Délon City: Book Two of the Oz Chronicles Read Free

mother, and the guy inside with a purple flaky rash and black fingernails was not my father.
    I slowly descended the steps backwards, keeping a disbelieving eye on my mother as I went. Once I reached the ground I turned to run as fast and as far away as I could, but my Pop’s voice rang out.
    “Oz, hold up!” He kissed my mom and bounded down the steps. “I’ll give you a ride.”
    “That’s okay...”
    “It wasn’t a question, son. It was a statement. Learn the difference.” That at least sounded like something my Pop would say.
    “Yes, sir,” I said. I stood and watched as the man who may or may not have been my father walked by.
    He was baffled when I didn’t follow him. “C’mon, get in the truck.”
    The truck? The truck... that meant... gas was now usable. Cars ran. The Délons had changed that much. The Takers had somehow sabotaged the gasoline supply and rendered motorized transportation useless. The Délons returned that part of society back to normal. I could see that I was going to have to get used to a whole new set of rules.
    ***
    The truck barreled down Lincoln Street. Pop and I had not spoken since we left the house. I was scared of the man. I stared at his head waiting for the spider legs to jet out and reach for me.
    Tullahoma looked like home. But, like my bedroom, it was too normal. November was creeping up on the small little southern town, and the foliage had turned brown. The cool crisp air of the season almost sparkled it was so pure. The happy faces of the townsfolk we passed seemed to be painted on. Nothing seemed real.
    My backpack with the grotesque cocoon inside it was on the seat between Pop and me. It continued to chirp.
    “Annoying little booger, isn’t it?” Pop said. He smiled. When he did, I could see that some of his teeth were missing. That unsettled me even more and Pop noticed. “What’s wrong, boy?”
    I didn’t know what to say. There were so many things wrong. I didn’t know how to narrow it down into one brief, coherent sentence. What could I say that wouldn’t morph the man driving my Pop’s truck into a full-on Délon that would devour my brains before the next traffic light?
    “Nothing,” I said.
    “Look,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t know this is all scary to you. Hell, it scared me, too.”
    “It did?”
    “You bet. But it really isn’t that bad. It certainly isn’t like it used to be. The Délon’s are more careful now.”
    “Careful?”
    “Absolutely. They take it easy. They know transformation can be rough for us humans.” He patted the backpack. “This little fella will make sure you come out of this thing okay. He’s your best friend. My therapist says he comes from the best breeder in the country. He may even come from the General’s stock.”
    “Really,” I said trying to sound excited.
    “You could sound a little more enthused than that, Oz. Having one of the General’s solifipods is like having a blank check.”
    “Solifipod?”
    “Cocoon, whatever you want to call it. The point is somebody in high places likes you.” He pointed to the backpack. “That little shunter in there could be this family’s ticket to the Royal Council.”
    Part of me wanted to ask him what a shunter was, but the other part of me wished I had never even heard the word. It sounded violent and painful. My instincts were to roll down my window and toss the backpack into the nearest ditch, but I knew Pop would throw a fit.
    We turned into the Sergeant York Middle School parking lot. “Today’s the first day of the rest of your life, or I should say the best of your life,” Pop said. He pulled up to the curb and put the truck in park. He gave me a creepy half-toothed grin. “Today you get marked.”
    “Marked?” I didn’t like the sound of it.
    “I’m not going to lie to you, son. It’s going to hurt. A lot.” He opened his door and climbed out of the truck. “But it’s worth the pain, trust me.”
    That was it. I had had enough