tree she leaned on and tested a little bit of weight on her ankle.

  She winced from the pain caused by landing wrong on her foot. Mind over body, she reminded herself.

  A smiled formed as she thought about Uncle Henry, who was probably only now figuring out she was not up the tree.

  The sun was just peeking over the mountains by the time she made it to the edge of town. She had intended to be through this town and halfway to the next by sunrise. Her ankle was starting to feel better, but it still slowed her down.

  She decided to enter town from one of the side alleys rather than the main road. She didn’t want to attract too much attention since news of her previous escape attempts had spread like wildfire in a small town were very little ever happened.

  It would not do to have nosy town-folk alert Uncle Henry or Aunt Em where she was before she even started looking for her father. As she slipped into the alley from one of the farms that lined the town along the eastern edge, she saw a group of men all gathered around someone who cowered before them against the wall of the alleyway.

  As she got closer, she could hear the men taunting the boy at their feet.

  “What are you going to do about it freak boy?”

  The boy at their feet, hidden by his cloak and large cowl hood, looked at the feet of his assailants. “I do not wish to do anything.”

  Another one of the men kicked him. “That’s right; you just lay there like a frightened little kitten.”

  Dorothy forgot all about her twisted ankle and hollered down the alley. “You leave him alone.”

  In unison, the four men all turned to look at her. The biggest of the four, obviously the leader, stared hard at her. “This ain’t no business of yours.”

  “If you’re picking on one of my friends, it is my business.”

  The leader smiled, showing her his tobacco stained teeth. “I’m pretty sure this ain’t no friend of yours.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  The leader leaned down and yanked the cowl hood off the boy and Dorothy’s eyes widened in surprise.

  The first thing she noticed was that his head was covered in a golden fur. Not hair, but animal-like fur. He lifted his head to look at her and his face was almost cat-like in appearance. The bright sunlight cutting in over the farms and shining into the alley forced his pupils to contract. But they didn’t contract into pinpoint dots. Inste
ad, they thinned into slits just like the barn cats’ eyes did back at the farm.

  The last thing she noticed was the complete and utter lack of fear in his eyes. He didn’t seem to be afraid of these men, but everything else about his mannerisms, and what he said, was to make them think he was afraid.

  She didn’t know why he was acting like a coward in front of these men, but there was no way she was going to pretend that they frightened her.

  She quickly composed herself and looked back at the leader with a smile. “Of course that’s my friend.”

  The leader started walking toward her. “I guess if you plan to stand up for the little freak, you should be put into your place just like him.”

  The other three joined in behind him as they all started toward her, completely ignoring the half-boy half-cat creature in favor of someone who was willing to give them a fight. And each one of them, judging by the scars on their faces and clenched fists, enjoyed a good fight.

  Or more likely, she thought, since each of them alone was three times her size, they were someone who enjoyed picking on people much smaller than they were.

  She hated bullies.

  Especially bullies who were bigger than she was. Then again, the bigger they were, the harder they fell.

  Despite the bravado in her voice and her defiantly upraised chin, her heart thundered deep inside her chest.

  The only other person she had ever fought with in hand-to-hand combat was Edward. It had been obvious from the start that he always pulled his punches and held back whenever they sparred. He had never wanted to hurt her.

  These men bearing down on her in the alley had nothing but murder in their eyes. It was obvious they wanted to do her great bodily harm just for interrupting them from doing great bodily harm to someone else.

  Events slowed to a crawl around her as her mind raced to assess the situation and apply the principles that Edward had taught her. In addition, practicing on cows was about to pay off because that prepared her for dealing with the sheer weight of each of the men coming at her.

  Edward’s training tips flipped through her mind until she settled on the one that made the most sense for dealing with the men getting closer. Any fighting force always put their strongest man up front to both intimidate and weaken the enemy during first contact.