by R. W. Ridley
“By mid-afternoon the next day, I decided she had been allowed to stew in her own juices long enough. It was time one of us made an attempt to alleviate her guilt. I knocked on the driver’s side window of the Oldsmobile. She sat with her arms folded over her chest and shot me a devil’s stare. She then resumed staring at nothing. I knocked again.
“‘We have to talk,’ I said. “She didn’t acknowledge me.
“‘This isn’t getting us anywhere. I think it’s time we move on...,’ I winced. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. ‘I mean we should get going... to Saluda like we planned.’
“She remained silent.
“I placed my hands on the roof of the car and tapped my fingers. ‘Look, Lou... soldiers die in wars. That’s just the way things are.’
“‘She was a kid,’ Lou said.
“I ducked my head. ‘True, but so are you. I’m almost a kid myself. We’re going to make mistakes.’
“I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder. Startled, I twirled and fell against the car.
“Little Bobby giggled at my reaction.
“‘Don’t sneak up on people like that, Bobby,’ I said as my heart thumped frantically.
“‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to know when we’re having dinner. I’m hungry.’
“I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘Have whatever you want, Bobby. I don’t think anyone else feels like eating.’
“Bobby shrugged and peered through the glass at Lou. ‘You hungry, Miss Lou? We’re supposed to have noodles tonight. Remember?’
“She turned with a confused expression. ‘What are you talking about?’
“‘After Valerie dies we always have noodles,’ he said.
“She looked at me waiting for me to interpret for Little Bobby.
“‘What do you mean we always have noodles?’ I asked turning Bobby toward me.
“‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry.’ He walked away. ‘I’ll get the noodles.’
“The car door opened and Lou stepped out. ‘Bobby,’ she yelled. He stopped and turned to her. ‘This has happened before?’
“‘It happens every time I read this comic book.’
“I furrowed my brow as he walked away. It was crazy talk by a retarded kid who pretended to be the world’s greatest jockey, nothing more. The expression on Lou’s face told a different story. She understood exactly what Bobby was talking about.
***
“Lou paced, chewing on her fingernails. She was deep in thought. I watched her from a distance at first, afraid to interrupt the plan that she appeared to be mulling over in her head. Wes joined me.
“‘She getting better?’ Wes asked.
“‘She’s starting to snap out of it,’ I said.
“Wes nodded. ‘Good,’ he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself. ‘That’s good. It was a mistake. A dumb mistake, but she can’t let that eat her up. No, that’s good. That’s real good.’ I could tell he didn’t completely forgive Lou for what happened, but I imagine he blamed himself, too. He was the oldest of the group. He probably felt he could have overridden Lou’s decision, but he let her lead. It was going to be interesting to see what happened when the next life-and-death decision had to be made. Would he let her lead again? He probably would. You don’t let people lead. It just happens. Lou was a natural born leader. Wes wasn’t, and he knew it. Wes cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. ‘What did you say to her to get her to come around?’
“I shrugged. ‘I didn’t say anything. It was Little Bobby.’
“‘Bobby?’ Wes said. We both turned to watch Little Bobby sifting through the supplies. ‘What did he say?’
“‘Said he wanted to eat noodles for dinner.’ I looked at Wes to see if that meant anything to him.
“‘Yeah, so?’
“‘So,’ I said. ‘It seems we always eat noodles after Valerie dies.’
“‘What in the world is that supposed to mean?’
“‘I’m not exactly sure. Something about a comic book.’
“Wes’s eyes bulged. He looked as though he’d stopped breathing. After several seconds, he spoke, but couldn’t manage to say anything but a series of ‘Ummms’ and ‘Ahhhs.’
“‘I take it that means something to you, too,” I said.
“He nodded. ‘We’re back in the comic book,’ he said.
“I shook my head. ‘Not getting it, chief. Back in the comic book, what does that mean?’
“He smiled. ‘It means there is still a way to win this thing. We’re in the comic book again!’ He yelled.
“‘I don’t think we ever left,’ Lou said. She had approached unnoticed and it startled both Wes and me.
“‘Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?’ I asked.
“‘The Takers,’ Lou said. ‘That was a comic book that was written by Stevie Dayton, the first Storyteller. He basically wrote about everything that happened to us before it happened to us.’
“‘The Délons,’ Wes said. ‘There ain’t never been a comic book there.’
“‘Not that we know of,’ Lou said, ‘but they’re looking for the Source. What’s to say the Source isn’t a comic book?’
“Wes nodded. ‘Could be.’
“I listened to them talk and mulled over the implications of what they were saying. I wasn’t the best student in school, but I paid attention to what the pretty girls liked. I had a crush on a girl by the name of Carlie Lee in seventh grade. Her old man was a philosophy teacher at Alabama. She was Asian so I spent six weeks studying Chinese philosophers to impress her. It didn’t do me a bit of good, because she was more interested in Alan Crump, the starting quarterback for our middle school’s team. But I can’t help but think that crush on Carlie Lee prepared me for this moment. The moment where Lou and Wes discussed the possibility that there was a comic book out there that described everything we were going to do before we did it.
“It sparked the one philosophy that challenged me, that actually made me think. A Chinese philosopher by the name of Zhuangzi once had a dream that he was a butterfly, but when he woke up he wasn’t sure if he was a man dreaming he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was a man.
“Were we looking for a comic book about us or were we just characters in the comic book, living out the story as it’s written?
“My head spun slightly as I tried to hold onto the thought. I shuddered and shook my head.
“‘You okay?’ Wes asked.
“‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Got a chill that’s all.’ I stood and started to walk away.
“‘I’m going to cook some noodles.’ I joined Bobby and helped him search through the supplies. I wanted to ask him if we were real. If we had lived the lives we thought we had or if that was just back story for the way we behaved on the pages of the comic book. But I was sure he would just shrug his shoulders and tell me two plus two was penguin.
“We searched and searched and searched, but we came up empty. I squatted and went through a backpack I had gone through three times before. Pulling out the same box of instant rice I had pulled out on all three occasions, I said, ‘There ain’t any noodles to be found anywhere, Little Bobby.’
“He looked dumbfounded.
“‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘If you’ve read this comic book shouldn’t you know where the noodles are?’
“‘I know where they are,’ he said.
“I laughed. ‘Sure.’
“‘Tyrone’s got them.’
“I leaned backwards and allowed myself to gently flop to the cold pavement. ‘Then what are we doing looking through all this stuff?’
“‘Cause that’s what we’re supposed to do.’
“‘Uh-huh,’ I said. ‘Because that’s what we do in the comic book, right?’
“He nodded.
“I held up the box of rice and shook it. ‘I think you’re going to have to settle for rice...’
“‘You looking for this?’ Tyrone said, holding out a
family sized bag of Ramen noodles.
“I slowly reached out and took it from him. ‘Yeah, where...?’
“‘It was in Valerie’s backpack with this,’ he said handing me a folded piece of paper.
“I unfolded it and read the note inside. ‘For Bobby. Give to Archie.’
“Bobby took the bag of noodles out of my hand, ‘Told you.’
“‘She knew?’ I asked Bobby.
“He nodded with a hangdog look on his face. ‘She’s nice. I don’t like this part of the story. I didn’t want the monster to get her this time, but... no matter how many times I tell her it still happens. Don’t be mad.’
“I stood. ‘Mad? You should have told her. You should tell all of us what is going to happen.’
“He handed the noodles back to me. ‘April cooks.’
“April walked up on cue. ‘I’m hungry. When are we going to eat?’ She spotted the bag of Ramen noodles in my hand.
‘Sweet.’ She took the noodles out of my hand. ‘I can cook the crap out of some Ramen noodles. I lived off these things my last semester.’ She disappeared behind the truck we were standing in front of to start preparing the noodles. I watched the whole thing play out with wonder.
“‘Tyrone will leave to help her,’ Bobby said.
“Confused, Tyrone looked at Bobby and then me. ‘What’s going on?’
“‘I’ll explain later,’ I said. ‘Go help April.’
“‘You have to say please,’ Bobby said.
“‘Please,’ I said.
“Clearly still confused, Tyrone decided to do as I requested.
“‘What happens now?’ I asked.
“‘You ask me what happens,’ he said.
“‘Besides that?’
“Lou and Wes joined us.
“‘Now they ask me,’ Bobby said.
“Lou said, ‘I think it’s time you tell us what you know, Bobby.’
“‘See.’
“‘Okay,’ I said. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere.’ I urged Lou and Wes to let me handle the interrogation. ‘Bobby, do you know what the Source is.’
“He laughed. ‘You never like my answer,’ he said.
“‘Try me,’ I sighed.
“‘Yes.’
“There was a long moment of silence as I waited for him to follow up with more information, but he never did. ‘What is it?’ I shouted.
“‘I can’t say. I’m not really supposed to be telling you anything.’
“‘But you told Valerie.’
“‘And it didn’t help.’
“‘So, you still told her.’
“He dropped his chin to his chest. ‘I get in trouble every time I go back. Dr. Bashir gets really mad.’
“‘Bashir?’ Lou said.
“Bobby nodded slowly. Whispering, he said, ‘He doesn’t want you to win.’
“‘Is he listening?’ Wes asked.
“Bobby shook his head. ‘He’s reading.’
“We all stood frozen in time. I searched the sky for a giant pair of eyes staring down at us. Violet clouds glided above our heads, but there was no evidence of pupils scanning unseen words in the ether that surrounded us.
“I reflexively grabbed Bobby’s hand and squeezed. ‘Are we real?’
“His face grimaced in pain. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked yanking his hand away.
“I pulled back. ‘I mean do we exist, or are we just characters in a comic book?’
“Wes snickered. ‘Well, I can tell you for damn sure that I’m real. I got a family... had a family, sister, her husband and what not. I’m real as this old beat up truck,’ he said patting the tailgate.’
“Lou fixated on the tailgate. ‘What if the truck’s not real?’
“Wes rolled his eyes. ‘Good God almighty! Don’t tell me you’re going to start up on this, too. It’s nonsense, Lou. Crazy as crazy can be.’
“‘Crazy,’ I said. I spun the word around in my head. ‘He doesn’t like that word.’
“‘Who doesn’t?’ Wes asked.
“I thought about the question. ‘I don’t know.’ I mouthed the word a few times. Then whispered, ‘Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Who doesn’t like that word?’ A vision flashed in my head. I had no face. I reached up and touched my nose. The vision was gone. To Bobby, ‘Do you know?’
“He shook his head. He looked frightened. ‘This part’s not in the comic book.’
“I suddenly felt woozy and doubled over placing my hands on my knees. ‘Something’s changed.’
“Wes placed a meaty hand on my back. ‘I think that Silencer got inside that head of yours and rattled some things around.’
“A scream shot through the sky. We all took off to investigate. When we rounded the other side of the truck, we saw Lou with a pot in her hand standing over a flattened and crumbled mound of Ramen noodles. Tyrone stood next to her panting.
“‘What happened?’ Lou asked.
“‘Tyrone just knocked the noodles out of my hand and started stomping on them.’
“Tyrone didn’t defend himself. He held out a piece of paper. ‘I found this in Valerie’s backpack just now.’
“Lou took the paper out of his hand. ‘It’s a note.’ She read it out loud. ‘Don’t eat the noodles.’ She looked up. Her brow was furrowed. ‘It’s signed by someone named Millie B. Story.’
Oz
SEVEN
Millie B. Story.
I look at the words written on the notebook. She had now made it into Scoop-face’s session. Who is Millie B. Story? I remain in the janitor’s closet writing the name over and over again. Light creeping in through the bottom of the door illuminates the room. I see the shadows of people’s feet passing the closet as they travel through the hall. I am sure I will be discovered at any moment, but I don’t care. I am now consumed with figuring out who Millie B. Story is, and what she wants with me. From Scoop-face’s story, I have determined that she is here to help.
A light tapping comes at the door. “Boss,” Bones whispers. I continue writing Millie B. Story’s name. I don’t answer. “We gotta go.” He waits for my reply, but it doesn’t come.
“Boss?”
The door slowly pushes open, and Bones slips in. “Oz?”
“Down here,” I say from my hiding spot in the corner of the closet.
He sighs heavily. “Thank goodness. I thought you went without me.”
My left eyebrow shoots up. “Went where without you?” His face contorts and twists as he realizes he’s said something he shouldn’t have. “You know, back to your room. Archie would have my head if I let you go back unescorted.”
“You’re a bad liar,” I say. “That’s good to know.” I stand. “Who’s Millie B. Story?”
“I don’t know.”
I shove him. “Tell me.” I fight to keep my voice down.
“I don’t know. I swear.”
“I told you, you’re a bad liar, Bones.”
He looks down and nervously tugs on his pant leg.
“We’re getting nowhere, and I’m tired of this damn closet,” I say. “Tell me who Millie B. Story is.” He starts mumbling something under his breath. I can’t make out what he’s saying. I lean in, “What?”
He speaks more clearly and raises his voice to just above a whisper. “Snarkel, snapper, momma, jaws, spot, jumper, hambone, Charlie boy.”
“Stop talking nonsense!” I say much too loudly.
“Snarkel, snapper, momma, jaws, spot, jumper, hambone, Charlie boy,” he repeats.
I shake him by the shoulders. “Bones don’t do this to me. I need to know.”
I hear a clicking on the linoleum floor of the hallway outside the closet. Feet... claws... nails tapping against the cold hard foundation of the world outside our small room.
“Snarkel, snapper, momma, jaws, spot, jumper, hambone, Charlie boy,” Bones says again. His eyes roll back in his head and a toothy grin protrudes from his skull-like face. A series of growls rumbles through the heavy closet door. I can hear the clacking
of teeth as jaws snap shut.
“What are you doing?” I ask Bones. My mouth is dry and my palms begin to sweat.
“Calling in for back-up,” he says.
A scratching comes at the door. The growls grow more intense. “You’re supposed to be helping me,” I say.
He grabs the handle of the door without looking and slowly pulls the door open. “This is helping.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say panicked.
A large animal leaps through the open doorway and knocks me to the ground with a violent thud. Another animal follows and another and another. I hear wild barking. A saliva drenched tongue covers my face. More than one, three, four, too many to count. I push myself back across the floor. A dog whines. It takes me several seconds to determine that these mad dogs weren’t attacking me. They weren’t mad at all. They are ecstatic.
“Dogs?” I say.
“Snarkel, snapper, momma, jaws, spot, jumper, hambone, Charlie boy,” Bones says. His pupils back front and center.
I count the wagging tails. “Eight dogs.”
Bones smiles.
“Wes’s Taker Killers.” I pat one of the mutts. “This is what happened to them.”
Bones introduces me to each one, and gives his reasoning for their names. Snarkel makes a snarkel noise when he sneezes. Snapper snaps at the others for no reason. Jaws has an impressive set of choppers. Spot has a single white spec of fur on her snout. Jumper leaps like a kangaroo. Hambone can fit five large hambones in his mouth and Charlie Boy is his favorite.
“Named him after me,” Bones says. “Used to call him Charlie’s Boy, but he ain’t nobody’s boy. He’s the leader. Alpha male, I guess is what you call him. He’s just Charlie Boy now.”