Banshee Worm King: Book Five of the Oz Chronicles

by R. W. Ridley

  “Why would we want to?” I asked.

  “What do you mean why? For the meat.”

  I looked at him horrified and then scanned the room to see if the others had the same reaction. They did.

  Bostic noticed the expressions on our faces. “What?”

  “Myrmidons... they used to be people.”

  He shook his head. “I believe the key words there are ‘used to be.’ They’re beasts. Beasts are meant to be eaten.”

  “That’s disgusting,” April said.

  Bostic pointed at Gordy’s leg. “Ain’t you the one who did that?”

  Her lips started to tremble. “Not willingly.”

  Bostic threw up his hands. “I’m trying to survive here, folks. Myrmidons are food. Now, you don’t have to eat them, but unless you want to sleep out in the great outdoors with worms and monkeys all about, you will help me hunt them.” He walked to the kitchen without saying another word.

  ***

  I fell asleep with thoughts of Kimball swimming around in my head. I couldn’t believe he was gone. Thankfully, the vision of him being consumed by the worm wasn’t what I was thinking about. I thought about when he was a pup. He’d run so fast that he’d lose control of his feet and slip and fall, tumble tail over head.

  I woke up to what sounded like a door slamming shut. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around the room. Everyone else was still asleep. Just as I was about to write the noise off as nothing to worry about, I heard the creak of a floorboard, like someone was shifting their weight from their heels to their toes. But, I didn’t know where it was coming from. I sat in the still silence and waited. Nothing came.

  I scanned the room and counted the sleeping bodies. Everyone was accounted for except Bostic.

  The creak came again. It was quieter than before.

  If Kimball was alive, this wouldn’t be happening. He’d be barking up a storm. He’d have the creaker cornered by now. The gorillas were snoring away near the backdoor. Fat lot of good they were.

  I wanted to wake someone else up, but I didn’t want to scare whoever it was away. If it was an intruder, I wanted to catch it and not have to worry about it the next time we went to sleep. And, if it was Bostic, I wanted to catch him in the act of sneaking around in the dead of the night so I could just come out and accuse him of being the monkey-dude.

  I lay back down and hoped the creaker would get the idea I was going back to sleep. I darted my eyes to every pitch-black sliver of darkness in the room.

  I spotted a shape that seemed out of place in the corner nearest the front door. It could have been a head and shoulders. It could have been a shelf with a can or jar on it. I stared and stared and stared hoping my eyes would eventually see through the darkness.

  It moved. Tilted to the right just slightly. Maybe. It could have been a shadow.

  Another creak.

  I shifted to my left quietly to get a better look.

  I heard a thump from behind me. Startled I turned quickly to see Bostic standing at the kitchen counter staring at the same shape. He must have sensed I noticed him because he shook his head as if to say ‘there’s someone there.’

  “I see you,” the intruder said in a low whisper. Too quiet to disturb any of the others, but clear enough to send a shiver down my spine.

  “I watch for you, bad Bostic. Jubilee meat time.”

  Ajax stirred.

  The intruder stepped out of the shadows. His face was hidden under a hooded sweatshirt. “Bad Bostic give us the jubilee meat”

  Bostic stepped forward. I could see the hunger in his eyes through the darkness. He wanted to tear the intruder into pieces.

  Ajax quietly knuckle-walked towards us. He looked puzzled. I wasn’t even sure if he knew we had an intruder.

  The man saw the gorilla and reached for the door. He turned before opening it and said, “Need the meat! Worm king!”

  Ajax leapt forward and barreled toward the intruder.

  The hooded man bolted out the door. By the time I stood up, I could hear the sound of someone traveling across the zip line.

  Wes snorted and sat up with a start, “What in tarnation?”

  The others stirred.

  “What’s going on?” Lou asked.

  Before I could answer, Bostic chimed in. “A Ratty-Bob stopped in to say hi.”

  Lou stood and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “What’s a Ratty-Bob?”

  “A guy in a hoody,” I said.

  “A Ratty-Bob is a name we came up with for a group of mountain folk that pass in and out of this area on their travels.”

  “This Ratty-Bob knew you,” I said.

  “We’ve had our meet-ups. Bound to happen.”

  “He didn’t like you,” I said.

  “Ratty-Bobs aren’t known for their friendly dispositions.”

  “They make a habit of breaking into your house?” Wes asked.

  “I’ve caught them helping themselves to my supplies when I’ve come back from hunts. They’re harmless though. We mostly steer clear of one another.”

  I didn’t know why, but I didn’t believe him. Maybe it was the way he avoided looking any of us in the eye while he dished out his Ratty-Bob story. Or maybe it was the way he swayed as he spoke. He just looked uneasy. I guess he had a right to be uneasy. After all, someone had just broken into his house. But my gut told me that something wasn’t right.

  “I doubt he’ll be back, but I’ll take watch out on the deck for the rest of the night just to make sure,” Bostic said.

  “Alone?” Lou asked.

  “I can take care of myself,” he said. “I’ve done it for a long time now.”

  “Ariabod will go with you,” I said.

  The large silverback was in the middle of a yawn when I volunteered him to accompany Bostic. He growled and lumbered toward the front door.

  “That’s all right,” Bostic said. “I prefer to do it alone.”

  “Nonsense,” Wes said. “Why do it alone when you have a perfectly good go-rilla to keep you company?”

  An angry expression washed over Bostic’s face. “I said no! I’ll stand watch by myself. I ain’t a part of your group so stop trying to tell me how to run my affairs.”

  His shouting was so loud it made my ears ring. He stomped through the house and went out the door.

  We all shared a worried look.

  Gordy piped up for the first time. “Dude, don’t make the giant mad.”

  ***

  I woke up at daybreak. I stepped over Wes on my way to the kitchen. He was sleeping like a fat, snoring baby. I was surprised that Lou was still asleep, too.

  April greeted me with a smile when I sat at the counter. She was sipping on something hot.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Bostic made it. He says it’s some kind of flower tea.”

  The liquid in her cup was dark and rosy.

  “Good?” I asked.

  “Not especially,” she said, “but it’s warm.”

  “Where is Bostic?”

  “He went on a bread run so we can have some toast.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Bread run?”

  She laughed. “I’m joking. He went out. He didn’t say where, and I didn’t ask.”

  “Oh,” I said with a forced smile.

  “So, you like Lou, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “C’mon admit it. I saw you guys out on the deck yesterday.”

  I forced another smile except this one was goofy and awkward.

  “You’re allowed to like her, you know. It’s not against the law.”

  “I know,” I said shrugging. “It just feels weird.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve known Lou since this whole thing started. She was just a kid when we met. I was just a kid.”

  “People grow up. They make googly eyes at each other and kiss and hold hands.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I’ve known Gordy longer, and we haven’t made googly eyes
at each other.”

  We both chuckled.

  “Seriously,” April said, “what’s the worst thing that could happen? You smooch it up morning, noon, and night. Who cares? It will be a great way to pass the time until we make it back home.”

  I soaked in her last words. “What if we don’t make it back home?”

  “Don’t make it? What are you talking about? We’ll make it. Don’t say we won’t,” she said sounding a little anxious.

  “Okay, relax,” I said, “I’m not saying we won’t, but what if some of us can’t go back.”

  “Can’t?”

  I sighed. “Say you liked Gordy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know I almost killed him, and I probably shouldn’t say this, but I would rather die than say I like Gordy. He’s a creep and a half.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Okay, but pretend he’s not.”

  “Can’t do it,” she said.

  “Fine,” I said frustrated. “Pretend we meet a guy tomorrow who is the love of your life.”

  She shifted her gaze up and tilted her head from side to side. “Okay, okay, I’m there. Go on.”

  “Now let’s say you have a chance to go back to the way things were, but the guy, the love of your life, can’t go. In fact, he’ll die if you go. Would you go back?”

  “Die? I just met the guy and now he’s dying?”

  “Seriously,” I said sharply.

  She sighed deeply. “Fine.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “I’d stay.”

  “Even if staying meant no one else could back home either?”

  She scrunched her nose. “You didn’t say no one else could go back. That’s different. I mean I’d definitely...” She shifted her gaze up for a few seconds and then back down. “Oh, God, that’s hard to decide.”

  “It’s impossible to decide,” I said.

  She thought about the question a few more seconds and then said, “Wait a second, what does this have to do with you and Lou?”

  I avoided eye contact with her. “Nothing. I’m just talking.”

  She snickered. “No you’re not. Lou can’t go back, can she?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes you did.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming at her. “If you tell anyone I said that, April, I swear I’ll...”

  “You’ll what?”

  I grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “Please, don’t say anything.”

  She pulled her arm free and took a sip of her tea. “Okay. On one condition.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me why she can’t go back.”

  I crossed my arms. “I didn’t say she couldn’t.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll just ask Tyrone or Wes what they think. Maybe I’ll even ask Lou.”

  I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath and held it for a split second before I released it. Leaning in I said, “She... isn’t like us.”

  “How so?”

  “Stevie Dayton, he created her. He put her in our story.”

  She mulled over what I’d said. “What does that mean?”

  “He made her,” I said hoping she would understand without me having to come right out and say it.

  “She’s not real?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to confirm her question, but she knew what my silence meant.

  “Holy crap!” She looked past me and strained to see Lou sleeping near Gordy’s cot. “She looks so... real. Like the rest of us.”

  “Of course she does,” I said. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. This Stevie guy made some of these monsters, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Those things don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

  Wes appeared out of nowhere. “What are you two yapping about?”

  “Nothing,” I said nervously.

  “You’re yammering pretty loudly about nothing. Woke me up.”

  “We’re just talking about Stevie Dayton,” April said with a smile.

  I groaned underneath my breath. She was going to say something. I just knew it. Why did I tell her?

  “I was just wondering where he came up with all his crazy monsters and stuff.”

  Wes sat down at the counter and said, “Where he and his Storyteller buddies came up with them ain’t near as important as how we’re going to send them back to hell where they belong.”

  Wes turned away and April winked at me.

  I stood. “Right now I’m just worried about sending those worms back to hell.” I walked away hoping against hope that April would keep her mouth shut.

  ***

  I had to get away from everyone. They were my family, but they were also reminders of the family I no longer had. It was exhausting being around them and trying to pretend that I didn’t resent them for being survivors.

  It took some great acting on my part, but I eventually convinced the others I had to go on a bathroom break by myself. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the front door. Ajax followed me onto the deck.

  “Go away, Ajax,” I said putting on a harness.

  He let out a breathy woof to protest.

  “I said ‘go away.’”

  He sat back on his haunches.

  “I don’t want you around, Ajax! Especially you.”

  He let out a throaty hoot and started to sign.

  “Stop,” I said. I yelled so loud my ears burned. “I don’t want to have a conversation about this. I can’t have a conversation about this. I don’t understand your stupid sign language. I don’t understand you. You bug me. Just go away!”

  His mouth turned down while his eyes opened slightly wider. He was hurt by my behavior.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t care if I hurt your feelings.”

  I clipped onto the zip line. “I don’t care,” I said just before zipping over to the other platform. I looked back and saw Ajax hang his massive head.

  Once I was on the other platform, I stared into the fog I’d just zipped through and started hating myself for the way I’d treated Ajax. He knew why I really didn’t want him around.

  I forced myself to look away and headed down the first treeway. I wanted some distance between the treehouse and me. The way I figured it, I had about thirty minutes before someone would come looking for me.

  I didn’t disappear like Tyrone. I lied to get away from the others. Somehow I talked myself into believing that wasn’t as selfish.

  I reached the next platform and took off my backpack to get my water. I dug through the contents and pulled out a piece of paper. The sketch of the first Délon, the Pure.

  A strong wind nearly blew the drawing out of my hand. I gripped it tighter and stuffed it in the pack. I didn’t have the first clue what I was going to do with the stupid thing, but I didn’t want to lose it.

  I pulled out the bottled water and removed the lid. Before I could take a drink, a toddler stepped off the next treeway and stood on my platform. I was stunned by the sight of him.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  His mouth formed into a goofy grin. He held out his arm and waved by awkwardly opening and closing his hand.

  A huge white fury mass stepped onto the platform behind him. Tarek.

  I looked back at the toddler. “Nate?”

  He waved again.

  I bent down on one knee and watched him smile back at me. “Really?”

  “Really,” Tarek said in his thunderous voice.

  “He’s so big.”

  “That is what happens to a human child over time.”

  “I’m Oz,” I said to Nate. “You don’t remember me.”

  “He remembers you well,” Tarek said. “We are here because he wanted to give you something.” He placed his huge hand behind the boy and gently pushed him forward.

  Nate’s face turned red with embarrassment. He reached under his shirt, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me.

  It was a crayon drawing
of a purple stick figure holding an object and standing underneath a long yellow line. The figure was standing on a pile of rocks. Another stick figure, gray and bigger than the other, wore a crown and bloody grin. A stick figure with long hair, smaller than the other two, crouched down under a cloud made up of squiggly lines.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You’re really talented.”

  “It’s not an art project,” Tarek said.

  I didn’t know what he meant, so I just said, “It should be. It’s really good.”

  “It’s a story,” Tarek said, “from a Storyteller.”

  I looked at it again. “A story?”

  “That is what Storytellers do.”

  I stood and approached Tarek. Whispering, I said, “I’m not really sure what this is.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Tarek said scooping up Nate in his hand. “When the time is right.” He started to turn to leave, but I stopped him.

  “Wait,” I said pulling the Délon drawing out of my backpack. “Take this.”

  “It is not mine to take.”

  “It’s not mine either.”

  “No it’s not,” he said.

  “What am I supposed to do with it? The Délons want it. They’re fighting over it.”

  He smiled. “I know. I’ve read the story.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You’ve read the story?”

  “I have.”

  “I’m in it?”

  “You are.”

  “But I thought I didn’t belong in the Délons’ story? It wasn’t my fight?”

  “It wasn’t, but things were rewritten.” Again, he started to walk away. But I stepped between him and the treeway.

  “Rewritten? If I’m in the story, then you know what I should do with the sketch.”

  “I do.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but he just stood there with his creepy smile. “What do I do with it?”

  “You do,” he said pushing me aside, “what is written in the story.” He stepped down the treeway carefully carrying Nate in his huge hand.

  “Give me a hint,” I said slightly pleading.

  “I can only say,” he said stepping into a wall of fog, “it is sometimes best to cause chaos than it is to encounter chaos in an effort to avoid it.” The fog swallowed him. I heard the echoing sound of Nate giggling as they passed over into their otherworldly hiding place.