Definitely Not Kansas (Nocturnia Book 1)

by Thomas Monteleone

  “Master Simon?” he said.

  A pause, then: “What is it? Why do you trouble me?”

  “I was just wondering – where are we going?”

  “To the infirmary.”

  The word, coming from Master Simon, had a downright sinister sound to it. From what Ryan had already seen of this world and its horrors, he didn’t even want to think about its idea of good medical care…

  14

  It turned out to be not so bad.

  The room was clean and neat and had cabinets full of balms and salves and bandages. Ryan was seated on a spindly gurney with a squeaky wheel. An elderly woman with downy soft hair on her palms attended to him. He’d been terrified at first when her pupils had constricted and she’d licked her lips at the sight of his bloody back, but then she’d composed herself and got down to work, treating his lacerations with soapy water and a thin reddish liquid he’d never seen before.

  “What’s that?” he said.

  “Mercurochrome.”

  “Never heard of it.” Ryan wondered if the name had anything to do with mercury, which he knew was supposed to be bad news.

  As the woman worked on him, Ryan had a hard time imagining her howling at the moon or chasing down naked human prey.

  But at some time in her life, she probably had.

  Can things get any stranger? he wondered before stealing a glance at Master Simon who’d been standing in silence in the corner of the room. The tall man had removed his derby, revealing a massive comb-over; he had his bony arms crossed and regarded Ryan with a totally unreadable expression.

  “Will he need stitches?” he said to the woman. His tone sounded genuine and caring.

  “No,” she said from behind Ryan. “They’re not too deep. A little tape here and there should be all he needs.”

  That was a relief.

  “So he’ll be good as new then?”

  “He’ll be scarred, for sure, but nothing that’ll stop him from working.”

  “How are you feeling now?” said Simon when he caught Ryan’s gaze.

  “Better. Thanks.” He figured the less he said the easier his life would be around these people.

  “Don’t thank me. You’re no good to me if you cannot perform your tasks.”

  “I guess not,” Ryan said, looking down at his shoes.

  As he did this, Simon moved around the cabinets and the gurney to face him. Leaning down, his long face seemed to elongate even more.

  “I…must apologize for Ergel…even though he is acting perfectly within his nature. He is, after all, a troll, and is therefore of a particularly vicious mien.”

  Ryan winced as the old woman applied a bandage to the worst cut on his shoulder. He appreciated the mannered way Simon spoke, like he was trying to tell Ryan he was a civilized person. Ryan had always paid close attention to the way other people spoke. He had an ear for cadence and speech rhythms and he could mimic lots of different foreign accents. He’d have to practice a little, but he could probably come up with a decent imitation of Ergel. The thought of him prompted another question.

  “You mean all trolls are like him?”

  “In general, yes. They are a reprehensible lot and most of the nations of this world look down upon them.”

  “But…they seem to have their, uh, uses.”

  Simon chuckled. “You are a clever little boy.” His expression grew serious. “We’ll put this unfortunate incident behind us, yes?”

  Ryan shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “And we’ll never speak of it again, yes?”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “To anyone?”

  Ryan realized then that Simon wasn’t concerned in the least for him; he was far more concerned about what Ryan’s “owner” – the mysterious Falzon – would do if he found out his “property” had been mistreated. Why was everyone so afraid of this Falzon?

  Whatever the reasons for this show of concern, Ryan figured the wisest course was to agree to everything.

  “Sure. I’ve already forgotten it.”

  Master Simon beamed with relief. “Excellent! You are clever. What do they call you? I’ve forgotten.”

  “Ryan…and my sister’s name is Emma.”

  “Ah, yes. The sister who was to keep you out of trouble. She wasn’t too successful.”

  He didn’t want her getting into trouble because of him. “Don’t blame her. She can’t help it if I have a big mouth.”

  Ryan’s deck of cards had slipped too deep in the back pocket of his jeans. He shifted his weight, reached back to re-position it. And Master Simon, of course, noticed.

  “What are you doing? What do you have there?”

  Ryan felt as if he’d been caught doing something wrong, but why should he, really? No big deal carrying around some playing cards. He produced the deck from his back pocket, showed it to Master Simon, who took it and fanned through it slowly.

  “Why do you have these?”

  Ryan shrugged. “It’s just one of my hobbies, I guess.”

  “You are a gambler?”

  “No, sir, nothing like that. I like magic and I try to teach myself tricks and then work on them till I get good.”

  Simon raised one eyebrow, tilted his long narrow head as he considered this. “Magic? You mean parlor tricks, stage performances – not the supernatural.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I think it would be cool to be a magician. If you get really good, you can design your own illusions.”

  “Interesting.”

  Ryan almost smiled as he thought of some of the tricks he’d been working on. “I’ve already come up with a few ideas.”

  “I always have – as you say – ‘use’ for particular talents and abilities. Maybe I am wasting those of someone like yourself. Maybe you are too smart to be laboring in the fields…”

  Ryan brightened a bit at Simon’s words. Anything would be better than getting nipped and sucked by those flowers. Maybe this guy Simon wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Ryan felt completely adrift in this world. He needed to understand it so much better, so much more. He knew he couldn’t really trust any of these weird characters, but they might be of use – that word again – as sources of information. From all his reading, Ryan had learned that knowledge was a form of power that, once gained, no one could ever take away from you.

  “Thanks,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I think being smart runs in my family. My older brother – well, half-brother, actually – he’s really ‘out there.’ I mean, like he can be really brilliant when it comes to some things and a dork when it comes to others.”

  Simon’s left eyebrow lifted ever so slightly and he tilted his head as though to study Ryan with increased attention. “Half-brother?”

  “Yeah, we have the same mother. But she won’t talk about his father.”

  Simon seemed to be making an effort not to smile. “But you say he’s smarter than you.”

  Ryan wondered if he was teasing him.

  “I don’t know if he’s smarter. Just… different smart.”

  Mentioning Telly reminded him of yesterday, when he and Emma had been in that truck, hurtling past the outbuildings, and he thought he’d seen – just for an instant – a guy who might have been Telly. He’d been wondering ever since if he’d ever see him again.

  He hesitated, wondering how much he could or should say. He felt so cut off from everything, not knowing if his folks were alive or dead – they had to be okay – with no idea when he would see his sister or even that lady Amelia again.

  “Do you miss him?”

  “No offense, Master Simon, but why are you asking? I’m just one of your slaves.”

  “Leased for the next year, correct. But I believe in getting my money’s worth. If placing you somewhere other than the sangreflor fields will yield a better return on my investment, I want to know. And I’m naturally curious about Humania. So… is family important there? Does your sort miss someone who is just a half-brother?”

  My sort?
Ryan thought, catching sight of Mister Simon’s hairy palms. Oh, he must mean the human sort. Because he’s the lycan sort.

  “Yeah, a little,” he said. “Maybe a lot more than I expected to.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, especially because I think I saw somebody who looked like him. A guy I saw here.”

  Oh, wow! Why did I tell him that? Ryan immediately regretted his inability to simply Keep His Mouth Shut!

  “Really?” Simon’s expression now morphed into one of true concern. “Your brother? From Humania? Here? Why would he be here? How did he get here?”

  Ryan hesitated, but had to say something. “I don’t know. I have no idea. I mean, I did say it was him. In fact, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t him. I mean, how could it be? I meant to say the guy just looked like him.”

  Simon nodded. “And where exactly did you think you saw him?”

  The words had blurted out of Ryan, and he wasn’t sure if he’d said too much already. But he went on to describe the scene near the holding pens and the trucks where Simon had first selected them.

  Simon leaned forward. “Was he dressed like a field worker or one of my staff?”

  “No, he was dressed in one of those one-piece things like the people who brought us over from Earth – Humania.”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Reeeeally. Dressed like an Uberall?”

  “What’s an ‘Uberall’?”

  “Falzon’s political movement.”

  Telly with the mysterious Falzon… that seemed pretty farfetched. But Ryan figured the longer he kept this strange conversation going, the longer he’d stay out of the sangreflor fields.

  “But if by some far-out, crazy chance he’s really here, is there a way I could find him?”

  Now it was Simon’s turn to pause. “Are you asking me to help you? Now, there’s an interesting concept.”

  Ryan suspected maybe he’d overstepped his bounds, but Master Simon surprised him.

  “But I’m a firm believer in family,” he said with a grin. “It’s why I kept you and your sister together.”

  Really? Ryan wondered. I thought it was so she could keep an eye on me.

  But he kept that to himself as Master Simon talked on.

  “I have a family myself,” the strange lycan said. “Of course I’ll help you. But if he was dressed like that, I can assure you we won’t find him on Armagost Farm. We’ll have to visit the Uberall compound.”

  Ryan felt a weight suddenly forming in the center of his stomach, as if he might throw up. A sinking feeling that he had said way too much – something Emma was always pointing out to him. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?

  “It’s probably not him,” he blurted. “In fact, it can’t be him. I mean, how could he get here? Emma and me, we were brought across by that weird-looking guy with the claw-hand.”

  “Doctor Koertig?”

  “That’s what they called him.”

  “He’s Nocturnia’s most famous scientist.”

  “Well, he had to use all sorts of machinery to open a connection between the worlds. You can’t just walk across.”

  And then Ryan remembered that strange door frame standing empty in the middle of Professor Polonius’s lab, and the odd way the professor had reacted when Ryan stepped through it. Could Telly have–?

  No. Not possible.

  But then again, Telly was missing, and Professor Polonius had given Ryan and Emma coordinates that put them directly in the path of that tornado. Almost as if he’d known –

  But that was impossible. He couldn’t have known. Could he?

  Ryan shook off the questions.

  “So,” Master Simon said, “you left your half-brother behind… in Humania?”

  Ryan’s first instinct was to tell the truth – that he had no idea where Telly was – but decided that honesty might not be the best policy in this strange world.

  “Yes.”

  “And yet you saw someone who looks like him here.”

  “I think I was just seeing things.”

  Master Simon nodded. “Perhaps. But I think we should head over to the Uberall compound and give you a look around. Just in case, by some fluke of fate and time, he really is here.”

  “But–”

  “Hush,” he said, raising a silencing hand. “I insist. It’s no trouble for me – I have business there anyway – and I cannot pass up a chance, no matter how remote, to… to see a family reunited.”

  Ryan bit back more protests. He could see it was no use. Simon was determined. But what ate at his insides was the possibility that he truly had seen Telly, and that his big mouth might land his brother in hot water. Deadly hot.

  15

  Emma’s vision wavered and she felt as if she might pass out. She was kneeling on the ground, snipping blossoms from the lower branches of a sangreflor bush, wondering if she’d ever be able to stand again. Her shirt was soaked with sweat and her muscles felt like overcooked pasta.

  She realized she should have eaten more at lunch, but how could she when she was so worried about poor Ryan? The last she’d seen of her little brother was his bloody back retreating on Master Simon’s zeppelin bike. Where was he now? Dillon had told her the farm had an infirmary and no doubt that was where they’d taken him. “No doubt” for Dillon, maybe. But Emma had tons of doubts.

  “Feel like getting out of the sun and going for a ride?”

  She looked up to see Dillon standing over her.

  “Where to? The infirmary?”

  He shook his head. “No such luck. But it’s my turn to accompany the latest load of blossoms to the plant. I wrangled a place for you on the truck as well.”

  She looked at him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s your first day in the field and you’re ready to drop.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He smiled, raked a hand through his blond hair. Emma thought he looked cute when he smiled. “I remember my first day. It was murder.”

  “But why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Because we humans have got to stick together. Come on. I’ll help you up.”

  Her throat tightened and she blinked back a tear. Kindness… she hadn’t encountered a shred of it since entering this world. She treasured it.

  He held a hand out to her and she was grateful to see a naked palm. She let him pull her to her feet. Her vision swam but she kept herself steady.

  “I feel like I’m a hundred years old.”

  “Believe it or not, you get used to it.”

  Emma didn’t want to get used to it. She wanted to go home. She looked around.

  “Where’s Mister Ergel? Won’t he–?”

  “Mister Ergel knows nothing about this. He’s probably sulking in private. I have a feeling he feels humiliated by this morning’s public zapping, and so he’s nursing his wounded pride.”

  “Serves him right for whipping a defenseless little boy!”

  The memory of the incident made her blood boil while sickening her at the same time.

  “You do not want a troll mad at you,” Dillon said. “Especially one who is your overseer.” He glanced up at the sun. “Come on. We’d better get to the truck. It might leave without us.”

  The truck turned out to be steam-powered like Ergel’s, but bigger; its sides were open but it had a roof of sorts – some sort of tarp raised over the blossom containers to keep them cool. It also cooled its three occupants – Emma, Dillon, and another, older human man named Rollie who didn’t have much to say.

  Emma shook her head as they rolled along. Hard to imagine that a little shade and a breeze could feel like paradise.

  Unfortunately, the trip was a short one. Emma was just letting her eyes drift closed when the truck pulled up before a wide, low, warehouselike structure. A big sign proclaiming Fleischman Industries ran above the door.

  The driver – his hairy palms proclaimed him a lycan – came around to the rear.

  “I’ll be inside
. Give a holler when yer finished.”

  As he walked off toward the building, Emma turned to Dillon. “What do we do now?”

  He rose and motioned her to stay where she was. “You do nothing. Rollie and I will empty these containers into the big vats inside.”

  “I know she’s a girl,” Rollie said, “but she should be pulling her weight.”

  His skin was weathered to leather and he had about five teeth in his head. Was this the future she and Ryan faced?

  “It’s her first day,” Dillon said.

  He looked at her, then at the building, then back at her.

  “Well, in that case,” he said, “take a rest.”

  Emma struggled to her feet. Exhausted as she was, she didn’t want to be considered a slacker.

  “I can work.”

  “Maybe you can,” said Rollie. “You got spirit, I’ll give you that. Besides, you ain’t ready for that place yet.”

  Dillon pointed to a tree maybe fifty feet away. “Go sit in the shade, lean against the trunk, and close your eyes. Take a nap. I’ll wake you when we’re ready to head back.”

  “No, really–”

  “Please?” he said. “I called in a favor to get you away from the fields. Take a break. We can handle this.”

  She looked at the dark splotch of shade, saw the breeze rustling the leaves above it. It called to her.

  “Okay. Just for a little while.” She hopped down and started walking away, but a thought struck her and she turned. “What did he mean when he said I wasn’t ready for that place?”

  Dillon busied himself sliding one of the larger containers onto a wheeled dolly. “It’s… not very nice in there.”

  “Little girl, you don’t wanna know,” said Rollie, who must have been listening. “Wish I didn’t.”

  With that they moved off toward the warehouse, lugging the container.

  Emma shrugged and made her way to the tree where she lowered herself to the grass and leaned against the trunk. She closed her eyes and let her tired, aching muscles relax. A few minutes of Zs, a power nap, even ten minutes would be heaven. She tried to empty her mind but Rollie’s words kept sliding through it…

  Little girl, you don’t wanna know… Wish I didn’t… Little girl, you don’t wanna know… Wish I didn’t…