by Cameron Jace
“Anyway to reverse this time?” I ask Tom.
“Please don’t encourage him to push more buttons and blow us up.” Constance rolls her eyes.
“Tom?” I eye him directly.
Tom fidgets with the bottle of pills but takes none. He seems to have something to say, but is reluctant.
“What is it, Tom?” I demand.
“Spit it out!” Constance is about to punch him in the face.
“I may have a solution,” Tom says.
“May?” I wonder.
“I don’t know why it’s designed this way, but it’s our only hope.” Tom directs his speech toward me.
“Talk to me, Tom,” I tell him.
“On the back of the timer, it said that the control chair in the room has a sensor that could stop the self-destruction.”
“Sensor? On the chair?”
“Like I said, it’s an absurdly mad thing,” Tom says. “It says that the weight of an adult on the chair stops the process.”
“That’s unexceptionally weird,” I say.
“It’s the only solution,” Tom says. “Someone has to sacrifice themselves and sit on the chair until we all leave the place.”
“And then?”
“Then, they will either burn with the asylum or get killed by the police when they break in.”
“I’ll do it!” Constance volunteers by raising her hand up high, as if she’s answering a question in the classroom.
“You’re not an adult,” Tom says. “Your weight won’t hold.”
Instantly, their eyes shift toward me. Constance seems worried I’ll volunteer, I think. And Tom would sacrifice the flamingo trapped in the room next to the Pillar’s to get out of here.
But then I realize that Tom isn’t staring at me, but at the March.
“Shame on you!” I say. “I’m not going to do this to the March.”
“Why not?” Tom says. “He is an adult — of course, he thinks he is a child and has a light bulb in his head, but he’s still an adult.”
“Shut up!” Constance interferes.
But he doesn’t stop. “And he is dead. The March is dead. He is the perfect candidate for the chair that will save our lives.”
For a moment, Constance seems to contemplate the idea. I know she does because she wants to convince me to leave with her. The sound of the panicking Mushroomers outside isn’t helping me with thinking.
I need to make a rushed decision. One that’s only reasoned with heart, not the mind.
“I’m staying,” I say. “Me and the March.”
79
Mr. Jay’s Castle
“Like I said,” one of his surviving men said. “The deadline ends much earlier than when the nukes would arrive.” The man cautiously stepped over the dead bodies in the office. “But don’t worry, they can’t escape.”
“Are you sure of that?” Mr. Jay said from the dark.
“Where can they go? We’re breaking in and exterminating them. Either they’ll panic and escape outside where we’ll catch them and put them on trial — if we don’t get the chance to shoot them right away. They’re dead.”
“Are you sure they have no way else to escape?”
“Even if the tunnels could help them, our forces are everywhere. Be it a sewer or a door that should lead them out, the police will shoot them on the spot.”
“It better be so.”
“It will. I wouldn’t risk you shooting me if we failed.”
“I’m shooting you either way,” Mr. Jay said. “It’s a hobby. I don’t just shoot for punishment.”
“Oh.” The man shrugged with a loud twitch.
He could hear Mr. Jay’s leather chair moving, as if he were leaning back.
“Would you mind if I ask you something before I die?” the man said reluctantly.
“I know what’s on your mind,” Mr. Jay said. “You want to know why I gathered the Inklings all up in the asylum. You want to know how I did it.”
“The how is somehow imaginable,” the man said. “I mean you used some technology and faked a message for Alice, supposedly from the Pillar’s phone. Then did the same with the March Hare; then faked a message for the Pillar from Alice. Then Alice and March arrived at the asylum, though the Pillar had been hit on the head and sedated, then sent as well.”
“I may not want to kill you,” Mr. Jay told his smart employee. “You’ve figured it out just fine.”
“But I still have questions. Why fake the messages for the Queen and Margaret as well?”
“Not Nutty — I mean the Queen. I will miss her. But I faked it for Margaret. I was starting to suspect her loyalty. I had a plan to get rid of her too, but the Pillar thankfully beat me to it by blowing up the limousine.”
“Aha,” the man said. “Which brings me to the final question: Why gather and ambush them? Why now?”
“Because the Chessmaster told Alice about her family, and so she wasn’t going to stop until she knew. Once she realized I killed them, there was no way I could convince her to join Black Chess again. It’s Alice whom I’ve always wanted on my team. Now that it’s not possible, I had to get rid of them. To do so, I had to use the media and turn the Inklings into a public enemy.”
“Isn’t Black Chess powerful enough to end the Inklings?”
“Every powerful organization in the world always needs the media backing it up. You can’t win a war with guns only. You need the people on your side. You need them to help you win it by washing their brains with false information. Just give them a villain they’d love to hate, and you’ve got yourself a winner.”
“Brilliant Mr. Jay.” The man clapped in an attempt to win his boss’s sympathy. “And what about the Plan B you’ve talked about?”
Mr. Jay laughed in that hollow voice again. It filled the walls with a subtle shade of grey, and sucked most of the oxygen from the room. “Plan B is my masterpiece. It will ensure that even those who would survive the massacre at the asylum will not survive the day after.”
80
The Radcliffe Asylum
“You don’t have to do this, Alice.” Constance runs after me, as I’m on my way to the control room.
I have the weight of the dead March on my shoulders, determined to go. I’ve even picked him up with the cap and the screws still bolted into his head.
“Let her do it,” Tom argues with Constance. “She’s a hero. She should sacrifice herself for us.”
“And what should you do?” Constance fires back.
“I’m like the crowd watching all those superhero movies. I’m supposed to clap while eating popcorn and feel good about myself when I go home — until the next superhero movie, of course.”
“You’re such a low life.” Constance pushes him away and grabs at my jeans. “Alice, listen to me. We have time to escape. Leave the March on the chair and let his weight fool the sensors.”
“I can’t believe you’re telling me this,” I say.
“I’m sorry. It’s brutal, but this is war. It has casualties.”
“Stop talking like an adult,” I snap. “Seriously, it’s confusing me.”
“Go, Alice,” Tom encourages me. “It’s the right thing to do. Even the Pillar would have told you so.”
“The Pillar is a coward. He killed Jack.”
“And here is your reason to escape,” Constance plays games with my mind. “How would you avenge Jack if you stay here?”
The thought does tamper with my thinking. Just a little.
It’s also too late. I’ve already kicked the door to the control room open with the March on my back. The room is surprisingly filled with smoke.
“Oh, no,” Tom panics. “What’s burning in here?”
“Nothing’s burning.” Constance stands with hands on her waist.
She is staring at the chair Tom has been talking about.
Me, too.
She is right. The room isn’t burning.
The smoke’s source is a hookah. The Pillar is sitting on the chair, gl
ancing back with his beady eyes. “This is some sick chair you’ve got here, Tom!”
81
“You?” I glare at him.
“No, it’s not me.” The Pillar winks. “And I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
“How did you get in here?” Tom asks behind me.
“Dear Tom.” The Pillar drags from his pipe. “You have no idea how hard it is for a cripple with a bullet in his leg to climb up a waterpipe, wearing a police officer’s clothes?”
It suddenly hits me that Pillar is wearing one of those red, white, and black Queen’s Guard’s uniform — with the black hat and all.
“You killed Jack, you bastard.” I grit my teeth and step forward with the dead March on my back.
“Easy.” The Pillar waves a hand and points at the chair. “Highly flammable.”
“You activated the chair?” Tom says.
“I thought you needed help with a volunteer,” the Pillar says. “I figured with a crippled leg and another bullet scratch on my left arm — and being the world’s most wanted terrorist — I’d take that bullet for you guys.”
“Great,” Tom says. “So all is solved. We should go now.”
“Wait,” Constance says then turns to face the Pillar. “Why do this?”
“I’ve always loved exploding chairs,” he replies. “Wish they had those in the Circus.”
“The chair will not explode as long as you’re on it,” Constance says. “You’re risking turning yourself in when the police arrive.”
“And saving you,” the Pillar remarks.
“I can see that; you’re saving us.” Constance approaches him closer, trying to read his eyes. “But why? Why are you doing all of this? Why visit me before all of this began and ask if Alice was the Real Alice? Who are you?”
“But I thought you figured me out,” He says. “I’m the Caterpillar, remember?”
“Answer her,” I insist. “You need to tell us what you have in mind. You need to tell us how it’s possible you can kill Jack and yet want to save us all? You’re driving me insane.”
“You were insane when I came here, so don’t point fingers,” the Pillar says playfully. “But if you really want to know. Jack was going to kill you.”
“Nonsense!” I say.
“The Queen convinced him he had to do it to prove his loyalty,” the Pillar explains. “She promised him a few things every young man would love to have.”
“And Jack agreed?” I feel the weight of the world upon my shoulders.
“It’s a boy thing. Us men love to kill our exes. It’s kinda like washing after you eat. Leave no traces.”
“That’s not cool to joke about.” Constance holds my free hand. “Let’s go, Alice. He is a mad man.”
I don’t listen to her. “So you killed the Queen because you were mad at her for persuading Jack to kill me?”
“Not at all,” he says nonchalantly. “I just couldn’t resist blowing up that head made of poop walking on legs. It’s pretty satisfying, the feeling of blowing up a dictator’s head. You should try it some time.”
“Now let’s go!” Tom stands by the door. “We’re wasting time.”
I approach the Pillar, close enough to make the conversation seem personal. “You’re sure you’re not my father?”
“Positive,” he says. I believe him. He has that rare look of being serious in his eyes. No curtains of a faked-person hiding his intentions.
“And are you a good man or a bad man?”
“Kinda Batman,” he returns in a flash.
“So there is no use knowing who you are before I say goodbye?” I lean back.
“All you need to know is in that Tiger Lily pot,” he says. “You have it locked in a safe box at the airport, I think?”
“How could one word possibly explain all of this?” I say.
“It’s a very delicate word.” His eyes moisten for a second. I see truth in them again. “One we overlook every day.”
“Really?”
“The most precious thing.”
“Does it explain what the Wonderland War is about, too?”
“It explains everything.”
“And it’s your Wonder, all at the same time. I find that hard to believe, Pillar.”
He closes his eyes, as if enjoying the taste of a delicious meal. “You haven’t called me Pillar in a long time. I like it.”
“I’m not sure I share the same feeling,” I say.
“I understand. What matters now is that you go.” He arranges himself comfortably in the chair. “I have a chair to sit on and a world to save. Do you have the British anthem on tape here somewhere, Tom?”
“British anthem?” Tom is confused, so are we. “I’m sure you’ll find it on the radio next to the console. Why’d you need it?”
The Pillar smiles bitterly and swivels the chair around. “So long Alice of Wonderland. It’s been frabjous doing business with you. I think you have ten minutes left, so use them wisely.”
82
White Hearts Hospital
Though Fabiola still had not made her mind up whether or not to stand up for the Inklings, it was something else that actually bothered her; that she couldn’t heal herself with the power Lewis had suggested.
Back in Wonderland she’d been blessed with healing powers that had granted her longevity in the battle field. And when she’d first been sent to this hospital, she thought she was regaining those powers. But the process suddenly slowed down while talking to Lewis.
Deep in her mind, she could do nothing if she hadn’t healed from her wounds. She was confined to this bed and was useless at the moment.
But then, the screaming sounds outside her bedroom suddenly alerted her. Adrenaline pumped all through her body, but she still felt chained by her injuries.
“What’s going on?” asked Fabiola. Lewis had just closed the door after taking a brief peek outside.
“It’s the Reds,” he said, his back to the door.
“What are they doing here?”
“I think they’re here for you, Fabiola. Think about it. Whoever gathered the Inklings in the asylum has a plan to exterminate each one of you. The only one who’s not there is you. They’re here to kill you.”
“This means only He ambushed everyone,” Fabiola said. “He realized that Alice knowing about her family killed all possibility for her to rejoin Black Chess. She now knows it’s Him.”
“Exactly,” Lewis said. “The question is; do you still have doubts on which side to take?”
Fabiola took a moment to calculate a final answer. Still, words were unable to come forth.
“Alice is one of us, Fabiola. All the fear about her being Black Chess is over.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Fabiola said. “Or you would have just told her about Mr. Jay killing her family long ago.”
“I could have, but I feared for her sanity. I was afraid it would devastate her and weaken her.” Lewis, in spite of the dangers outside, took a similar moment to rethink something. “Actually, and it’s hard to admit, I’m thankful to the Pillar.”
Fabiola glared at him. “You didn’t just say that, did you?”
“I did. Whatever his real intentions are, it’s time we acknowledge what he has done.”
“Yeah? And what’s that? Manipulating everyone?”
“No, Fabiola. He raised Alice in a few months to become a strong girl. He helped her, taught her how to save lives and gave her confidence — and part of her sanity — back. Of course, it was a bloody journey full of contradictions, but if Alice hadn’t gone through that much she would not have been able to handle her family’s massacre. She is only nineteen for God’s sake.”
The sounds of Reds climbing up the steps was unmistakable behind him now.
“They’re coming.” The rabbit peeked out of his pocket, sounding curious. “Which side are you on, Fabiola?”
“That doesn’t matter now,” Fabiola said, eyes on the door behind Lewis. “I can’t fight. I’m injured.”
Lewis suddenly smirked. It was a benign smirk, one that few had ever seen. Only Fabiola knew about it, back from the days in Wonderland.
“I’ll take care of them until you find the healing powers inside of you.” He pulled out the Vorpal sword, which had been hers once. She didn’t have to ask how he got it. She thought she’d given it to Alice earlier, but Lewis had always been resourceful with the gadget he’d originally invented. “A little demonstration of the old days should spike up your healing powers, I think.”
He turned around, kicked the door open, and descended the stairs. She didn’t have to see the way he fought. She knew what a heck of warrior he was. The way he could handle that sword. The way he’d been a master of None Fu.
She heard one of the Reds scream that someone had just punched his eyes. Fabiola smiled. That was Lewis’s rabbit, another warrior from the past.
83
The Radcliffe Asylum
“Do you still have to carry the March with you?” Tom rages at me for slowing them down.
“Shut up, Tom,” I say. “The March goes with me everywhere, until I bury him properly.”
“Hey.” The Dude suddenly shows up from rescuing the Mushroomers. “Let me take care of him.”
It’s not the right time to question him on who he is or why he is doing this. The time left is too short, I don’t even know how short.
“The Mushroomers need your help,” the Dude argues. “There is a fissure in the tunnel outside. They need someone to jump them across. I think your None Fu will help.”
I hand him the March’s corpse. “He is your responsibility,” I say. “If you fail to bring him along, I’ll kill you.”
“Whoa.” The Dude takes the March. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“Come on, Alice,” Constance insists. “We need to go.”
Tom has already gone ahead among the Mushroomers. As I reach the door, I see tens of them in the tunnel, standing before the fissure. A couple have managed the jump and crossed over. Another jumped but got hit by the rushing water from the other side — which doesn’t reach us but is beginning to fill up the fissure in between. The rest are waiting for me, afraid to make the jump.