by Cameron Jace
“Black Chess, of course,” Lewis says. “But we know they don’t know where it is, or they wouldn’t have sent the Reds after us.”
“Where is Tom by the way?” I ask,
“I locked him at the foot of the floor in the back,” Constance says. “He can’t speak. I duct-taped his mouth.”
Fabiola smiled. “Good girl.”
“So let’s do this,” I say, picking up my sword.
The rest pick up their guns and disembark the bus.
On our way down, I pull Jack closer. “Why a school bus?”
“What?”
“Couldn’t you find other vehicles?”
“It’s just coincidence,” Jack looks back at the bus. “Geez, Alice, I am sorry. It’s really… just a coincidence.”
“A very unusual coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he seems sincere. I wonder if he is faking it.
“Or are you trying to get me to remember something?”
“Alice,” he holds my hand as we follow the rest. “I don’t remember what happened with the bus. Why would I do that? Besides, what are the chances that I go fetch a school bus to remind you of something?”
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s just a hell of a coincidence.”
“It is,” Jack says. “Who knows? Maybe it’s fate, and you will remember something?”
I don’t reply, but I don’t believe him. It occurs to me that we’re all keeping secrets from each other.
We arrive at the garden’s gate and find it locked.
“What are we waiting for?” Constance says. “Let’s shoot the lock.”
“I don't know about that,” I say. “Something here is wrong.”
“I agree,” Lewis says.
“Everything is so perfect,” Fabiola says. “An intact garden, untouched, and locked properly?”
“So?” Constance says. “Let’s shoot the lock. Can’t you see we’re all alone here?”
“I have to oppose that statement,” Lewis says, not looking at her. He is looking upward at an angle. “See?”
We follow his gaze toward the hills surrounding the garden. He is right. We’re not alone. Tens of men and women are up there. Guns are pointing at us.
Mr. Jay’s Interrogation Room
“So I can’t kill you as well?” the Cheshire asks the Pillar.
“It’s not that you care about others, Cheshire,” the Pillar says. “But I know you don’t want to die.”
“But wait,” the Cheshire said. “I still have lives left. Seven or either I think.”
“What are you thinking?”
“And you have like 11 or 12 lives left?”
“Cheshire?” the Pillar looks worried.
“Come on,” the Cheshire said. “Be a good sport.”
“A good sport doing what?”
“You know,” the Cheshire showed him his scariest grin. “It’ll be fun.”
“Ah, you want to play.”
“Yes!”
The Pillar sighed. “Crazy Cat.”
“Here,” the Cheshire knelt and unchained the Pillar.
“I suppose I have to thank you,” the Pillar rolls his eyes. “For wanting to play a dangerous game.”
“It’s the end of the world.”
“Aren’t you afraid to die?”
“Tell that to Fabiola or others,” the Cheshire says. “You and I are legends. We have lives. Here, take a gun.”
“Mr. Jay is going to be upset,” the Pillar remarks, gazing at the glass.
“I think he will be entertained.”
“If you say so,” the Pillar said. “So how do we play? Russian roulette style?”
“Nah,” the Cheshire says. “I shoot you, and you shoot me.”
“On a count of three, I suppose,” the Pillar said.
“Why count?”
“If we don’t, one of us can kill the other earlier without enough time to shoot back.”
“That would spoil the game,” the Cheshire says, loading his rife. “Is your guns loaded.”
“Six bullets ready,” the Pillars says.
“This is going to be epic,” the Cheshire loads his gun. “Imagine we kill each other and wake up again.”
“Gotta love having extra lives,” the Pillar says.
“I bet even Mr. Jay is jealous,” the Cheshire snickers.
“I didn’t know you can upset Mr. Jay in the first place.”
“Ready?” the Cheshire said with twinkling eyes, like a child who’d been grounded for the weekend and is now back to meet with his friends. “On a count of three, right?”
“Of course,” the Pillar sounded uninterested, just playing along with the crazy cat. “I will count.”
“Deal,” the Cheshire pointed his gun at the Pillar’s skull.
The Pillar pointed his gun at the Cheshire’s.
“In the name of multiple lives,” the Cheshire said. “Or better, in the name of the cat and a caterpillar.”
“Poetic,” the Pillar. “I will begin counting.”
“Awesome. Do it.”
“One,” the Pillar said.
“This should be in Guinness World Records.”
“Two.”
“I’m not a cat; I’m the king of the world—”
The Pillar didn’t say three, because he’d already shot the Cheshire dead, a count too soon. He smirked and blew off the smoke from his gun. “Stupid cat. No wonder you belonged to a Circus.”
The Kew Garden
“I’m sick of getting ambushed today,” Constance announces, squinting at our enemies on the hills.
“Who do you think they are, Alice?” Fabiola tells me, not taking her eyes off the hill.
“Someone who wants the Keys as much as we want.”
“At least this means we’re on the right track,” Jacks says, gripping his gun. “I am glad we didn’t try the Alnwick Gardens you mentioned earlier.”
“Glad we’re going to die,” Constance scoffs.
From the corner of my eyes, I see Lewis looking a bit unsettled. He’s scratching his arms uncomfortably and does not comment on the situation. The March on the other hands, hides behind me for protection.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will not let anyone hurt you.”
“So what?” Constance waves at the men on the hill. “Say something!”
None of those on the hill respond, but the gate to the garden behind us creaks. We turn our heads.
“Welcome,” a short chubby boy says. He looks bored, unexcited, a not quite welcoming. “Please get inside.”
“And who are you?” Constance demands.
“His name is Humpty,” Fabiola says.
“You know him?” I ask her.
“Wonderland,” she says, now not taking her off him. “He is Margaret’s son. Bastard son, to be precise,” a certain bitterness accompanies Fabiola’s words.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the boy says.
“Waiting for us?” I ask.
“He’s bluffing,” Constance says. “Look at him. He is so bored. So unmotivated.”
“That’s because he needs a candy,” Fabiola says. “He’s always been like that. The Queen of Hearts had taken him from Margaret and fed him candies every day. He can’t function without them.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Humpty,” I kneel down and talk to him. The March still clinging to my hand. I wonder why I don’t remember Humpty. “How about you meet my friend, March?”
“He is your friend?” Humpty says, shy not to look in my eyes. “He looks old.”
The March’s ears fall to his sides.
“He just looks old, Humpty,” I tell him. “But he is really funny.”
“Alice Adventures in Kindergarten,” Constance mumbles. “Can we just stop this fluff fest? Who are you, Humpty and who sent you?”
Humpty doesn’t look back to Constance. Instead, he turns back and looks at a big building at the end of the green fields on both sides.
“I sent him,” a woman say
s. She stands on the porch in the distance. I think she is wearing red? “Please come in.”
We don’t exchange looks to agree on the next move. We have no choice. The men on the hill and woman in the garden. Let’s just do it.
Entering, I see the woman clearer now. She wears big black glasses and wears a red fur and red hat.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Alice,” she has a blunt, matter-of-fact demeanor about her. I can’t tell whether she is good or bad. Inkling or Black Chess. She diverts her gaze toward the March Hare. “I mean we were waiting for you, March.”
“What do you mean?” I tell her.
Humpty runs to her, and she pats him and hands candy with kaleidoscopic colors. “I mean we always thought it was you, Alice.”
I shrug. “Can you explain further? And who are you? How did you know we will be here?”
“Who I am and how I know are matters I will explain in few minutes. For now, you should know that everyone around has their agendas.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone wants one thing. The most precious thing. E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. Well, except the Queen of Hearts who only wanted to be loved, so much that she wanted to rule the world to obtain such love. And the Cheshire who is just in pain and wants unquenchable revenge.”
“And the rest? The Pillar?”
“The Pillar, Mr. Jay, Fabiola, Lewis, and even Jack, they’re all playing you,” she says.
“Don’t believe her,” Fabiola says, but I don’t listen.
“Tell me more.”
“Up to twenty-four hours ago the common belief was that you Alice had the power to find the Keys,” the woman in red fur says. “Which turns out to be true.”
“And?”
“You found that precious Hare,” she stretches out her hands and to my utter shock, the March pulls away and goes for her loving arms. “Poor March. Everyone used you too because they knew you’re just a child. Pure and loving.”
“Are you saying I don’t matter now?” I feel feeble and stupid asking the question.
“We’ll see about that,” she says. “To my knowledge, Mr. Jay wants to meet you so badly. But for now, let’s all get inside. Our difference and secret agendas can wait. I’ll explain further while hopefully, the March remembers.”
“You didn’t answer us,” Constance insists. “How did you know we’re coming?”
She woman still doesn’t smile, but she nods toward the yellow bus behind us. “You really should have killed Tom. He sells information to whoever is willing to secure his children’s future.”
Mr. Jay’s Interrogation Room
“Shit,” the Cheshire moaned, waking up. He found himself sprawled on the floor with a big hole in his tummy.
“Don’t worry,” the Pillar said, standing over him with the gun in his hands. “It will heal.”
“You shot me,” the Cheshire untied his priest’s outfit. “Shit.”
“I thought cats say meow, not shit,” the Pillar said. “Say meow, please.”
“Yeah, right,” the Cheshire tried to pick himself up, but he was still in pain. “In your mushroom infested dreams.”
“Say meow or I will kill you again,” the Pillar said. “How many lives do you have left?”
“Meow for God’s sake!” the Cheshire panicked, slowly holding onto the chair.
“Just meow,” the Pillar says. “Don’t use the Lord's name in vain, pope.”
“You’re sick,” the Cheshire gritted his teeth. The Pillar was pushing it. “Meow,” he said flatly, finally sitting his ass on the chair. “Why did you shoot on the count of two? I thought we said on a count of three.”
“I’m a dishonest man. I take my dishonesty seriously.”
“I should have known,” the Cheshire coughed, watching his wound heal.
“Pillar 1 Cheshire 0,” the Pillar sat back, satisfied.
“You should put some clothes on,” the Cheshire said.
“I am starting to like it like that,” he said.
“What’s wrong with your skin?” the Cheshire pointed at his aging flesh.
“It’s a sickness. I am dying.”
“Serious shit?”
“I think I have a week left or so. Incurable. Autoimmune disease of some sorts.”
“And the mushrooms?” the Cheshire wonders. “Couldn’t they magically fix you?”
“The mushrooms, and the hookah, had one purpose, Chesh,” the Pillar rest a leg over the other. “They killed the pain.”
“So all this smoking and Mushroomland you were killing pain?”
“Shocking, right? To realize we’re all in pain. That we’re human after all.”
The Cheshire said nothing. “It still doesn’t justify the horrid thing you did.”
“Stop acting like a pope cause you’re wearing his clothes. I can get a pope’s outfit from Walmart and wear it for Halloween,” The Pillar smirked at the wall glass where Mr. Jay was watching. “Don’t you wonder why Mr. Jay isn’t interfering?”
“He must be enjoying the show.”
“Like the Circus?” the Pillar winked.
The Cheshire shuddered. Though he hated humans and Wonderlanders, he could not live with shocking memories. “The Circus was your doing, Pillar. You wanted someone in the real world to help you cross over through that portal in your garden, so you gave them a freak show.”
The Pillar laughed, which isn’t something he usually did. Laughing aloud was out of character for him. “You think the Circus was my doing? I admit I organized it, but I was following orders. A business deal to be honest.”
“Then whose idea was it?”
The Pillar smiled at the glass wall. The Cheshire turned his head, but not toward the glass. The door behind him had been opened.
Mr. Jay entered. “I organized the Circus.”
The Kew Garden
The woman in red fur walks us into the humongous structure of the Kew Garden, an impressive garden of botanical plants. She brags about how exquisite they are. How old they are. How rare. None of what I see are mushrooms, though. If the March is supposed to remember now, I have so many questions to ask.
“So we’re not in danger here?” I ask her. “I mean you’re not the enemy? You don’t want to hurt us?”
“I will never hurt you, Alice,” she says. Her face starts to seem familiar to me. I can’t remember where I’ve seen her before, if I ever did. Must be an old Wonderland thing. The glasses cover most of her face and fur and a red hat with one single feather in it. It makes her look like a combination of Victorian and Steampunk characters.
“Only me?” I say.
“Neither you or the March,” she says. “The rest of your friends, I am not sure.”
I don’t respond or counter the argument. What puzzles me is that none of them comments. Fabiola only made one effort to deny the woman’s claims. Lewis is collapsing in his sudden unknown pain. Is he fading out for some reason? Jack is usually silent in his haze, so I am not sure.
“And Constance?” I ask the woman in red fur.
“I have never seen her in Wonderland.”
“That’s because I am the sum of the girls Lewis photographed. You wouldn’t recognize—” Constance stops midway when I interfere.
“Wonderland?” I say to the woman in red.
She sighs. The first time she does show a snippet of emotion. She gazes at Humpty. “Go play outside in the garden, please. I promise if you do, I will give you more candy.”
The boy strolled out happily.
“Yes,” she tells me. “I am a Wonderlander, just like you.”
“I have never seen you,” Fabiola finally speaks.
The woman in red doesn’t feel the need to explain herself. “I wasn’t involved in all the events.”
“That doesn’t explain why I haven’t seen you,” Fabiola says.
“I lived on the other side of Wonderland.”
“What’s that?” I wonder, looking at Fabiola.
“Don’t look at me. I have no i
dea what that is.”
“But Lewis knows,” the woman says.
Lewis sits on a chair, moaning in pain. It’s like he has a stomach ache, but he can’t speak. Fabiola seems to know what’s troubling him. She is not making much effort to help. But Lewis nods agreeably about the woman’s claims.
“Lewis?” Fabiola truly doesn’t know. “Who is this woman?”
“G-lass,” Lewis stutters again.
“Glass?” I say.
It’s Constance who gets it. “Through the Looking Glass?”
The woman in red shows as a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re not as dumb as I thought you’d be,” she tells Constance. “Yes, a mirror in Wonderland that sent you to another Wonderland.”
“That’s getting too confusing,” Jack announces.
“It is, but you don’t have to know much about it,” the woman says. “Wonderland and the real world are made of so many dimensions. I like to call them Ages.”
A silence sweeps all over us. From wanting to expose the March to the mushrooms, we’ve gone to knowing much more than I’ve bargained for.
“I am sorry to make it so hard on you, Alice,” she says. “Do you remember when you went back to the past through the Einstein Blackboard?”
“Of course.”
“I suppose you noticed how many things don’t make sense since you’ve returned,” she says. “I mean the Pillar being a nerd a few years ago, then turning evil so fast?”
“I questioned that, but I have so many questions about the Pillar. This is the least I am worried about.”
“How about your husband from the future?” she says.
“Husband?” Jack squints.
“It’s a long story, Jack,” I calm him down then turn back to the woman in red. “I do. It didn’t make sense.”
“That’s because you didn’t go back in time,” she says. “You just went to another dimension.”
“Dimension?”
“You see every second we live exists and never vanishes,” she continues. “It sticks to the universe in a certain time and space. But we’re just incapable of bringing it back. Another version of us still lives it day after day. Sometimes the versions, the Ages, collapse, and one of the characters or events don’t go through.”