Herb drove his blue Ford back to his motel room. State’s dime. He didn’t complain. The Blue Mountain Inn was never going to make his short list to bring the family around to visit, but it did its job. He turned off the car and its radio, and lumbered into his slice of this one-level establishment. The door to number 39 closed. He tossed his hat on the bed nearest him.

“You’d never believe the ay I had at the office today, dear.”

He unfastened the top three buttons on his shirt, and poured a couple of fingers of his stand-in spouse.

“Young gal.” He took a swig. “Other than bein’ crazier than a shithouse mouse, you’d like her.”

He ruffled his black hair in the mirror over the decanter of cheap Scotch. He looked like shit.

“She’s adamant about this whole Munckinland bit.” Herb raised the glass to eye-level and swirled its honey-toned contents. “A shithouse mouse, love.” He knocked back the rest. “Why the fairytale? Where does this Professor Marvel fit in?” He paced the floor. “Doc said we could go back in tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be in a more pleasant mood.”

He plopped on the far bed and kick off his shoes. “For now, some shut eye, and maybe later a trip to the diner.”

The nap had been short-lived and useless. Herb’s mind refused to shut off. Visions of Dorothy unloading into that one-room schoolhouse dug its nightmarish claws into him and refused to let go. After a few hours of rolling around on a lumpy mattress, he called a spade a spade, and drove into downtown for an early dinner. Moe’s Diner had a few vehicles parked along its chrome façade. He pulled in two spots over from an Olds. It appeared to be well maintained, and less likely to harm his baby. Herb set his hat on his head, and strolled under the blinking neon red sign: M-E-L-‘S… MEL’S.

A wave of grease and heavy tobacco smoke smothered him inside the door. “My kind of place.”

An older waitress, mid-thirties by his guess, sauntered by, carrying a steaming tray of meals. “Just make yourself at home, sweetie. One of us’ll be around in a sec to take your order.”

Herb took off his fedora and nodded. An empty booth along the far wall overlooking the river caught his eye. He bellied up to the bespeckled white table and flipped through the trifold.

“What’ll it be, hon?” Another younger waitress had materialized beside him. She wore her jet black hair in a ponytail that hung down past her shoulders. Her deep blue gaze fell to the menu. “The double decker is good, if you want a sandwich.” Her pen slid down his menu. “Or, if you’re in the mood for a breakfast, the hotcake special is the best.”

Herb’s stare floated from her chest to her nametag, and then up to her fake smile. “Sorry, Sherry. It’s been a strange day.”

“No kidding?”

He folded his menu and set it back in its holder. “Nope. The burger sounds nice.”

She scratched his request onto her pad. “Fries and a soda?”

“You bet, Sherry.”

She slid the pencil behind an ear and bopped off toward the kitchen. “I’ll have it out in a jiff.”

Halbert pull his pack of Chesterfields from his shirt pocket. A dented cigarette slid into his hand. He lit up and let the nicotine pull him from the emotional slog that mired him. “Man-sized satisfaction, all right.” He filled his lungs with another hit.

He caught the reflection of an old lady in the next booth glaring at him. Herb tossed her a cursory nod, but she didn’t budge.

“Afternoon.”

She sniffed.

“Fine day out, isn’t it?”

She set some money on the table, rounded up her purse, and hobbled toward the exit.

He flicked the spent end of his cig into the tray. “Can’t win ‘em all.”

Sherry cruised back in and sat a big porcelain oval in front of him. “There we are, on double decker,” followed by a glass, “and a chocolate soda.”

He set his smoke on the tray’s edge. “Thanks.”

“Anything else?”

He gnawed on a fry. “Matter o’ fact, there is.”

Sherry sat her right hand on her hip.

“You know much about the shooting that happened at the schoolhouse a few years back?”

The fake smile ran for cover. “What do ya wanna know?”

Herb took the ketchup bottle and shook it. “Whatever you want to share.”

She clamped her tray under her arm. “The stuff I know is just from word of mouth, you know?”

He poured a mound of the red goop onto his plate. “That’s fine.”

Sherry cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I heard that a bunch of kids got gunned down in there. I’ve heard folks talkin’ about a woman that got squashed flat.”

Halbert nodded. “Heard that one myself.”

“Some folks said that there was two of ‘em.”

He stopped his fry mid-dip. “Two of what?”

“Killers.” She glanced around, looking for her boss. “I should probably get back to it, mister. You didn’t hear any of this from me. Okay?”

Herb chewed up his fry. “Sure thing.”

He had gotten chin deep into his burger when a man, younger than him, slid in on the opposite side. A sense of urgency radiated from all around him. He took the brown knit cap from his head, and wrung it in his hands.

Herb sat his food down and patted his chin clean. “Can I help you with something?”

The guy’s brown stare twitched from the window, to him, and back again. “I, uh, overheard you two talking just then.”

“Not very neighborly of you.”

The young man fidgeted in the bench. “Sorry. Well, there’s some things I felt you should know about that.”

Herb eased into the backrest. “Let her rip, Mr?”

He offered a hand. “Oh. Crutch. Jake Crutch.”

Halbert shook his clammy hand. “Pleasure. What should I know, Jake?”

“There were two killers in that school, sir.”

Herb took another bite. “Can you describe them?”

Jake shrugged. “A girl – young girl, and a man. Older fella.”

Herb gulped his soda. “This fella. What did he look like?”

Jake’s head shook in violent motions. “I wasn’t there myself, but I was told that she kept sayin’ ‘come meet the Wonderful Wizard’, or sum like ‘at.”

Halbert took out a pocket-sized notepad, and penned the info down. “Wonderful Wizard, you said?”

Jake nodded.

“If you weren’t there yourself, as you said, then, how did you come onto this information, Mr. Crutch?”

Jake’s head tilted to one shoulder. “I know a person that saw the whole thing.”

“Care to fill me in?”

A red pickup slammed to a stop beside Jake’s window. “I gotta run.”

Herb’s gaze narrowed. An older woman sat behind the wheel. Denim coveralls. As soon as Jake climbed into its cab, she gunned it out of the lot and down the main road.