Banshee Worm King: Book Five of the Oz Chronicles (4 page)

“No they are not,” Bostic said. “They’re big.
 
Long as a man.
 
Fat as a good-sized hog.
 
White, slimy teeth.”

Tyrone gulped.
 
“Teeth?”

“Like sharks.
 
They
ain’t got eyes.
 
They just burrow through
the ground.
 
They only surface when
food’s around.”

“Food?” I asked.
 
“I’ve got a pretty good idea what the answer is to this question, but
I’ll ask it anyway.
 
What do they eat?”

Bostic smiled.
 
“Loud
talkers.”

“Crap,” Tyrone said.
 
“This guy’s just full of good news.”

I started down the hill.
 
“C’mon, Tyrone.
 
We’ve got to warn
the others.”

“That ain’t a smart idea,” Bostic said.
 
“The Banshee worms know you’re here.
 
They’ve been stalking you for a couple of
days now.”

“Stalking us?” I asked.

“They’re hunters.
 
Smart hunters.
 
They don’t go
half-cocked after prey.
 
They study you
first.
 
Make an account of your
self-defense skills and health.
 
They
ain’t interested in eating diseased meat.
 
That Gordy fella’s probably safe... from the Banshee worms anyway.”

“And the rest of us?”

“Wes’s big enough to be dinner.
 
The rest of you would make good-sized
snacks.
 
And, they just about got you all
figured out.”

Tyrone puffed up.
 
“Mister, you have no idea what we’re capable of.
 
We’ve fought more monsters than you’ve laid
eyes on...”

“Son,” Bostic said, “I’ve come up against them, too.
 
Slaughtered more butt-uglies than I can
remember.”
 
He held his arms out to show
off his attire.
 
“You think I bought
these clothes from a store.
 
I pieced
these threads together from Takers, Silencers, Bashirs, and brain suckers. You
name it, I’ve killed it, skinned it for clothes, and cooked its meat up for food.
So, I got a pretty good idea what you’re capable of because I’m capable of it,
too.
 
One thing I’m not capable of is
killing Banshee worms.
 
Damn things are
like ghosts.”
 
He looked up at the
treetops.
 
“Used to have half a dozen
companions with me living in the trees.
 
Damn worms got to them one by one.
 
Wasn’t nothing I could do about it.”

Tyrone stood with a horrified look on his face.
 
“You ate a shunter?”

“A what?” Bostic asked.

“A brain sucker,” I said.

“Oh, yeah.
 
Roasted
it over an open flame.
 
Got a kind of
bitter flavor to it, and too much of it will give you the runs, but it’s got a
bearable taste.”

“This is all very disgusting and fascinating,” I said, “but
we really need to go warn the others.”

“Agreed,” Bostic said.
 
He reached up and pulled on a rope hidden on the other side of the
tree.
 
A sturdy wooden platform big
enough for a person floated down and gently lay flat on the ground.
 
“Tell your pooch to get on my elevator,” he
said.

I hesitated and looked up.
 

“Go on.
 
We’re
wasting time.”

I snapped my fingers and directed Kimball onto the
platform.
 

“I’ll pull him up.
 
You climb up to the first level.
 
Tyrone and the gorilla will follow.
 
I’ll bring up the rear.”

I gave Kimball a pat on the head and told him to stay.
 
Bostic pulled on the rope and slowly started
to raise the platform up towards the canopy.
 
I hurried and climbed.
 
I couldn’t
see the first level he was talking about until I was a good 15 feet off the
ground.
 
It was just past a thick cover
of branches.
 
I sped up.

When I reached the last step before the first level, I
looked down.
 
I could see the ground
through the branches, but barely.
 
I
stepped on the huge wooden structure and marveled at its size.
 
It was big enough for a dozen people or
more.
 

The elevator reached the top, and Kimball bounded off it
onto the deck.
 
I greeted him and
couldn’t help but feel happy that I was with my dog, and we were both
safe.
 
Tyrone reached the deck, followed
by Ariabod and then Bostic.

“Thing was designed by this engineer fella,” Bostic said
stomping on the wooden floor.
 
“It’s
sturdy as a rock.”
 
He pointed behind
us.
 
“Pretty cool design, too.
 
Got decks like this scattered about from tree
to tree about six miles in each direction.
 
Most of them connected to one another by little bridges.
 
Others connected by zip lines.”

“They all this big?” I asked

“Big?” he said with a laugh.
 
“This is a small one.
 
The main one is four times this big. Covered,
too.
 
With walls.
 
It’s a regular mansion in the sky.”

“Great,” Tyrone sneered.

“Something against mansions?” Bostic asked.

“We just haven’t had great luck with them,” I said.

“Luck?” Bostic scratched his bearded jaw line.
 
“Son, if you know where to get a hold of some
luck in this world, you turn me onto it as quick as you can because I sure
would like to have some.”
 
He reached up
into a tree limb and pulled down a paintball gun.
 
“Let’s go warn your friends.”

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“This?” he said holding up the gun.
 
“In case we come across any Banshee worms on
the way.”

“You going to paint them to death?” Tyrone asked.

“No, I am not,” Bostic said.
 
“It shoots neon glow-in-the-dark paint.
 
I tag those slimy white suckers with as much
paint as I can whenever I get the chance.
 
Makes them easier to spot when they surface.”
 

He propped the paint gun on his shoulder and made his way
across the deck to something that resembled a drawbridge.
 
He lowered it. It connected with a thin
expanse of deck that reached out into the thick of the canopy.
 

“Drawbridges help you put space between yourself and
whatever’s chasing you.”

“You’ve had things chase you up here?”

“Occasionally.
 
Not
long back I met up with one of them purple fellas on the west side deck.
 
Chased me all the way to the south side.
Drawbridge slowed him up enough.”

“Enough for what?” I asked.

“For me to set up my defenses.
 
Climbed up in the tree and dropped down on
him when he made his way over.
 
Had his
head removed before he knew what hit him.”

I rubbed my neck.

“Burned his body to ashes.”

“And his head?” Tyrone asked.

“Damned thing crawled away.”

A chill zoomed up my spine.
 
“Crawled away?”

Bostic chuckled.
 
“Surprised the hell out of me, too.
 
Hiked up on its spider-leg hairdo and crawled right off the side of the
deck and into the branches below.
 
Moved
like a cat.”

He led us over the tree bridge to the next deck.
 
It was slightly smaller, but just as
sturdy.
 
We continued down the web of
bridges and platforms until we could hear Wes’ voice.
 
We couldn’t make out what he was saying, but
it was definitely him.

Bostic turned to us.
 
“You see how loud you all are?”
 
He motioned for us to move to the nearest railing on the deck.
 
“Let me show you why that’s fool behavior,”
he said peering down at the ground.
 

Tyrone and I stuck our heads over the railing and spotted
Wes and Ajax.
 
The others weren’t
anywhere to be seen.
 

“There,” Bostic said pointing to a patch of ground twenty
feet or so past Wes.
 

Tyrone and I looked at it carefully.
 

“There what?” I asked.

“Wait for it,” Bostic said.

And we did.
 
A minute
passed and I was just about to ask Bostic what we were supposed to be seeing
when the patch of ground moved.

“Holy...” Tyrone said jumping back.

I stood motionless and watched as something underneath the
top layer of soil moved ever so slightly toward Wes.

“It’s scouting out your round-bellied friend there,” Bostic
said.

I yelled at Wes.
 
He
turned but couldn’t tell which direction my voice was coming from.
 
He didn’t even think to look up.

“Shhh,” Bostic said.
 
“More noise ain’t a prudent course of action.”

I looked for a way down.
 
“Where’s a ladder?”

“What for?” Bostic asked.

“I’ve got to help my friend.”

“There ain’t no need,” Bostic said.

“What are you crazy?” I asked.
 
“That thing’s right there on his heels.”

“I told you it’s just scouting your friend out.
 
These things bring all hell when they’re
ready to attack.
 
Starts with a sour milk
smell that hits you in the back of your throat and almost makes you puke.
 
Then twenty or thirty of those bastards move
so fast through the ground it feels like an earth quake.
 
Once you figure out what’s really happening,
it’s too late.
 
They rise up out of the
ground and start tearing the flesh from your bones.”

“So we’re just supposed to stand here while that thing is
so close to Ajax and Wes?”

“I done the same thing with you.”

“What?” Tyrone asked.

“I stood for a full five minutes on that platform back
there while one was scouting you two out.”

Tyrone and I looked at each other.
 
We were both frightened and outraged at same
time.

“Don’t get all fiery on me.
 
They got a habit of peeking their heads out of the ground ever so
slightly when they’re scouting.
 
It’s a
perfect opportunity to peg them with...”
 
He stopped and pressed the butt of the paintball gun against his
shoulder.
 

I turned and saw what he was aiming at.
 
There was a white round knob sticking out of
the ground where we had last seen the ground move.
 
It could have passed for a medium-sized
rock.
 

Bostic took a deep breath and let it out before firing a
paintball at the white knob.
 

A splash of neon paint exploded on the knob. We heard a
horrendous screeching sound, and the ground churned.

Startled, Wes and Ajax moved back slowly while staring at
the moving ground.

Bostic whooped and hollered.
 
“Dead center!
 
How do you like that?”

Wes turned and looked up in our direction.
 
“Who’s there?
 
What’s going on?”

“Just painting some Banshees,” Bostic said with a snort and
a laugh.

“It’s us, Wes,” I said.

“Oz?”

“Yeah, stay put.
 
I’ll be right down to explain.”

“Them things are quick as cats,” Bostic said.
 
“Surprises me every time I see them moving so
fast.”
 

“Mister,” I said, “if you weren’t bigger than three of me,
I’d slap you down faster than those Banshee worms move.
 
You put my friends in danger with that
stunt.”

“Son,” Bostic said, “Mind your p’s or else I’ll give you
your chance to get froggy with me.
 
I
just bought your friends some time.
 
That
scout’ll go back to the others with that green dot, and they’re going to
reassess your defenses.
 
They’ll still
come at you, but they’re going to have to come up with a different strategy all
together thanks to me.”