Dinos and Zombies and Flares

Important things to note, or not: The characters here are based on the Toronto cast's stage performance of "Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Wizard of Oz". What this means: Dorothy is older – maybe 17, give or take a year (the actress is older than that but I imagine that was about the age they were going for); Lion is almost certainly a friend of Dorothy, if you know what I mean; Scarecrow is younger, more comical, and considerably dippier. If parts of the plot smack of the original book, that's because, yes, I lifted some ideas from it. And lastly, this is still, like the original story, high fantasy – remember to suspend your disbelief!

I've spent hours reading about Baum's version of Oz, as well as Thompson's version of Oz, and of course thinking about the movie, and pondering all of the conflicting information. I've read about the history, the economy, the magic, the creatures, the lands, the natural laws, and the unnatural laws of Oz, et ad nauseum, and I've concluded that I can't write this story in that canon. So not everything will match what Baum or Thompson or the movie dictates! For instance: apparently there's no sickness or true death in Oz, but I am incapable of writing a story that doesn't include sickness or true death, so this story will have sickness or true death. Another example – this totally won't make sense to anybody who tries to follow this journey according to an official map of Oz. If you don't know anything about Oz beyond what happened in the '39 film, then this will all make perfect sense!

Rated for accidental vulgar innuendo, mention of adult themes, zombies, some violent/gory scenes, and scattered swearing. Scattered as the swearing is, none of it is really necessary. I know some people get offended by unnecessary swearing. I'll warn you again at the beginning of the chapters.

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure/Humor/Horror

I disclaim everything.

1: Scarecrow Is Confused

A/N: Warning: Contains accidental vulgar innuendo.

"Curse this rain," muttered Tin Man.

"But it's good for the crops!" said Scarecrow, trying to force into his voice more cheer than he actually had.

"What crops? What are you talking about?" said Tin Man, a little exasperated.

"I don't know," Scarecrow admitted. "It's just something my farmer would say when it rained." Tin Man didn't respond, instead gazing out into the night-black torrent with his jaw set in a grim line. His jaw was always set in a grim line, of course. Scarecrow supposed that Tin Man couldn't help but have a grimly-set jaw, unless he wanted to hire a tinsmith to set his jaw to be perpetually jovial. There was, for a man made of tin, much to be grim about at the moment. It was raining, and they hadn't been able to find a very dry place to stop for the night. They had come across an overhanging ledge not far from the yellow path. There was space beneath for Dorothy to curl up and sleep, and space for Tin Man and Scarecrow to stand near the edge – but only barely. Tin Man's joints were stiff from the unavoidable drips, yet he hated to move about to oil them for fear of creaking loudly and waking Dorothy.

As for Scarecrow, he was worrying about another phrase he'd heard, this one from out of the mouth of the farmer's wife as she chided the farmer himself. After having cast her divining stones and seeing the Caput Draconis staring back at her, and after having decided that this clearly meant that luck was about to bring them much-needed rain, she'd say, now don't you forget to bring that scarecrow in before the rains come, husband of mine. It'll rot in a flash and then you'll have to make another one. Of course, the rain never came; not while Scarecrow had been nailed to the post. Scarecrow wasn't really sure how long 'a flash' was but he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of getting soaked and finding out.

The only ones of their little party that didn't seem to mind the rain were Toto and Lion, who both shook off the water as if it were nothing. Lion had been having more trouble shaking off the fact that it was night, which he found to be inherently terrifying, but not terrifying enough to forget about his hunger, which had become considerable. He'd gone off into the darkness to rustle up some food, and Toto had gone along with him.

"Good thing it's not cold too," said Tin Man softly.

"Yeah, I know," agreed Scarecrow, and then, "Why's that good?"

"Dorothy. There's nothing more miserable for a meat person than being cold and wet. Even if we wanted to start a fire there's nothing dry anywhere that would catch a flame." Dorothy had said she had a flint and steel given to her by the munchkins but so far she hadn't had to use them. Scarecrow, everlastingly fearful of fire, was quite all right with that. Better a slow end by rot than a quick end by flame. Or did he really mean that? Perhaps it would be better to go quickly than to experience every horrifying little detail that would accompany rotting – first his fingers would go, then his nose would rot right off, and then maybe his feet would just –

"Scarecrow?" asked Tin Man in surprise. "Are you all right?"

"What, me? Yeah, of course."

"You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"Oh. Well I was just wondering whether it would be better to burn quickly or rot slowly."

"For goodness' sake, why would you think about that?"

"Um… I don't really know. I've got to think about something, don't I?"

"Why? You haven't got a brain."

"Well that doesn't necessarily mean … It's not … Um…"

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Oh, I don't feel anyth – "

"Nevermind, shhh!" hissed Tin Man, swiveling rapidly – his knees creaked out their protest – to face into the rain again. "Do you hear that?"

Scarecrow listened. At first he heard nothing but the drumming of the rain, but promptly he could make out a familiar, measured clicking sound, and…

"Whistling?" he whispered. The clicking sound – footsteps.

"Someone's coming down the path," said Tin Man. He leaned out to get a better view, oblivious to the thin sheet of rain that proceeded to drench his head. "It's a man," he said. "Why would a man be traveling through the forest at this hour – "

Tin Man's voice cut off suddenly. Scarecrow barely had time to turn his head to see what was going on before Tin Man had slipped on a patch of wet moss and gone down into the bushes in front of them with a rather impressive crash.

"Oh, no, don't go in there!" cried Scarecrow. "Those bushes are all wet, you'll rust!"

"I… know…" groaned Tin Man from within the foliage. There was some weak thrashing but the movement slowed and Scarecrow, knowing that at this point the Tin Man wouldn't be going anywhere without outside assistance, stepped down from the small enclave to help his friend.

"Oi!" said a voice, and though Scarecrow hadn't known Tin Man for more than a handful of days, he thought it curious that Tin Man would say oi of all things, at a time like this. Perhaps it was another word for help. Or perhaps he was just trying to say oil but couldn't quite make the 'L' come out right.

"I say, excuse me, did you hear me there, young man?" said a voice again, and this time it was quite apparent that it wasn't Tin Man that had spoken. Scarecrow looked away from the bushes into which he'd been about to plunge, and up through the sheets of rain, and saw that the man Tin Man had seen had come upon them.

"Oh, you said 'oi'? Yes, I heard you, pardon my stuffing. I thought my friend had – "

"Is that a young lady?" the man suddenly exclaimed, pointing behind Scarecrow. Scarecrow turned to follow his finger; of course the man was pointing at Dorothy, who was sound asleep to the battery of the rain against the leaves and earth.

"Well yes," said Scarecrow, wondering why the man looked so surprised, though he didn't stay surprised-looking for very long. Presently the man's eyebrows knitted together, and then became downright angry-looking, and then Scarecrow found himself to be holding the considerable weight of the man's stare. "What's the matter? Don't you like young ladies?" Scarecrow asked.

The man looked even more aghast, if possible, and in a flash had drawn something from his belt and Scarecrow was confused to realize that it was a rapier, and now the man was pointing it straight at Scarecrow's face.

"I'm sorry!" Scarecrow said. "I didn't mean to offend – "

"Offend? Offend? You've done a bit more than offend, my lad. I'd been expecting to encounter all sorts of undesirable creatures in this forest, but let me tell you, a womanizing reprobate was not one of them."

"What? A womanizing reprowhat? I'm not a womanizing rep-thingy, I don't even know what that is!" Scarecrow thought the man sounded educated, judging from his vocabulary, and Scarecrow could not help but feel even stupider in the presence of one so educated.

"Don't get funny with me," the man responded.

"But I'm not trying to be funny!" Scarecrow cried. He thought he could hear Tin Man trying to shout from in the bushes but his grimly-set jaw must have rusted too tightly, and the rain was too loud to let anything else be heard. Scarecrow badly wished Tin Man were standing here right now able to talk; no doubt he'd have a clue as to what was going on.

"Then tell me quite clearly, cad, what are you doing out here at night, in this weather, with such a disheveled young woman?"

Scarecrow didn't respond right away. He glanced back at Dorothy and, yes, she did look a bit disheveled, as young ladies went, though Scarecrow couldn't be sure because she was really the only young lady he'd ever seen up close. Her hair was in less of an order than when he'd first met her and her dress was rather rumpled and there was definitely a considerable amount of mud present, though the same could be said about all of them.

"Oh for goodness' sake," sighed the man. "Excuse me?" he called to Dorothy. "Are you all right? Are you in need of assistan – "

"Ssshhhhh!" hissed Scarecrow, pushing down on the rapier in front of his face as if the blade were causing the noise. "Don't wake her up! She's – "

The man's blade whipped up and slashed across the palm of Scarecrow's glove, then reaffirmed its position in front of his face. Scarecrow let out an inward groan; now the water would get to his straw more easily. At least glove fabric was easier to stitch than the burlap that covered the rest of him. Scarecrow resolved to clear up the mess he'd obviously gotten himself into, before the man decided to cut him in a more problematic area. Scarecrow also was not fond of the idea of this blade-waving man getting much closer to Dorothy.

"I say," said the man, looking at Scarecrow curiously. "Are you drunk?"

"Drunk? Gosh no. I've never dranken before."

"Then why didn't you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Scarecrow said, doing his best to keep his voice down. He knew he tended to get a bit anxious when things didn't make sense to him. Now was not the time for his nerves to get the better of him. The man sighed and let the rapier fall a few inches.

"You can't fool me, rogue. It is quite clear that you are rather smashed. Let the young lady go and I shan't hurt you any more than I already have."

"But I'm not smashed, and I'm not holding the young lady captive."

"Then I shall take her," said the man, and moved as if to pass Scarecrow.

"No!" Scarecrow cried, and placed himself squarely in the man's path. The man glared at him.

"You said," the man growled, "you weren't holding her captive. If you'll excuse me – "

"Just because I'm not holding her captive doesn't mean you should," Scarecrow protested.

"I say, you are being irritatingly obstinate."

"I am?"

"Rather. I wish to escort the young lady to her home. Tell me where she comes from."

"Kansas."

"… Kansas?"

"Yes, that's right. But don't worry, that's where she's headed right now, sort of. Or… she will be, when she wakes up. From her nap. Just please don't wake her up."

"Aha…" said the man, and took a swift step away before once again raising his rapier. Scarecrow held up his hands. "I understand now. As I'd suspected. You shan't be fooling me with your inane words of placation. Clearly you have been harassing this dame."

"Harass? What do you mean, harass?" cried Scarecrow, who didn't know the meaning of half the words the man had just said.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean what anybody means when they say harass. I mean you've obviously been dogging her – "

"What? What does that mean, dogged?" said Scarecrow, beside himself and cursing his lack of intelligence.

"Follow! You've followed her! What are you, deaf?"

"Well of course I've followed her, I've been following her for days – "

"Ah! I knew it! And here she has collapsed out of fright, no doubt!"

"Oh, I hardly think out of fright. She's rather brave," babbled Scarecrow. "I imagine she's simply rather exhausted, we'd been at it for hours – "

"I beg your pardon, you've been at what?"

"What?"

"What have you been at?" the man asked, waggling his eyebrows in a most severe manner. The Scarecrow thought it a strange request from the man, to go from threatening him with a rapier to asking him to tell their travel story, but Scarecrow rather preferred the latter, so he complied.

"Well, first we had a little frolic in the cornfield – "

"Oh my," said the man, turning away as if appalled. "Nevermind. Please don't go on – "

" – because someone had nailed me up on the pole, and I was a bit stiff. Took her a while to get me down, I was hung rather well."

"I didn't really want to hear – "

"Well you did ask, you know, and besides, it makes a good story, far as I can tell. So anyways, once she got me down, I told her all about my problem, see, how I don't have a… a… a thingamabob. She doesn't seem to mind much. She asked me if I'd like to go off with her – said she wanted to get home."

"I shall be sick."

"So we hit the trail for a while but then he comes up," Scarecrow said, pointing to Tin Man, hidden in the bushes, who may have been urgently yelling for Scarecrow to stop talking but couldn't make himself audible. "Well, he didn't 'come up', I guess, we came up on him. We gave him an oiling, he was all stiff too, if you know what I mean. Looks like he could do with a bit of an oil job right now, actually. Hey, are you all right, sir?"

The man had mostly lowered his rapier now, and looked rather limp and ill. Scarecrow, who could see as well at night as during the day, perceived that the man's face had turned a curious shade of red.

"I must apologize," said the man, "for having accused you of being a womanizing reprobate."

"Oh that's okay."

"I see instead I have come across a madman drunkard and his young and willing wench."

"I… Excuse me?" said Scarecrow, whose vocabulary inexplicably contained the word 'wench'. "It… She… Dorothy? How dare you!" Scarecrow didn't often feel true anger but now that he had it he wasn't sure what to do with it – he could go off on a tirade, but he knew well enough he'd end up tripping over his own words. He felt that shoving the man over into the mud would probably be justified, if uninspired, but he didn't want to anger the man with the blade, lest he put Dorothy in danger.

A bark erupted from the path behind the man and Scarecrow was relieved to see Toto bounding up to them, yipping and dancing angrily about the feet of the new intruder. If Toto was here, that would mean –

"Oh thank goodness," Scarecrow said, as Lion appeared out of the rain. The cat's figure was shaggy with water, lending him the rather illusory but ultimately convincing appearance of being a thing of the wild, savage and terrifying. Scarecrow hoped that Lion's presence would prevent the man from trying anything violent. The man turned to see who Scarecrow was looking at and his face promptly drained of color. Scarecrow thought the man might flee, so continued quickly. "Lion, you've come right on time. This guy just called Dorothy a – "

"Aaaah!" yelled Lion, as his eyes settled on the man. "Who IS that?"

"I was just saying," pressed Scarecrow, but caught sight of Dorothy – Toto had just woke her with his barking. She had sat up and was now gazing out at them, looking perplexed.

"What's going on? Who is that?" she said.

"He's – " began Scarecrow excitedly, but then realized he hadn't a clue. "Right, who are you?" he asked the man.

"Gerty," the man replied, still bewildered.

"I told Gerty what we were doing here, since he asked, and he just – you wouldn't believe what he said, he said – he just – he said – he said you were – "

"My goodness, Scarecrow," said Dorothy, coming to her feet and giving Scarecrow a rather concerned look. "You're so upset you can't even speak. Why don't you sit? Gerty can tell me what happened."

"He called you a wench!" Scarecrow finally managed to blurt out.

Lion gasped, and Dorothy looked as if she'd been struck.

"Excuse me?" she said, and turned to regard Gerty in an entirely new light.

"That's what I said," said Scarecrow. Dorothy took a step towards Gerty, a stormcloud settling upon her brow. Scarecrow put a hand on her shoulder.

"He's got a blade, Dorothy," he hissed. Dorothy pushed past his hand.

"He may have a blade but he obviously has no sense of courtesy, calling a person he's never even met a wench."

"He called me a madman drunkard," Scarecrow said.

"You beast!" Dorothy cried up at Gerty's face, indignant. Gerty, for his part, looked as if he were ready to either flee or will himself to wake up from an especially nonsensical dream, or perhaps both.

"He said I was a womanizing rep-ro-bate too," Scarecrow added carefully, surprising himself by remembering the word, the meaning of which was still a mystery to him.

"Oh, how dare you!" said Dorothy to Gerty.

"I said that too," said Scarecrow, though at the moment Dorothy seemed more content on haranguing Gerty than listening to Scarecrow.

"Calling a harmless person like him such names, and calling me a… a… Wait, you didn't think that we… You didn't think Scarecrow and I were…"

"Funny name, that," said Gerty, faintly.

"That's not his name, that's what he is," said Dorothy, slowly.

"Ohhhh," Gerty said, his eyebrows inching up his forehead. "A-ha… My sight isn't what it used to be," he said, squinting at Scarecrow. "So you were being… literal… when you said someone had nailed," and here Gerty paused to mime the action of someone taking a hammer to a nail, "you up to the pole. And that they had hung you well – properly – so you wouldn't fall off."

Scarecrow, who wasn't sure what else he could have meant when he'd said those things, nodded.

"That explains the frolic in the cornfield," Gerty muttered. "And I suppose when you talked about the Tin Man needing to be oiled – "

"Oh my," said Dorothy, slightly flustered and seeming to then understand something that was still eluding Scarecrow. "Yes, mister Gerty, I think I can imagine the conversation you two had… Please take everything he said quite literally, and… Oh, but where is Tin Man?"

"He fell in the bushes," Scarecrow said, and Dorothy immediately plunged through the leaves and twigs. Scarecrow followed. There was Tin Man, frozen in a half-crouched position. He was making strange rhythmic noises, and at first Scarecrow feared he might be crying, but Dorothy, who had the oil can, first loosened the hinges of his jaw, and it became obvious that Tin Man was laughing, and rather heartily.

"Oh, it's no use," Dorothy worried, despite Tin Man's mirth. "It's still raining, let's get you back where it's dry before we loosen you up."

When they emerged from the bushes with the chuckling, statue-stiff Tin Man between them, Gerty looked curiously relieved. He even came forward to help them haul Tin Man to the area under the overhang.

"My apologies," he said, "to you, miss Dorothy, I quite misunderstood the situation. And my apologies to you, Scarecrow, I'm afraid you had me rather baffled."

"It's alright," Scarecrow said. "I know how you feel. I'm usually baffled myself. I haven't got a… a…"

"A brain," finished Dorothy for him.

"Right, that," Scarecrow said. "That's why we're going to Emerald City. He's going to help Dorothy find Kansas, and he's going to give me a… a brain – "

" – and me a heart," said Tin Man, who had finally managed to stifle his laughs.

"And me some nerves," scowled Lion, obviously unhappy about how he'd handled himself, as usual.

"He?" said Gerty. "He who?"

"Oh, the wizard, of course! I've heard all about how wonderful he is!" said Dorothy.

"Ah, the Wizard of Oz," said Gerty, thoughtfully.

"Do you know him?" asked Dorothy.

"Not personally, no, but I have spent my almost-sixty years of life in Emerald City."

"You have?" gasped Dorothy. "Oh, do tell us about it! Is the wizard as wonderful as they claim?"

"I couldn't say, young miss, couldn't say. I've never seen him. I know he's the one who's behind all the emerald splendor, and that, at least, is indisputable. The city is a wonder in itself."

"Are you headed there?" asked Dorothy.

"No, I'm headed away."

"Away?" said Lion. "Why would you leave Emerald City?"

"Oh," sighed Gerty. "Just a fancy of mine. I have long dreamed of seeing what else the world has to offer, finding what else is worth seeing besides emerald, emerald, emerald all the time. I only regret that I hadn't made the choice to travel sooner."

"That sounds familiar," said Dorothy, to herself. "Well, there isn't much room here beneath this overhang but you're welcome to stay here until the sun rises… if it ever does."

"It always does, miss Dorothy. I thank you for your kind offer to one who has been none too kind to you, but I should like to get going straight away. I've already been soaked, I don't need to stay dry. It is not as early as you might think – six in the morning, I'd wager. The sun will be up quite soon, which you will see when these clouds lift."

"Rather an astute temporal observation," commented Tin Man.

"Yes, well, I had been the official timekeeper of Emerald City before my recent retirement. I have never been late for anything in my life, and I daresay I'm almost too late to see the sights I wish to see before I die, which is why I'm in rather a hurry to get along now, for I suspect there is much to see."

"I should hope so," said Dorothy. "Well goodbye, then. Thank you for helping to move Tin Man."

"Yes, thank you," said Tin Man.

"Good luck with that brain, Scarecrow," said Gerty. "And good luck finding Kansas, miss Dorothy."

He waved to them, and very quickly he'd taken to the yellow path and had been removed from their sight by the sheets of rain. The rain, Scarecrow noticed, seemed to be thinking about letting up, which was great news – not only could Tin Man have a chance at drying out, but he himself could as well. He'd gotten positively soaked during his time standing out and talking with Gerty.

True to Scarecrow's suspicion, the rain fell back to a mere drizzle in a matter of minutes, and continued to dwindle. And true to Gerty's word, now that the clouds were thinning, the company could make out a glow coming through in the east. Presently a crack in the clouds opened and welcome morning sun came streaming through the forest at them, and a warm breeze rounded out the morning's promise of being a good one. Though Dorothy hadn't slept very well, and though she was still disheveled and muddy, she very happily went about oiling Tin Man's joints until he moved as well as he had a day before.

Lion, for his part, seemed much more content, now that the rain and the night was over, as was his hunger. Nobody asked him what he'd done about the latter problem; presumably only Toto knew, and Toto was not one to go on about such things, unless squirrels were involved, and Dorothy hadn't seen any squirrels in Oz yet.

"Lion," she said, "how much further until the edge of the forest?"

"Not too long," he said. "From here, it usually takes me a day, maybe a day and a half to get to the forest's edge. But then again I'm usually zig-zagging from tree to tree and hiding behind things for stretches of time and creeping about on my belly. We'll get there sooner at the rate we're going, as long as we don't encounter – "

Something was crashing through the brush towards them.

"Aaaah!" Lion shrieked, and placed Tin Man squarely between himself and the oncoming noise.

"What is it, Lion?" Dorothy asked, clutching at Tin Man's arm, which now held his axe aloft. Scarecrow jumped into the air to hear such a ruckus coming their way, and, after taking a moment to find his feet, joined the group.

"It could only be one thing," Lion whimpered. "There's only one thing with enough guts to go rampaging through the forest like that!"

"What? What is it?" asked Scarecrow, his voice pitched several tones higher than Lion's.

"Oh gods, it's the king of the forest! We're dead, we're dead!"

"Lion, what is it? What's coming?" Dorothy demanded. Toto stood bravely at Tin Man's feet, growling at the oncoming beast, but Dorothy was afraid that this beast could more than outmatch them all in the inevitable fight.

"The most f-f-formidable, t-t-terrifying being in all of Oz! Oh, kill me now, Tin Man! While you still have the arms to swing an axe!"

"What an awful thing to say," said Scarecrow, but though he didn't have the same fears as one made of flesh and bone, his trepidation was mounting with every passing second, until the crashing grew so great that the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet and the very air seemed to flee away from the forest beast.

Gerty erupted from the bushes ahead of them.

"Gerty?" Tin Man cried. "Why, it's only you! We thought some monster was coming! You sure make a heck of a lot of noise when you… when you…"

Gerty didn't stop. He plunged straight past them, shouting as he went:

"Run! It's coming!"

The great crashing hadn't stopped with Gerty's arrival. The pebbles upon the path leapt up around their feet. As a unit, the group turned and followed Gerty off the path and into the forest in frantic retreat from the unnamed, the wild, the incontestably savage.

Scarecrow tripped.