Délon City: Book Two of the Oz Chronicles (14 page)

I looked over my shoulder. “Well, whatever we do, we’re going to need more than me, you, and Gordy.”

Lou looked in the direction I was looking. “They’re about two miles behind us.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The ‘more’ you’re talking about. Wes, Tyrone, Valerie... probably some others I couldn’t see.” She smiled

“How did...”

“They parked in front of your house after you and Gordy left this morning. They’ve been following us the whole time.”

I motioned toward Devlin. “Does he know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. If it doesn’t involve food, Devlin doesn’t pay attention.”

I laughed. “Some things never change.”

Lou laughed with me.

Devlin turned to see what was so funny. “Stop your cackling,” he screeched. He turned back around.

Lou and I stifled our laughs. We both found it strange that we could find something to laugh at, but we welcomed it nonetheless.

Gordy awkwardly trotted up next to us. “What gives with you two?”

We didn’t answer.

“How long are we going to ride? My back is killing me. My ribs are sore. My ass feels like someone took a belt to it, and my thighs...”

“All right,” I said. “We get the point, Gordy.”

“Yeah, well, planes work you know. We could’ve flown to Délon City. That would have been nice. You’re the king. I bet they would have let us sit in first class.”

“We’re riding horses. Deal with it,” I said.

“Can’t we at least take a break or something? It’s going to be dark soon.” As irritating as he was, he was right. It probably was time to stop.

“Devlin,” I shouted. “I think the horses need to rest!”

He didn’t answer.

“Devlin, we should stop!”

Still no answer.

“Devlin...”

“The horses are fine,” he growled. “Shut up and ride.”

I gave Chubby a kick and rode up beside Devlin. “We’re stopping.”

“I said the horses are fine...”

“Well, we’re not, and I say we’re stopping.”

His dead eyes narrowed, and he grabbed me by the collar. “I’m growing exceedingly tired of you, human.”

It was my first real look at him since we passed over the mountain. He wasn’t the same. There was a weakness to him that I hadn’t seen before. He was more tired than any of us. He just didn’t know how to deal with it.

“You don’t like the cold, do you?” I said.

His grip loosened. His expression turned from anger to confusion. “Who is the man in the white coat?”

Now I was confused. “What?

“The white coat. Who is he, and why is he looking at me?” Devlin nodded toward the exit ahead. There, sitting in a thick leather chair, sat a man in a white coat busily jotting down notes on a pad of paper.

“What the...” I said.

TEN

“What are you doing here?” I ask the man in the

white coat.

“I’m not,” he smiles. “You’re in my office.”

I look around. The horses are gone. Lou is gone. Gordy and

Devlin are gone. I am in a room lying on a couch. A clinical air swirls around me. My hands. They are not my hands “What are you doing?” I ask. “I have to go back.”

“Oz,” the man says. “This isn’t healthy. There’s no therapeutic benefit to these hypnosis sessions. You’re simply reliving events that never happened. Events you’ve fabricated in your mind.”

I’m angry. “Send me back.”

He narrows his eyes. “In my opinion it’s doing more harm than good.”

I stand. Everything inside of me wants to take a swing at him, but I know I can’t. He’ll never send me back if I do. I breathe deeply. “Look, I know it’s not real, but...” I stop to see if he’s buying it. “But I have to see this thing through.”

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I’m afraid I’ve already let it go too far.” His eye twitches. He stands and turns to leave. He stops. Without turning he says, “One thing.”

“What?”

“The Source. What is it?”

“What?” I find this to be an odd question. Why does he care if it’s just fantasy.

“The Délon Source. You said the way to defeat the Délons was to find their Source before they did. Obviously you found it. I mean suppose your story isn’t fantasy. Suppose everything you’ve said while you’ve been under is true. The simple fact that the world is now Délon free means you found the Source. What is it?” He finally turns to me.

“What difference does it make? You don’t believe any of it?”

“True,” he says sitting back down. “But I do believe the Délons’ Source, real or imagined, is the source for your psychosis. Perhaps if you tell me what it was, we can find a more effective treatment for you.”

I cock my head to the side and snicker. “You want to know, you’re going to have to put me back under.”

He laces his fingers together over his belly and sighs. A sound like a metronome suddenly becomes pronounced in the room. The man in the white coat seems to be thinking in time to the rhythmic ticking. He purses his lips and twiddles his fingers.

“Perhaps it does have therapeutic value,” he says. “Lie back down.”

I comply.

ELEVEN

We stopped at an empty house on I-75, just outside of Chattanooga. The house wasn’t just empty. It was abandoned. Once the owners had become Délons, they couldn’t bear the thought of living among humans so they made their way south to Délon City.

They left without a care for their former lives. Knowing Délons the way I did at that point, it shouldn’t have surprised me, but I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could leave behind old family photos, videos of landmark events in their lives, heirlooms that they probably fought other family members over. It was sickening how disposable their past became to them.

I found a corner in the living room where I could sit and veg out. I was tired. A spent solifipod sat in the opposite corner of the room. Its shunter, having completed its job of turning a human to a Délon, was a dried up carcass curled up inside.

My mind shifted back to Gordy’s house. His solifipod was dead. The frigid temperatures of the freezer had killed it. Not just killed it, but cut it off undetected from the Délon collective. Under normal conditions they would have known. They would have felt it, and Gordy would have been skinner food. If that was true, I was beginning to understand General Roy’s urgency in finding the Source. They wanted it before the cold weather set in. If the temperatures dropped below freezing in Délon City, all the Délons would be cut off from each other. They would be alone and vulnerable, easy to defeat. If they had their Source, they may be able to prevent the temperature from dropping.

Don’t Trust G...
That’s what Mrs. Dayton had written. Don’t trust Gordy. Why would he have shown me a way to defeat the Délons if he wasn’t to be trusted? I had to consider the possibility that I was being set up. That Gordy was purposely leading me down a stray path. To what end, I didn’t know, but I had to at least consider the possibility.

A family photo hanging crooked on the wall made me think of my parents. The last time I saw them, shunters were attached to their faces sucking their humanity out. I was instantly struck by feelings of guilt for leaving them behind, for not trying to do more. A warrior would have helped them. A warrior would have died for them.

“You will,” a voice said.

I stood. Where had the voice come from? The room spun, and I was suddenly in the warehouse again where I had killed Lou and watched a strange half-crab half-man creature kill Gordy.

“Who said that? Where am I?” The room tilted and vibrated. It was as if it was having trouble sustaining itself. It reminded me of when Délons took on their human appearance. Their faces twitched and bulged. They had trouble hiding their true selves. The same thing was happening with this time jump. It was having trouble existing because it was existing at the wrong time.

The half-crab half-man creature walked out of the darkness on its four spiked legs, its upside down face cocked to the right. It wore a chain around its neck. A slimy tongue dangled from the end of the chain. A souvenir or snack for later, although I couldn’t image how it ate with its mouth sewn shut.

It spoke without moving its lips. “They call me Canter.” I readied myself for an attack by the ugly bucket of crust. It was more than twice my size, so I couldn’t put up much of a fight against it without a weapon, but I readied myself nonetheless.

“What do you want with me?” I said

“I want you dead.”

I backed away.

“But not until you’ve completed your job.”

“Job?”

“Getting rid of those ugly Délons. They are so abhorrent.

Don’t you think?” It crab-walked to the left.

“You want the Délons dead?”

“Of course,” it said. “Why wouldn’t I? Their tongues taste

awful, and they’re hoarding all the humans for themselves.” “But I’m the wrong warrior...”

The crab thing laughed. “It’s so cute that you call yourself

that. Warrior? How many barely teenage warriors do you know? You’re not a warrior. You only stopped wetting your bed a few years ago.”

“Eight,” I shouted.

“It doesn’t make a difference. The other so-called warrior, the one created to kill the Délons, has been captured.”

A loud banging came from the other end of the warehouse.

“Here already?” Canter turned and backed away on his spiked crab legs. “No time to talk. We’ve got to kill your friends.”

I looked down and I was holding my sword, J.J. Had I always been holding it? Where did it come from? “What’s going on?”

“Boy, you really are dense aren’t you? We’re going to kill your friends. I’ll take the fat, spongy haired kid. You get the girl.”

Gordy and Lou walked out of the shadows and started to approach.

“What? Why?”

“Well,” Canter groaned. “We’re killing the fat kid because he annoys me, and Lou... well, we’re killing her because she’s a girl.”

With that the room shuddered violently and, with no sound at all, the walls of the warehouse exploded. I was back in the house in Chattanooga sitting in the dark quiet corner of the room I had chosen for its solitude. Clearly, solitude wasn’t to be had in this world.

We’re killing her because she’s a girl
. What did Canter mean by that? What does being a girl have to do with anything? I sat back down in my chair and tried not to think about what had just happened. All these cryptic messages were driving me crazy.
Don’t Trust G... Because she’s a girl.
My heart skidded to a stop. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but my lips formed the words. “Don’t trust girl.”

TWELVE

“You look lost.”

It was Gordy’s voice, but it was distant, and hollow. I had slept away from the others. The house was a large two-story traditional southern home with a wraparound porch on both floors. I’d found a spot on the deck off the master bedroom that was shielded from the wind. I’d stayed perfectly warm bundled up in a thick quilted comforter. Now I sat in a cushioned lounge chair and stared out into the moonless purple night wondering how Lou could betray me. I was deep in miserable thought when Gordy found me just before daybreak.

“You look lost,” he repeated.

I acknowledged him with a terse nod.

“You mind if I sit?” His hands were buried deep in his pockets.

He motioned with his head toward the other lounge chair. I gave a simple and less terse nod.

He sat, shivering from the cold. “You okay, boss?” “Boss?”

“Yeah, you’re the boss, ain’t ya’?”

I thought about the question. “I don’t know what I am. I’m

not sure what any of us are.”

Gordy shook his head. “Don’t get deep on me, Oz. I just asked if you’re okay.”

“Are you okay, Gordy?” I snapped. “Do you get what’s going on here? We’re the stars in some cosmic freak show full of monsters that suck the life out of you, and friends who stab you in the back!”

He sat up in his chair and looked at me concerned. “I ain’t stabbed no one in the back. I swear to god above I’m on your side...”

“Not you,” I shouted. “Not you, okay.”

He settled back into his lounger. “Forgive me for assuming it was me. There ain’t much else to choose from...” He looked at me in complete shock. “You ain’t saying...”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” I said. “Forget I said anything.”

He looked at me tempted to keep on the topic, but he slowly let it go. His eyes drifted upward. The sky above us wasn’t ours, but it was beautiful in its own way. We tried not to admire it, but we couldn’t help ourselves. Gordy cleared his throat. “I sure would like to take in a Titans game. I mean the real thing. Not this crazy crap they got going on now.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That would be cool. The play-off picture would be starting to come together right about now.”

“Too bad we got the Colts in our division,” he said. “That’s usually two losses right there. That only gives us room to lose two or three other games a year.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked incredulously. “Two losses? The Colts can be had.”

“Please, with that offense, and the way the defense has been playing the last couple of years.”

“All you need is a pressure defense...”

And so we talked about a football season that would never be, played by teams that didn’t exist anymore, working out probable and improbable playoff scenarios, until pretty soon, we were both sitting in my living room watching the Super Bowl on my family’s modest 32-inch TV screen. The Titans had made it of course. Our quarterback position was the excitement of the league. The draft had yielded incredible talent on both sides of the ball. They weren’t supposed to be there. Not one so-called football expert picked them to make it, and now that they were in the big game, they were expected to lose badly. They were playing the Cowboys, and nobody but the Steelers beats the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. (That proclamation had been made by an obnoxious Steelers fan calling into our fictitious sports-talk radio show.) This Super Bowl of ours went on until the purple sun was over the tree line in the back of the house.

We had talked the strangeness out of our situation; brought ourselves home for a fleeting moment. It didn’t seem like much at the time, but when it was over, when we were forced to get up off the lounge chairs and head downstairs to saddle up the horses, it was the most important conversation we had ever had. Not because it was about football, but because it was about who we used to be, kids. Both of us had forgotten that.