Banshee Worm King: Book Five of the Oz Chronicles by R.W. Ridley

Author:R.W. Ridley [Ridley, R.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-05-05T06:00:00+00:00

***

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.

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