The Revolution of Oz

Chapter Eight: M.I.C.E.

Hours later, Dorothy had entered a feverish state, still asleep. Soon, she became more lucid, blinking her eyes open once in a while.

Bo's cold, metal fingers brushed across her arms. She could have sworn that she had been moved from the field of poppies, but she couldn't wake up enough to figure out if she had been or not. At times, it felt like she was on fire, and her mouth was parched and dry, while others she was freezing, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she tossed and turned.
Finally, her fever broke and she awoke in a cold sweat.

Bo sat beside her, his face only slightly illuminated in the dim light.

"Gale," he whispered. "Gale."

Dorothy sat up and reached up to wipe her forehead with her hand, but Bo thrust a cold glass of water into it before she could touch it to her damp skin.

"Drink this," he told her quietly. "We don't want you to be dehydrated."

She blinked a bit and took a sip of the cool, tasteless water, then she gulped the rest of it down, finding that she was completely parched.

Once Dorothy was finished, he took the glass from her and sat it down on a table that was beside the bed she was on.

"Where are we?" Dorothy rasped quietly.

"Headquarters," Bo replied. "Remember how I mentioned I was part of that resistance against Malideena?"

She nodded, her whole body shivering. Bo put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her down, and he pulled the blanket over her, past her stomach.

"Well, they had changed their headquarters here sometime before you killed her. They're called M.I.C.E."

There was a creak from somewhere in the room, and Bo quickly glanced back at it. He looked back at Dorothy quickly.

"Look, get your rest. I'll explain everything in a while, okay?" Bo said, brushing her damp, dark, curly hair back some with his hand.
Dorothy nodded.

"Good. I'll be back, Gale," he said as he stood up. He walked off without another word, quietly shutting the door behind him.

                    ***

A few hours later, or what Dorothy had assumed were only a few hours later, the light of the new day  began to shine through a window in the room, waking Dorothy up. She sat up in the bed and wondered just how long she had been there. She blinked at the faint memory of what Bo had told her about their location.

Mice?

What did mice have to do with any of this?

Were they the talking kind that Bo had told her about only a few days before? Why would mice have a house that was an ordinary size? Was it possible that these mice were the same size as her and Bo?

Where were Toto, Effigy, and Luav? What was Bo doing with his former friends of the resistance against the Wicked Witch of the East? Why wouldn't the group have disbanded by now, when she had been dead for a week?

There was a light knock on the door, and Dorothy craned her head quickly and looked towards the door, slightly disoriented.

"It's me," Bo called. "Can I come in?"

Dorothy rubbed her eyes and pushed her messy hair back, trying to smooth it. She failed miserably, as it wouldn't stick back down.

"Yeah," she called.

He cracked the door open and stuck his silvery face in. Dorothy could have sworn that there was at least some sort of glimmer of worry in his usually apathetic gaze, but maybe she was just imagining things because she was still getting over the fever. He opened the door wider and stepped in.