Dorothy In the Land of Monsters

by Garten Gevedon

  “That’s one!” Ardie says.

  “What does it mean?”

  “Another way to say intercourse,” Nick says.

  “Nonce!” Werelion shouts.

  “That’s one I like,” Nick says with a smoldering glint.

  “Definition?”

  “Pervert.”

  “Nice.”

  “Bluggy,” Werelion adds. “When something bad happens you say, ‘Ah, bluggy!’”

  “Cute,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Paf! That’s one of our euphsesistic esphasizers. You say, ‘Gimme that paffing bottle!’ or ‘Get out of my paffing way, you nonce!’”

  “Is everything all right?” Jellia asks as she enters, concern crinkling her emerald green eyes. She must have heard Werelion shouting curses, or spawling as the Ozians say.

  “We’re fine, Jellia. They’re just teaching me Oz style spawling since I’m not leaving.”

  “Ah, I see,” she says with a smile. “My favorite spawl is swange.”

  “Good one,” Ardie commends her.

  “What’s it mean?”

  “Swange is the groin area,” Nick tells me.

  “Yes, you say, ‘You smell like swange,’ or you call someone the word—‘That swange-smelling paffer.’ You can also tell someone to taste your swange,” she says and a laugh bursts from Nick. “That is a derogatory comment or an enticing one depending on how you say it. I say it all the time,” she says, and Werelion giggles.

  “That’s one I’ll use,” I say, and I will.

  “I am happy to help,” she says with a warm smile.

  “You wayward half-faced onion-eyed puke-stocking!” Werelion shouts. “You beslubbering gorbellied boil-brained foot-licker!”

  “Awesome,” I say laughing.

  “If you are staying, does that mean you are not taking the trip south?” Jellia asks.

  “We are,” Nick tells her.

  “Right. Shall I have you packed for the journey?”

  “Yes, we will leave tomorrow,” Nick says.

  “Tomorrow?” Ardie says, very surprised.

  “Too soon,” I groan.

  “The journey from here to Glinda’s castle in Quadling Country is very long.”

  “Why must we go when Dorothy doesn’t want to leave?” Werelion says, saying what I am thinking.

  “Because her realm is safe. If we cannot find a passage to Kansas for her, Dorothy will return to Winkie Land with me.”

  “If your concern is her safety, Winkie Land is not safe,” Ardie insists.

  “Neither is this city. I suggest you gather a military now. When word of the Wizard having left spreads, Quelala and the other vampires will storm this city, and these walls will not keep them out,” Nick reminds him.

  “No one leaves this city so that information will not spread,” Ardie says, but his worry is clear in his mien.

  “How long a journey are we talking here?” I ask.

  “Long,” Nick says. “As long as all our journeying combined.”

  “We could call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to us,” Ardie suggests.

  “Could they take you back to Kansas?” Werelion asks.

  “Could they?” Nick asks with too much hope in his eyes for my liking.

  “Perhaps,” Ardie says. “It is worth asking.”

  “Yes, it is. Tomorrow morning, we will use the golden cap to call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to us. If they cannot take her back to Kansas, we will tell them to take us to Glinda’s castle.”

  “I will prepare you all for your travels,” Jellia says and nods before she turns to go when Ardie stops her.

  “Please make sure they prepare us for our return—it will be a long journey,” Ardie tells her and she nods again and goes.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” I tell them. “If they can take me straight to Glinda, I’ll ask her to send me back. If she can’t, I’ll just come back here to regroup. I’ll call the Vampire Bat Monkeys again and have them bring me back.”

  “Are you serious?” Nick asks but I just can’t look at him or I’ll explode.

  “There is no question I will go,” Ardie says. “If you will return here, then the Vampire Bat Monkeys can carry me too.”

  “I guess that’s okay then. I’ll go help Jellia. Come on, Toto,” I say. Toto leaves Ardie’s side and trots over to me. “Excuse me,” I say and get up, stumbling as I rise and storm to the door to go with Toto in tow, but it won’t open. I press the doorstone and it still won’t open. “What the… Let me out, Old Man in the Walls!” I shout into the air.

  “Please do not go yet,” I hear in another voice, the old man’s voice.

  When I turn around, the old misty man is standing in the center of the room reflected in every mirror. Nick, Ardie, and Werelion’s eyes go wide as saucers.

  “Who are you?” I ask as I charge over to him.

  “I am the Great and Terrifying Oz.”

  “Waldy wasn’t the wizard?” Ardie asks.

  “He is the one the people call the Wizard of Oz,” the green misty man says.

  “Then who are you?” Werelion asks, very confused.

  “I am Oz.”

  “You are Oz,” Nick breathes, his eyes widening even more before he scrambles to his feet and then kneels bowing his head the same way Jellia does.

  “Please, get up, my boy,” he says as though Nick’s reverence irritates him.

  “I’m confused—” Ardie says.

  “He is Oz, the land,” Nick says to Ardie with an expectant look and after a moment of confusion, Ardie jumps to his feet and bows his head.

  “Thank you, Oh Oz, for everything,” Ardie says.

  “Enough of your adulations. We have matters to discuss.”

  “Oh yeah, like what?” I ask him with a squinted eye. Nick gives me a warning stare but I ignore him.

  “Thank you for eliminating the Vampire Witches. The plague will not spread as fast anymore.”

  “You’re welcome. Is that all?”

  “No, it isn’t. I understand your hesitance to leave, Dorothy, but I need you to journey to Glinda the Good Slayer. On your way, I would like you to go through the Zombielands.”

  “What?” Nick gasps. “Why?”

  “Because I want you to burn it in your wake.”

  “If you’re the land and the magic, why can’t you do it?” I challenge.

  “Most of my magic I purpose to run this city, help those in need in other parts of the realm when I can, and most of all, to contain the plagues. I crack my ground, create great canyons, rapid rivers, to keep the undeath at bay, but the Zombielands keep growing, and my magic is too weak to stop it because of the infection. I need you four—” he says and Toto barks, making his presence known. “Sorry, I need the five of you to help me eradicate the undeath from my lands.”

  “The Zombielands aren’t the only infected parts of Oz. Gillikin is even worse,” Nick says.

  “One thing at a time. The Zombielands are growing fast, too fast, and I cannot contain it any longer. I need your help.”

  “Why us?” I ask. Can’t someone else burn down his Zombielands? Why are we given all the treacherous tasks?

  “Because you are a perfect combination. With the Zombie’s wisdom, the Axeman’s heart, the Werelion courage, and your soul, Dorothy, you make the perfect hero. More than ever, we need a hero.”

  “Then Dorothy should stay in this realm?” Werelion asks and Nick glares at him.

  “Dorothy may return once you burn the Zombielands, but the Vampire Bat Monkeys cannot fly you to Kansas, for they cannot travel out of this realm, at least not by flight.”

  “Can you return her?” Nick asks.

  “No, I cannot. I also am tied to this realm.”

  “If that’s true, how did you take us through space in a bubble, outside the universe?”

  “You saw it through a window from within this realm. I am not the only one like me in this realm. Others before me made windows out to the omniverse. I brought you to the wind
ow.”

  “We’re not an egg?” Nick asks, his sarcasm plain.

  “I do not know. Perhaps we are the yoke, like Dorothy supposed. Perhaps we are an engine or a functioning piece of an even greater mechanism. Or perhaps that is all it is in its entirety and there’s nothing more beyond it, and our purpose is to exist and continue to do so. I think there is more and that we have a purpose. Dorothy could be right about goodness, that it is the job of every good being to spread their goodness as far as it can go, to shine our floodlights of beneficence into the darkness, illuminate the shadows so that then we can heal and create an existence good for everyone and not just one group—that is what we are to strive for.

  “Over recent years, bloodsucking, soulless death that spreads like a terrible disease has infested my lands, my people, my rivers, and it will continue to spread until it takes over the realm. And then there is the zombiism to contend with,” he says.

  “Is there a cure? Is it real?” Ardie asks.

  “There is. The Powder of Life is its name. One sprinkle and it gives life to whatever it touches. The Crooked Three created it.”

  “Who?”

  “The Nikidiks, also known as the Crooked Three, made up of the Crooked Wizard, the Crooked Magician, and the Crooked Sorcerer. They created the Zombie Spice and the Powder of Life. The Crooked Three meant them to be a pair, for once a person takes first the spice, then the powder, they are immortal. They say there is a third elixir that rids one of their immortality and extraordinary healing abilities. It is an antidote you take when you are ready to age.”

  “What?” Ardie gasps.

  “Yes. First you take the Zombie Spice and a transformation occurs that brings the body into a state of undeath where every injury heals. And just a sprinkle of the Powder of Life cures every side effect of the undeath except for healing and immortality.”

  “Where can I get it?” Ardie asks.

  “If I knew I would tell you and ask you to cure the realm with it, but the Crooked Three are out of my sights and have been for hundreds of years. There is an abundance of spice, but the Powder of Life has disappeared along with its creators and so has the antidote. The formulas require ingredients I do not produce, and I am unsure what they might be or how to make them myself. Perhaps if I knew what it was, I could make it.”

  “Where were they last seen?” Ardie asks.

  “Gillikin, where there is only one living being left—a single tree whose roots go so deep it has not turned. It is an Ozwood tree over a thousand years old and the only being there I could save. I surround Gillikin with my magic at all times because no undead creatures can escape or the zombiism will spread far too fast for me to contain it. I did the same with the Zombielands but my magic there is weakening. If I want to continue to run this city and protect the lands, I cannot divert anymore of my power. That is why I need you.”

  “You are asking us to venture into the Zombielands and burn it as we go?” Nick says.

  “I am asking you to burn the Zombielands. Whether you go through it or around it, I do not care as long as it burns. I will contain it so no beings can escape. When it burns, my magic there will strengthen. When it is ash, I can replenish the soil with living, organic matter so it will grow healthy once again.”

  I have an idea and I hate that I do. It pops right into my head when what I want to do is tell this guy to stuff it. Fine, he needs help, but why send me away? That made me so mad, but that’s the only reason I want to walk away. Otherwise, it sounds like a serious problem that needs addressing, and I have an idea how to fix it.

  “Do you guys have anything like C4 or lighter fluid or gasoline?”

  “Gasoline?” Ardie asks.

  “A liquid agent that is flammable and doesn’t just burn off or evaporate in an instant like alcohol does. Like the stuff in the flamethrower.”

  “What is C4?” Werelion asks.

  “An explosive. It has the consistency of modeling clay—it’s a malleable plastic you stick to what you want to explode then detonate—it blows the place to high heaven.”

  “To where?” Werelion asks, his nose scrunched in perturbation.

  “High into the sky,” I clarify.

  “I am not sure I can contain something like that,” Oz says.

  “Well, I doubt you have any C4 so it’s moot. Some kind of flammable liquid that doesn’t just burn off is ideal.”

  “We use oil for lanterns,” Nick says.

  “That could work. Can we get barrels of it, like barrels and barrels?”

  “This is sounding very messy and risky, Dorothy,” Ardie says.

  “It could be easy though. All you need to do,” I say, turning to Oz, “is get us and a crapload of barrels of this lantern oil to the side of the Zombielands that Glinda’s Castle is on.”

  “That I can do. Everything will be ready tomorrow,” he says and fades away to mist.

  “Okay, boys. Let’s get packing,” I say and head out of the Hall of Mirrors with Toto at my feet, and this time, the door slides opens with ease.

  27

  Through the Zombielands

  Vampires flood the sky. An army of shifters, zombies, and men stand waiting, looking up, stakes drawn and ready to fight. Werelion stands on his hind legs, heads above everyone else. He wears an iron branch-like crown and plates of iron and brown leather armor all over his body.

  In copper and green armor that is far sparser, and I’d guess easier to move in, Ardie stands with his hands out at his sides, ready to leap up and rip off vampire heads. Between them, Nick sits on the back of an albino horse shifter, a centaur with white hair, pink eyes, and the palest white skin taut over rippling muscles. He’s covered in thick leather and iron armor with a broadsword and shield in his hands. Nick wears his gold and silver panoply with his axes strapped to his body. He grips a joust-like giant stake in one hand and a shield of silver trimmed with gold in the other.

  When he raises the long stake he shouts, “Ready!” And when the vampires descend upon them, they attack.

  It’s a bloody, gory fight—Ardie rips the heads off vampire after vampire, jumping high into the air to grab them out of the sky while Werelion bats their heads right off with his long sharp claws and giant paws. Along with his shifter horse, Nick destroys every vampire within ten feet. He’s great with his axes, but he’s mind-blowing with that stake, impaling three and four at a time, straight through the heart, before they even touch the ground.

  Eyes are on me—boring into me. Heavy, cold breathing in my ear sends chills down my spine but when I turn, no one’s there. When I look up, there he is again, hovering over me. Quelala, in his black leather armor, his rose bronze hair blowing like he has his own personal wind machine, burgundy eyes boring into mine, trying to work his magic.

  “Haven’t you figured out your tricks don’t work on me?”

  “Oh, I have,” he smolders, “and do you know what that means?”

  “That you’re not as good as you think you are?”

  “That you are the one.”

  “The one what? Person who will kill you?” He throws his head back in laughter. “I’m glad you think that’s funny. You’ll be hysterical when I melt you like I did your girlfriend.”

  Although his eyes narrow, he smiles, showing his twinkling fangs.

  “Gross, you got something stuck in your teeth,” I say and point to my incisor. “Right there. Like a big black nasty hunk of something. Take care of that, would you? It’s unsightly.”

  A growl escapes him as his smile falls, his lips tightening over his teeth.

  “Soon enough, my love, my one, you will come around. Perhaps not today, but someday you will be mine.”

  “The only relationship you and I will ever have is one of murderer and victim. In case you were wondering, I’m the murderer and you’re the victim.”

  “Oh no, my love, that is where your wrong. They wrote our love in the stars. You will be my wife and we will reign over everything together.”

  “
Hello, you’re already married. Heard that didn’t work out too well for you though. She told you to kick rocks. Smart woman.”

  “Wrong woman.”

  “And I’m the right one?” I say and scoff.

  “That you are,” he says with a glint in his burgundy eyes.

  “Ha! Let’s see how that goes for you,” I glint back.

  In an instant, he is right in my face, his icy breath tickling my cheek.

  “Ugh, halitosis much? That breath of yours smells like blood and shit,” I grimace, waving his rank breath away with one hand as a stake shoots out from my other fist stabbing him through the heart, but he only smiles.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You can’t kill me.”

  “Oh, but I can. See, I know your weakness, and one day, I promise I will use it to kill you,” I say, rip his heart from his chest, and hand it to him before I walk away and call over my shoulder, “Watch your back, Lala, I’m coming for you.”

  Moving at hyper-speed, he appears in front of me and attacks fangs first. With a gasp, I wake up.

  After hours of tossing and turning next to Nick who had no trouble knocking right out, I fell asleep for a few hours only to have terrible dreams about Quelala, and every time he would tell me I was his love, and I would rip out his heart, tell him I’d kill him soon, then it would start all over again. Just thinking about it sends the yuckies up and down my spine. When I look out through the green tinted crystal window and see the sun is coming up, I get out of bed to get an early start on my last days in Oz. Toto is still asleep, snoring in his doggy bed, so I tiptoe past him and head to the bathroom.

  After I brush my teeth and take care of the basics, I head over to the emerald plunge pool bathtub, place my hand on the wall and watch as it bubbles and lights up green. After I undress, I walk up the steps in only my boots and get in. I’ve given up on worrying about the state of my feet. There’s nothing I can do and if they fall off, then they fall off. Until I can remove these boots, I just have to deal.

  The warm temperature relaxes me as I wade over to the underwater emerald bench and sit, water engulfing me up to my chin. One deep breath, then another, and I feel myself decompress. As I try to clear my mind, tears roll down my cheeks. Today could be my last day. If Oz is right, Glinda can get me home. Despite its horrors though, I’ve fallen in love with this world. All I want is to stay.