by Cameron Jace
Is that really how people die? Does the Grim Reaper give them a last chance in a game of chess? Who’d have thought?
Out of the silence surrounding me, I suddenly hear heavy breathing, but can’t see anything.
“Who’s there?” I inquire.
I wonder if it’s the Dude, that mysterious guardian of mine. Why does he do this, and who is he?
Suddenly a hand slithers out of the thickness of white snow. A gloved hand, covered in blood, stiffening like a predator’s claws.
“Don’t worry. I’m not Freddy Krueger from Nightmare on Elm Street.” The Pillar pants, his head protruding out.
I let out a shattered laugh. “You’re alive!”
“Of course I am alive.” He coughs, crawling toward me on all fours. “In fact, I’m a caterpillar. I may not have turned into a butterfly yet.”
My laugh splinters into tiny sighs when I see his face. What has the giant done to him? The Pillar is scarred on the cheeks and the forehead—the giant certainly pulled out that bald wig as well. There is a wild, thick slash underneath his neck, on his collarbone, which shows because his clothes are cut left and right, all but his white gloves on his hands.
I am speechless, feeling guilty. I should have helped him.
“I could use a hookah right now.” He lays his head on my lap. “I’d smoke the pain away.”
“You killed the giant?” I brush my hand through his hair.
“Ever seen Fight Club? It was the same down there. But yes, I killed the giant.”
“You should have let me help.”
“You’re more important than me.” He coughs a trail of blood on the white snow. “I’m just a nutty professor; Indiana Jones at best.”
“Severus Snape, I’d say.” I want to laugh but can’t. “And what’s with you and the movies today? I bet the monks never went to New York. It was you who taught them the American slang.”
“You’re too smart, Alice. It may kill you,” he says with beady eyes. “Did you ever notice ignorant and stupid people live happier—longer?”
“I did,” I say. “Only they never live to have such adventurous lives as you and I. And hey, don’t buy into this future thing. I’m not going to kill you, ever!”
“That’s like saying I won’t let Jesus be crucified if I go back in time,” the Pillar says in his most morbidly sarcastic way. Who can blame a man so much in pain now? “I’m not afraid of dying.”
“I won’t kill you.” I shake his head in my hands. “Do you hear me?”
“If you keep shaking my fragile head like that, you’ll actually kill me now.”
“I’m sorry.” I pat him and stop it. “Why didn’t you fight the giant back, Pillar? Why did you let him hit you so many times, for God’s sake?”
“You mean ‘for Todd’s sake.’” He tries to wink, but his eyebrows are stiffened by his wounds. “I had to let the giant hit me so I could win.”
“What kind of logic is that?”
“It’s a known None Fu technique. It’s called ‘He Who Laughs Last.’”
“Never heard of it. And it doesn’t make sense. He could have killed you before you had your last laugh.”
“True, but you see, the idea is that the big troll was too strong, so I’d never have had a chance to fight him like a man, not even choke him with my hookah if I’d had it with me,” he says. “The trick when fighting an unbeatable opponent is not to play their game.”
“I’m not sure I get it.” I use the edge of the coat’s sleeve and dry some of his blood.
“In every war, there is one person reacting to the other, Alice,” he says. “Like when a terrorist blows up a building. Suddenly he becomes the master of the game, because he sets the rules. Most people fall in that trap and play it his way.”
“Which is the normal turn of events.”
“No it’s not. He who makes the rules of the game always wins—like the Chessmaster. So when the enemy enforces their rules, the one way out is not to abide by them.”
“Are you saying you repeatedly told the giant to hit you so you’d become the one who makes the rules?”
“That’s right. Instead of playing his game, I was now playing mine, with my rules.”
“But he could have killed you.”
“Common sense certainly endorses the idea, but no, not when he never knew why I asked him to hit me. Every time he hit me and I laughed at him and asked for more, he was puzzled, wondering what was really going on.”
“And what was really going on, Pillar?”
“I was wearing him out.”
“You must be joking.”
“I’m not. Think of it. Giants like him kill with one stroke. It’s their norm. Like most ruthless villains in this world, they’re not used to a prolonged fight. All I had to do was to make sure I took minimal damage with each hit until he became frustrated with me. Bit by bit, his confidence in himself diminished, his perception of his giant self thinned, and he started to doubt himself just like any of us, because I didn’t die or collapse—and took it to the chin and laughed. I was just a boxing bag with thick skin—or will—hit over and over again and smiling back at him. I was like all of us, any of us, suffering each day to make it through, and he, being a giant, had never seen such strength.”
“But you could have been broken down any moment, before you’d managed to execute your plan.”
“I have to admit the sudden storm helped a little. I think it’s called ‘faith.’ That moment when you count on the universe to lend you a helping hand,” he says. “Once I saw the look of doubt in his eyes, I hit back hard—and low. You know what really knocked him down? Not my physical power, but my taking him by surprise, and his own self-doubt. He couldn’t believe I was still alive.”
“What did you hit him with?”
“This.” He shows me a sharp-edged computer motherboard. “Got it from the Deep Blue machine. It’s pretty lethal at the edges.”
It takes me a minute to let the Pillar’s theory sink in. I guess it’s his thing. I wouldn’t be brave enough to practice it, not in a million years.
“Come on,” I tell him. “It’s time to leave this place.”
“Got a ride?”
“A red hot air balloon somewhere behind the white snow.”
“Whose is it?”
“The Dude—I mean the Red.”
“Your guardian angel?” he says. “I’m starting to like him. I think he is in love with you.”
“Oh, please. Why’d you say that?”
“He saved you twice in a couple of days. A Red is in love with you, Alice. I believe we’ll see him again. Did he write you notes again?”
“Yes. He basically told me who the Chessmaster is.”
The Pillar props himself up, unconcerned with the blood all over him. “I’m curious—who?”
“I’ll tell you on the way to the balloon. Can you walk?”
“Not really. My left leg is numb. I’ll crawl, or you’ll have to carry me.”
“I’ll carry you. I’ll use my left leg. You can use your right, with your arm around my shoulder.”
“A team.” The Pillar’s eyes brighten. “Could we get a McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish with a badass Coke on the way?”
“We’re in Tibet, Cao Pao Wong, so shut up.” I elbow him playfully, while we stand and he puts his arms around me. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“If we didn’t joke we’d die here. Look.” He points at the bloody stripes on his white shirt underneath the torn blue jacket. “Always wanted a white shirt with bloody red stripes when I was a kid. I guess Stephen King’s books really messed up my childhood.”
44
World Chess Championship, Moscow, Russia
The Chessmaster was losing it. All the news on TV showed a prime minister or president in every country looking for the Pillar and Alice. Even citizens in every country helped. But none could find them.
At this point, most of the world leaders were in their third or fourth move in the game—t
hey were allowed to take their time with each move, so most of them stalled—and the Chessmaster was beginning to think he hadn’t shown his deadly side yet.
He wasn’t going to tell them he was Death, not now. He wasn’t even going to tell them about his other few tricks in the bag, or why he was doing this. But he had to scare the world a bit more. In his opinion, people didn’t fear what they were used to. For example, the world had been in chaos for years: the Iraq war, threats by ISIS, and all the bombings of civilians had become the norm to the public. It wasn’t pushing them to the edge anymore, and he had to make a point.
“Swiss president!” the Chessmaster said, walking toward him.
“Yes?” Ralph Rollecks, the Swiss president, said in a pompous voice.
The Chessmaster eyed him for a while. He didn’t like him. He didn’t like the ten-thousand-euro suit; nor did he like the fancy cravat or the golden Rolex watch. As Death, he mostly enjoyed taking the lives of the incredibly rich and those who stole from the poor.
Not that every Swiss person was like that. In fact, the Chessmaster admired many Swiss scientists, artists, and even chess players. He’d met an incredibly supportive Swiss family in the past when he was still learning and mastering the game of chess.
But Ralph Rollecks was a sleaze, a thief, and a horrible man. He not only was president, but also controlled most of the Swiss banks—discreetly, of course. It wouldn’t have disgusted the Chessmaster if these were the president’s only sins, but there were more, many more.
Ralph Rollecks’s family had laundered Nazi money after World War II through his banks, most of it still available to neo-Nazis in this very day. Blood money, which had been a byproduct of killing millions of innocent people worldwide.
“I see you have three moves left,” the Chessmaster said.
“I do,” said Ralph, adjusting his tie. “And I intend to take my time.”
“No, you don’t,” the Chessmaster said, already moving one piece, a knight, in an L-shaped move.
Lo and behold, it was a neat and genius checkmate.
“Your queen’s dead.” The Chessmaster rubbed his mustache. “And so are you.”
Ralph was furious, but there was nothing he could do. The Chessmaster’s men were everywhere, and now he had to drink up and die.
“My death will not mean anything,” Ralph argued. “My people will elect another president.”
“No, they won’t,” the Chessmaster said. “Because once you die, something horrible will happen to Switzerland.”
“What?” Ralph said, stalling.
The Chessmaster didn’t answer him. He ordered his men to force Ralph to drink, and he did.
As Ralph weakened to his knees, uselessly untying his cravat, the Chessmaster looked back at the camera. “Now people of Switzerland will face a terrible fate. If you don’t want your country to face the same fate, find Alice and the Pillar for me.”
The Chessmaster laughed, staring at the monitor on the left, showing everyone in Switzerland falling asleep.
45
Somewhere in Tibet
The Dude’s balloon is a piece of art, which the Pillar figured out right away. True, it is red, but its hood is white, the color of snow, so when we fly it, no one will be able to track us with satellites from above.
“You know how to operate this thing?” I ask the Pillar. We are already flying.
“I think so,” he says. “Saw it used in that movie Around the World in Eighty Days.”
“That’s all?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”
“And where is that exactly?” I fold my arms.
“Kalmykia,” he says, wiping blood off his cheeks.
“Kalmykia? Never heard of it.”
“The Republic of Kalmykia, a federal subject of Russia,” the Pillar explains. “It is the only region in Europe where Buddhism is practiced by the majority of the population.”
“It’s in Russia?”
“Yes, and bordering China. Very close from where we are. Got a nail shiner? I think I messed up my beautiful nails.”
I roll my eyes, secretly admiring his sense of humor while soaking in blood. “What’s in Kalmykia?”
“The next clue.”
“The clue to the third chess piece, you mean? How do you know that? I haven’t opened the rook chess piece yet,” I say while attempting to pull it out of my pockets, only to realize the Pillar is holding it in his hands. “You took it?”
“Just before we escaped the monks.”
“Why?”
“Needed to know what’s inside.”
“Did you open it?”
“Of course.”
“And it said to go to Kalmykia?”
“No, it said to get the next piece from the giant down the hole.” The Pillar furrows his brow.
I need a moment to grasp the fact that the Pillar is always a step or two ahead. “Are you telling me that’s why you pushed us into the hole?”
He nods agreeably. “Or I could have simply run toward our plane and escaped. The monks hadn’t destroyed it yet at that point.”
“You knew there was a giant in the hole? I can’t believe it.”
“It was worth it,” he says. “Because after I killed him, I found this in his cave.” He shows me the third missing piece. I can’t make out what it is with him gripping it.
“And that third piece says we’ve got to go Kalmykia?”
He nods, a wide, broad, and magnificently childish smile on his face. “A new adventure, baby.” It’s like he wasn’t being hit to death a while ago. It’s like he isn’t in pain or dripping blood or has torn-up clothes. It’s like we’re not inside a ridiculous balloon in the middle of nowhere, racing against time to save the world. The Pillar is just happy we’re going to Kalmykia.
“What’s in Kalmykia, Pillar?”
“A most beautiful city, like you’ve never seen before.” He raises his clenched hand in the air. “But first, guess what the piece in my hand is, Alice.”
“Stop being childish. I’m not guessing. Just tell me.”
“Come on, Alice. It’s not like we don’t have time to kill until we get there.” He points at the vast nowhere we’re flying above. “You know how many people have embarked on balloon trips and never found their way back down? Guess the piece in my hand.”
I have to give it to him. He is full of life. He just doesn’t care about our human worries. He lives every moment as if it’s his last. I wonder if that’s because he thinks I am going to kill him soon, or if that’s just the Pillar.
“Okay,” I say, finding myself giving in to his joyful spirit, and forgetting about all the blood on his hands. “It’s a bishop.”
“Wrong.” He winks. “Guess one more time.”
46
Buckingham Palace, London
The Queen of Hearts hadn’t put down the phone, still listening to Mr. Jay reading the Chessmaster’s story to her. She hadn’t heard a story that scary before. Who wanted to meet with Death face to face?
But the real question was: “What does Death want with us Wonderlanders, Mr. Jay?”
“That’s what’s puzzling me,” he said.
“It surely has something to do with Alice,” the Queen said. “He mentioned he wanted her to burn in hell.”
“Alice never mentioned Death when she used to work for Black Chess.”
“She was a wild one, Mr. Jay. She must have done something bad to him.”
“To Death?” Mr. Jay sounded skeptical.
“What else could it be?” the Queen asks. “Or why would he bother with killing the masses to get that Carroll’s Knight?”
“I’d have to agree with you on this. Did you ever hear about those chess pieces Carroll carved out of his own bones?”
“Never before.”
“Didn’t Fabiola ever tell you?”
“No.”
“Think harder.” Mr. Jay’s voice was demanding.
“I know you think she should have told me wh
en we were younger and were still close, but no, she never did,” the Queen said. “Besides, Carroll seems to have had her scatter the pieces all over the world, not long before his death. Fabiola and I were enemies by then.”
“Then we have no choice but to let Alice and the Pillar find those pieces for the Chessmaster, and wait to see what comes out of it.”
“I understand.”
“We can’t afford the Chessmaster slowing down our plans. He is on neither Black Chess’s nor the Inklings’ side. We just have to play along and get him out of the way.”
“I think it’s personal,” the Queen suggested.
“Personal?”
“I am thinking the Chessmaster has a grudge toward Alice about something that happened in the past.”
“Something that none of us knows about? It’s puzzling me.”
A long period of silence thickened the air in the Queen’s room. She broke it by asking a question that had been puzzling her since she’d heard about the Chessmaster being Death. “Mr. Jay?”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering about this Death idea? I mean, I thought we Wonderlanders were immortal. We’ve lived over a century and half already.”
“I know. And you’re right. It suggests that most Wonderlanders are immortals, but it’s not conclusive. In fact, if anyone had the power to kill them, it’d have been Lewis Carroll himself.”
“But he couldn’t. That’s why he had us trapped in Wonderland. So how come Death killed Lewis?”
“Lewis was human, don’t forget that.”
“Are you saying the Chessmaster can’t kill us Wonderlanders?” the Queen asks with a smug smile on her face.
“I think so…” Mr. Jay suddenly went silent.
The Queen could hear him conversing with someone nearby. He seemed to breathe heavier while listening. Finally, he returned to the Queen. “I think I just found the answer to your inquisition about the Chessmaster being incapable of killing Wonderlanders.”
