Shadows of the Emerald City

Edited by JW Schnarr

Northern Frights Publishing

In the Great White North, Blood Runs Colder…

www.northernfrightspublishing.webs.com

Shadows of the Emerald City
© 2009 by JW Schnarr

This edition of
Shadows of the Emerald City

© 2009 by Northern Frights Publishing

Cover Art © 2009 by Gavro Krackovic

Back Cover Art © 2009 by Gavro Krackovic

Front Cover design by Gavro Krackovic

Back Cover Design by JW Schnarr

Internal layout and design by JW Schnarr

All Rights of All Stories © Their Respective Authors. NFP

Reserves the Right to Publish
Shadows of the Emerald City
in Perpetuity.

Northern Frights Publishing is proudly Canadian.

Please do not make illegal copies/downloads of this book. It is the result of many hours of hard work for all involved.

This book is a collection of fairytales, and as such they are fiction. Unless of course, you believe in the magic that brings fairytales to life; in which case all bets are off.

This is a collection of short fiction based on the Public Domain work of L Frank Baum and his Wonderful Wizard of Oz series. The characters, names, and places in many of these stories are derivatives of the original work.

ISBN:
978-0-9734837-5-8

For Aurora,

who still dreams in technicolour.

In no particular order, thanks to my daughter Aurora for letting me use her laptop when my computer crashed, and thanks to my sister Janice for supporting both the company and myself in our first endeavour.

Also thanks to Jacob Kier at Permuted Press and A.P. Fuchs at Coscom Entertainment for helping a noob out with advice (namely me) and showing the new kids how it’s done.

Of course, this collection would be nothing without the artists and authors that contributed to make it so special, and to you, the reader, go the biggest thanks of all.

—
JWS.

“Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.”

L Frank Baum

Dr Will Price and the Curious Case of Dorothy Gale (
Mark Onspaugh
)

Pumpkinhead (
Rajan Khanna
)

Tin (
Barry Napier
)

Fly, Fly Pretty Monkey (
Camille Alexa
)

A Heart is Judged (
Kevin G. Summers
)

Mr Yoop’s Soup (
Michael D. Turner
)

Emerald City Confidential (
Jack Bates
)

The Last Battle of Trewis (
David F. Mason
)

The Utility of Love (
David Steffen
)

The China People of Oz (
T.L. Barrett
)

Dorothy of Kansas (
JW Schnarr
)

One Wicked Day (
Frank Dutkiewicz
)

A Chopper’s Tale (
Jason Rubis
)

The Perfect Fit (
E.M. MacCallum
)

The Fuddles of Oz (
Mari Ness
)

Four A.M. at the Emerald City Windsor (
H.F. Gibbard
)

Scarecrow’s Sunrise (
Gef Fox
)

Not in Kansas Anymore (
Lori T. Strongin
)

The King of Oz (
Martin Rose
)

Cast of Contributors

by Mark Onspaugh

Kansas was far hotter than Will remembered. His new dress shirt was sticking to his back by the time he reached the institute. He figured his jacket would hide the circles of wetness under his arms, but he didn’t like that sticky, clingy feeling of the fabric against his skin.

The dealer in Chicago had assured him that the Pontiac’s air conditioner was state-of-the-art, but the damn thing had burned out halfway across Missouri. He had driven all the way to Topeka with the windows down, wearing only his shoes, pants and undershirt. He had stopped at a Mobil station ten miles from the institute and used the restroom to change. At twenty-five his brown hair was already beginning to thin a bit, but his face was unlined, and he possessed the same easy good looks as singer Tommy Roe, who had a hit that year with “Sheila”. He smiled as he remembered the three high school girls in a red convertible who had kept pace with him until he crossed the Illinois state line, convinced he was Roe on the way to a gig. Then, remembering the importance of his appointment, he ceased to smile and put on his dress shirt and tie.

Will pulled up to a pair of massive wrought iron gates, flanked on either side by rough hewn columns of stone that were part of a massive wall overgrown with ivy.

An enamel sign affixed to the right column declared itself in brilliant white with crisp black lettering.

Clear Springs Asylum of Wichita

There was a small guard kiosk on the other side and Will showed the guard his identification and letter from Dr. Carlton Fisk, the director. The guard gave him a tip of the hat as he returned Will’s documents. The gates swung open soundlessly and he drove in. He told himself not to be nervous, but he could feel the perspiration dripping from his pores as if he were a large sponge being squeezed by the heat.

He passed the visitor’s parking area and entered a small lot designated “Institute Staff Only”. He felt a flush of pride when he found the space labeled “Reserved – Dr. Price”.

The grounds were green and well-tended, and small paths meandered around flowerbeds and out to a duck pond surrounded by willow trees. Only two patients seemed to be out, which wasn’t unusual, given the heat. They were seated on a bench by the pond and were feeding the ducks small bits of bread. A large orderly watched them from a discrete distance. He saw Will, surmised he was a new doctor, and gave him a small wave. Will waved back.

The main entrance of the institute was a colonial
façade
marked by large columns and a pair of sturdy oak doors. Will entered and was relieved to find it much cooler inside.

The interior was light and airy, with terrazzo tiles, white walls and high ceilings. Barred windows in the lobby let in sunlight filtered through gardenia bushes.

The admitting nurse, a rather plain woman in her forties, gave him directions to Fisk’s office. The director was a big man, easily four hundred pounds, with a close-cropped crew cut and ruddy face. He looked like a former quarterback who had gotten fat from rich food and alcohol. Will was careful not to make any assumptions. His professors had assured him that Dr. Fisk was a brilliant man.

Fisk beamed when he saw him, and stood up, extending his hand. This was very different from the more reserved protocol of Chicago, but it was familiar to Will, who had once made a home among these garrulous, hard-working people.

“
Dr. William Price, I presume!” Fisk boomed, then laughed at his own joke.

Will laughed, too. The man was so jolly it was impossible not to, and they shook hands. It was like shaking hands with a bear, and his not-so-small hand was engulfed in the other’s massive paw.

“
How was the drive from Chicago?” Fisk asked.

“
Hot,” Will answered honestly.

“
I can have some lemonade brought in, or iced tea?”

“
Iced tea would be wonderful, thank you.”

Fisk called to his assistant in the hall, not bothering with an intercom or phone. He saw that Will was startled and laughed.

“
Many of the patients are comforted by this trumpet of mine,” he laughed. “If I tone it down they begin to worry!”

A young man with a name tag identifying him as
Patient Greg Stevens
brought in two ice teas on a tray with a small dish of sugar cubes and another of lemon wedges, as well as spoons and cocktail napkins. Though the tray rattled slightly, he managed to dispense the beverages and incidentals without spilling anything.

“
Thank you, Greg,” Fisk said.

The young man smiled, and then looked at Will.

“
Thank you, Greg. This is just what the doctor ordered,” said Will.

Greg looked confused for a second, and then Fisk laughed heartily. Greg joined in, his laugh more of a bray, then exited with the tray.

Fisk and Will fixed their drinks and enjoyed them in silence for two minutes. Will had a feeling Fisk was measuring his sense of security, whether he needed to fill silence with trivial conversation.

After a moment, Fisk nodded and smiled.

“
Doctor Price, you come highly recommended. Dr. Stanton is a long-time friend and colleague, and he couldn’t be more impressed with you. I am, as well.”

“
Thank you, Doctor.”

“
I’m sure you’re tired and would like to see your quarters.”

Will hesitated, then took the plunge.

“
If you wouldn’t mind, Dr. Fisk, may I see her?”

Fisk smiled, but his eyes were keen, watchful.

“
Ah, yes. She was the subject of your dissertation four years ago.”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
I read it. Most of the staff did.”

Will looked at Fisk, waiting to see if the man was going to comment on his work.

Fisk smiled, took one last sip of his tea, then stood up.

“
Let’s go meet her,” Fisk said.

Will, unsure what the man’s silence regarding his paper meant, was nevertheless caught up in the excitement of this moment come at last.

Fisk led him down the hall and to an elevator with burnished bronze doors.

“
She’s downstairs,” Fisk explained. “Most of the older patients are. We tried to move some of them to the newer, more modern wing, but many insisted on staying where they felt safe, secure.”

The elevator creaked into service and rocked slightly when they reached the lower level.

Fisk exited briskly and Will followed. The linoleum here was clean but worn, its bright spots of blue and green now scuffed and rubbed into the gray of a stormy sea. The walls were freshly painted, though, and there was no hint of malfeasance or neglect.

Each of the patient’s rooms had a small window of wired glass. They passed rooms brightly lit, others that seemed pitch black.

“
We’ve had some attrition over the years,” Fisk explained. “Eventually this entire ward will be given over to support services and file storage.”

Her room was at the end of the corridor, the last one on the left. There was no patient opposite her, just a maintenance closet and a fire exit.

Fisk gestured to the window. Will had hoped to actually meet her, but knew there was a protocol in place to which he must adhere. He stood before the door and peeked in.

She was dressed in a faded blue shift and sat in a straight-back chair next to her bed. She was in her seventies, with long, wavy hair of silver with some white. Her hands were big and gnarled, the hands of a pioneer woman, and they were clasped in her lap. Her eyes were large, their color unknowable at this distance. Her nose was a bit lumpish, as if it had been broken and crudely set a long time ago. Her lips were moving wordlessly.

The picture she was staring at was a child’s rendition of a rainbow. A smiling sun shone overhead, and the colors of the rainbow were slightly off, the red missing and the green twice as large as the other bands. Under it, very small, was a green blob sat that sat atop a thin vertical line of yellow, crosshatched with black.