by Cameron Jace
“Saving the world might not be like in the movies, Alice,” the Pillar says. “It’s not really about killing the villain right away. It’s about saving lives first. We’ll figure out how to face the plague on our own.”
“No.” I cement my feet and make sure I have a clear shot of Carolus. “This kind of darkness in the world has to end.”
“Remember when you told me Fabiola told you about staring darkness in the eyes?” The Pillar’s voice is unusually soft. “Don’t let it stain you, Alice. Don’t let bad people turn you into an equally violent hero.” He hesitates then says, “Don’t be like me.”
105
Carolus disappears in the rain, behind his floating balloons, just like the darker side in all of us. The Pillar says it’s better this way. That there is nothing wrong with having a dark side. It helps us know and appreciate our better side.
It’s hard to take moral advice from a serial killer, but Fabiola tells me the same when she arrives. It takes her a whole minute to pull my finger free of the trigger.
Hypnotized by this strange world, they show me back to the Pillar’s new plane. I get on. Fabiola makes me a cup of warm milk. The Pillar jokes that it reminds him of the man we met in Mushroomland who thought he was a bottle of milk.
His joke doesn’t resonate with me. I just let a monster go. The world is so dark right now. I’d really like to sleep.
Sometime later, we land in the Vatican. Fabiola brushes a kiss on my forehead. “At least you now know you’re the Real Alice.”
Then she disappears out of the plane. It occurs to me that the world sounds too quiet outside, but I’m too tired.
I fall asleep again.
The next time I wake up, I’m in my cell back in the asylum. They’ve bought me a new bed. It’s clean. Comfy. I am thinking it’s too late for such luxury. The world will end in a few hours.
Next time I wake, the Pillar hands me that bottle of milk again.
“I’m not the Cheshire, don’t worry.” He jokes. “Drink it. You’ll be good tomorrow.”
“Wait. I thought there was no tomorrow?”
“I guess you didn’t hear it while you were asleep.” He stops on his way out. “The March remembered what happened exactly. It turns out Carolus instructed him to design a plague that would wear off in three days.”
“Impossible.”
“It’s true. Of course, the world is left a bit damaged. A few million divorces, coworkers who never want to see each other again, and a few thousand dead. The same as you might read in the daily news. But we’re still alive.”
I try to smile, but my lips feel as rigid and fragile as china. I’m afraid if I laugh I’ll break in two.
“And nothing is impossible, by the way,” the Pillar says before leaving. “Only losing hope is possible.”
106
THE PILLAR’S CELL, RADCLIFFE ASYLUM, OXFORD
A FEW DAYS LATER
I am slowly tiptoeing my way up to the Pillar’s cell. There is hardly anyone blocking my way. I’m suspicious.
When I arrive, there are many Mushroomers lined up next to the Pillar’s cell. They’re craning their heads up, watching the news on the Pillar’s private TV.
Closer, I see Tom Truckle, and two teenagers beside him, sharing the Mushroomers’ stare at whatever is being broadcasted.
“Alice!” the Pillar chirps from his couch, a hookah hose tucked between his lips. “Come watch this.”
I walk among the Mushroomers. They all look happy I am better now. Even Tom makes way for me to step up into the Pillar’s cell.
“We’re wanted criminals, me and you, isn’t this amazing?” The Pillar points at the TV.
I read the headlines: A serial killer and his daughter invaded the UN’s headquarters yesterday, along with a strange-looking old man, trying to invoke chaos. It’s unclear whether they wanted to kill the American president or the Queen of England.
“It’s strange no one’s talking about the plague,” I remark.
“The plague is one day old. That’s too old for news channels.” The Pillar drags on his hose, wiggling his feet. “But us trying to kill the president, that’s news. They’re discussing if they should send us to Guantanamo.”
“We’re that dangerous?”
“I had no idea,” the Pillar says.
“I’m glad they didn’t drag Fabiola into this.”
“They can’t.” He waves his pipe. “Politics. It’s like saying Jesus Christ came down and peed into the Queen’s pot of nuts. Conflict of interest is what it’s called. Keep looking. It gets better.”
“Why are you so stoked about this?”
“Because I just saw it ten minutes ago. Just keep watching.”
I watch the host receive a bulk of papers, read and make a face about it. She says, “Apparently, only two of the criminals will be sent to Guantanamo. The elder man, Professor Carter Pillar, must have been there by mistake.”
“What?” I turn to him.
“Just keep watching. It’s so frabjous I’m going to vomit butterflies.”
The host continues. “Professor Pillar turned out to be a national hero, having ended the reign of drug cartels in Columbia on his own.”
“You’re a national hero?” I point accusingly at him.
“For only five minutes. Just keep looking.”
“Okay.” I look around. “Did you see Jack by the way?”
“He escaped. We don’t know where he is. Don’t worry. He always comes back. Now, look!”
This time the host has decided to change her mind again. “Sorry for this confusion, but the newest thing we know is that the three of them, Carter Pillar, Alice Wonder, and Jittery Jinks, all escaped lunatic asylums during the plague, which explains their mischievous behaviors, including the horrible matter of killing hundreds of innocent Columbian men.”
“Told ya. Hero for five minutes,” the Pillar says.
“This will only make my problems worse.” Tom Truckle grunted. “I should have never let you two out of here.”
I am speechless. It’s a mad world indeed. But aside from needing some time to reflect on what happened with Carolus, I need to find Jack. Did he escape, looking for me?
“Where are you going?” The Pillar pulls me back. “You haven’t seen the best part.”
This time, when he points at the TV, a broad laugh from the heart escapes my lungs.
They’re airing a still image of when the Pillar and I were injecting the Queen and the American president. From this angle, this picture looks so misleading. The Pillar looks as if he has his hands up the president’s butt, mine in the Queen’s.
And it’s not just that. The grins of victory on our faces prove without a doubt we’re the looniest loons in the world.
The Pillar tries to suppress the laugh for a second but then explodes. He throws the hookah and pulls my hand and starts dancing with me.
Then the Mushroomers start laughing.
A few wardens snap out of the shock of what they’re looking at and join us laughing hysterically.
Even Tom’s teenagers laugh with us.
Everyone laughs, but Tom, who pulls out a load of pills and swallows them without water. He then stiffens, unable to control the laughs. Trying to shout at us doesn’t work. The veins on his neck stick out with anger, and I’m afraid he is going to have a heart attack.
Then a miracle happens.
Tom Truckle begins laughing like a madman. I don’t think he knows what he is laughing about, but it’s progress from him.
107
BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON
“Get your hands off me!” The Queen roared at Margaret, trying to mend her wounds. “I have an itch as big as an apple on my butt.”
“Royal butt heals faster than all” A young man entered her chamber all of a sudden.
The Queen and Margaret look perplexed.
“Don’t worry, I’m not Jack,” the Cheshire said. “I just borrowed him for a while. Very useful fella. Good looking, too.”<
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“What do you want?” the Queen said.
“I want you to meet my friend.” The Cheshire welcomed Carolus inside.
“What is he doing here? We made a deal. I thought he was going to kill Alice while I ruled the world.”
“Funny how none of this happened.” The Cheshire enjoyed a slump into a sofa and stretched his leg, his boots in the Queen’s face.
“You look like you want your head cut off,” she said.
“You know you’ve never succeeded in doing that, not even in Wonderland.”
“What do you want?” Margaret said.
“I want the four of us to be friends.”
“And why would we accept that?” Margaret said.
“Because it seems to me like this Alice is really the Alice.”
“I’m not going to listen to this nonsense again.” The Queen stood up.
“Think about it. She had Carroll’s key. And if that isn’t proof enough, how about that she just bought the Inklings bar and is looking for the Six Members?”
The Queen’s face tightened. “Who told her about the Inklings?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The Cheshire stood, too. “What matters is that, even if this girl is delusional, she isn’t stopping. She has a heart made of breathing fire.”
“Suppose she is,” Margaret said. “Where is all of this going?”
“We need to start to work together. Let’s forget our pasts and grudges and unite to get the Six Keys, and then we can bite at each other all we want.”
Margaret looked at the Queen for advice.
“Listen,” the Cheshire said. “Carolus is a madman when he needs his pill. I have incredible powers. Margaret is a ruthless woman. And you, My Queen, there is no one as evil as you are.”
The Queen felt pleasure. She liked the compliment.
“So be it,” she said. “If the Inklings are gathering, then I may as well welcome you and Carolus into Black Chess. But as long as you do as I say.”
“Thank you,” the Cheshire said.
“And don’t ever grin in my presence. God. You’re a creep.”
“As you wish,” he said. “Did you ever know Tom Truckle, the Radcliffe Asylum’s director is a Wonderlander, by the way?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I tried to possess him, but couldn’t.”
“Can’t be. I’m sure I’d recognize most Wonderlanders.” The Queen dismissed him.
“If you say so,” the Cheshire played with Jack’s deck of cards. “Why should I care?” he shook his shoulders. “So, what’s our next move?”
“The third key, of course,” Margaret interfered. “We have the one with the Pillar, and we know Alice has one. I may have an idea where the third one is.”
“Great, but not now,” The Queen said. “I need to play with my dogs for a while. And you, Cheshire, get rid of Jack’s body. Jack is dead. I don’t want to see him walking around.”
“But, My Queen.” The Cheshire couldn’t help but flash his grin at her. “I’m planning to do horrible things with his body.”
“How horrible?”
“Horrible as in using him to learn everything about this Alice girl.”
“Now, that’s brilliant.”
“And it’ll get even better once I find the Tweedles.”
108
THE INKLINGS, OXFORD
I am cleaning the floor when the Pillar enters the bar.
“No news of Jack, yet?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Like you said, I think he will just show up on his own like he always does.”
“Can’t argue much with a boy who is a figment of his own imagination.” The Pillar knocks his cane on the ground. “How about you, are you feeling all right?”
“For letting a monster go?” I stare right at him. “Yeah. I’m fabulous.”
“Listen. I didn’t know the plague was only going to last for three days. Besides, killing Carolus will always kill Lewis.”
“Did you notice that all we do is compile Wonderland Monsters one after the other? It’s like I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re learning. If you think you’ll become an overnight hero like in comic books, you’re dearly mistaken.”
“And what about you, Pillar?” I put the broom aside.
“What about me?”
“Did you become a ruthless killer overnight, or did you have good training?”
“You’re starting to sound like Fabiola.”
“Maybe I should learn from her.”
The Pillar reverts to silence.
“Look, I’m never going to forgive you for fooling me and taking the key. And I’m not going to ask what’s with you, Fabiola, the kids, and the Executioner. I respect that each one of us has his own past,” I try to be as forward as possible. Frankly, the man is irritable in all the wrong ways. “But be warned. Once I don’t need to learn from you anymore, we won’t talk again.”
“I understand.” He flips his cane. “Don’t worry. I might be gone sooner than you think.”
“Good.” I try not to say a word, so I don’t soften to him in any way. Then the stubbornness inside me takes over. “Now, you need to leave. The Inklings only welcome those who can walk on the white tiles of chess.”
“I hate chess.” He wiggles his nose. “But I wasn’t here for this. I just met with the March Hare. He told me there is a small aftereffect for the plague that has just ended.”
“What kind of aftereffect?”
“Everyone in the world will unwillingly tell the truth again from five to six PM today.”
“Everyone? Us included?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter whether we smoked the hookah or not. It’s kind of contagious. Everyone who was out there in the world for the last three days must have caught it.”
“So, it didn’t end?”
“Actually it’s nothing harmful, according to the March.”
“How so?”
“He says the aftereffect is a bit personal. Everyone will either confront themselves with a truth or someone dear to them.”
“A benign truth?”
“If you want to call it that.”
“Okay then.” I turn back to cleaning. “You need to go now.”
“If I had a smoke every time I hear this,” The Pillar mumbles. Then he hesitates, as if he wants to tell me something. I see him in the mirror on the wall. Fiddling with his cane.
The silence seems to stretch for ages. But eventually, he turns around and leaves.
“Pillar,” my tongue betrays me.
“Yes?”
“You think it’s a bad thing that the only way the world experienced peace was to lie?”
“Only if you think the opposite of truth is lying.” He doesn’t turn around, his hands on the handle of the glass door.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s true we avoid the truth at all costs every day in our lives. But we don’t really lie. We make up things. Like a beautiful novel where we fake all our needs for a good hero. By the end of the book, you know it’s fiction, that it’s not true, but you’d be mistaken if you think it’s false either.”
My mind is reeling with ideas and metaphors again. How does he do that?
“Listen.” I stand up. “I may have been a bit harsh on you.”
“No, you weren’t. I’m terrible.” He opens the door to leave. “But don’t worry,” he sounds as if he’s going to break my heart like no one has ever done before.
And he does. The last words the Pillar says almost bring me to my knees.
"You will not see me again for another fourteen years.” The Pillar says, closes the door behind him, and disappears forever.
Epilogue Part One
LONDON. THE HOUR OF TRUTH, 5 PM
In the hour of truth, Margaret Kent stood in front of her mirror again. She couldn’t get her eyes off her fake beauty. All those plastic surgeries and the money she spent did a good job in fooling the citizens everywhe
re. Her face had earned her a few good jumps in her career, a lot of money, and even admiration and respect.
But if it was so good, why couldn’t Margaret forget her own ugliness whenever she looked into this mirror?
Unable to help it, Margaret brought a chair and smashed it into the mirror. She hit it until her arms tired, and her makeup thinned. Then she fell to the floor crying.
This hour of truth was incredibly devastating to her.
A few miles away, the Queen of Hearts also stared into the mirror. However, she didn’t worry about her looks. She had made peace with her looks years ago. It wasn’t the looks.
The Queen piled up chair after chair so she could stand on top of them. All she ever wanted was to be taller. Even a little bit taller would have sufficed. Every head she chopped was in hope to make others shorter – and so she’d be taller. If not in physical measures, then in the eyes of those she ruled.
Sometimes she told herself she didn’t really mean to kill anyone.
But the question always remained. How high could she stand on the chairs in front of the mirror?
At the highest point, where she felt a tinge of satisfaction, all the chairs tumbled down again.
Picking herself off the ground, she ran to the door and yelled. “Off with their heads!”
The guards looked puzzled, not sure whose head she wanted to chop off this time.
“I’m sorry, My Queen,” one brave guard offered. “Whose head would you like us to cut off?”
“Since you opened your mouth”—she pouted—“Then it’s you. Off with your head!”
How she wished the hour of truth would soon end.
As for Carolus, he now lived in a small room in the Queen’s garden, waiting for his pills to calm him down every few hours. The rest of the time, he kept reading that scary book called Alice in Wonderland. Oh, how it gave him a headache. He understood nothing of it and ended up looking forward to finding a way to put an end to this Lewis Carroll someday.