Chapter Thirteen:

 

As Dorothy was being whisked away through the sky to the Witch's castle, her companions were in dire straits. Barney and Margot were out of fresh clips for their weapons, and although the Scarecrow had made each of his crossbow quarrels count, he was soon down to none.

Then at least a half dozen hefty pigs tackled Barney like a defensive line sacking the quarterback. Squeals and roars mingled as oinkers flew and blood flowed, but there were too many of them and the mighty (if squeamish) lion was soon borne down under their combined weight. Once he was brought to earth, his cowardly attackers took advantage of his position to pummel and pound him unmercifully.

At the same time, a squadron of the monkeys attacked Margot, and after several of them had been knocked unconscious by the heavy blows of her tin fists, they'd settled on a unique method of taking the fight out of her. They repeatedly lifted her some six feet or so off the ground and dropped her to the earth in a clatter of clinking metal. After the fifteenth repetition of this cavalier treatment, Margot was no longer sure what her name was, which end was up, or who these nasty people were who kept dropping her on the cold hard ground.

The Scarecrow, out of bolts, was forced to resort to the closer methods dictated by the use of the blade. He managed to kill five of the monkeys and three of the pigs, maimed an additional six (two of whom subsequently died), and ensured that another dozen of his foes who were physically unharmed in the skirmish would nevertheless be troubled by recurring nightmares and various nervous disorders for the rest of their lives.

All attempts to dislodge the lethal Harpy from his wiry grip failed miserably until one of the cleverer monkeys got the idea to just pull the whole knife-wielding arm off, blade and all. Which, though a setback, still left the Scarecrow free to bite, an oversight on the part of the Witch's soldiers that resulted in another three casualties.

Eventually, though, a panicked pig remembered that they'd brought a net to use on the lion if necessary, and soon the Scarecrow (now minus one arm and a half pound of the stuffing from his thorax) was immobilized in the twists and tangles of the stout net.

The three companions, subdued at last, stopped fighting almost simultaneously, as though they shared some unknown psychic bond.  They each made ready to face certain death with whatever equanimity as they could muster.

So they were all really quite surprised to here Wing Commander Otis give the order to withdraw quite clearly.

So were some of the junior swine in Otis' squadron.

"Sir, permission to kill the prisoners, sir!" one young hog requested smartly.

"No, Cadet Phil, permission denied. Our orders are to withdraw as soon as the mission is complete. Which is now."

Phil the pig, who was very young, and who had lost two buddies to the Scarecrow's knife, broke discipline and questioned a direct order.

"SIR, couldn't we at least kill THIS sonofabitch, SIR?" he indicated the sonofabitch he meant with a sharp kick to the netted form of the Scarecrow.

"The Witch's orders were quite specific, Cadet! None of the prisoners are to be killed. And you can consider yourself on report for insubordination, mister! Now let's get moving like we've got a purpose, people.  Collect the dead and WITHDRAW!"

All the swine moved into take-off formation with alacrity, hoping to redeem themselves in the eyes of their commander after Cadet Phil's embarrassing lapse. Some retrieved the bodies of their fallen comrades; others tested prevailing wind currents with small weather balloons. The monkeys followed suit (though with far less military precision), and then, squadron by squadron, the entire airborne task force took to the sky and flew away. Within five minutes, Margot, the Lion, and the Scarecrow were left alone upon the field.

Though battered and beaten, they were all so amazed to have come through the battle alive that none of them actually felt much pain as yet. An astonished fog cushioned them all a bit, for the moment.

Barney stiffly stood up and limped over to the Scarecrow, to begin the tedious task of untangling him from the net.

"Sheesh. You look like a hundred miles of bad road, Scarecrow," Barney said. "They jobbed you good. Where's your arm?"

"Over there, somewhere, I think," the Scarecrow replied. "I fear I lost track, somewhere along the line. I think you lost a tooth, Barney. The left lower canine?"

"Shit," Barney said mildly. "I just had a filling in that one. Hey, Margot, do you see his arm over there anywhere?"

Margo had recovered her mental equilibrium enough to try a small joke.

"His arm? I'm not sure. What does it look like?"

They were all startled to find themselves laughing, a bit shakily.

Once the arm had been found, and the Harpy still gripped in the disembodied hand along with it, freeing the Scarecrow from the net went much faster.

"Why didn't they kill us?" Margot marveled, cutting through several strands of heavy netting.

"That wasn't the mission," the Scarecrow answered, squirming out of a particularly tight fold of the net. His voice held a wintry edge. "The mission was to abduct Dorothy and secure the Ruby Brain for the Witch."

Barney and Margot's eyes widened with shock as they suddenly realized that neither Dorothy nor Toto were anywhere to be seen.

"Oh, I don't believe it!" Barney growled, incensed. "Those bastards even grabbed Toto! The poor little thing - doesn't he have enough problems? Why would they do a rotten thing like that?"

"To use on Dorothy, of course," The Scarecrow answered, wriggling out of the last of the netting. He tried standing up experimentally, and discovered that his balance was somewhat thrown off by the loss of the arm.  He made a mental note to himself to remember to compensate for it. "As a psychological hostage. They'll threaten harm to the lamb as a way of controlling her."

Barney found himself wishing the Scarecrow had a better sense of when to soft-pedal the truth. Most of the time, he was about as blunt as a butter knife. Barney had grown to be quite fond of the cute little lamb, and hated to think of him in torment.

Margot had been staring at the long twist of bare wire that jutted out of the Scarecrow's left shoulder and wincing.

"Uh . . . doesn't that hurt?" she finally asked him.

He stared at her for a moment in mild disbelief.  "What do YOU think, Margot?"

"Well, maybe . . . um . . .” she stammered, and then held out the amputated limb to him with a sick smile she hoped was encouraging. "Maybe you could put it back on?"

"Hmm. Interesting idea. You wouldn't happen to have a staple gun, would you?"

He laughed, the kind of malevolent, icy laugh that had scared the crap out of many in the past.

"Or maybe some Scotch tape? What about some aspirin?"

"Well, I just thought -”

"Oh, Margot . . . I apologize. I do know you mean well, really, I do. I'm just not quite myself at the moment. Please forgive me. I can have it reattached later, or even rebuilt. What we need to consider right now is Dorothy, don't you think?"

He took the arm she was still holding out, then stuffed the limb into his knapsack, where it stuck out by a half a forearm, a wrist, and a hand. The visual effect was wildly surreal.

 

"Where would they take her?" the Lion asked, although he feared he already knew the answer.

"The castle," Margot answered glumly. "Where else?"

"Correct," said the Scarecrow. "The castle. Fortunately, it's only a mile away. Shouldn't take long to get there."

And without another word, he simply turned and walked away, in the direction of the castle.

He was almost out of sight before Barney and Margot realized the conversation was over, as far as he was concerned. They shared an irritated mutual grimace, then hustled to catch up with him.

"What do you think you're doing, just walking off like that?" Margot grumped. "We're going too, you know."

They'd both fallen into step with him before they knew what they were about.

"Time is of the essence, Margot. The Witch won't waste his standing around debating all day."  The Scarecrow didn't lessen his pace by a fraction as he spoke.

"But we ARE going," Barney asserted. "Dorothy's our friend too. You can't stop us."

The Scarecrow smiled, the first genuinely pleasant smile they'd seen from him in hours.

"Why on earth would I want to stop you? Do you think I PREFER to storm a heavily fortified stronghold alone? Perhaps my reputation for dementia has become a bit overblown. Of course Dorothy is your friend, but any rescue attempt will be a doubtful undertaking at best. I could hardly ASK you to come, either of you. We'll probably all be killed."

"Do you always have to be so wishy-washy?" Barney asked with a sarcastic grin. "Why don't you just come out and say what you mean?"

"Yeah," Margot added, laughing. "We're sick of your mealy mouthed euphemisms. Tell us what you REALLY think!"

He pointedly ignored them as they both cracked up, although he really was a bit amused by their antics, he had to admit to himself.

Once she and Barney had finished laughing, Margot touched the Scarecrow's good shoulder to get his attention and spoke to him quietly.

"You do know that we're your friends, too, right? Why else would we put up with you? We'll help you get her out of there, you'll see."

"You're kind, Margot. And perceptive. Thank you."

“So . . .” Barney said, ending the small private exchange between the other two. "Think we can get there before it gets dark? If we really hoof it? I'd hate to get killed at night!"

 

Meanwhile, at the castle, Dorothy was enduring her first conversation of any real length with the Witch. The dialogue was not going well.

Once Dorothy and her kidnappers had arrived at the castle, they'd landed on the terrace outside the Witch's chamber window, and then a pair of winged monkeys had grabbed her arms at either side and marched her, double time, to the Witch's bedside.

The elmo had been removed from the room before her arrival, since the Witch did not want her to see that her friends had been left alive after the battle in the haunted forest. He wanted her as discouraged as possible for their first interview.

The Witch was smiling broadly, in his unique way, when she got there, and, though she did not know it, her opinion of this expression was very much the same as that held by Cordell and Otis.

Ugh, she thought. He looks like some kind of nasty marine animal - a lamprey, maybe, or perhaps an eel.

"Well, hello, Ms. Special Agent Gale! How the heck are ya? So glad you could drop by! What an unexpected pleasure!"

"Unexpected?" Dorothy retorted.  "Is a full scale air strike and an aerial kidnapping your idea of an engraved invitation? Where's my lamb? I saw some of your flying thugs pick him up."

"Cordell," the Witch said. "Go ask your people to bring in little Toto - don't worry, Ms. Gale, this won't take a minute. We can chat a bit while we wait, you and I. Tell me, why don't you shoot me NOW? You mentioned the possibility earlier, I think."

"Why don't you consider wearing a mask? I'm sure it would make everybody feel a lot better."

"Why don't you keep your goddamned smart mouth shut?! You're in no position to sling insults, here! You're in deep shit, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"Whatever," Dorothy said, determined to sound unafraid.

"You know, except for that uppity attitude of yours, you're not a bad looking woman. A little on the scrawny side, perhaps, but we could fix that. Maybe once I get this Brain business settled, I might consider having a little fun with you. What do you think? Not that you'd have much choice in the matter, one way or another."

The Witch somehow managed to leer at her, a feat Dorothy would have guessed he could not accomplish without a face, had she not seen it for herself.

"I think I'd rather be devoured by ants," she snapped. "Over a six week period."

"Oh? I'm surprised. You've got some twisted thing going with that murdering straw prick of a Scarecrow, don't you? I'd gotten the idea that you must not be too picky."

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Dorothy said distinctly. "I'm sure you know how."

Oh, I'm doing a great job of staying alive, she thought to herself.  But she couldn't help it. She was furious. The Witch's odious comments cut very close to the bone.

Before the conversation could grow any more rancorous or even progress to outright violence, Cordell and another monkey entered the chamber. Toto was squirming like a worm in the second monkey's arms.

"Ah, here's the little lamb chop now!" the Witch said unpleasantly. "Here's the deal, missy. Hand over the Brain right now, or we break out the mint jelly."

Dorothy considered, fast. The Witch wasn't leaving her much room to maneuver, and what she chiefly needed to gain was time. If Toto were somehow taken out of the equation, the Witch would be forced to work directly on her, and that would cause delay.  Maybe enough delay for her reinforcements to arrive.

If they weren't dead, she reminded herself unhappily. By God, if this pervert kills me, I swear on my father's memory I'm gonna take him with! How can I get Toto out of here?

A strategy presented itself to her thought, and she put it into action at once.

"Toto!" she whined, getting as much plaintive weakness into her voice as she could. "Oh, my poor little Toto-kins. Oh, please don't hurt him, Mr. Witch. He hasn't done anything."

The Witch took the bait, and so, Dorothy noted with satisfaction, did the monkey holding the squirming lamb. That simian hooligan smiled sadistically and squeezed Toto enough to make him squeak, a bit. Dorothy controlled her anger and went on with her charade by letting a single tear fall from her eye.

"Oh, we wouldn't harm a hair on his curly little head, Ms. Gale. A little cutie like him? Not unless you force us to. Just give me the Brain."

"Don't hold him so tight," she all but sobbed to the sadistic monkey. "You're hurting him. He's scared, you're scaring him, oh please don't do that anymore . . ." she managed to squeeze out a few more heart-wrenching tears. The mean monkey did just as she had hoped he might, and squeezed Toto a bit tighter.

The exact opposite of what she'd asked. Ah, excellent. This might actually work!

"The BRAIN!" the Witch said. "No more screwing around. Give me the Brain NOW!"

"Oh, PLEASE don't take his muzzle off, whatever you do!" Dorothy begged the cruel monkey, loading her voice with as much pathetic pathos as possible. She actually wrung her hands and let her lower lip tremble. This was it - she had to hit the monkey with everything she had. "Please, please, PLEASE, I'm BEGGING you!"

The sadistic monkey, intent on Dorothy's pain, didn't hear the Witch shouting "Noo-oo! Don't! It's a trick!"

He gloated malignantly as he ripped the muzzle off Toto's snout.

Toto, true to form, immediately threw his woolly head back and screamed like a runaway freight train filled with an army of rabid timberwolves. The sadistic monkey, stunned, immediately dropped the screeching lamb like a hot potato.

"Run, Toto, run," Dorothy shouted, and jumped the sadistic monkey before any of her captors could have a chance to collect themselves.

Toto, screaming like the all the damned souls of Hell, scuttled to the chamber door, jinked past the feet of several monkeys who had come running to the chamber to see what the commotion was, and bulleted down the stairs outside fast as lightning. He was though the great hall below and down the drawbridge and away from the castle before anyone could summon the presence of mind to try to catch him.

A long dwindling shriek from outside the castle came to Dorothy's ears as she choked the living shit out of the sadistic monkey and repeatedly slammed his no-good skull into the floor. Toto had gotten away!

Now, if I can just kill THIS creep before they pull me off, she thought, happily.

Unfortunately, Cordell and several other monkeys did pull her off before their fellow was killed. As it was, his face was battered beyond recognition and he had to wear a neck brace for six months afterwards.

The Witch was beside himself with wrath.

"Very clever, Ms. Smarty Pants!" he snarled. "You think we won't go to town on YOU, now that your little nutjob lamb is gone? You three, hold her - you - Cordell, get her tote bag!"

Cordell pulled the bag off Dorothy's shoulder and brought it to the Witch. Once at the Witch's bedside, he stopped still and awaited further instructions.

"Well?" the Witch demanded. "What are you, retarded? See if the Brain is in there."

Cordell peered inside the bag, noted that the Brain was indeed inside, and nodded in the affirmative to the Witch.

The Witch fumed. "Well, give it here, then. What's the matter with you?"

Cordell shook his head in the negative.

"What do you mean, NO? Give me that Brain!"

Cordell shook his head again.

The Witch, half blind with fury, reached his own good hand into the bag.

And was instantly zapped by a searing bolt of occult energy that caused his long black hair to stand out from his head and fried the controls on his bed. Again. He'd forgotten about what had happened the first time they'd tried to handle the Brain, way back in Munchkin Land. Cordell, however, had not.

Dorothy cracked up. It was the first good laugh she'd had since she'd been here.

The Witch seethed and snarled and growled for a full five minutes before he addressed Dorothy again.

"I've just about had it with you, Ms. Gale," he finally said. "Looks like we can't touch the Brain until you're dead.  Bad luck for you, huh? Still, it's no problem, I've just got to figure out how to do it. These things must be done delicately, or you hurt the spell.  Listen, Cordell, go get that hourglass out of my study. IF it's not too much trouble, I mean."

Cordell, expressionless, left the chamber and returned a minute or two later with one of the biggest (AND ugliest) hourglasses Dorothy had ever seen.

 "I need a little time to think, Ms. Gale, so I'll have to ask you to excuse me for awhile. A very SHORT while, you won't have to wait long, I promise. Cordell, you and the boys roll me out of here, I need to take a look at some grimoires I've got in the study. You can stay here, Ms. Gale. Take some time to get yourself right with God, write your memoirs, make a will, whatever.  I'll be back as soon as these sands run out."

Cordell upended the ugly hourglass and set it on a table near Dorothy with a resounding clang.

The Witch and his minions left the room and double deadbolted the door from the outside.

Dorothy was alone. She gazed at the hourglass.

Well, time IS what I hoped to gain, she thought, oddly amused, even in this very tight spot. I just never thought it would be so LITERAL if I gained it. Wonder where he got such an ugly piece of crap? What kind of nut would pay good money for a thing like this?

She went to the huge open window and stared out.

Okay, Project Number One: complete. I'm alive, and I have a little time. Phase Two: now underway - I’m waiting. Hope you're out there, guys, hope you're coming. Hope you know not to dawdle, if you are.

She sighed. More than anything else, she was most afraid that they were dead.

Dorothy watched from the great chamber window as the sun started to go down in a bloody blaze and the night came on behind.