by Cameron Jace
The March didn’t comment. Fabiola’s quest to kill Alice had become redundant. He wondered if it was the whiskey she drank in the Inklings that messed with her head. Mental note, he thought: there is a reason nuns shouldn’t drink whiskey or wear tattoos.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Jittery.” Fabiola said.
“I am not pretending,” he answered. “You should have known she was alive all along, if you’d opened the TV and watched the news.”
“I have,” she said. “I just didn’t want to think about it. My biggest priority now is to persuade the Mushroomers to be part of my army.”
“Any luck, White Queen?” The March noticed a few customer’s heads cocking when he called Fabiola by her Wonderland name. But hey, who believed in Wonderland anyways?
“Tom Truckle is working on a serum that should bring sanity to the Mushroomers.”
“Good luck with that.” The March continued cleaning. “I doubt the pill-popping doctor can help anyone with their sanity.”
“I hate it when I hear you talk like that.” Fabiola said.
The March said nothing. To him, the War didn’t mean anything. All he cared about was to go back to Wonderland and never grow up again. He’d been reading Peter Pan lately, and the idea of never really growing up resonated with him even more. Adulthood sucked marshmallows.
“So tell me about the clue?” Fabiola said. “Is Alice in trouble?”
“She is,” the March said. “Reds again.”
“Maybe they’ll succeed in killing her this time.”
In his mind, and though he respected Fabiola dearly, he wanted his broom to transform into a two sided axe that he’d roll in the air and chop off her head immediately. The March loved Alice too much, and Fabiola was being unreasonable.
“It’s a clue that should help her open a coffin with a groove in it,” the March said. “It says ‘Her Lock.’ Do you happen to know about that?”
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said. “But I’d assume it’s a clue Lewis designed.”
“Why so?”
“Because it’s a Carrollian phrase. Her refers to Alice. Lock refers to…” Then she suddenly stopped.
“Lock refers to what?” the March was curious. “The lock on the coffin? A metaphor for the coffin being locked?”
Fabiola suddenly smiled. It was a devious smile. Very much unlike her. Sometimes the March wondered if she’d been possessed by the Cheshire. It would explain her sudden change. But the Cheshire couldn’t possess Wonderlanders. Certainly not Fabiola.
“I think you know what the clue is.” The March confronted her.
“In fact, I do.” Fabiola poured herself a drink, and then two free drinks for the customers at the bars. “But I am not telling. She won’t be able to solve it anyways.” She made a toast and gulped happily, leaving the March in pain, wondering what the world ‘Lock’ really meant.
Chapter 20
Castle Superiore, Marostica, Italy
Fighting the Reds in such a claustrophobic corridor proved to be overly bloody. Father Williams’ men, and even the Chessmaster’s snipers were dropping like flies outside the tomb. Alice could barely see them. She and The Pillar preferred to stay inside the room and try to unlock the coffin.
“I don’t know how long before the Reds get into the tomb,” Father Williams said. “The Chessmaster sent his men to attack them from behind, but it’s only turning into a massacre, and I’m not sure who is going to win.”
“We have very little time.” I say.
“You mean before we die or solve the puzzle?” Father Williams chuckled worriedly.
“I am assuming the word ‘her’ means you Alice.” The Pillar is kneeling down to inspect the groove on the coffin again. “Lewis always referred to you as ‘her,’ let alone the fact that he always talked about you.”
“So what does it mean?” I ask.
“It means the coffin is locked with your lock.” The Pillar is only speculating. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”
“Or maybe it means that only I can unlock it.” I offer.
“It’s a probability, but how?” The Pillar grimaces at the sound of men dying outside.
“Hurry!” Father Williams says.
I stare at the coffin with no clue of how to unlock it.
“Who told you about this clue?” The Pillar asks Father Williams.
“My father.”
“How so? Did he write it down to you or just say it?”
“Never wrote it down. The keepers of the secret always keep the clues in their minds.”
“And I assume your father heard it from his father and so on.”
“I assume so,” Father Williams says. “Why?”
“I am only trying to see if the clue is wrong, misinterpreted, or even misheard.”
“I am sure it says ‘her lock’.” Father Williams insisted.
“What do you have in mind, Pillar?” I ask.
“I am not sure, but I have a feeling the word is alluding to something else, if not intentionally misheard. Lewis loved those kinds of misinterpretations.”
“How so?”
“Like a game of phone when you whisper a word in someone’s ears and it comes out something similar, but very different in meaning from the original.”
“Like the word ‘her’ being ‘hair’, maybe?” I am just going along, shoving the killing sounds outside behind me.
The Pillar’s eyes widen, as if I’ve just discovered a way out of here.
“What is it?”
“‘Hair’ seems to be the solution,” he stared at the groove in the coffin again. “The groove doesn’t resemble bending palm trees, but a few hairies in the wind.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Father Williams says.
“Even so, what does that mean?” I kneel beside The Pillar.
“It means that lock doesn’t mean ‘lock’ as in ‘lock and key,’” He says.
“I’m not following.” But then I realize I actually do. My mouth hangs open wide for a moment. “Lock as in a lock of hair.”
“It’s also a double entendre,” he says. “A phrase or word open to two interpretations. ‘Her Lock’ could mean her lock of hair. Or Hair Lock, which also means a lock of hair.” The Pillar looks a bit dizzy, phrasing this and thinking about it. “Damn you, Lewis, for messing with my head. In all cases, the groove opens with a lock of your hair, Alice.”
“My hair?” I ask. “How would you have come to this conclusion?”
“Because, my dear Alice,” The Pillar says. “Lewis, as weird as he sometimes was, kept a lock of your hair as a bookmark in one of his diaries. A strange action, but a fact, which scholars can’t explain until today.”
I am not sure about Lewis keeping a lock of my hair, but I don’t sweat it. The Pillar, as resourceful as he always is, hands me a knife, and I cut a lock of my hair and set into the groove.
Instantly, we hear a click, and the coffin is ready to be opened.
“Hurry!” Father Williams urges us again. “The Reds are by the door.”
The Pillar and I push the heavy coffin’s lid open, and there it is, the thing that the Chessmaster calls Carroll’s Knight. But it definitely is like nothing I’ve ever imagined it would be.
Chapter 21
Carroll’s Knight is so small I actually tuck it inside my pocket. “How is this thing in my pocket so important?” I ask The Pillar.
“I think I have an idea,” he says. “But first we have to find a way out of here.”
Through the slightly ajar door, I see the Reds winning outside.
“Soon they’ll get in,” The Pillar says. “We need to think fast.”
“I can use my None Fu,” I say.
“I doubt a nonsensical martial art would help in this narrow space,” The Pillar says then turns to face Father Williams. He shoots him that look like earlier. I am starting to believe The Pillar and Father Williams know each other. “How about you show us your talents in fighting the Reds, F
ather Williams?”
“Talents?” I wonder. Father Williams is a bit old for knowing how to fight the Reds. He has bushy white hair, and arched back and is pretty overweight with a balloon belly.
“All right,” Father Williams says. “You got me.”
“So you are who I think you are,” The Pillar says. “Just like in the Lewis Carroll’s poem.”
“What poem?” I ask.
“Later Alice,” The Pillar says. “Let the old man help us out of here first.”
Father Williams knuckles his fingers and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t done this in a few years, so I may look a bit rusty.”
“I’m sure rusty isn’t that bad,” The Pillar seems amused. “Why don’t you start with your famous somersault?”
I am baffled, unable to fathom what’s going on.
But Father Williams surprises me with an actual somersault, as if he were an Asian teen Ninja from an anime of ridiculous superheroes.
“Frabjous,” The Pillar says, helping keep Father Williams stable on his feet. “Go get them!”
With a wide open mouth, I watch Father Williams use his remarkable techniques, somersaulting, walking on walls, on hands, fighting with his bare arms, and kicking everyone’s butt outside.
“What’s going on?” I ask The Pillar.
“I will tell you on our way out.” The Pillar elbows me and pulls me outside where we start to descend the spiral stairs while Father Williams is kicking Reds left and right.
“How can he do that?” I ask.
“He is something, isn’t he?” The Pillar enjoys the view of the fight from atop. “No wonder Carroll made him a keeper of secrets.”
“Shouldn’t we help him?” I say.
“Father Williams can take care of himself. Didn’t you ever read Carroll’s poem about him?”
“What poem?”
At this moment, things become extremely surreal. The Pillar recites Carroll’s poem in a musical way that makes it sound like a soundtrack for Father Williams’ killings left and right. It’s a long poem, mentioned in few Alice in Wonderland copies. It describes an old man called Father Williams who has no worries about growing old. In fact, he eats like a young man. Plays like a child, and plays sports as if he is a nineteen year old athlete. Part of the poem says:
"You are old," said the youth, "As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat [Father Williams];
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?"
It perfectly describes Father Williams, who is a miracle by all means. Even the Chessmaster’s men can hardly believe what’s going on.
Once we reach the bottom of the stairs, The Pillar guides me to a side door, which I kick open. Right there before us is the large chessboard of Marostica, bordered by the Chessmaster’s men in every direction.
I pull back my sleeves. “It’s time to use my None Fu.”
“No it’s not,” The Pillar tells me, but I can’t see him. Where did he go? “If anyone really knows None Fu, it’d be Father Williams, not you.”
“But he is still fighting the others by the stairs.”
“That’s why I am hoping you know how to ride a horse,” The Pillar says. This time I locate him, riding the horse, which the chess players originally used to resemble a knight on the large Marostica chessboard.
“I don’t know how to ride horses,” I say.
“Then hop on behind me,” he says, and I do, clinging to him from the back. “It’s about time we escape this place.”
The Pillar rides away, only we’re surprised when the horse doesn’t run in straight lines, but in L-shapes, just like a knight is allowed to move on a chessboard.
Chapter 22
World Chess Championship, Moscow, Russia
Not for a moment did the Chessmaster hesitate with his moves. On the contrary, the world leaders took too much time. Part of it was squeezing their thoughts for a winning move, but most of it was stalling, in case Alice and The Pillar could find Carroll’s Knight — whatever that was.
But the Chessmaster was losing patience and getting more furious by the minute, especially after Alice and The Pillar escaped with Carroll’s Knight in their pocket.
The Chessmaster faced the camera and warned the world of the consequences that would occur if he didn’t get what he wanted in a few hours. “This is a call to the world,” he began. “Don’t think I have no more rabbits under my hat. Killing your world leaders in a chess game is only the beginning. You don’t want me to go further with my threats.”
He walked with his hands behind his back and the camera followed him. “Everyone in Italy is responsible for catching Alice and The Pillar, this or…” he stopped before the Italian president’s table and grinned. “I will checkmate your president sooner than you think.”
People gasped in the auditorium and the Italian president swallowed hard, thinking about his next move.
“Listen to me, people of this world,” the Chessmaster faced the camera again, exercising his hobby of rubbing his moustache. “Like I said, you don’t know who I am, and you probably don’t want to,” he said. “I’m not a Wonderland Monster. That would be an understatement. I’m your last and worst nightmare. Bring me Carroll’s Knight or… trust me, I’ll checkmate the world.”
Chapter 23
Marostica, Italy,
The Pillar stops atop an abandoned green hillside and we get off the mad horse.
“I need this to be mentioned in Guinness world records,” The Pillar says. “Having managed to escape with a horse that only runs in L shapes.”
“That was weird.” I pat the horse. “You’re a weird horse. Beautiful but weird.”
I stare down below at Marostica, which is in a paranoid craze. The Chessmaster’s men are still fighting the Reds, people are scared, but Father Williams is nowhere in sight.
On my phone, I watch the Chessmaster’s speech and realize we’re in so much trouble now.
“Almost everyone is looking for us,” I tell The Pillar. “I think we should call Fabiola. She may help.”
“Trust me, she won’t help,” The Pillar says. “She thinks you’re the Bad Alice and wants to get rid of you.” he raises a hand in the air. “And please, let’s not discuss this now.”
“You’re right, we need to know what this is for.” I pull out Carroll’s Knight, the thing I picked up from inside the coffin. “How can Carroll’s Knight be a chess piece?”
“Not just any piece.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s made from Carroll’s bones.”
Hearing that, I almost drop the piece. I think it’s the fact that it’s wrapped in a transparent cellophane that makes me not do it. “Lewis’s bones?”
“It’s something that I’ve heard he did before he died,” The Pillar explains. “He ordered Fabiola to carve little bits of his bones into chess pieces. No one’s really sure what that was all about.”
“Fabiola?”
“Don’t even think about asking her. I doubt she will tell us.”
“Because she thinks I’m the Bad Alice?”
“No, because Lewis kept a lot of secrets with her before he died.”
“Why her? Why not me? I thought I was the closest to him. He wrote the book about me, not Fabiola.”
“Alice.” The Pillar eyes me. “You weren’t the Good Alice in those days. You lost it, and turned bad. Lewis didn’t really like you anymore.”
I wonder how long I will be reminded of my bad past and feel guilty about it. “Then it’s time for you to tell me what happened?”
“What happened to what?”
“What made me become that Dark Alice?”
The Pillar’s gaze freezes. I can’t interpret it. Part of it seems like he is about to tell me. Part, as if he is not. Mostly I get the feeling he can’t tell me for reasons beyond him.
“You didn’t ask me how I know the chess piece is Carroll’s.” He changes
the subject, and somehow I don’t mind.
“How did you?”
“It’s a speculation actually, because I was told that Carroll told Fabiola to scatter the chess pieces all over the world.”
“I don’t see the connection.”
“If the Chessmaster, whoever he is, is looking for Carroll’s Knight, and Father Williams was told to guard it all these years, then this must be it.”
“Are you saying the Chessmaster is looking to find Carroll’s chess pieces? Why?”
“I’m not sure, but one advantage we have is that he doesn’t know where it is. This ballet of death he enjoyed at the chessboard was a trick to expose the keeper of secrets, Father Williams, into confessing the whereabouts of the piece we’re holding.”
“And it worked.” I stare at the chess piece. “The one thing that I find odd is this piece in my hand not being a ‘knight.’”
“You have a point. If it’s called Carroll’s Knight, why is it a White Queen in your hand?”
“I think I know the answer.” I speculate. “And it’s going to drive the Chessmaster mad.”
“I’m listening.”
“I think the Chessmaster is after the Knight but Carroll — or Fabiola — was too devious and scattered all the pieces around the world like you said. Now instead of Carroll’s Knight, we have Carroll’s White Queen.”
“Do you think it may contain a clue to where the other pieces are?”
“Only one way to find out.” I slowly pull out the wrapper and start inspecting the White Queen for another clue.
Chapter 24
Director’s Office, Radcliffe Asylum, Oxford
“I need you to find the serum sooner,” Fabiola told Tom Truckle. “I need to convert the Mushroomers into my army.”
“It’s a long process,” Tom Truckle said, and popped down a couple of pills. “I am doing my best.”
“Your best is not good enough. If Lewis made you create the asylum for the purpose of saving the Mushroomers, then you better be good for the job.”