Macendale timed the jump just right. He fell from a freeway overpass and onto the back of a running Harvester.
They were all running, beckoned forth by the thing called Nightmare, led to...well, to the humans, of course. And Bruce. Dad.
The Harvester spun and swiped its claws over its head, trying to reach him; but the bot just hooted and slung a length of chain around its throat. He held on like a rodeo rider as the Harvester stumbled in a circle, jostled by its pitiless brethren.
“I told you I’d get one on a leash,” Macendale said, to no one in particular, and he plunged his fingers through the dome of the creature’s skull. The Harvester staggered, its jaw grinding, but it was still alive, the stubborn beast. Macendale summoned the nanobots within him and felt them pulsing through his fingers, into the meat of the Harvester’s brain.
Now. I’ll do the thinking here. You just obey. Just run. Follow the others.
The Harvester swayed, some part of it trying to defy Macendale, a machine trying to recover its programming...but it was no use. The bot had taken control of the creature’s simple brain. Safeguards in the nanotech prevented such a thing from being done to any human, but Macendale had suspected - no, known - that the Harvesters were another story.
His steed charged forth, passing scores of other creatures as it made its way toward the front of the pack. Then it slowed its pace and settled behind the pack’s apparent leader.
You obey so well. Perhaps you recognize me as your new god? I am unlike anything else on this blood-soaked husk of a planet. I have evolved, oh yes. And I see.
Hooting again, Macendale drove his heels into the Harvester’s ribcage. “RUN, BOY!”
***
Core systems online.
Bruce stirred, lifted his head, rolled onto his back.
He’d seen the hatchet coming like a bullet, and then nothing. His head nearly cracked wide open, he had to be painstakingly gentle as he worked the blade out of his face. When at last it was free, he closed his hand around the handle and surveyed the area.
The attacker was gone, with West. The others were still unconscious, except DaVinci who was bandaging Hitch’s head using a strip of fabric from his pants. And Cinnamon. Cinnamon was...
Cinnamon.
Cinnamon?
Gone.
Bruce stood and made his way to the van, his movements sluggish as the nanotech went to work trying to pull his head together. “DaVinci,” he called softly.
“Bruce. I thought you were toast.” DaVinci laid Hitch down and asked, “Where’s West?”
“It took him.”
“What did?”
“The rabbit.”
“Okay now Bruce, you’ve taken a hard hit-”
“It was a man!” Bruce yelled. “A man! It took him alive! It must be, he must be...cannibals.”
“From where? How did we miss them?” DaVinci exclaimed. “We drove through nothing but burned-out ghost towns getting here, didn’t see one damn person. Didn’t see any place where they could hide either.” DaVinci clenched his fists in frustration. He couldn’t do his job here, couldn’t think creatively, not without help.
“It - I mean he - came from outside the base,” Bruce said. “I saw it all as I was coming for the van. He had no regard for the others. West was singled out.”
“Why, do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.”
29.
The Trial of Michael West
The community’s last trial had been of one of its own. The Queen of Hearts, having been so named and so empowered for her strong health and wisdom (and because it was the will of the Jabberwock), had been with child. Her mate was the Hatter; though he might not have been the wisest or most virile among the men, he held her fancy, and she was Queen.
Many were disappointed by her choice, but only the Hare had been greatly upset.
When at last the child was born, delivered by Lizard, the babe was sequestered in an alcove far down the tunnel, far from the prying eyes of the community. They didn’t even know the baby’s sex, and Lizard refused to divulge it. Was there now a princess to succeed the Queen, or would there someday be a King?
They never found out. The Hare had devoured the child.
At first he claimed that he only had blood on his hands and face because he had discovered the carnage: the bones of the newborn, along with the dead body of a guard. The Hare’s assertion was that the guard had eaten the child and choked on a tiny femur or humerus.
It fell to Caterpillar, as court prosecutor, to investigate the claim. He requested an audience with the devastated Queen and her mad husband, and an hour later the trial began.
It was a short trial. The Caterpillar had produced the guard’s body. Before the court and the community, he slit the body open from gullet to groin. Out spilled the contents of, among other things, the guard’s stomach - and there were no infant remains to be seen.
The Caterpillar had turned to the pale Hare and turned the bloody knife in his hands, smiling cruelly. “Now you.”
Suffice to say, Caterpillar won the case, and afterwards there was no need for sentencing.
Now Caterpillar was preparing his case against an outsider. Mock Turtle said that the Jabberwock had called for this man West to be brought before the court and tried as a heretic. A heretic of the worst order - he actually aspired to kill their god! Caterpillar was allowed a brief interview, alone, with the prisoner.
West was still groggy from a beating at the hands of the Rabbit. Gnawing on a luminescent fungus, Caterpillar sat himself on a rock and looked down at the bound man.
“West.”
“Huh?” The man shook his head, groaned, laid it back down. But his eyes opened and settled on the prosecutor.
“How did you intend to kill the Jabberwock?”
“W-what?”
“It’s a simple question.” Caterpillar drummed his fingers on his knees. “I’d prefer arrogance over ignorance, so please, Doctor, tell me how you would presume to kill our god.”
“Your god...?”
“The Jabberwock.”
Something registered in West’s mind; something Amanda had said. “You mean Nightmare.”
Caterpillar frowned. “Why would you call It Nightmare?”
“That’s its name,” West retorted. “And it’s neither your god nor mine. Who are you? Where am I? Where are the others?”
“I ask the questions,” said Caterpillar. “How would you kill It?”
“Kill Nightmare...you’re wrong. I’m just trying to stop the Harvesters. Good God, don’t you realize that Nightmare sent the Harvesters?”
“You mean the Pawns? They’ve never disturbed us.”
“Pawns?” Pawns? Jabberwock?
West remembered Alice in Wonderland, as his mother had told it to him, and began to realize that he was in the company of madmen.
“It doesn’t matter if you explain it or not,” Caterpillar concluded. “Your intent to do so is enough to convict.”
“Convict? What in the hell-” And West remembered Alice’s ending, and he fell silent, staring at the floor, knowing that he was alone here and that Nightmare had finally won.
***
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” The unmasked Rabbit asked.
His bonds removed, his left hand on a weathered copy of Alice, West nodded and croaked, “I do.”
The Queen sat behind him. Only she and Caterpillar had chairs; the rest of the community, several dozen of them, sat on the floor. Also sitting on the floor, beside Caterpillar’s chair, was a frail-looking man who had been introduced as the public defender. West was forced to remain standing throughout the proceedings.
Maybe Nightmare hasn’t won yet, West thought. These people have a system of order, of logic, even if it is deranged, and Nightmare has entrusted them with my fate. I might actually be able to talk my way out of here.
Ca
terpillar approached him, chewing another strip of fungus. His teeth glowed in the dark tunnel. “Your Highness, for your consideration: Michael West, a destitute wanderer who claims, among other things, to be a doctor. A doctor of what, exactly, we aren’t certain. What is certain is that this quack thinks he can kill the Jabberwock.”
Gasps from the audience. Lizard, as court recorder, scribbled frantically on a sheet of fabric.
“And how would he do this?” Asked the Queen. West hadn’t been allowed to look back at her, but she had a delicate, lilting voice. Almost human.
“He refuses to say,” Caterpillar replied.
“Michael West,” the Queen said, her voice no longer so delicate, “tell us now or you will be held in contempt.”
“I never intended to kill the Jabberwock,” West said. “My only intention was to stop the Harvesters - the Pawns. The Pawns have been slaughtering people like you and me, topside, for decades. The Pawns belong to the Jabberwock. Now, your prosecutor tells me that you’ve never been attacked by them, but I believe that this is only because the Jabberwock has been using you - the way it’s using you now.”
“Objection!” Caterpillar snapped. “Shut up.”
“Sustained,” said the Queen. “The defendant will not speak again unless permitted by the court.”
The public defender rose shakily and began to stammer. “I-i-i-if it puh-puh-pleases the court, I-I m-m-move to strike my c-c-client’s last s-s-s-statement.”
Lizard looked to the Queen, then licked his thumb and began rubbing out scribbles.
Why was it being stricken? It was the only argument West had! What kind of fucking public defender was this?
A mad one, just like everyone else in this so-called court!
He fought to keep from letting any words slip as Caterpillar paced back and forth in front of him. “Why did you come here as part of your plan? Is there something here that would help you kill the Jabberwock?”
“Answer the question,” demanded the Queen.
“I tell you, I came to kill the Pawns!” West shouted. He couldn’t contain himself any longer in the presence of these lunatics. “If we kill them, the surface world is ours again! Man used to live up there without fear of these monsters tearing through the streets! We had enough food to eat that we weren’t forced to turn on each other! Yes, I know you’re cannibals - I can smell the stink of it on your breath, Counselor, no matter how many mushrooms you eat. Is this how you want to live? Clothed in rags, hunting for flesh? Praying to a character from a goddamned work of fiction?”
The crowd roared. He was pelted with pebbles. The Caterpillar screamed and ran in circles around the court space.
“Stop!” West bellowed. “Stop it! STOP!”
“Heretic!” Shrieked the Caterpillar. “Devil!”
“Enough!” Yelled the Queen.
The mob’s roaring stopped abruptly.
Turning toward her, head lowered, West spoke. “Please, your Highness, let me explain your god. Let me explain what’s happening up there. This isn’t the way life is supposed to be. This isn’t...it’s not right. Don’t tell me you’ve never wished for something better, something natural!”
There was no response from the Queen. All eyes but West’s were upon her. She sat silent, hands having gone to her belly, tears in her eyes.
Then, she stood.
“Off with his head!”
The audience burst into cheers. West screamed and ran. The Caterpillar threw his arms around the doctor and tackled him to the floor, hissing in his face. “I eat flesh! Oh yes I do! I’m going to eat you!”
Rabbit stepped forward, hatchet in hand.
The Caterpillar and the public defender hoisted West to his feet. West looked over his shoulder. The Queen was gone.
The Rabbit pulled on his mask and raised the blade.
The public defender bit into West’s forearm.
The Harvesters began dropping into the tunnel.
West realized that Nightmare had entrusted these mad fools with absolutely nothing.
The horror began.
30.
Through The Looking glass
Amanda was studying her reflection in a floor-length mirror. The glass, slightly smudged in its antique frame (what else could it be but antique?), showed her a haggard young woman with blood trickling down her face; soiled clothing worn thin at the joints; deep bruises beneath bloodshot eyes, misshapen fingernails chewed to the quick, grime between her fingers and at the corners of her mouth. She saw a woman she didn’t recognize. And yet, as she reached toward the glass, the woman reached for her.
She touched the glass. It was ice-cold. There was a sort of POP! and a web of tiny cracks spread out from beneath her fingertips.
Things emerged from the cracks: tiny white tendrils, waving gently in the air, then seeming to harden and bend, forming into tiny legs. Little white spiders pulled themselves from the cracks and scuttled across the web she’d made, crawling over one another, more and more of them emerging until they began to expand across the glass in all directions as an indiscernible white mass. She was horrified. She couldn’t pull her hand back. Her feet were rooted to the floor.
Floor...she was in a room, a bedroom in a house. It was a house she’d seen as a child, when her father took her and her brother across the country in search of a new community.
POP!
The sea of wriggling white shapes was outside now, visible through two windows looking out on an enormous rolling lawn. The mass spread, and then the squirming within in stopped and things seemed to freeze, to crystallize. She was looking out on a lawn covered in new-fallen snow. Yes, it had been winter when they’d spent the night in the old house. She remembered being ten years old, snuggling next to her father and little Aidan in a musty-smelling swath of bedsheets. They’d hidden themselves underneath the bed and slept there until the following evening. They always moved at night. She remembered asking Dad why it mattered in winter, when even the midnight sky was stained gray and there seemed an unnatural light cast over the world. “It’s a habit,” he’d replied, “and one you’d do well to have. Someday...someday I might not be there, and you’ll have to pick up and move again.”
“Why wouldn’t you be there?”
“Mandy, I’m not going to live forever.”
That was the first time she ever considered a life, a world without her father. In that terrible, clinging fear, she’d begun to find the strength that would preserve her long after his death.
The mirror was clear now, save for the cracks, and Amanda turned from it to examine the bed. The rumpled bedsheets were still shoved underneath, and she thought she detected movement within the folds.
“Daddy...? Aidan?”
No. This wasn’t real, none of it. She was unconscious. She was dreaming.
Nightmare.
Why wasn’t Bruce protecting her?
Amanda whirled around. She saw only her reflection in the mirror, eyes now wide in panic.
Her shirt had come open, and the slopes of her breasts were heaving with each terrified breath. She felt something within the flesh of her bosom. Touching her fingertips to her skin, Amanda sensed a hardness there, and then...it moved.
She doubled over, screaming. Holes like tiny toothless mouths opened in her skin. Her breasts fell free of the shirt, and she saw in the mirror that they were riddled with holes, like some awful rot, and then the spiders’ legs emerged!
Amanda shrieked and clawed at herself. The spiders swarmed from her chest, spilled onto the floor in wet squirming piles. Others crawled from one hole to another and burrowed back inside of her. She felt each and every one, and there was no pain, which only made it worse - there was only the sickening sensation of dozens of frenzied parasites scrabbling through tissue. A tiny leg snaked out from her left nipple and her mind broke.
“STOP IIIIIIIIIIIT!” The scream dragged razors through her throat and left it raw. It reverberated off the walls. The mirror trembled, her reflection blurring. She
could only sob helplessly as the strength left her legs and she fell to the floor, onto her breasts, squeezing out more of the hideous spiders. They brushed against her eyelid as they fled across the floor. She smashed them with her fists and they kept running, nothing but little sacs of fluid with legs. They disappeared into the floorboards, into holes in the walls.
They were gone. She rolled over and, seeing that the holes had healed - or had never been there at all - she let out a long, defeated wail.
She had to get out of here. She had to wake up - but she wasn’t asleep, she’d been knocked out by the rabbit-man. Rabbit-man? Had that been a dream too?
Amanda sat up and massaged feeling into her legs. She had to get out of the house, then. Even if the snow on the lawn was...no, she couldn’t risk that. She wouldn’t endure them again. She was trapped inside.
Something scratched at the door.
Amanda backpedaled into the corner and buried her face in her hands. “Please! I don’t want to see!”
The clump of bedsheets moved out from under the bed, toward her.
She saw it through her fingers and cried miserably. Whatever it was, it would be worse than the spiders...
A wolf cub poked its head out from the sheets and looked at her with smiling eyes, tongue lolling.
Oh my God! The wolf! They’d found the cub while trekking through the a mountain forest. It had followed them for a few days before she and Aidan begged Dad to let them feed it. Though rations were few, he agreed, if only to see the joy in their faces.
The cub had stayed behind when they left the woods. She remembered the way it watched them as they walked away, the way its expression seemed to say, I am young, but I know - I have seen them out there. I smell them now. They don’t belong.
Padding across the floor toward her now, the cub only looked curious. She held out a shaking hand, and a warmth filled her belly as she remembered the comfort the little creature had brought her as a child, sleeping with its head in her lap, making soft sounds as it dreamed.
The cub stopped and pawed at its mouth. It made an anxious-sounding sort of mewl. Then it retched. It pushed its snout into the floor, and a milky bile spewed from the sides of its jaws.
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