Mushrooms

by Cameron Jace

“I know,” I say.

  3

  White Hearts Hospital, London

  “Lewis! Behind you!” Fabiola was shouting as she fought the Reds.

  Lewis Carroll had morphed into a child again. One who’d been playing a video game of killing Reds who were trying to stop him and Fabiola from reaching out and helping the Inklings.

  “One down!” the rabbit in Lewis’ pocket stuck its head out, cheering for its master.

  “Two down!” Fabiola killed another Red, back to back with Lewis.

  “Long time,” Lewis grinned, battling along as they descended the hospital stairs.

  “I thought I’d never be myself again,” Fabiola commented, choking another Red.

  “I see you have healed,” Lewis said. The closer they came to the door at the bottom of the stairs, the more the noise outside increased. The world was in a mad state of war.

  “Seeing you did the trick for me,” she said. “Never give up on us, Lewis.”

  He said nothing, fighting a little, tiny, teeny tear in his eyes.

  “Never give up on the most precious thing,” Fabiola said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. They had only a couple of Reds to fight to kick the doors open and face the world.

  “What’s that most precious thing everyone is talking about?” the rabbit peeked its white head out, chewing on a carrot, “Really? What is it?”

  Fabiola and Lewis exchanged a brief look. It was as if they held to certain secrets between them. The rabbit couldn’t read between those lines.

  “It’s what this war is all about,” Fabiola said, stabbing a Red to his death.

  Lewis killed the other two; then he peeked out through the broken glass in the door leading outside.

  “How bad is it?” Fabiola asked.

  “It’s mad.”

  “That’s sad!” the rabbit said, trying to rhyme up. “Mad, sad, and bad!”

  “So it’s happening,” Fabiola said.

  “The Wonderland War,” Lewis nodded absently. “I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

  “How can you say that?” Fabiola asked. “This what you’ve been waiting for.”

  “Sometimes the things you wait for, feel so different from what you expected them to be.”

  “Let me see,” she shared the view outside. “It’s a mess.”

  “People don’t even know what they are fighting for.”

  “They think they are fighting terrorism.”

  “In the form of a group called the Inklings.”

  “A mad group, I beg your pardon,” Fabiola said. “The sane humans think they are fighting madness.”

  “They are being used.”

  “Black Chess played it well,” Lewis said. “The Vatican Pope is a slick addition to their manipulation.”

  “So what’s our next move?”

  “We have to help Alice and her friends by the river,” Lewis said.

  “Are we going to tell them everything?”

  “Too soon to think about that. Let’s gather as the Inklings once again. We’ll take it from there. Saving Alice and her friends is a priority.”

  “Let’s do that,” Fabiola reached for the handle, but Lewis stopped her.

  “You know the Pillar is dead, right?” he asked.

  She felt a lump in her throat. “So?”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course I’m okay. I only regret not killing him myself.”

  “Why haven’t you then?” Lewis was curious. “All those chances you had, you could just have stopped him.”

  “You know he has fourteen lives,” she said.

  “That’s not it. You could have killed him 14 times. You’ve been around him so long — not to mention that maybe he isn’t dead yet, having so many lives.”

  “I just couldn’t, Lewis. Let’s not talk about it,” Fabiola looked away.

  The rabbit in Lewis’ jacket got ever curiouser and curiouser.

  “I need to know, Fabiola,” Lewis said. “I don’t want surprises. It’s a sensitive time. Why did you not kill him?”

  Tears rolled down Fabiola’s cheeks.

  “Good,” Lewis said.

  “Don’t be cruel to me, Lewis. You know what he did.”

  “I’m not cruel. I need to know you didn’t switch sides. That you don’t have personal plans that will conflict with the Wonderland War.”

  Fabiola dried her tears and straightened up. “I didn’t kill him because…”

  “Because?”

  “Alice loved him. It pained me not to kill him every second I saw his ugly face. I wouldn’t mind stabbing him a million times, not just fourteen. But somehow he touched Alice in ways I’ve never seen before. And he knew it. He used it, all the time. Or he wouldn’t have introduced her to me in the Vatican in the first place. He knew my heart would weaken, seeing her.”

  “But you were not sure it was her at first.”

  “I wasn’t, Lewis, but I hoped. Who wouldn’t hope that the Real Alice is back? I pushed her. I hated her. I even wanted to kill her. With all the conflicting feelings inside, I did my best in case there was a tiny hope that it’s her. In case we can save the most precious thing.”

  Lewis nodded. He knew how hard it was for her. Oh, God, how she had suffered in Wonderland. Damn you, Pillar, Lewis thought. He pushed the door open, ready to fight thousands of people who wanted him and Fabiola dead.

  4

  Past: The Poison Garden, Alnwick, Northumberland, England

  Reluctantly, Lewis entered the Poison Garden. Though it was a real place in the real world, it had a portal leading to Wonderland. In fact, the first breach from Wonderland to the real world had started here.

  Lewis rubbed his eyes against the bluish darkness veiling the garden. It wasn’t night time, but the garden had always been dim and gloomy, filled with smoke spiraling like ghosts through the enormous trees. In truth, these weren’t trees. They were large mushrooms.

  Looking up, he could see the sun at noon, so far away, trying its best to slither through the density of mushrooms and hookah smoke. The Poison Garden had always hosted the worst of Wonderland’s creatures. The Cheshire had been a recent addition.

  But the Cheshire didn’t own this place, nor had he known of its secrets or inception. This place had been owned by one man only. One of the scariest in Wonderland. Not Mr. Jay, but the second best.

  Carter Chrysalis Cocoon Pillar.

  He liked to call it Mushroomland, which he later re-created all over the real world.

  Carter Pillar, not only was he a devious existence of crap, but he made money from drugs. Mushrooms, to be precise.

  He had sold it to the kids. He had watched his client suffer and die. And many times he had laughed at them, smoking his hookah. Whether he’d been an addict himself or not remains a mystery.

  “Pillar,” Lewis whispered.

  Not only was he scared and worried, but Lewis had been in pain for days now. This was earlier in the day before he reached out to the March to trust him with his secret about the Six Keys. Right now, he still had the secret in his head, and soon Carolus would rise and pull it out of his memories. Lewis needed to forget, and have enough time to pass it to the March.

  It was a stupid plan. Unspecific and disjointed. It was executed on a whim. The pain and migraines in Lewis’ head prevented him from thinking correctly. All that occupied his mind was the possibility of Carolus rising and knowing about the Six Keys.

  He had to pass them to the March and had to forget. To do it, he needed to eat a specific pant. No one sold such a plant but the devious Pillar.

  A mushroom.

  5

  Present: The River, London

  “Guns!” a Mushroomer wheezes.

  We are ducking and crouching low to avoid the shower of bullets from the shore’s side. One of the sides is too distant for bullets to reach us, so we all scoop over toward it.

  “Get down.” I hiss at the shouting Mushroomer, standing tall and pointing upward.


  “Don’t stand up,” Constance says.

  I turn and look at her, “I am confused. Sometimes you want to save everyone. And sometimes you are cruel.”

  “It’s tactics, Alice,” Constance says. “This could be a trick, or a weak spot. You stand up and help the Mushroomer and someone shoots you.”

  I nod. “Listen, here is what’s going to happen,” I tell her. “I am going to swim over to other side of the shores, the one less populated and dark. I will find help — or guns.”

  “Then?”

  “Then I will come back for you and the Mushroomers. I just need you to keep everyone down on the boat’s floors.”

  Constance sighs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I am afraid you won’t come for us, Alice.”

  “Don’t worry. I am not going to get killed.”

  “It’s not that. I think you have a bigger mission to do, and saving us will seem trivial then. I mean, look at us, none of us is as important as you and the March now.”

  “Do you mean I should take the March with me?”

  “I don’t know what I mean,” she lowers her gaze. “Honestly, I am so psyched up and powerful when you’re around. I am not that strong. I just know you got my back.”

  “Don’t say that,” I hold her face in my hands. “In fact, if I don’t come back, consider yourself the Real Alice.”

  She laughs, bitterly.

  “What now?”

  “You’re the Real Alice, whether you like it or know it or not. You are going to save the most precious thing.”

  “Stop it,” I pull my hands off. “What is this precious thing everyone talks about?”

  “I have no idea. But I heard everyone talk about it. The Pillar. The Cheshire. And even Lewis in my visions. This is all to save the most precious thing in the world. Whether we like or not, this is your mission.”

  My head can’t fathom what it could be. I mean, calling something the most precious thing in the world is a stretch. What is so obviously more precious than anything in this life?

  “Did you hear any hints?” I ask her.

  “No.”

  “So the March knows the Six Keys that will lead to the most precious thing?”

  “I think so,” she grips my arms as I have to duck closer to the floor. Bullets are still showering. The Mushroomer is again saying, ‘guns!’ I realize the bullet have caused a few holes in the boat. Soon we’ll be sinking.

  Then suddenly, something surreal happens. A machine gun falls on us from the sky. The Mushroomer is somehow right.

  6

  Black Chess Headquarters

  “The Pillar is probably dead, Mr. Jay,” the Red tells his boss who sits smoking his cigar on the desk.

  Still, no one could see Mr. Jay’s face. No one asked. No one wanted to know. It’s been said he was the scariest of them all.

  A low sound of him inhaling sent shivers to the Red’s spine. “So he killed my precious Queen of Hearts and then killed himself?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It’s a mad world,” the Red chuckled uneasily. He knew what was coming. Why the heck did he let out that spontaneous chuckle? A bullet carved a hole in his cloak and he fell, dead on the floor.

  Another Red stepped up to talk to Mr. Jay. The office had reeked of dead men anyway. Mr. Jay had killed anyone who was stupid or unlikable. He didn’t bother cleaning. He liked the scent of death.

  “Here is what I want you to do,” Mr. Jay said. “Make sure the sneaky Pillar is dead.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” the Red said. “And Alice, should we still kill her?”

  “Kill everyone around her but don’t kill her,” Mr. Jay said. “Right now she could be the only one who knows about the Six Keys’ whereabouts.”

  “As you wish, Master,” the Red bowed.

  “Then send a message to the Cheshire. I want the world to go even crazier. I want them to loathe Alice, so when we catch her, she has nowhere else to escape.”

  “Will do, Boss.”

  “Also, tell the Cheshire he’s done a good job,” Mr. Jay chuckled. “I mean, I watched The Godfather yesterday and Marlon Brando was nothing compared to his act as Cardone, the Vatican’s new pope.”

  “He was, wasn’t he?” the Red said, trying his best to please and not die. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Jay’s voice sank into an oblivion of sadness. “Make sure to bury the Queen of Hearts.”

  “But of course.”

  “Give her a proper funeral”

  “Definitely.”

  “Bury her in flowers, not mud.”

  “Understood.”

  “Chop off the heads of a thousand cows during her funeral.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Let the little children sing to her. Wish her a good afterlife.”

  “That’s easy to do, sir.”

  “Also, invite the presidents of the world. I know it’s a harsh time and the world is going crazy, but her funeral has to be epic.”

  “I will, Master.”

  Mr. Jay took some time to reflect and then asked, “Is there anything left of her body? I remember I saw the Pillar blow her head up.”

  “None of the head. Only the torso. Short and stocky.”

  “Hmm,” Mr. Jay said then addressed the Red behind him. “Cut off your friend’s head and bury it as the Queen’s.”

  7

  The River, London

  “Guns!” A Mushroomer wheezes again.

  I prep myself on my knees and squint at the sky above. How is this possible? Is this some sort of madness again?

  “It’s raining guns, hallelujah,” the Mushroomer sings.

  “This couldn’t be,” I say.

  But then another weapon falls from the sky.

  “Everybody cover your head or stay away from this area,” Constance says.

  I grip a gun. “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe this is the most precious thing?” Constance tilts her head inquisitively.

  “Of course not,” I let out half a laugh.

  The people on the shore are still shooting at us, but the boat has drifted farther into the unpopulated area so we’re a bit safer now. I think they aren’t shooting from that part of the city because it’s darker here. Only minutes before our boats sink.

  “Is the gun loaded?” Constance asks, taking it away from me and pointing it at the helpless Tom Truckle.

  He shies his head away and shivers. I wonder why she is so mean to him.

  I shoot back at the people on the shore. “It is loaded.”

  “Look,” Constance points at the shore.

  “What?”

  “They stopped shooting,” she says. “Once they heard you shoot back. They are cowards.”

  “Who would believe we have guns falling from the sky?”

  “So all we need is to escape now.”

  “That’s it,” I say. “Gather the Mushroomers in one boat, if possible, as I check out the guns source.”

  She does. I stand next to the Mushroomer and shares his gaze of the dark of the night sky.

  “What are you seeing?” I ask.

  “The man in the sky.”

  “There is a man in the sky?” I can’t see anything but mushy dark patches of clouds.

  “He sends the guns,” the Mushroomer says.

  “You mean… God?”

  “No,” his sounds upset with my questions, my stupidity, and naivety. “God is busy.”

  “But this man isn’t?”

  “Of course he isn’t. He is dead. Nothing to do when you are dead.”

  “Oh. I understand.”

  “He will be sending more,” the Mushroomer says.

  And he is right. A short moment later two more machine guns fall, splashing on the boat’s wet floor. Tom wants to reach for one, but Constance hits him on the hand like a mother hitting her child’s when he reaches for cookies.

  “So you can talk to the man
in the sky?” I ask the Mushroomer.

  He shrugs his shoulder with distaste. “I told you he is dead. What are you, mad?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I am Alice by the way, but I am sure you know.”

  “I know,” he says. “You’re doing well, kiddo. Just wait for more guns.”

  “If you say so,” I shrug my shoulders. There is nothing more to say.

  I don’t really care who is sending us guns from the sky, and have no time to think about it. I look back at Constance, as she has gathered most of the Mushroomers in one boat.

  “What now?” She says.

  “The darker side of the shore,” I say. “You and I will row before the boat sinks.”

  But then horror droops her face. She doesn’t need to tell me why. The answer comes in the form of a bomb that hits the empty boats we just left behind.

  I look around. The tanks are shooting at us.

  8

  Past: The Poison Garden, Alnwick, Northumberland,

  “Lewis Carroll himself,” the Pillar said.

  Carroll looked behind him and saw the caterpillar sitting atop of a huge white mushroom, smoking his favorite hookah.

  “Haw mayh ah halp yoooh?” the Pillar said slowly, comfortably, and numbly. With his beady eyes and relaxed posture, leaning back, he seemed like he had all the time in the world — to smoke all the drugs in the world.

  “I wouldn’t say I need your help,” Lewis said with pride. “You’re nothing but a merchant and I am nothing but a customer.”

  The Pillar put the hookah aside and rubbed his eyes. “You’re Lewis Carroll, aren’t you?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Did you just call yourself a customer?” the Pillar grinned.

  “Yes,” Lewis said with dishonor.

  “Do you have problems at home?” the Pillar didn’t lose his grin, but tilted his head.

  “What?”

  “Problems with women?”