3: What Gerty Said
A/N:Warning: Some gristly bits and disproportionate amounts of blubbering.
If Gerty hadn't groaned then, there was no telling how long their little party would have stood huddled together, staring at the spot the dinosaurus had just vacated. Dorothy acted first, uttering something unintelligible and hurrying over to where Gerty lay. Tin Man and Toto followed on her heels, and Scarecrow after that. If Lion had been conscious no doubt he would have kept out of the way, but as it was he was still passed out and showing no signs of coming to.
"Oh," mumbled Scarecrow as he knelt by Dorothy and caught sight of Gerty's condition. Dorothy's hands flew to her mouth to hide a gasp, and the grim set of Tin Man's jaw seemed especially appropriate.
"It… it… it… fell?" wheezed Gerty, looking up at them each in turn.
"… What?" asked Scarecrow, and sadly, he was the only one out of the three onlookers who was able to say anything at all. Scarecrow knew very well that Gerty was asking about the fate of the dinosaurus, but Scarecrow's current rattled state was such that the only response he could force from his mouth was his go-to fail-safe, which Gerty apparently found to be humorous, because the man then tried to laugh.
"Ha… ha… ha ha…" His weak laughter dissolved into a few pathetic, gurgling coughs. "That's right… you haven't a brain, you brainless… You brainless…"
"Womanizing reprobate?" Scarecrow finished for him, softly, in a completely futile attempt to lighten the mood. A small part of him was upset to see a full-grown man with a full-grown brain struggling with words in a manner Scarecrow was all too familiar with. The larger part of him was in shock, for though he'd known that meat people were made of meat, he'd never seen the actual evidence until now. He was quite surprised to learn that the inner parts of such a person smelled fresh and remarkably pleasant, like alfalfa and sweet pea blossoms.
"No," Gerty said with a smile. "Forget that, forget what I called you before. You're… you're a Samaritan scarecrow, is what you are…"
Scarecrow did not, of course, know what a Samaritan was. He nodded anyways.
"Oh, mister Gerty," Dorothy said, having finally found her voice behind her alarm. "I-I'm afraid I don't know much about first aid, I sure wish I did." Her hands fluttered helplessly across Gerty's front, tracing a trembling line above the disheveled mash-up of torn clothing and bloody things. "Tin Man, you wouldn't happen to know anything about first aid?"
"I'm afraid not," said Tin Man.
"Well… Well surely we can do something," said Dorothy. She got up to fetch her basket and took a moment to rummage through it, looking for something useful. While she was away, Gerty reached up a shaking hand and snatched at Tin Man's arm.
"How does it look?" he whispered to Tin Man.
"Gerty, it… It doesn't look very good," Tin Man responded, sweeping his eyes across Gerty's front. "I wouldn't know, of course…"
"Bah," said Gerty, waving one hand dismissively. The sweet-scented air wafted across Scarecrow's face and he couldn't tell how many fingers the hand still had, but there had been some anatomical displacements so Scarecrow looked away. Dorothy came back to them, clutching a beautiful white handkerchief that looked as if it belonged in the hands of a queen.
"I don't know if this will help," she said desperately, "but maybe if we just…" She reached out to dab at the wound. Gerty tried to wave her away.
"Not… not with that lovely thing, you'll comple…. completely soil it…" But it was too late; Dorothy had stubbornly soiled it anyways. In a moment it was crimson and the wound looked no better.
"Oh, do we have any water?" Dorothy asked. "Water helps nearly everything."
"Unless you're made of Tin…" Gerty grunted.
"I don't think we have any water," said Scarecrow.
"I'm fine… really," said Gerty. "I imagine I've just… winded myself. Give me a few momen… moments."
"Are you sure?" asked Dorothy. "Pardon, but you do look rather awful."
"At least I'm not bored," Gerty said.
"Does it hurt much?" Dorothy persisted.
"Smarts a bit…
"Oh rats… Well the only thing to do is call for help. There has to be somebody around here, on this side of the crevasse – " Dorothy sprung to her feet with admirable determination, but was halted in her tracks by Gerty.
"No!" he fairly shouted. "No, you mustn't go traipsing off… alone… Come here, let me tell you all…"
Dorothy came back down to her knees and Scarecrow watched as she took Gerty's undamaged hand in her own, holding tight as if she thought he was about to run away.
"I studied cartography," Gerty began, and added, "that's map-making, Scarecrow."
"Oh."
"I have… a decent sense of the layout of Oz…" Gerty spoke only a few words each breath, and it was painful to listen to him. "You head to Emerald City, but… you now have no axe with which to fell a tree… even if there were tall trees on this side, and… you cannot cross over again, not… not here. You can no longer follow the yellow bricks…"
The three listeners gave a collective gasp, for the reality of their own situation hadn't yet dawned upon them. Gerty was right, of course. There was no foreseeable way back to the other side.
"There are two bridges that cross the crevasse… One west quite a ways, and one east. East is towards Emerald City. That… is the way you must go. Follow the crevasse… There is a forest, a deep forest, to our east. You will… reach the bridge once you've passed the forest."
Gerty paused to breathe, and with each exhalation the air became lovelier to smell, which only served to confuse Scarecrow's senses. He'd have expected a more unpleasant odor would better match the situation, not that he was complaining.
"You mustn't venture far into the forest," Gerty finally continued. "Stay near the cliff. There are… stories, horrifying tales… I cannot vouch for their veracity, but… it is not worth the risk. They say… that the forest's heart is cold. Stay… near the cliff."
"What stories?" asked Dorothy, leaning closer. "What must we avoid?"
"People go into the forest and many… many don't return. There is talk amongst those in Emerald City, of creatures… that live deep in the forest, creatures… that even the sharpest blade cannot kill … for they are already dead, yet they walk…"
Dorothy let out an involuntary cry; Scarecrow gripped her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but truly he felt just as frightened as she sounded. A spasm twisted Gerty's body as if some great being was wringing him dry, and when he settled again his eyes roved across the mackerel skies above.
"The flares…" he breathed, and Scarecrow felt himself shudder. "Beware the flames…"
"Boy am I glad Lion isn't hearing this," muttered Tin Man, sounding a bit muffled. Scarecrow glanced up and saw that Tin Man was weeping, and possibly had been for a while.
"I heard that," came Lion's voice, causing Scarecrow and Dorothy to jump a bit. "I heard all of that," Lion continued wearily. Scarecrow turned to see that Lion was still laying down where he'd fainted.
"Oh Lion, are you alright?" said Dorothy, though she would not let go of Gerty's hand.
"I'm alive. I just know I'd faint if I got up and saw what was going on over there."
"Yeah…" said Scarecrow.
"Dorothy," rasped Gerty, and the group turned back to face the man.
"Yes, I'm right here."
"Brief though it was… I could not have hoped… for a grander adventure…" Gerty closed his eyes for a moment, looking almost content, and breathed a few shaky breaths. Then a disgruntled look came across his features and he glanced about distastefully. "Oh, what a mess I've made…"
"Don't say that. You've done no such thing," said Dorothy.
"Oh pish… Completely… dreadful. Please don't bother to bury this mess."
Dorothy tried to respond but it was hopeless, for she was now sobbing too. Toto gazed up into her face with wide eyes and rested his chin upon her knee.
"Burn me on a pyre of sweetgrass…" he wheezed. His words had become so breathy and faint that Scarecrow had to lean forward to catch what he said. The man's eyes squeezed shut, opened, and shut again. His grip on Dorothy's hand quivered, and then lost all strength.
"Well, I'm done," he whispered. "Toodle-pip…"
Gerty's eyes fluttered and his wandering pupils seemed, for the briefest of moments, to focus on Scarecrow, and then a sighing breath escaped from between his lips, a breath which sounded like 'that's farewell', but it was so quiet that Scarecrow couldn't be sure he'd heard it at all.
Gerty's eyes did not shut, but Scarecrow knew the man was dead by the almost undetectable drift of the pupils, as if some bond between the two eyes had broken and they could not live without the connection. Scarecrow could see his own reflection in Gerty's left eye, and it became cold, as if mirrored from a pond on the rim of freezing.
It was a while before any of them could speak again. Dorothy whispered that she couldn't bear the thought of doing away with Gerty's body when it was in such a state, so Tin Man and Scarecrow did their best to make their late friend look as respectable as possible. This took time, as they had little to work with and Scarecrow kept having to periodically turn away. They rearranged Gerty's coat to make it look more whole, and they shut Gerty's eyes. Scarecrow took off his blue neckerchief and wiped from Gerty's face the worst of the bloodstains. After that, the group worked in a strange quiet, gathering handfuls of the dried grass that carpeted the ground up to the treeline. It was this grass, this sweetgrass, that Scarecrow had been smelling, perfuming the air as it was crushed beneath Gerty's body and beneath the weight of the others. Periodically Dorothy would make Tin Man stop what he was doing so she could dab away his tears and oil any affected hinges. The minutes dragged into hours; they pressed handfuls of sweetgrass under and next to and on top of Gerty's remains to cover him well and completely, and then mounded the grass on top of the body until only Tin Man could see over the top of the pile.
Tin Man said softly that they should place a ring of stones around the mound of grass, to keep the rest of the little field from lighting on fire when the body burned. Stones were not difficult to find; the ground at the edge of the woods, and into the forest, seemed more covered in rock than with soil, and they all set to work hauling stones, Tin Man and Lion providing most of the muscle. Scarecrow had lost a fair amount of straw from the rip behind his shoulder and was finding it rather impossible to lift anything bigger than Toto's head. When enough stones were in place, the sun was already settling down into the unending crevasse to the west, and the blue hours before night were upon them. Dorothy crouched and set to work with her flint and steel but the tears in her eyes made seeing difficult and her hands trembled so much that she grazed her knuckles several times before a spark finally leapt out and caught on the dried grass.
They all stood back – Scarecrow standing behind the others – and watched as the tiny lick of flame gathered strength. At first it seemed reluctant to grow as it crept along the dry stalks, and Dorothy leaned forward to blow on the flame. This gave it new life, and Scarecrow stepped back further. Tin Man and Lion and Dorothy stood a wary enough distance away, watching as the flames chewed through the sweetgrass, down into the core of the pile where Gerty rested, and then it was as if the fire grew a heart of its own. The scented smoke was gentle upon their senses, and this strange kindness settled around them. Mild as the smoke was, the fire was a different sort of presence altogether. Everything within the stony margins burned and the great, yellow flame plumed itself into the sky and spat sparks and ash; Scarecrow backed away, loathe to leave his friends but unable to stop himself. Toto stepped away as well, but stayed within several bounds of Dorothy. The plume grew ever taller and the air grew sweeter and thick with heat until Scarecrow had retreated to the very edge of the woods and could feel the cool breath of the forest upon his back.
The sun had completely left them by this time. To Scarecrow, his friends appeared as silhouettes, pressed together before the flames, heads bowed against the falling ash and grieving together to witness the pyre. Scarecrow wept alone and wished he weren't made of straw so that he could stand and mourn with them.
Dorothy must have felt his absence or his loneliness, for she turned and saw him standing by the trees, and made her way over to him and pressed her cheek against his chest. He put his arms around her shoulders and was comforted, though not enough to stop sobbing, and he was sorry to be dropping tears onto Dorothy's head. Soon Lion joined them as well, and sat next to Scarecrow's feet to watch the blaze as if he hadn't the will to stand anymore. Dorothy and Scarecrow sank down next to Lion, Toto put his head in Dorothy's lap, and the four of them watched the last lonely silhouette stand by as the man who had saved his life burned.