The Takers: Book One of the Oz Chronicles

by R. W. Ridley

  "Squeeze your legs to his body," Roy shouted. "Move with him, not against him!"

  I was too panicked to listen to his instructions at first, but as the horse grew faster and faster I implemented his advice. Before long, it felt as if I were riding the horse instead of just sitting on him, my fate at the mercy of his whims. I brought my hands in and tightened my grip on Chubby's reins. It was an incredible feeling of power. I could feel the horse's muscles restrict and contract as it moved its hooves across the paved terrain. I steered the mare toward the median to get him off the pavement. Once he touched grass, he dug his hooves in and picked up the pace. We were flying and I involuntarily hooted.

  I looked behind me. Roy had his horse, Mr. Mobley, running at full speed. Roy was dipped down in the saddle, almost hugging the animal's neck. They were gaining on us. I kicked Chubby in the ribs and prayed I wasn't pushing my luck. The horse snorted and puffed. I could feel him trying to pick up the pace, but he couldn't go any faster. I looked back again. Roy and Mr. Mobley were even closer now. They would overtake us at any minute. I looked beyond him, and was amazed how far behind the others were now. We had covered an incredible distance in a short period of time.

  Roy pulled up beside me. "Looks like you can handle it," he said, his voice raised to be heard over the pounding hooves of our horses.

  "Yeah," I said, "but I'm not sure I can get him to stop."

  "Just ease back on the reins. Not too hard." He showed me. His horse slowed to a gallop and then stopped.

  I followed his example. Chubby slowed to a fast walk. He was out of breath from the exercise. I was out of breath from the excitement.

  Roy and Mr. Mobley rode up beside us. "That was fun."

  "That was incredible," I said, my voice exuding excitement. I heard a click and a hiss come from the two-way on my belt. I looked back and the caravan was about a mile behind us. The click and hiss came again. I unclipped the radio and pushed the talk button. "This is Oz, go ahead." There was no response. I tried again. "This is Oz."

  A voice I didn't recognize answered back. "Hello, Oz." The tone was low and brooding. The words crackled from the radio, cold and piercing.

  "Who is this?" I asked the question even though I really didn't want to know the answer. Roy appeared drained and pale. I imagine I looked the same way.

  A throaty laugh crept out of the two-way's tiny speaker. "We're coming."

  Mr. Mobley and Chubby came to a complete stop. I wanted to drop the radio and have my sturdy Tiger horse crush it with one of its hooves, but I knew I couldn't do it. "Who's coming?" We peered up in the sky, and watched in amazement as the clouds spelled out the word, "Délons."

  The laugh shot out of the two-way again, and then in a sing-songy voice the answer came over the radio, "The Délons are coming, the Délons are coming."

  I looked at Roy. He was white as a sheet. "What are Délons?"

  "Day longs," I said. I turned Chubby around. "C'mon, we have to get back." I nudged the steed in the ribs and bounded toward our caravan.

  "What are Day longs, then?" Roy and Mr. Mobley were running neck and neck with us.

  "Don't know," I said, "but they're not the welcome wagon, that's for sure."

  We rode back to the caravan at an even greater speed than we left. Lou did not recognize the alarm in our expressions when we pulled to a stop next to the wagon. She rolled her eyes at what she perceived as boys-will-be-boys antics on horseback. "You two having a good time?"

  I climbed down from Chubby. "Stop!" I yelled.

  Wes looked out of the van's window. "What for?"

  "Just stop," I said, sounding more demanding than I had intended.

  The bus and the others came to a stop. Everybody eyed Roy and me curiously. "We've got visitors. Who's got the two-way?"

  Wes disappeared back into the VW bus and then returned to the window holding the two-way radio. "It's right here."

  "Did you just hear… something?" I asked.

  "On the radio?" He looked perplexed. "No. Did you try to call?"

  I shook my head. "Okay we need to be alert. Wes, Roy Lou, and Reya, grab the crossbows and quivers. Everybody else grab the hunting vests and load the pockets with firecrackers. Make sure to get a pocket blowtorch." I jumped up in the wagon and searched through my stuff until I found what I was looking for, J.J.

  Wes stepped out of the bus. "What's going on?"

  "Day longs," I said. "Make sure Ajax stays put. He's in no condition to fight." I climbed back on top of Chubby.

  "Where are they?" Lou asked.

  "Don't know," I said. I watched as the others scrambled to get ready for a fight.

  "They called us on the radio," Roy said.

  "What's a day long?" Reya asked.

  "Délon," Roy said, pronouncing it like the sound of a single horse gallop. He looked at me. "At least I think that's what he said."

  "Whatever," Reya snapped. "What is it?"

  Lou pointed to the purple crack in the sky. "It made that."

  Devlin pulled out his air pistol.

  "Don't think that will do much good," I said.

  "Damned if it won't," Miles said, holding his air pistol. "We shoot the suckers in the eyes, you can bet it will do some good."

  "Are you that good of a shot?" I asked, not really hiding the doubt in my tone.

  "Heck, yeah." Devlin smiled.

  "You better be," I said.

  Everybody armed themselves. They all stood around waiting for my next set of orders. It was only then I realized that I had taken charge of our defense. It was not a conscious choice on my part. I was simply reacting to what I thought was an impending attack. I struggled to find the right words to say to them. I wasn't the oldest. I wasn't the strongest. I wasn't the most experienced combatant. But there I was with a group of fighters waiting for instructions from me. Finally I spoke. "We should keep moving. I saw a sign for an Alltoona Lake not too far ahead. We'll need somebody to ride point to scout it out."

  Roy cleared his throat. "I'll do it."

  I considered his offer. I felt like I should do it, but I didn't want to put that much separation between Nate and me. After all, I was ultimately responsible for him. "Fine." I threw him my two-way. "Take this."

  "Why does he have to go?" Reya was fuming. She didn't like her brother being sent on such a dangerous mission.

  "Because I volunteered, Reya." Roy was coarse with his sister.

  Reya stomped over to me. She looked up at me sitting on Chubby's back. "Send somebody with him."

  "I can't," I said. "We have to protect our cargo." I motioned toward Lou and Nate.

  "I'll go with him," Reya said.

  "No you won't." Roy turned Mr. Mobley south. "If we're going to survive this thing, we stick together and do as Oz says." He kicked Mr. Mobley and darted down the interstate.

  Reya pursed her lips together and sighed deeply. "Who made you boss?" she asked.

  It was a question I couldn't answer so I ignored her. "Everybody load up, and keep your eyes peeled."

  Reya thought about asking the question again. She wanted to defy me so badly I could see it in her face, but she didn't. I don't know why exactly, but I'm guessing her concern for her brother began to take over her every thought. She turned and climbed back on the wagon.

  Our caravan moved slowly. The sound of a small VW engine and bounding horse hooves echoed across the empty interstate. We all kept a wary eye on every inch of road, countryside, and sky. We didn't speak. We were all afraid that any distraction would be a costly one. I rode in front of Wes's tiny bus. Devlin and Miles brought up the rear. We looked like we were from an old western movie I had seen with Pop, a group of marshals giving a Wells Fargo stagecoach an escort to Dodge city.

  Some 45 minutes later, we got our first call from Roy. He had found a campground off I-75. He would wait for us at exit 290.

  "I didn't see any signs of trouble," he said. "You can breathe easy."

  "Not likely," I said. I turned Chubby around to info
rm everybody that Roy was safe, and he had found a place for us to bed down for the night. Best of all, he reported that we had a safe passage. I was hoping that it would put the others more at ease than it did me.

  As I made my way to the wagon, I gave Wes the news, and he informed his passengers, Tyrone and Valerie. Chubby moved past the van and we approached the wagon. I was about to give the others the news when I saw something on the horizon behind us that gave me pause. Then again I couldn't be sure if I saw anything. Though the temperature was in the fifties and the pavement below me wasn't conducting any heat, I was hoping I was seeing a heat-induced mirage. Far off in the distance, I saw what looked like an army marching our way. It stretched across both sides of the interstate, and the soldiers were the size of specks, thousands of them, all dressed in black. I blinked my eyes to try and push them out of my vision but they were still there.

  Miles saw my awed expression. "What's up, boss?" He turned to look over his shoulder to try and see what had me so spooked. He had no reaction.

  My gaze went from the approaching horde to Miles and back to the advancing throng. They were gone. Miles clearly had not seen them. "Nothing," I said not sounding very convincing. I turned Chubby around next to the wagon and we trotted along side the others. My head was turned to the rear. I looked for the marching people to reappear.

  "Did Roy call?" Reya asked. I didn't immediately answer. My eyes were fixed on the real estate behind us. "Captain Kid," Reya said, her voice impatient and terse.

  I snapped out of my fixation. "What?"

  "Roy—did he call?"

  "Yeah, yeah, he called. Everything is fine. He found a campground for us." I tapped Chubby on his ribs with my heels. "Let's pick up the pace." I ran up to tell Wes the same thing. I was filled with a sudden sense of urgency.

  ***

  As promised, Roy was waiting for us at exit 290. He escorted us to McKaskey Creek Campground. The mixture of the evergreens and turning fall colors made it a picturesque spot for traveling campers or, in our case, traveling warriors. A slight wind blew in from the east and turned the lake into a churning pale green pool. Had I not been worried about the mission we were on, the impending next meeting with the Takers, the eerie call from the Délons, and the either imagined or real marching army to our rear, I would have found the atmosphere very relaxing. As it was, I was a bubbling caldron of trepidation and fear. I could not escape my inner feeling of doom. I scanned our ragtag group, and cursed myself for getting them involved in this. I should have walked out of the Kroger's grocery store the first night I met Wes and Lou, and I should have kept on going until I reached the interstate. Then none of them would be here. I sat on a picnic table away from the others, kicking myself for even leaving my parents' closet.

  Wes and Roy approached me with some fishing poles. "Where'd you get those?" I asked.

  Roy smiled. "There's a bait and tackle shop up the road. I got one for everybody." He handed me a rod and reel. "Got a tackle box full of spinners and lures."

  "I'm the king of fishing," Wes said, his voice almost giddy. "Alltoona's known for its stripers and rock fish. Bet you I hook the biggest."

  I looked at the rod and reel and tried to make myself seem excited. I couldn't pull it off, and Wes noticed.

  "C'mon, Oz," he said. "Kick back a little. Relax. There's enough trouble ahead to keep us occupied for the next hundred years or so. Might as well enjoy the simple things when you can."

  I smiled out of courtesy more than sincerity. "What's the winner get?"

  "What?" he asked.

  "Your bet. What's the winner get?"

  "Oh, well the joy of watching all the losers clean and cook up the day's catch."

  I smiled, this time sincerely. I had been so down in the dumps it had not occurred to me that fishing would not only provide us with some much needed distraction from our current situation, but it would also provide us with a hot, freshly cooked meal. Somehow adding that little practical matter to the task made it even more enjoyable. When you do something out of necessity, it always feels more rewarding. I jumped off the table, and we all headed for the rocky shore.

  I cocked back the open face reel and tossed my spinner into the murky lake water. It was as if I were instantly bathed in an invisible shield of relaxation. The sound of the clicking gears, the gentle splash of the water, the breeze blowing through the colored leaves, it was so calming that I forgot all about Takers, and crossbows, and firecrackers, and battle plans. It poured out of my mind like water pours through a break in a damn. I looked up and down the shore and was happy to see everybody in our group was fishing. Ajax and Kimball even sat with Tyrone and Valerie, patiently waiting for them to untangle their lines and make their first cast.

  Wes was true to his proclamation. He was the king of fishing. He not only caught the biggest, he caught the most. There was a mixture of striper, largemouth bass, and perch. The biggest was a striper that Wes bragged weighed at least 15 pounds. The losers of the bet pitched in and cleaned the bounty under Wes's very close and often irritating supervision.

  We cooked the fish over an open fire and ate what was by far my most hearty and delicious meal since I woke up from my fever-induced slumber. I was not a big fan offish, but at the moment, I would have told you my favorite food of all time was anything with gills and a dorsal fin.

  Ajax and Kimball were the only ones who did not eat the fish. I was afraid Kimball would choke on the bones so I fed him his normal diet of Alpo. Ajax wasn't a meat eater by nature, so he stuck to a small portion of apples and berries. His appetite wasn't quite back to normal, but I could tell from his eyes that he was getting back to his old self.

  We ate all the while knowing that just a few short hours ago, we were preparing to do battle with the Délons. Had Roy not been witness to the voice on the radio, I'm sure the others would have believed I was just being overly paranoid. Where did they go? I didn't tell anybody about my sighting back on the interstate. I couldn't be sure it was real since Miles had not seen anything at all. There was a possibility that the stress of the situation had played tricks on my mind. Perhaps I did see a mirage. The conditions weren't perfect for it, but it was possible.

  We hadn't given up on the idea the Délons would make an appearance, but as time passed we were becoming less and less apprehensive about it. We gathered around the campfire and talked about better days. Roy spoke about his parents. Reya still remained aloof and didn't participate much in our conversation, but she smiled as her brother talked about their mom and dad. Their father was a truck driver, and their mother was a special education teacher. They were hard working people who were strict but loving parents. Miles lived with his mom and saw his dad on weekends. Truth be known, he didn't really like going to his dad's house. Miles didn't get along with his dad's ever-changing lineup of girlfriends. He spent most of his time playing Play Station 2. He was a Madden freak just like me. Devlin lived with his grandparents. His dad ditched him when he was three and his mom died in a car crash a year later. He never really felt loved by his grandparents. They cared for him the best they knew how, but they were cordial and off-putting when they interacted with him. He sometimes thought that, given the opportunity, his grandparents would have gladly turned him over to the state and washed their hands of him.

  As the fire crackled and popped into the evening, Reya finally asked the question she had wanted to ask for some time. "Why don't we just give them the baby?"

  There was a thick, unsettling silence that hung in the air after she spoke. I could tell some of the others had been wondering the same thing. The baby after all was a Storyteller, and it was a Storyteller that was responsible for bringing the Takers into our world.

  "We have to get him to the Keepers," I said, trying to sound assured that was the best thing to do.

  "Besides," Lou said looking up at the purple crack in the sky, "you see what happens when they get their hands on a Storyteller."

  "So let's kill it." Reya said so directly and cold
ly that it chilled me.

  "What did you say?" I was daring her to say it again.

  "Reya!" Roy wanted to pounce on her for saying such a stupid thing.

  "I'm serious. He ain't nothing but a baby now. He ain't no Storyteller yet. We should kill him before he causes more pain and suffering in this world." There was a certain unassailable logic to her statement. If we kill Nate, then he can never grow up to be a Storyteller. The Takers can't use him to bring forth their army.

  Ajax was showing more signs of his old self now. The more Reya talked, the more agitated he became. He hollered as she continued to make her case.

  "All I'm saying is, we should think about it. The Greasywhoppers might go away if the baby is dead." She avoided looking anyone in the eyes.

  "There's nothing to think about," I said, the anger dominating my tone. "We have to get Nate to the Keepers. If the Greasywhoppers want him because he can help them, then that means he can hurt them, too."

  "A whole lot of trouble over a little retard," Reya snapped.

  My heart stopped when I heard her use that word. I stood, my hands balled in a fist. "What did you say?"

  She stood and towered over me. "He's a retard. He's got Down syndrome. Believe me, I know. My mother taught those little short bus freaks."

  I looked at Nate who was in Lou's arms. "How do you know?"

  She smiled smugly. "My momma worked with retards of all ages. She looked after babies, too. Look at Nate's ears, they're what's called dysplastic, all tiny and funny shaped. You see his fifth finger is dysplastic too." None of us knew what she meant. "There's only one joint." We all looked at Nate and then each other. "He's got the retard eyes, too…"

  "Stop saying that word," I said. I was more than a little angry. I could have beaten the living crap out of her, but I controlled myself. "If you ever harm a hair on that kid's head or even so much as talk about it again, I'll feed you to a Greasywhopper myself."

  Her mouth dropped. She was sizing me up to see if I could back up my threat. I could see that she was torn. Finally she turned to her brother. "Are you going to let him talk to me that way?"