by Cameron Jace
“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 ever imagined it would be.
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 a 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, Father Williams?”
“Talents?” I ask. Father Williams is a bit old for knowing how to fight the Reds. He has bushy white hair, an arched back, and is pretty overweight, with a ballooning belly.
“All right,” Father Williams says. “You got me.”
“So you are who I think you are,” the Pillar says. “Just like in Lewis Carroll’s poem.”
“What poem?” I ask.
“Later, Alice,” the Pillar says. “Let the old man help us get 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 a 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 hands, 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. 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 a 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.
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 mustache. “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.”
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. “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 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 Bad 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 say. “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.
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.”
“You’re not the only one who cares about the war, Fabiola,” Tom said. “Don’t act like you know better.”
“I know more than you think I know!” She rapped her hand on his desk.
Tom swallowed a couple of more pills. “What the hell was I thinking, dragging myself into this Wonderland War?”
“You’re a Wonderlander like all of us, so don’t try to escape your responsibilities.”
“I am a mere Mock Turtle. A useless and slow animal. I am soup at best,” he lamented. “I’m so not important, Lewis only mentioned me in a single page in the whole book.”
“I don’t care,” Fabiola said. “Find a serum. Bring those mad Mushroomers back to their senses. Make them fight the war they were destined to fight.”
“Aye, aye, boss,” Tom said. “All this aside, what about that Chessmaster?”
“What about him?”
“Who is he?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That’s not original, because that’s what he said too.”
Fabiola tapped her fingers on the table impatiently.
“If you tell me, I will expedite the serum’s invention,” Tom said.
Fabiola looked like she was going to choke him, but she seemed to need that serum badly. “All right. I will tell you. But I will kill you if you tell anyone else.”
“Only me and my flamingo friend downstairs will know.”
“Not even him, you understand?”
“I was joking. We all know now he is a spy for the Queen.”
“Which makes me wonder why you haven’t gotten rid of him yet.”
“I thought he may be useful at some point.”
“Whatever that means. I don’t even want you to tell yourself what I am going to say to you.”
“It’s that secret?” Tom leaned back in his chair. Being closer to Fabiola was making him uncomfortable.
“It’s that scary.” She leaned forward, cornering him in a bad place. “The Chessmaster is…”
Fabiola suddenly stiffened in place. The veins in her neck stiffened too. Then she began shaking, hands on her stomach, and then vomited on Truckle’s desk.
And before he knew it, the White Queen fell silently to her knees, hardly breathing, as if she was about to die.
25
Marostica Mountains, Italy
The chess piece is a piece of art. It’s small, but when I focus on it, I can totally admire the craftsmanship, though I am still unsettled by the fact that I am holding a piece of Carroll’s bone.
“Let me inspect it.” The Pillar pulls out a magnifying glass.
“Where did you get those tools from?” I pass the piece over. “Who walks around with a magnifying glass?”
“You never question that in movies, when the hero suddenly pulls out a gun while she was wearing latex all the time,” the Pillar says. “Why me?”
“Because we’re not in a movie.”
The Pillar raises an eyebrow. “Alice, we’re characters from a book.”
“What?” I am shocked. “Are you saying we’re not real?”
“I’m not saying that. I am just pointing out that we’ve been mentioned in a book that mostly we can’t escape. It’s like the blueprint of the fate of our lives. But never mind, let’s focus on the chess piece.”
“Anything showing on it?”
“Nothing in particular, but wait…” He pulls the glass magnifier back. “I think it twists open at the middle.”
“Really?”
I watch the Pillar give it a couple of tries, then it works. The white queen is split into two pieces, and he pulls out a scrap of paper from inside. “Like a fortune cookie, baby.” He looks amused.
“What does it say?”
“It’s a note…” He shrugs.
I know why: because it’s made of the same yellow note he wrote his Wonder upon—it reminds me that I left my Tiger Lily in a safe box in Marostica and should pick it up soon.
“How come it’s the same paper you used for the note you gave me, your Wonder?” I ask the Pillar.
“I don’t know. Could be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, and then tell him about the Red who saved me earlier today, using the same kind of notes.
“Why not read what’s on the note instead of investigating who manufactured it?” the Pillar offers. “It has writing on both sides, actually.”
“What does the front say?”
“White Stones.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Neither does Black Stones.”
“How about the back of the note?”
“Deep Blue.”
“This looks like it’s going to be a complicated puzzle.”
“Deep Blue isn’t, actually,” the Pillar says. “Assuming all puzzles are chess-related, I think I know what it is.”
“The suspense is killing me,” I mock him. “What is it?”
“Deep Blue is the name of the first IBM computer ever designed to play chess.”
“You totally lost me. IBM?” I am not sure how this fits into a puzzle.
“In the nineties, IBM started work on a chess computer, later claiming it could beat a man,” the Pillar says. “It was a big scene. Actually, the story I am going to tell you changed mankind’s perception of machines.”
