The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (10 page)

"You shouldn't say such things when I hold your only power in my hand," the Witch said with venom in her voice.

"If it helps, the old man in Emerald City has never ruled either. Neither has Glinda or the Gnome King or anyone else in Oz. This world has been ruled by one man since the very beginning, and he's never even been here."

Her mouth twisted into a snide question. "Who?" she asked. "Pray tell."

"His name is L. Frank Baum."

Randy saw the Witch react as if the author's name meant something to her, but he knew that wasn't possible.

"And does he rule using magic like this?" She extended her hand. The gun was balanced on her deeply lined palm.

Douglas grinned. "He uses something far more powerful, I'm afraid.
His words
."

WESLEY, TAYLOR AND Hope were standing on the outskirts of a small town where a strange message had been scrawled into the mud at their feet. The words were written in tall, uneven letters that had filled with rainwater reflecting the moon's hazy light. While the greeting had eroded in part, it was still easily read: BeWare tHe WHeeLERS!

"What does that mean?" Hope asked.

Taylor shook her head without answering. Even the assistant librarian needed to take a class in Oz lore, it seemed.

Together, they continued down the muddy path that led into the tiny, one-street village. Their feet splashed in puddles as they surveyed the wreckage before them.

The night sky was alive with the orange glow of fire as a tiny church in the center of town burned. The entire town was in shambles. Doors were ripped from their hinges. The windows on storefronts were shattered. A wailing toddler was digging through boxes spilled from an overturned wagon in the street.

"What happened?" Wesley asked.

"Did you expect something different?" Hope answered.

Taylor walked toward the crying child near the wagon. "Hey," she said softly. "You okay? You—"

The young boy ran to her, wrapping both arms around Taylor's waist and burying his sad face in her shirt.

"Whoa! Calm down," she said. "It's okay." Taylor knelt down to pick the boy up. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Side-by-side, Wesley and Hope continued deeper into town while Taylor lagged a few paces behind to make friends with the crying boy.

There were other children, too. A young girl with a dirty face was wandering aimlessly in front of the general store. A shirtless boy sat in the town's square with his legs crossed while two round faces pressed the glass of a second-story window looking like a pair of curious ghosts.

"Where is everyone?" Taylor asked.

Wesley pointed to a crooked sign labeled "Tinsmith" hanging over a pair of swinging doors that led into a small corner building. "Let's hope he can help."

"Shouldn't we find this guy's parents?" Taylor asked.

"We will, Tay! Jeez! First things first."

She recoiled at Wesley's sharp tone.

Wesley stepped easily onto the porch outside the Tinsmith's shop, its wood creaking beneath his feet. Taylor and Hope followed him inside. It was pitch black, nothing but a few fingers of moonlight reaching through the window to light the room.

"Hello?" Wesley asked. He stepped deeper into the shop. There were items on shelves available for sale: cake pans and pots, teakettles and utensils. A cluttered workbench was pressed against a wall behind the counter. There was an anvil with a large sledgehammer beside that. "Anyone here?"

All at once there was a clatter from behind the counter. Wes turned as long metal rods went spilling onto the floor. Then, there was a flash of blonde hair in the darkness.

"Wait!" Wesley yelled. "Grab her!"

A young girl rounded the counter and made a beeline for the exit. Hope moved into her path, grabbing her hand and wrenching it so hard the little girl came off her feet, her soot-covered face twisting in pain.

"Stop it!" Taylor screamed. "You're hurting her!"

"It's fine, Tay. Someone has to tell us what happened."

Wesley's cold tone was back. He seemed to be getting harder as their adventure progressed – if you could even call it an adventure this time around.

Wesley approached the small girl. She tried to break away, but Hope tightened her grip.

"It's okay," he explained. "We're not going to hurt you." Wes shook his head as a memory surfaced. The last time he was in a situation like this he wound up with Locke's knife at his throat. "Can you tell us what happened here? To your village? Were you attacked?" The girl didn't answer. "Do you know where we can find the Tinsmith?" Mention of the metalworker brought a glimmer of recognition to the girl's pale blue eyes.

"Great," Hope huffed. "Another comatose patient."

"Enough!" Wesley snapped.

Tay grinned. It was nice to see him giving Hope the same attitude she'd been getting over the last few hours. Taylor was beginning to worry Wesley was mad at her. Seeing him snap at Hope eased her concerns, if only for a little bit.

Wesley fell to one knee and pulled a bottle of water from his backpack. "You thirsty?" he asked.

The girl was reluctant but eventually took the bottle. She looked at it with curious eyes, swirling the water around inside the plastic container.

Wes laughed beneath his breath. "Let me." He offered his hand. The girl handed the bottle over then watched with great interest as Wesley unscrewed the cap and took a drink. She smiled, and Wesley handed her the bottle. She took a small sip. Then, as soon as her lips were wet, she tipped the bottle back and nearly swallowed its contents with a single gulp.

"Hit the spot?"

The girl nodded, and Wesley sat down in front of her.

"What's your name?"

The girl thought long and hard before answering.

"Nell."

"Nell? Wow! That's a pretty name," Wesley said. "Nell, can you tell me what happened? We're here to see the Tinsmith. Is he—"

"No!" she hollered. "I don't want to talk about it!"

Nell stood up and marched to a dark corner where her brimming emotions would go unseen.

"My pa is gone," the strange girl whispered. "They're all gone. Nothin 'round here but us kids now."

WESLEY AND HOPE sat on the counter as Taylor and the boy from outside watched their new friend work. Nell was standing on a small stool so she could use her father's workbench while trying to piece the Tinman together again.

While the metalworker's tools looked awkward in her tiny hands, Nell seemed to be making due. The Tinman's metal torso was sitting upright on the bench and already had one arm attached. She had all the tools necessary along with new screws to replace those that had been stripped during the Tinman's dismemberment. It seemed Nell would have no problems at all, but Wesley was skeptical.

"What do we do if this doesn't work?" he asked.

"What do we do if it
does
?" Hope wondered aloud.

Nell reached for a three-handled wrench on a shelf above her head. It was just out of reach, and she nearly lost her balance, grabbing hold of the bench to keep from falling. When she did, the movement was just enough to rattle the Tinman's torso. The arm she'd attached fell from its socket and landed on the bench with a hollow thud.

"Dang it," Wesley said.

Nell shuddered, her eyes fixed on the silver limb. She began to whimper. Taylor couldn't decide if the little girl was scared or sad. She suspected it was a little bit of both.
 
A lot
of both, actually.

"It's okay," Taylor said. "What can I do to help?"

Taylor picked up the arm, and the two began to work together. With Tay there to assist, it didn't take Nell long. She stepped back to appraise her work. The Tinman's arms were now firmly in place where they belonged.

His legs were ready to go, but Nell grabbed his head next, gently setting it in place on the Tinman's shoulders. Once balanced, she grabbed her tool and began to tighten the screws that held his head in place. As soon as the first screw was threaded, the Tinman came to life.

"PLEASE!" he shouted. "NO! PLEASE! DON'T!"

Nell pulled away, falling off the stool and onto her backside. The Tinman's head swiveled back and forth frantically.

"TAKE ME! TAKE ME! I'LL KILL YOU—"

The screw rattled loose, and the head rolled off his shoulders and fell to the floor.

Nell turned to Taylor. "Please," she pleaded. "Don't make me do this! I can't look at him! I knew he'd come back to get me!"

"He isn't going to hurt you," Taylor said. "Why would you think that?" Taylor looked down at the Tinman's head just as it spun to a stop in the corner. This time his frozen face seemed crooked, like it was about to slide off and reveal the mechanism lying beneath.

"He said he's gonna kill us!" Nell shouted.

"He wasn't talking to us."

"I told my pa! I told him the woodchopper would keep comin back and when he was nothin but tin he was gonna want to chop somethin other than wood. I told him!"

Taylor forced a laugh, hoping it might comfort the young girl. "You don't have anything to worry about, Nell. He's our friend. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"You promise?"

"He seems more scared than you," Taylor suggested.

"I guess," Nell said. "What happened to him?"

"That's what we're here to find out."

Taylor bent at the waist and gently scooped the Tinman's head into both hands. She was sure to turn his face away so Nell wouldn't see the nasty expression he was now wearing. "Here," she said. "I'll hold him in place. All you have to do is tighten the screws."

 
Nell bit nervously at her lip before offering an agreeable nod. She grabbed the screwdriver with a moon-shaped head and climbed back onto her stool. Her fingers began to tremble as she guided the first screw into place.

Just as he'd done before, the Tinman began to scream as soon as the screw was home.

"LET HER GO! I SWEAR! IF YOU HURT HER!"

Nell jumped from the stool and put her back to the wall as the Tinman began to assess his surroundings.
 

"Where am I?!" His eyes fell on Taylor. "
You!
" he yelled. "
You
did this!"

The Tinman batted an arm at Taylor, and though he presented no threat, Wes hopped off the counter and came between them.

"She
saved
you," Wesley said. "
That's
what she did."

The Tinman looked Wesley in the eye then moved his gaze to Taylor and gave an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry, madam. It has been a trying time. Tell me, do you know what has become of my fiancé?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Wesley said.

The Tinman lowered his eyes.

"I only know that they took her."

"Who?"

"I'm not for certain. We—"

A chilling screech from outside cut the Tinman short.

"Umm... what was that?" Hope asked nervously.

"I don't know," Wesley explained. "I—"

The squelch occurred twice more. It sounded like an old radio dialing between frequencies, but Taylor couldn't help thinking there was something
alive
responsible for the painful cry.

Nell covered her ears with both hands and waited. There was another series of quick shrieks. And then, there was laughter, high pitched and manic.

"Hide!" Nell hollered. "Hurry! Hide!" She slid beneath the workbench and grabbed a pair of metal shears for protection.

The Tinman lurched forward, tottered, then fell off the workbench and landed face first on the floor.

"My legs! Help me to attach my legs!"

Tay hustled over to help.

"We will," she said. "Just—"

"NOW!"

Wesley grabbed one of the metal limbs from the table, fumbling as he tried to line the leg's ball-joint up with the socket in the Tinman's torso. He looked to Nell for help, but she wasn't coming out from beneath the bench and was ready to give anyone the business-end of her shears if they tried to make her.

"I've got it," Taylor said. She grabbed the screwdriver and a pair of screws from the bench and went to work.

The psychotic laughter grew louder. It seemed to be circling the shop. Every so often the laughs were punctuated with another ear-splitting squelch.

The Tinman watched Wesley and Taylor finish with one leg before moving to the next. Both kept looking over at the shop's double doors, clearly worried the shrieking laughter would eventually make its way inside.

"Help me up," the Tinman ordered. They did, letting the metal man lean on them until he was ready to stand on his own.

"Look," Hope said from a nearby window, waving the others over. "It's them."

"Who?" Taylor whispered.

"Remember? 'Beware the Wheelers.'"

Taylor looked out the window, making sure to stay hidden as best she could. At first, all she saw was the empty street. But then, something streaked into view and began turning circles in the town square.

While similar to man in form, the Wheelers traveled on all-fours like a beast. Their arms were equal to their legs in length, and they had thin wheels at the end of each appendage instead of hands and feet. They wore colorfully embroidered clothing and straw caps perched on their heads.

Taylor watched the Wheeler roll to a halt before arching its back and letting out another of the painful shrieks. Somewhere in the distance, another answered. Then, the frenzied laughter returned.

Taylor turned to Nell. "Don't worry, sweetheart. They can't do anything to us."

Hope furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Aren't these the ones the old woman was talking about?" She looked over at the Tinman. "It's them, right?"

He didn't answer.

"All the Wheelers can do is scare you," Taylor explained. "They have no hands to grab you with, no feet to kick. They aren't that bad at all, really. They're just... bullies. They can't do anything to you."

Wesley and Hope looked out the window again. A second Wheeler had joined the first. The two were circling the shirtless boy. One used his wheel to shovel dirt across the boy's face, laughing madly when the child began to cry.