Banshee Worm King: Book Five of the Oz Chronicles (18 page)

I lifted my arm and examined it.
 
He was right.

“I’d almost forgotten you had that in you,” Wes said.

“Me, too,” I said.

“What brought it out?” he asked.

I thought back to the sound of Bostic’s elbow smashing into
the side of Lou’s head.
 
I turned quickly
to see if she had been injured. “You okay?”

“Me?” she said rubbing her temple.
 
“I’ll live.”

“Is someone going to cook more meat or what?” April said
slurring her words.

I was the first one to laugh.
 
Wes and Lou quickly joined in.
 
It was just too crazy not to.
 

***

It turned out that I’d almost ripped Bostic’s throat
out.
 
Gordy gave up his cot, and we set
our giant host in it.
 
Lou didn’t waste
any time cleaning his wound with a wet rag.

“Get me the whiskey,” she said to no one in particular.

Bostic cringed and swallowed before saying in a hoarse
voice, “No whiskey.”

“I need it to clean your wound,” she said.

He shook his head.
 
“Cabinet above sink.
 
White box.”

Wes left and was back before Bostic swallowed again.
 
He handed the box to Lou.

Lou opened the box and raised an eyebrow at its
content.
 
“What’s this?”

“Tobacco.”

She pulled out a yellow leaf.
 
“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Wet it.
 
Put on
wound.
 
Wrap neck.”

“Why am I supposed to do that?”

He swallowed with gritted teeth.
 
“Stops infection.”

Lou looked to us to see what she should do.
 
Wes and I both shrugged.
 

Tyrone said, “I think I remember my grandpa saying
something about how they used to wrap wounds in tobacco.”

“Do it,” Bostic said.

Lou nodded and soaked the leaf in water.
 
She placed it over the wound and then wrapped
a strip of cloth around Bostic’s neck to keep it in place.
 
“Still think we should use the whiskey.
 
It helped Gordy.”

“No,” he said laying back and closing his eyes.
 

Our other patient was doubled over on the floor holding her
stomach and groaning in agony.
 
The
Myrmidon meat was doing a number on her.

“Why did you people let me eat that much?” She asked in
between groans.
 
“That stuff is evil.”

Gordy giggled.
 
“You
sure seemed to be enjoying it while you were eating it.”

“It’s not funny,” she said, “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, sweetie,” Wes said, “You’re just
suffering from what people call buyer’s remorse.”

“No,” she said, “I’m just suffering, and you people don’t
care.”

“It’s hard to feel bad for you,” Tyrone said.
 
“Lou tried to talk you out of it.”

“Shut up, Tyrone!
 
I’m dying here.
 
Somebody help
me.”

“You got any ideas?” I asked Wes.

He scratched his beard.
 
“Make her puke.”

“How?” I asked.

He pondered the question and then said, “That whiskey of
Bostic’s should do it.”

“No,” Bostic said under a thick hoarse tone.
 
“Vinegar.
 
Under sink.
 
Spoonful.”

“Seriously?” Gordy asked

He nodded and closed his eyes again.

Lou found the vinegar.
 
“Bring her out to the back deck.”

Tyrone and I helped April to her feet and followed Lou out
to the back deck.
 

“Tilt her head back,” Lou said.

We did as she asked.

“Open your mouth, April.”

“No.”

“Open her mouth,” Lou said to Tyrone and me.

Tyrone pinched her nose and I pushed on her cheeks until
her mouth opened.
 

“Need a spoon?” Wes asked.

“Nope,” Lou said with a smile as she poured vinegar down
April’s throat.

April gagged and coughed and hacked so violently that
Tyrone and I were forced to let go.
 
She
fell to her hands and wheezed liked somebody had kicked her in the
stomach.
 
“Are you trying to kill me?”
she said in between attempts to stop coughing.

“Did you swallow any?” Lou asked.

“Yes,” April said.
 
“How could I not...”
 
She stopped
mid-sentence.
 
“Oh God, I’m going to be
sick.”

“Get her to the railing,” Wes said.

Tyrone and I half-dragged, half-carried her to the railing
just as she started to spew her guts out.
 
Chunks of half eaten Myrmidon meat shot out of her mouth like she was a
meat fountain.
 
It was one of the most
disgusting and awesome things I have ever seen.

“I think I’m going to be sick now,” Tyrone said.

The vomiting went on and on.
 
There didn’t seem to be any end in
sight.
 
Her once protruding stomaching
literally shrank before our eyes.
 
She
was emptying her stomach.
 
She finally
heaved one last time.
 

“That it?” I asked.

She remained on her hands and knees and spit out what
remained in her mouth.
 
“God, I hope so.”

“Feel better?” Wes asked.

She shifted from her knees to her butt and sat down.
 
“I think I do.”
 
She looked around, clearly dazed from the
vomiting.
 
“How did I get out here?”

“Me and Oz dragged you out here so you wouldn’t throw up in
the house,” Tyrone said.

She closed one eye and pressed a finger against her
eyelid.
 
“Got a serious headache.
 
What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Wes asked.

“Why am I so sick?”

Wes got down on one knee.
 
“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She fluttered her eyelid.
 
“I remember sitting down at the counter and taking a bite of the
steak.”
 
She smiled. “It tasted
incredible.”

“You don’t remember anything after that?” Wes asked.

She thought about it and said, “Nothing.
 
Not until just now.”

Wes stood.
 
“We’ve
gotta get rid of that meat.”

“Can’t.”

We all turned to see Bostic standing in the doorway.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Wes asked.

“Need it,” he said holding his hand over his bandaged
throat.

“Like a junkie needs drugs,” Wes said.
 
“That stuff will kill you.”

Bostic carefully shook his head.
 
“Keeps alive.”
 
He pointed to himself, “Me.”
 
And then pointed at April.
 
“Now her.”

“What are you saying?” Wes asked.

Lou answered before Bostic had a chance.
 
“He’s saying that they’ll die without the
meat.
 
Aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“How?” I said.

Bostic shrugged.
 
“You eat.
 
You need.”

“If you eat it, you need it to keep living,” Lou said.
 

“Wait,” April said, “what are you saying?”

“You can’t live without that meat,” Lou said.
 

“That’s messed up,” Gordy said.

April shook her head.
 
“I’m not eating that meat again.
 
No way.
 
I don’t care how good it
tastes.
 
I feel awful... worse than
awful.”

“No choice,” Bostic said.

“What did you do?” Wes asked walking toward Bostic.

I stepped in front of him.
 
“Let’s not do that again.”

Wes looked down at me, “We should have let you rip his
throat out.”

“Wish you had,” Bostic said.

“Why did you do this to me?” April said in tears.

Bostic shrugged and simply said, “Alone.”

“You did this because you don’t want to be alone?” Lou
asked.

He nodded and bowed his head.

“So you figured giving somebody a life sentence would keep
them hanging around?” Wes asked.
 
“Why?
Because you’re fool enough to hunt those things?”

“He has to hunt those things to stay alive,” I said.

Wes furrowed his brow.
 
“Why so forgiving all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” I said.
 
“It’s just that the last time things started out this way between you
and Bostic, I almost killed him.
 
I’m
trying to avoid that.”

“I don’t know why,” Wes said.
 
“He tried to get all of us to eat that
meat.
 
He was trying to get us dependent
on that stuff.”

Bostic looked up.
 
“That’s what junkies do.”

“I’m going to die,” April said burying her face in her
hands.
 

Lou knelt beside her and put her hands around April’s
shoulders.
 
“No, you’re not.
 
We’ll fix this.”

“How?” April asked.

Lou looked for someone else to answer so I chimed in,
“We’ll figure it out.”
 
I turned to
Bostic.
 
“Starting with you.
 
Tell us what you know.”

“Nothing to tell,” He said wincing in pain after he
swallowed.
 
“One bite, and you’re done.
Makes you feel superhuman then super crappy.”

“Was it the worms or the meat that done the others in your
party in?” Wes asked.

Bostic hesitated and then said, “Both.”

“Both?” Lou asked.

“Feeling superhuman makes you do stupid things.
 
Careless things. Being fearless makes you
dead.”

Wes looked at me to make sure I’d heard what he’d just
said, an echo of what he’d had told me earlier.

“How come you’re not dead?” Wes asked.

“Lucky,” Bostic said.

“How often do you have to eat it?” I asked.

“The more you eat the longer you can go.”

“How about what April ate?”

“A day.”

“A day?” April said.

“Longer if she hadn’t puked.”

“How long will your supply last?”

“A week. If the Ratty-Bobs don’t steal it.”

“That’s why he was here?”

Bostic nodded.

“Great,” Wes said.
 
“Now we got Ratty-Bobs to worry about, too?
 
Can’t they kill their own Myrmidons?”

“Not hunters.
 
Scavengers,” Bostic said.

I looked at April and couldn’t help but feel bad for
her.
 
She was annoying most of the time,
but she was still one of us.
 
I headed
for the door and squeezed past Bostic.
 

“Where you going?” Wes asked.

“If they’re scavengers, then they know we got the meat.” I
said going to the kitchen with everyone else but April and Lou following me.

“So?” Wes asked.

“So,” I said grabbing one of the bags of meat.
 
“I’m going to give them some.”

“No,” Bostic said almost hysterically.
 

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” I said.
 
“I’ll trade them meat for information.”

“Information on what?” Wes asked.

“On what they know about the meat,” I said.

“And if they don’t know any more than our idiot friend
here?”

“Then at least we’ll know that much.”

I walked to the front door.

“How do you expect to find them?” Wes asked.

“I don’t.
 
I expect
they’ll find me.”

Wes caught up to me before I exited the house.
 
“Hold up.
 
You gotta take someone with you.”

“No,” I said.
 
“Too
many people will scare them off.
 
I’ve
got a better chance of drawing them in if I go alone.”