Chapter 4: Make a choice
Morgan had absolutely no idea how long she had left in her shift and she really didn't care. She now had a purpose, a spark lit within her. She couldn't escape, and she couldn't hide forever. Something had to be done.
Morgan was still sitting under the desk, her chin resting on her hand, her other hand swinging the clippers from side to side. She wasn't much of a fighter, despite her newfound attitude, so she needed to make a plan before she attempted anything.
Okay, she though, first, I need to get out of this room. I could watch the guards on the porch and see if I can catch them not paying attention and ambush them.
Morgan laughed silently to herself.
Me, ambushing two soldiers? With guns? There is no way in hell that is going to work. Morgan, you're insane. You can't fight anyone. They would have you in a heartbeat. You could wait for them to be distracted, sure, but your best bet would be to surprise them and run. The alleyway leads back into the residential area and there would be lots of places you could hide until you could find another business that has a phone…
The soldiers were pacing around the room again. She heard different voices this time, still as bitter and angry as the first. They mocked the prisoner, the vileness leaving their throats easily, like they've been waiting ages to get to her.
"Keep mouthing off, witch. We'd love to get our chance with you."
"You've given us enough trouble. We're eager to see you bleed. "
"All the Captain has to do is give us the go-ahead, and you're ours. We've been missing the company of a woman…"
Morgan felt the nausea return to the back of her throat. She shook her head, as if to erase her previous thoughts of fleeing from her mind.
No, you aren't running. If you get off the porch, it'll be impossible to get back in. If you can't get back in, you a. can't find out what the actual hell is going on, and b. you can't help that prisoner. They don't know that you are here, so you are her only chance. If you run, you will know exactly what will happen to her. Can you live with that, Morgan? Can you?
Morgan had decided. She couldn't run. She couldn't leave. Her only choice was to fight. She knew the shop better than anyone else. She knew where everything was, where all of the nooks and crannies where, and where all of the sharp objects were located. Most people didn't realize how many dangerous pieces of equipment were used in the sweet little flower shop every day. The people working there could easily spend hours every day with a knife or clippers or scissors in their hands. They also had saws, slicers, power tools, and a huge blade on a lever that was used for cutting large bunches of stems at a time. That one had a bold "Keep hands away at all times" warning on it. She might not be super skilled with weaponry, but if they disarmed her, she knew where she could get something else.
Morgan tried to make a plan, but she was still bewildered at the entire situation. There were soldiers hanging out in a flower shop, claiming to be from Oz. Morgan wished she had her phone on her so she could actually look up where this Oz was. Even if it was it's own town or city, there really wouldn't be a reason for them to have a uniform. The uniforms themselves were even a bit odd, being flashy emerald green and gold. She did know of an Oz that was heavily influenced with those color choices…
Nope. That's just silly.
Morgan finally figured that the only way she could find anything out was to stop hiding and go downstairs. She waited, thinking, trying to find the perfect opportunity.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than she had anticipated.
Bootsteps were coming up the stairs.
Morgan pressed herself back into the wall, curling her knees into her so she fit totally under the bench. She tried to quiet her breathing, now rough and ragged from the anxiety that had wiggled its way into her. She gripped the clippers tightly, angling them away from her. If they found her, she would only have precious seconds to get that blade into one of them.
The boots went up the stairs slowly at first, and then quickly. Morgan watched as a pair of feet stumbled past her hiding spot, completely unaware of her existence. They rounded the corner, and bolted straight into the bathroom. The door remained open, and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of vomiting.
What the hell…?
Another set ascended the staircase. The soldier also walked right past her, following the ones that came before it. She saw them stop a few feet from her spot, angled towards the bathroom. It waited, silent, until the puking stopped and only deep gasps of breath were heard.
The person that the boots belonged to spoke.
"Are you alright, soldier?" The voice was stern, officially, but not angry. It almost sounded…concerned.
The other soldier, presumably still hunched over the toilet, groaned.
"How…" Morgan was surprised at how young the voice sounded. His voice was higher, still holding onto the crackle of puberty. He couldn't haven't been more than a teenager, which horrified Morgan.
"How could you do that?" the young soldier continued. "How could you stand there and hear them talk like that and…" The soldier made a gagging sound, as if he was holding back another round of vomit. "…and he just kept hitting her. All that blood…how do you stand it? How can you watch them do that to someone and not feel anything?"
The other soldier, the one still standing, sighed.
"You're still very young," he said sympathetically. "You haven't really seen the realities of battle yet. I remember the first time I saw a prisoner being interrogated. I can still hear the screams sometimes, but you get used to it. Everything we do is for a purpose."
"But…but that wasn't an interrogation! The Captain wasn't questioning, he was just doing it…because he wanted to…He wanted to hurt her…I thought we were supposed to be better than that."
The other soldier let out a small laugh.
"War has it's own rules, soldier. The Captain knows what he's doing, and you need to respect that. You will get used to it in due time. Get yourself together and search this upper floor. Report back anything strange or suspicious, or anything of use that you can find. Do you understand?"
The young soldier groaned again, but replied with a weak, "Yes, sir."
The boots turned, walking past Morgan and around the corner, descending down the steps. When the silence filled the room again, Morgan could hear the young soldier moaning softly, still not moving from his spot in the bathroom.
It was then that Morgan got a wild idea.
He doesn't like what they are doing. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. Maybe I can use him to find out what the actual hell is happening around here. Maybe…I can convince him to help me.
Morgan slid towards the light, moving at a snail's pace so that she didn't make a sound. She leaned out from the shadows, head tilting toward the open bathroom door. The soldier, dressed in the uniform of his comrades, still had his face over the toilet, his arms around his head. From how he was sitting, he couldn't see her. Morgan stood up, clippers in a death grip in her right hand, sharp metal facing forward. She only had a moment to get this right, or he would alert the others and she was done for.
Here's your chance, Morgan. Don't blow it.
Morgan took a deep breath and charged forward. She ran into the bathroom, closing the door and flipping the lock in one swift motion, trapping the soldier in the room with her. She dove forward, arm outstretched, and landed on her knees next to the young man, who had sat up and was now very alarmed. Within seconds, her clippers were at his throat.
"Don't say a word or I'll shove this thing so far into your throat that it'll hit the wall behind you," she growled, pressing the metal into the delicate skin on his neck.
The soldier's eyes bulged, his face flooded with shock. Morgan saw that he really did look as young as he sounded. This wasn't a man, but a boy, maybe eighteen years old. He looked like he was barely out of high school. He had dark hair, buzzed on the sides into a pseudo Mohawk, the hair on top curling downwards. He had brown eyes that were almost as dark as his hair, with the tiniest bit of stubble on his cheeks and chin. The thing that Morgan noticed most was that he looked absolutely petrified. He didn't even respond to her; his eyes just stayed large and he froze to the spot, his back pressed against the bathroom wall.
Morgan cleared her throat. "You need to tell me who the hell you are and why you all are in my shop"
The soldier opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes glanced downward, focusing as well as they could on the silver weapon digging in under his chin. Morgan grumbled to herself and pulled back, the clippers now angled towards his face, hovering in the air a few inches from his nose.
"Let's try this again. Who are you and why are you in my shop?"
The soldier raised his hands to his chest, palms out, a gesture of surrender.
"I'll talk if you promise not to stab me."
Morgan tilted her head. "Why should I do that? You could have your friends all up here in a second."
The soldier's face contorted, and he let out a sound that was almost a snort.
"They are not my friends, and I promise I won't alert them if you please just GET THAT OUT OF MY FACE"
Morgan pulled her elbow back towards her side. Her arm was still out, the clippers still aimed toward him, but now there was more space between them. Morgan sat on the floor (She was very thankful that she got bored enough to scrub it this afternoon) and crossed her legs.
"Better?"
The young soldier nodded, letting out a loud breath that he had apparently been holding in. His body relaxed, and he sunk more fully onto the bathroom floor.
"What do you want to know?"
"I've asked you twice now, or are you hard of hearing?"
"Hey, that's not fair, you ambushed me!" he hissed, trying not to raise his voice. "That thing is still pointed at me."
"And it will stay pointed at you until I find out what I need to know. You are the one intruding in my shop, therefore I deserve all of the answers that I want. Now TALK."
"Okay, okay, fine, you make a fair point."
The young soldier sat up straighter.
"First question: Who am I? My name is Forsmyth, more specifically Private Sayer Forsmyth. I'm currently the youngest and lowest ranking soldier in the Gale Force."
"The Gale Force?" asked Morgan. "What in the world is a Gale Force?"
"We're special operations military, based in the Emerald City."
Morgan crossed her arms, glaring. "You're lying to me. I've never heard of a Gale Force, and there is no place anywhere around that is called the Emerald City. Maybe I have to stab you after all."
The soldier, Sayer, looked at Morgan quizzically. He tilted his head and stared at her for a moment before he sat up again, the realization dawning on him.
"Oh, right, you wouldn't know. The Wizard warned us about interacting with his own people. You don't believe that we exist."
"It's not that I don't believe, it's that you are lying to me."
"I am not lying to you. We come from the Emerald City, the crown jewel of Oz."
"There is no way you can be from Oz, because Oz is not a real place!"
"It obviously is, seeing that I grew up there."
Morgan laughed. "Oh really?"
"Yes really." Sayer's eyes narrowed. "I'm from Oz, more specifically from Munchkinland."
"You're awfully tall to be a Munchkin."
"We're not all short," he replied indignantly. "That's a myth."
"Right, right. So you're from Munchkinland then? Which of the Emiment Thropps is governing at the moment? Is it still Frex or have we moved on to Nessarose? I want to know which part of the story I'm supposed to be at." Morgan almost rolled her eyes at her own sarcasm.
"Governor Nessarose has been dead for some time now." Sayer's voice, serious, became full of suspicion. "The governorship has been fought over since the house fell on her. How do you know about them?"
Morgan shook her head. She was really getting tired of this nonsense.
"The same way you do. It's all just a story, make believe, not real. You and your army are real and I want to know why in the hell you decided to break into my flower shop."
"We needed a place to rest for the night," said Sayer. "We had been traveling on foot for some time now, and we just recently arrived here. We didn't know anything about this world, only that we needed to get away from any prying eyes as soon as possible. The Wizard warned us that it might not be safe. They sent me to scout for an abandoned building, and honestly, I didn't see anyone here."
Morgan's brow furrowed, a glare now staring back at the young soldier.
"Oh, so it's your fault that these people are here and I'm trapped?"
"Listen, I didn't see you, I swear." Sayers hands had shot up into the surrender posture again. "I scouted a few other places, but they were occupied. I would never have brought them in if I would have seen you."
"Well that's just great, I'm glad that your hindsight is functional."
"Look, I was just doing my job. I found a place that looked empty, I saw nobody in there, so I chose it."
"Didn't you find it suspicious that the door was unlocked and dinging very loudly?"
"Well, I mean, we figured it was a business. We have flower shops in Oz, too, you know."
"Are they normal flowers or do they sing and spout magic?"
Sayer raised an eyebrow. "Flowers don't talk nor do they spout magic. Magic isn't just a thing that floats about like dandelions. It's wild, untamable, and very hard to control. It's giving us a lot of trouble at the moment."
"Is that why you're here?" asked Morgan. "Is there a magical problem in Oz?"
"I thought you didn't believe Oz is real."
"I'm still doubtful, but you still haven't answered as to why you all are here."
"I did in fact tell you that we're here because your shop looked empty."
Morgan lunged forward, her weapon grazing the bridge of Sayer's nose.
"I am in no mood for your banter, boy," she growled. "There are armed people down there who apparently have a prisoner and have been beating the crap out of her for God knows how long. You are dangerous and you are here and I need to know why or I'm embedding this in your skull."
"Do you always threaten the people who come into your shop with bodily harm?"
"I would if my boss wouldn't fire me."
"We weren't supposed to come here," began Sayer. "I never wanted to come here. To be honest, I never wanted to join the guard in the first place, but I didn't really have a choice. My father was a soldier, just like his father and his father before that. I was set on the path to be a Gale Force soldier once I emerged from the womb and my parents realized that I was male. I wanted absolutely none of this life. I fought my family for so long, but it was of no use. My father actually enrolled me in the Academy without my knowledge. When I got my acceptance letter, I just gave up and gave in. That was a few months ago. I literally got out of training the day before they assigned me to this Battalion."
"So I'm getting your life story first?"
"Will you stop already!" Sayer spat, causing Morgan to back away slightly. "Are you going to let me talk or not?"
Morgan removed the clippers from his face and crossed her arms again. She said nothing more.
"Anyways," continued Sayer. "I was assigned to this Battalion after our former Captain was convicted of treason and executed. They removed anyone that might be loyal to him or to the Resistance."
"The Resistance? Who exactly are they resisting?" interrupted Morgan.
Sayer glared at her. Morgan bit her lip, looking down.
"Sorry."
"What was I saying…oh yes…they removed anyone they thought might be loyal and replaced them. I wasn't supposed to be out in the field yet, but they threw me in there and told me I had to learn fast. We were immediately sent out on a mission to find and capture Oz's most notorious enemy. She was incredibly hard to catch. The Gale Force has almost caught her hundreds of times, and although we did manage to catch her more than once, she always found a way to escape. She has lots of allies, both in the Resistance and with the Animals, so we often had to deal with them breaking her out. She had been spotted much more frequently after the previous Captain was executed, and we did finally capture her. This time, though, the Wizard decided that in order to finally give her the punishment she "deserves", we had to take her somewhere where nobody could possibly aide her. He, along with Madame Morrible, found a way to conjure up another storm."
Sayer stopped and took a few breaths.
"You got here by storm?" Morgan asked. She knew everything he said was crazy talk, but she spoke softly, trying to coax out more. "How?"
"It's…hard to describe," the young soldier said after a few more breaths. "It was a total downpour, the hardest rain I've ever felt in my life. It was like being pelted with wet rocks. We were running through the forest, dragging our prisoner, trying not to get lost or get soaked. The flashes of lightning were the only guide we had because it was so dark out. It wasn't even darkness really, because eventually your eyes adjust. It was like running with your eyes closed. I just remember us running and running, and then the wind was whipping around us so fast. It yanked us off of trail, shoving us, and, I swear to you, we were lifted off the ground. The next thing I remember is waking up in a field not too far away from here. Our Captain knew about this whole thing, and he had special instructions from the Wizard. We were to split into two: Battalion A would take the prisoner and find shelter. Battalion B would scout and find the Wizard, who was supposed to meet them later, and then we would all eventually gather here."
Morgan was deep in thought, pondering over everything she had heard. She truly believed that this kid was insane, but he sounded so sincere, as if he really did believe everything he had said. His story was strange, but the entire situation was strange. She decided to continue.
"Are things really that crazy in Oz that you were thrown into another world just because of a prisoner?"
"Oz is at war," stated Sayer. "It's been at war for years. The Wizard and his followers are cracking down on the Animals, refusing to let them work and even speak. He's been raiding their communities, caging and killing them. The Resistance has allied themselves with the animals, already furious over the Wizard's iron-fisted rule over the country. They've been sending squads to wage counter attacks against us. I was there for one of them. They blew up our entire camp. I managed to escape, but many of my fellow soldiers did not."
Sayer stopped, his eyes seeming lost and far away. He was only gone a moment before he snapped back and continued talking.
"Both the Wizard and the Resistance have their hands in the local governments. We no longer just have soldiers and rebels fighting; we now have governors and princes and kings taking sides and squabbling. The death toll is only going up. Blood is on everyone's hands. That's why we had to take her away, as far away as possible. We had to get away from the front lines and out of the war itself."
Morgan asked the question she almost didn't want to ask.
"So what do they plan on doing with the prisoner?"
The look on Sayer's face changed. He suddenly looked very sad, and once he caught Morgan noticing, he hung his head.
"I don't know. They told me, but now I don't really believe it." His voice was even sadder than his expression. "They told me so many stories about her, that she was evil and a murderer. Once I actually met her, though, something just seemed…off…about what they all said. I can't quite place it, but I felt this feeling inside myself as soon as I came face to face with her. I started doubting them, doubting everything I was told to believe."
"I heard them, you know," said Morgan bitterly. "I heard them beating the crap out of her. I heard them saying those horrible things to her about what you all were going to do if the Captain gave you permission."
Sayer's head shot up, his face turning pale.
"Oh no, not me. I'm not part of that. That's just—" Sayer lurched forward slightly, as if he was going to be sick. Morgan shot backwards, smacking into the opposite wall of the small room. Sayer blinked a few times, took in a few deep breaths, and sat up again.
"I just…I never thought…I know of interrogations and such, but I never thought…I never thought I'd see a prisoner get tortured before. She had already told them everything they wanted. They just wanted to hurt her. I…I couldn't deal with it. I just couldn't. Hearing the sounds, seeing all of the blood, seeing the pain in her face, in her eyes…it made me sick. It still makes me sick."
Sayer's eyes bore into Morgan's. She forced herself to meet his stare and not look away.
"She's barely older than I am. They say were adults, but we're really still just kids." Sayer scanned Morgan's face. "She's probably similar in age to you, really."
"How old are you anyway?" asked Morgan.
"I'll be 20 next month," he replied.
"You're pretty close. I'm 22."
Sayer nodded. "We're just kids. Kids imprisoned, kids being tortured, kids fighting wars…And it's even worse because she's female. The way they look at her, these men who I'm supposed to trust with my life…they look at her like she's a piece of meat. And the things they say…."
"Trust me, I heard them all from here." Morgan's anger had returned, the fire burning inside her. "It's was vile and very rapey. Your comrades are disgusting."
"I cannot disagree with that."
"So that's why you ended up in this bathroom? They made you watch them hurt her and you couldn't deal with it?"
Sayer nodded again.
"I'm going to get so much shit for it once I return. They already make fun of me for being the youngest and supposedly the weakest. Now I will never hear the end of it."
Morgan exhaled gruffly. "They make fun of you for being a decent human being with a heart. That's messed up. They are the monsters here."
"Monster is a good descriptor," said Sayer. "They called her a monster, which is why she gets treated so inhumanely. It's why the Animals get treated the way they do. Anyone who is different is bad, evil, not human, not even worth our common decency."
"What did she even do to deserve this?" asked Morgan. "How can someone you describe as just a girl be Oz's number one enemy?"
Sayer laughed to himself for a moment. "You may not believe it's real, yet you know about Oz and about the goings on in the governorship in Munchkinland. You know more than you think. You aren't putting two and two together."
"There's a lot for me to put together right now. You are asking me to believe a lot of things, a lot of things that sound really insane to me right now. You want me to believe that you and your soldier buddies showed up here in a thunderstorm from Oz. None of that is supposed to be real."
"Yeah, well, you know what is real?"
Sayer shot forward, his hand wrapping around Morgan's wrist. For a second, she couldn't even react. She felt his grip around her wrist and froze.
"This is real," he said sternly. "I'm real."
He let go of her wrist. "The soldiers downstairs are real. Their guns are real. They have a real prisoner who is in real danger, and frankly, if they find you, you will be in real danger as well."
"I kind of figured that, hence why I'm hiding at the moment."
"You have a weapon. Did you plan on fighting through them?"
"….maybe."
"Seriously?" Sayer looked at Morgan like she was crazy. "That's a terrible idea. You wouldn't make it far. Why didn't you just try to escape? If you ran fast enough, they probably wouldn't even bother going after you or wasting ammo on you."
Morgan pursed her lips, her fingers running over the plastic handle on the clippers. The threatening words of the Captain flickered through her mind again, the rage still softly swirling in her chest.
"I could have run," she said. "I thought about it multiple times. But then I heard them hitting her. I heard the things they said to her, the threats they made. I couldn't in good conscience run away, knowing what was going to happen. I couldn't do it. I don't think I could have lived with myself."
Sayers face softened. A small smile crept across his lips.
"You were going to try and save her, weren't you?"
"…Maybe. Yes. Well…I was going to try."
"So you're going to risk your life to help someone you don't know and haven't even seen?"
"I know it doesn't make any sense," said Morgan. "It doesn't make sense to me either, but it's just a feeling in my gut and I trust my gut. I have to do it. I have to do something. One of them said there was no one who could help her, but I can. Or at least I can try."
"It does make sense, at least to me. That's a really altruistic thing to do. I'm…impressed."
Morgan stopped abruptly, the feeling of horror hitting her in the face.
I just told a soldier my entire plan.
"You're going to tell them," she blurted out. "I just told you that I'm going to try and free your prisoner. I just told you and you're going to tell them and oh my god—"
"No, no!" Sayer was next to her now, not even an inch away, their legs almost touching. "Don't think that! I won't tell them anything! I don't like what they're doing, either. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be here. I don't want to watch them hurt her again."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "You have to go back down sometime. What are you going to tell them?"
"I'll just tell them that I was sick, that's all. I won't tell them about you. If I see you again, which honestly, for your sake, I hope not, then I'll pretend that I've never seen you before in my life."
Morgan eyed this young soldier, debating whether or not she could trust him. He was one of them, armed and battle ready and dangerous. But he also told her everything about himself and what was going on, and the pleading look on his face did nothing to hide his feelings. She decided she had to trust him.
"Okay, I trust you."
"You know," said Sayer, "I told you my name, but you never told me yours."
"How do I know that you even gave me your real name?" said Morgan playfully.
"Oh trust me, you'll hear my fellow soldiers using it whist mocking me once I descend the staircase," Sayer replied.
"I'm Morgan."
Sayer reached out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Morgan."
Morgan smiled, extending her own hand. The two shook, almost laughing at the absurdity of exchanging polite pleasantries while sitting on the floor of a very tiny bathroom.
"I prefer this over the weapon in my face."
"Well, be careful, or my offer still stands."
"Do you still think Oz isn't real?" Sayer asked.
"At this point, I have no idea about anything," admitted Morgan. "But I know what I need to do, and that's what matters."
"FORSMYTH, ARE YOU DONE YACKING OR ARE YOU TAKING A SHIT?!"
The voice boomed up the staircase and into the upstairs. Morgan made a face at Sayer, who in turn began to turn a dark shade of pink.
"See, I told you, I gave you my real name," he said, making no attempt to hide his embarrassment. "That's Braxton. He's a real pain in the ass."
"I can see that...well...hear that."
The two stood up. Morgan realized that Sayer was smaller than she thought, standing at the same five feet eight inches that she stood at. She stepped back, unlocking the door with a click. She pulled the door open, and Sayer gave her a quick nod.
"Be careful, Morgan. Do not let them catch you. I don't want to have to see your face again."
"Same to you."
Sayer nodded again before slipping out of the door and hurriedly walking down the stairs. Morgan fiddled with the clippers in her hand for a few minutes, trying to think of her next steps. The information she had just been giving was still running in circles around her brain, and she was struggling to make sense of it all. All she knew was that something very bad was happening, and she was now stuck in the middle of it.
