Hookah (Insanity Book 4)

by Cameron Jace

  I mean, who can live with his own split persona manifesting into a real enemy? An enemy who is in many ways you.

  The darker you.

  The you with all those thoughts you could never share with anyone.

  The you with all those ideas you never knew you had buried in a grave in the back of your mind.

  The you... who isn’t really you.

  Making sure I don’t let the Pillar out of sight, my mind is as foggy as the hookah smoke surrounding us. It seems to me, and I’m not the best candidate to say this, that the Cheshire was right. And he always will be. We’re all mad here.

  The one thing I’d add to his famous phrase would be: So there is no need to point fingers. The world is a marshmallow bubble of mess. Enjoy it while you can.

  A few minutes ago I asked the Pillar if he knows why Carolus was on the bus. The Pillar said he knew nothing of the bus or what happened in it. He also said that whatever I had imagined was likely hallucinations from the mushrooms. I don’t know what to believe.

  “Alice!” The Pillar’s voice pulls me back into the real world. “Have you seen this?” He shows me a hookah with an elephant’s hose. “Nutty-tutty weird, right?”

  I fake a smile. “I’m going to ask you again. How will we get to that Scientist?”

  “Scientisto, if I may correct you,” the Pillar says. “I asked around, and that’s what they really call him.”

  “They don’t know his real name?”

  “Nor does he have an address. But they say he looks like the mad uncle from Back to the Future.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “A fun movie from the eighties. You weren’t born yet. Don’t bother.”

  “So that’s all?”

  “Not exactly,” The Pillar raises his voice against the fireworks and hailing crowd. Some special event is about to take place. “The Scientisto is like a god here. Common belief is that he will send his men to meet with him if he senses you’re special.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  “I was told the next event is a good opportunity.”

  “This one?” I point at the crowd in the distance. They’re standing next to a tall wall, and it seems the smoke lessens as I walk closer.

  “I believe so.”

  “How can we show him we’re special in that event? What is it called?”

  “How? I have no idea. What is it called? Oh, I know that, and I love it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It’s something Lewis would have loved a lot,” the Pillar says, snaking through the crowd. “It’s called Phantasmagoria.”

  Chapter 56

  Settling among the others in the Phantasmagoria event, I see a big truck spurting out big chunks of fire in the air. The flames are thick and light up the night, high enough not to hurt anyone. However, the angle makes our shadows visible on the enormous wall we’re looking at.

  I am still not sure what this event or game is.

  “Phantasmagoria is one of Lewis’s craziest poems,” the Pillar says, sounding festive like everyone else. “No one really knows what it means, but it’s also the name of a form of theatre in France in the 18th century, and late in England in the 19th century. A very interesting and well known one actually.”

  “Theatre? The name sounds like something scary.”

  “It is, actually. The Phantasmagoria theatre used a modified magic lantern to project frightening images onto the walls.”

  “Frightening as in...?”

  “Skeletons, ghosts, and so forth. It happens all the time. Haven’t you ever been to the beach and had the camp fire reflect your shadow in scary forms?”

  “I haven’t been to the beach,” I say. “But I get the idea.”

  “Some artists used semi-transparent screens, frequently using rear projection later,” the Pillar says. “The projector was mobile, allowing the images on the wall to change size on the screen, which, in our current case, will be the wall in front of us.”

  Glad to know what the wall is for. Also, I know the fire behind us is meant to cast our shadows on the wall now.

  “Of course, there are many variations of the practice,” the Pillar says. “Some were able to cast quick switching images to tell a short story, to show a girl run from a ghost. It was much loved in its time.”

  “And we’re going to play it here now, with the fire reflecting our shadows?”

  “Not just the fire, the hookahs’ smoke too. You can either use the smoke to manipulate the image or to add another layer. Be creative.”

  We start to stand in line next to one another, facing the wall. I’m starting to sweat heavily. The area is getting hotter because of the fire, never mind the Brazilian humidity.”

  But I am rather enjoying this. The reflections on the walls are funny. People bend their bodies, stretch their arms, and sometimes use an external element to manipulate the shapes on the wall. There is a man whose reflection is a big duck. Another makes his body look like a boat. It’s brilliant. I think the kids would have enjoyed this.

  The Pillar borrows a few balloons from others and manipulates his image into a caterpillar sitting atop a mushroom. People go crazy when they see that. They love it.

  “Now that’s something special.” The Pillar winks at me.

  “I wish the caterpillar was real,” a little girl comments. “I love him.”

  “He loves you too, darling.” The Pillar smiles.

  “How do you know?” The girl pouts. “You’re not the caterpillar.”

  I burst out laughing. The Pillar’s cheeks redden.

  We keep on watching others. Three men manipulate the image into three dogs eating peanuts. I tilt my head back to the Pillar for explanation.

  “They all know the Queen of England eats their precious nuts here,” he says. “None are left for the masses, so they have to make fun of her.”

  “Uh-huh. So I am still lost at that something special idea. I see most people are doing incredible things. What could be more special than that?”

  “I have no idea,” the Pillar says. “We have to think of something that would attract a man who just cooked a plague to kill everyone on the other side of the world.”

  I have no idea what that could be. It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about that Scientisto. “I wonder if the Scientist is also a Wonderlander.”

  “A very plausible assumption.” The Pillar looks impressed. “But I don’t know of a scientist in Wonderland.”

  “Let’s just say he is.” I have a dangerous idea in my mind.

  “Okay. Let’s just say that. So what? Are you going to manipulate your image into writing Wonderland on the wall?”

  “No,” I say. “In fact, I don’t need to manipulate anything.”

  The Pillar stops his moves and stares at me. It’s that look again in his eyes when he admires my actions. “You have my undivided attention and heart-pounding anticipation.”

  I smile and slip my hands into the Pillar’s pocket, pulling out the key.

  Chapter 57

  “That’s a very smart idea,” the Pillar says.

  “I know. I don’t need you to tell me that.” I hold up the key and adjust my angle so it reflects on the wall.

  Of course, it doesn’t reflect immediately. The key is too small, and the fire is a bit far from where I stand. I run through the crowd, the Pillar following me, until I find the spot with the fire nearest to the wall.

  Not just that. I spend some considerable time finding the right spot where the key’s reflection is big enough to be noticed. It doesn’t really get that big, but it’s enough for the Scientist’s attention—that’s if my assumption is right.

  “Seems like it wasn’t a great idea after all.” The Pillar pouts, looking around for the Scientist’s men.

  But my stubborn genes tell me it should work. Even if the Scientist isn’t a Wonderlander, the key should attract someone’s attention. This isn’t possible.

  “I am afraid t
o ask, but I need my key back.” The Pillar shrugs.

  “You know it’s not your key,” I say, giving it back to him. “But I don’t want it. At least not now. And for the record, I don’t ever want to talk to you again after we save the world this time.”

  “Are you so sure you’re going to save the world this time?” He tucks the key in his jacket pocket and rubs off some smoke.

  It’s questions like these that make me doubt myself.

  Of course I am not sure I’m going to save the world this time. And it scares me to even think about it.

  I think about those children again. The world can’t end on their first day of freedom. They still have so much to enjoy and learn in life, or has the Executioner already sentenced them to death in his grip?

  I realize I would have preferred to choke him myself instead of listening to the explosion.

  And there is something else I realize now. That Fabiola was right. If you stare into the eyes of darkness, you will always get stained.

  “I’m thinking of pull off my pants and let out gas into the smoke the Scientist will definitely notice me.” The Pillar rubs his chin. “I know it’s lame, but so were many of Carroll’s jokes.”

  Lewis!

  That’s the answer to how to get the Scientist’s attention. The Pillar’s key may be valuable to many Wonderlanders, but definitely not like the one I have in my pocket.

  Sorry, Lewis, I will break our promise. But I have to give it a shot.

  I raise the key in the air and stand in that same spot again. Carroll’s key reflects in a shimmering hue over the wall.

  “You have another key?” The Pillar can’t take his eyes of it. “Who’s the liar now?”

  I dismiss his comments, still staring at the wall.

  Then it happens. Not the way I expected, but close. A loud, deafening horn blares in the festival.

  Chapter 58

  Queen’s garden, Buckingham Palace, London

  “Welcome back, Carolus.” The Queen of Hearts stood in the middle of the rain, two of her guards holding her umbrella for her. “It’s time we solve this matter.”

  “What matter?” Carolus spat rain in her face.

  “Your headaches,” she said. “You know without me stopping the Executioner from giving Lewis his medication, you would have never been created in the first place.”

  Carolus grunts, trying to step closer, but he was chained in heavy steel, and guarded carefully. Finally Margaret did her job right, the Queen thought.

  “I’m like your god by the way.” The Queen smirked. “I could have given Carroll his medication anytime, and you’d have disappeared. You have any idea how unreal you are? You’re neither Carroll nor Carolus. You’re just a figment of his imagination that manifested somehow.”

  “Don’t provoke me,” Carolus growled and broke free from the chains. The Queen’s guards stepped away immediately.

  “Don’t threaten me!” The short Queen’s head ached, craning it up to him.

  “What are you going to do? Cut my head off?” He laughed, still spitting rain at her.

  “I don’t need to.” She grinned.

  Instantly, Carolus’s migraine returned. He fell to his knees, gripping his skull.

  “See?” the Queen chirped. “My men fooled you into thinking the pills they gave you were Lullaby when they only worsened your headache.”

  “Stop it, please!”

  “You should have asked for your cure back in Columbia instead of cooking up a plague,” she said. “But because you’re just a figment of someone’s imagination, you couldn’t think straight. All you thought of was ending the world for no apparent reason, just because you were in pain.”

  “It’s not just that...”

  “Stop it!” She kicked him in the foot. “Stay on your knees when I am talking to you. And listen to what I have to say.”

  Carolus said nothing. All he could do was grip his head before it exploded.

  “I will have the Executioner supply you with endless amounts of Lullaby.” She pointed her finger at him. “Under one condition.”

  “I’ll do anything,” the vicious monster said pleadingly.

  “If you tell me how to stop the plague.”

  “I can’t,” he stuttered. “The plague is unstoppable. I just told you I knew because I needed my Lullaby pill!”

  Chapter 59

  Hookah Festival, Brazil

  The blaring horn puts the festival to a halt.

  Not only that, but most of the crowd around us scurry away like rats. The Pillar and I are left alone inside a haze of smoke and fire.

  Neither of us say anything for a long time. Anticipation? Fear? I have no idea. But I can hear the footfalls of dozens approaching us from behind the smoke.

  “It occurs to me that we’ve not been told if getting the Scientist’s attention could lead to our deaths,” the Pillars says, trying to see through the fog of hookah smoke.

  It’s hard for me to utter any words now. I realize what might be in danger is not the Pillar or me but Lewis’s key.

  Staring at it, I don’t know where to hide it. Was it stupid of me to use it? Lewis was clear about not losing it. An insane idea hits me. What if I swallow it? I’ve seen them do that in movies.

  But I am not going to swallow it. No way. I tuck it inside my shoe, wishing it to be a good idea.

  The footfalls are nearing now. Everyone else in this festival has disappeared.

  “Anything you want to say before you die?” the Pillar tells me.

  “Not to you,” I counter back. ‘I hate you’ is what my eyes say. Even in this haze. Then I realize I’m curious about something. “Maybe it’s you who wants to tell me something before you die. The Executioner. What was going on between you two?”

  Unexpectedly, the Pillar’s face changes. It dims in such an unhealthy way. What happened between you and the Executioner, Professor Pillar?

  His dimming face doesn’t last long, though. His eyes widen as our pursuers show up from behind the haze of smoke.

  I am surprised I recognize them. But I’m not sure how they fit into all of this.

  “If I had a mushroom for every time I run into one of you,” The Pillar pouts, staring at the Reds.

  As usual, they are dressed in their numbered, red cloaks, their faces hidden underneath them.

  “You want to meet up with the Scientist?” one of them says, his voice deep and hollow, as if from another world.

  “Yes.” I stand up straight.

  “You will have to drink this before we bring you to him!”

  The Pillar looks away from the drink. “I’m not drinking that.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Hmm.” He hesitates.

  “It’s the drink he made you drink in the rabbit hole in the Garden of Cosmic Speculation,” one of the Reds explains.

  I sneer at the Pillar. He starts whistling, staring up as if admiring the night stars.

  Then I realize I have to ask something, “And how do you, Red, know about that?”

  “You don’t seem to realize who we are, Alice,” their leader says, his voice implying mockery. “Just drink this, or you will not see the Scientist.”

  I have no choice but to accept. What harm will that do? I am used to seeing things bigger in scale. It’s not that bad actually.

  But as I bring myself to drink it, the Red’s sentence rings in my head. You don’t seem to realize who we are, Alice.

  Does that mean they’re working for the Pillar? Does that mean I have been fooled again?

  Chapter 60

  Somewhere in Alice’s mind.

  The drink, unlike last time, puts me to sleep.

  It’s a different kind of sleep because I know I am sleeping. I know I am dreaming. And I don’t like where my dreams have sent me.

  I dream I am back in the Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum. I dream I am back on that couch in that dark psychiatry room.

  I hate this room.

  “So how deep have you gone int
o the rabbit hole, Alice?” the doctor, hiding behind his smoke and darkness, tells me.

  “I want to wake up!”

  “You’re not dreaming, Alice. This is your reality, like I’ve told a thousand times.”

  “No, you’re a figment of my imagination. Some kind of a sick joke.”

  “Alice. Alice. Alice.” The doctor puffs his pipe. “Haven’t we talked about this before? The rabbit hole. Remember when I told you I would let you delve deeper into your madness, until you couldn’t take the nonsense anymore? That’s the moment when you’ll realize you’re mad.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’m not mad. I am saving the world.”

  The doctor says nothing, trying to suppress a laugh, I think.

  “Have you ever considered that you’re the mad one?” I say. “Maybe this is your rabbit hole, and you think you’re some psychiatrist in an asylum.”

  “It seems that you haven’t had enough of the rabbit hole yet.” He sighs. “I think we’re done for today.”

  “I think so, too,” I retort. “Because I’d really like to wake up to go complete my mission.”

  “And where is it this time?”

  “Brazil.”

  “And you’re saving the world from what?”

  “A plague.”

  “What kind of plague?”

  This is when I hesitate. I don’t even know what kind of plague this is. All I know is that it has driven people so crazy they’re killing each other all around the world.

  In my moment of embarrassment and silence, I wonder what this plague really does to people. The Executioner said it’s something unimaginable. That’s why it has no cure. But really, what drives people mad enough to start killing each other all around the world?

  “I take it that you don’t know what kind of plague.” There is victory all over the doctor’s voice. “I’ll have the wardens take you back, but I’m afraid you need a higher dose of your medicine this time.”

  “Medicine?” I know in this dream I am always given medicine, but I haven’t paid attention to it.