by Cameron Jace
That’s when the Pillar descended his mushroom throne and walked toward Lewis. “The Queen’s sister.”
Lewis took a moment to remember who the Queen’s sister was. “You mean the Queen of Hearts’ sister?”
“Yes.”
“I always knew she had a sister but… what was her name again?”
“Come on, Lewis. You know.”
Lewis took a moment to collect this thought then burst out saying, “No!”
“What?”
“You won’t marry her of course. She’s too young.”
“I am young enough.”
“I mean she is such an innocent girl, I can’t imagine you—”
“Innocent?” the Pillar snorted. “She is the Queen’s sister, I am telling you there is nothing innocent about the Queen’s family.”
“Pillar, listen to me. Please not her.”
“Oh,” the Pillar took a few steps back. “You like her.”
Lewis’ face went red. “You misunderstand me—”
“I think I do understand,” the Pillar’s eyes reddened, just momentarily, then softened again with subtle slyness. “Tell you what, Lewis, here is your precious mushroom.”
Lewis watched the Pillar hand it to him. It didn’t make sense that he would have changed his mind so abruptly. Lewis hadn’t enough time or peace of mind to consider the Pillar’s real motives. To him, he was racing time before Carolus awoke.
“Thank you, Pillar,” Lewis took the mushroom but didn’t eat it. He asked, “Do I have enough time to do something before I forget?” he wanted to visit the March and tell him about the Six Keys and keep the secret with him.
“Half a day. You have time.”
“Thank you,” Lewis began eating the mushroom.
“Don’t mention it, Lewis,” the Pillar embarked his mushroom again, pleased that the mushroom would mess up Lewis’ life so he would not be competing for the same woman he wished to marry.
Lewis began to ache as the mushroom appeared to have side effects. “Does it have to hurt like that, Pillar?”
“You wanted to forget, Lewis,” the Pillar said. “Forgetting is as painful as remembering.”
Present: A helicopter above the River
“Everyone get a gun,” Constance orders the Mushroomers. I am skeptic about this move, as I don’t find them responsible enough to do so. But I pass. At least Constance moves faster than I do.
The look on their faces is both appalling and laughable. Some have the look of a child with their new toy gun. Happy to shoot like in any superhero movie. Kill the bad guys and win the girl back.
But some are puzzled as to why they should hold guns. Aren’t they the good guys? If movies taught us for years that the good guys win, why do they have to end up killing for freedom?
“Do you know how to drive this?” Tom taunts the chauffeur.
“Just got my license yesterday,” the Pillar’s chauffeur winks back at Tom.
“So we’re your first flight?” Tom shrieks.
“Let’s pray it’s not your last, Mr. Truckle,” the chauffeur takes a substantial dip to avoid some kind of missile.
“Wow!” the Mushroomers love a rollercoaster ride.
“OK. OK,” Tom screams. “Please don’t kill us.”
“It’s not my intention, trust me,” the chauffeur says. “But my late master, Sir Carter Pillar, used to tell me ‘shit happens’ whether you like it or not.’”
Constance is all giggles and wide-eyed at how the chauffeur messes with Truckle.
“Sir Carter Pillar?” I ask.
“He was friends with Sir Elton John, wasn’t he? I am sure he was going to be a Sir if he lived long enough.”
“So you’re sure he died?” Constance asks.
“Well, Sir Carter Pillar is dead. But then again he does die often, so it’s not a new thing.”
I am not sure what the chauffeur implies, or whether he knows more about the Pillar than we do.
Before I ask, Tom interrupts. “I need a phone!”
“Shut up!” Constance says. “Who do you want to call, your mum?”
“My children. They are worried about me.”
“Later, Tom,” I interfere, as I pick up a gun and sit next to the chauffeur. “We all need to call our loved ones, but later.”
“Loved ones?” he mocks me. “You have nobody.”
His words cut like a knife. I resist looking back and punching him in the face.
“Now that the Pillar is gone,” he continues.
I look at the chauffeur, neglecting Tom. “So, we have a plan to get out of here?”
“I am waiting for your orders, Boss,” he says.
I hate how everyone calls me boss now. “Just get us away from the river.”
“I am trying, Boss.”
“We need to get the Mushroomers to somewhere safe. There is a warehouse in the East. I’ll show you the way once you take off. It’s safe.”
“How do you know it’s safe, Boss?” the chauffeur asks.
“It’s a warehouse for roses and such. I doubt anyone is interested in it now.”
“Good plan, Boss. And then?”
“Normally I’d say we should take the March to a doctor, but it’s not safe. Do any of you Mushroomers have medical expertise?” I tilt my head back.
“I have, Boss!” A Mushroomer with a gun says. “I have had my head mushed in that room forever. That’s medical expertise.”
The other Mushroomers laugh. Constance doesn’t but has swallowed it inside. Tom laughs even louder. He laughs, looking at me.
“It’s a wild bunch, Boss,” the chauffeur looks my way empathetically. “I remember the Pillar saying that sometimes he wanted to save the Mushroomers, and sometimes he wanted to kill them because they were stupid.”
“Stop telling her about the Pillar,” Tom says. “She is alone now. Useless. Weak.”
I grip my gun tighter, staring ahead. If I am going to kill anyone today, it could be Tom.
And though I try to avoid him, he pushes harder and says, “She has nobody, not even her imaginary lover, Jack.”
This is when I can’t take it. I swivel, ready to point my gun at his skull. But then something strange happens. Someone says something in the helicopter. A voice I hadn’t heard for a while. Someone who I have really, really missed.
“I wouldn’t say that, Tom,” the voice says.
The voice has its hands rested on Tom’s shoulder, squeezing painfully.
The voice has a chest I once knew.
I raise my head.
The voice has a face.
It smiles at me.
The face is splotched with blood and is wounded under the lips and near the eyes. Two diagonal cuts.
“I may be imaginary,” the voice says. “But I haven’t left.”
The voice has eyes. Beautiful eyes. They dawn upon me. Gentle and caring and full of hope.
It’s Jack.
The Vatican
Angelo Cardone, also known as the Cheshire, sat with his whiskey bottle, watching the news on TV. The priests and nuns were sprawled around him. Most of them unconscious.
It hadn’t been a challenge to convince them that drinking can purge the soul. He was in a position like no one in the world. With his cattish devilishness, he could have convinced them he was a prophet.
The BBC news, not broadcasting frequently anymore, as their headquarters was under attack, announced the escape of the Inklings. An unprofessional reporter — a trainee maybe — standing with a mic in one hand, the world in chaos behind him, reported the sighting of a soundless helicopter saving Alice and some of the Inklings.
“However, it’s confirmed that the Queen of England is dead,” the reporter said. “And it’s presumed that her killer Pillar da Killa has been killed in the asylum when it burned down to the ground. Margaret Kent, the famous parliament woman, is also presumed dead.”
“Huh,” Angelo gulped. “Looks like I missed a Game of Throne’s finale. That would have been fu
n.”
“Two girls by the name of Lorina and Edith were also found dead,” the reporter said. “It’s rumored they were Alice’s sisters. Most probably partners in crime. Interpol has found evidence of Alice’s secret headquarters in the basement of their house.”
“I love the news. They pretend they know everything,” the Cheshire talked to his silent, drunk, and unconscious friends. “Sometimes I think the BBC, CNN, and especially Al Jazeera know more than God.”
He gulped again, toasting with the reporter on the screen.
“As you see can see behind me, the world is in chaos. It’s hard to tell who is fighting who. But electricity isn’t available in many places in Britain at the moment. Robbery is just the norm right now. So many people got killed, and no one has any idea who did it. It’s madness. If the world is fighting the Inklings, it also seems it might be at war with itself.”
“Touche,” the Cheshire said, as his phone rang. It was a Red from the Black Chess office.
“Mr. Jay wants you to do a speech, encouraging people to kill Alice so he will have greater power over her when he catches her.”
“I assume he hasn’t found the Six Keys yet then,” the Cheshire said.
“No. The Pillar is dead. The Asylum is gone. Only Alice knows.”
“Didn’t Mr. Jay implant an imposter among her group?”
“Yeah,” the Red confirms.
“Did the imposter contact you to tell you what’s going on with the Inklings?”
“Not yet.”
“All right, I will do the speech,” the Cheshire hung up, “I need another drink.
A helicopter away from the River
I have felt so much hesitation and had so many uncertainties the last hour, but now seeing Jack, is one thing I need to be sure of. I jump off of my seat and across Tom Truckle and kiss him.
Jack is slightly off balance, but I don’t pull away. I need this so much. Slowly he understands and kisses me back.
“Absolutely wow!” the Mushroomers giggle.
“Absolutely absurd,” Tom mumbles behind me. I kick him with my feet.
“Dude,” Constance says to Jack. “You’re alive.”
Jack gently pushed me away, “Yes, little girl.”
“Watch it,” I tell him. “She is no little girl. She is badass.”
“I know,” he says to Constance. “I saw her in the tunnel. She did a great job.”
“You did a better job, surviving,” Constance says. “Or our boss would have collapsed, missing you.”
I realize that I can taste the blood on Jack’s face. “What happened?” I ask him. “How did you survive?”
“The Pillar told me how to get out,” Jack says. His eyes are straight, looking at me. He wants to know how I feel about the Pillar.
“So he is dead?” I say, my voice low and weak. Why do I like this man so much?
Jack nods. “It’s impossible to have survived the fire.”
“Still, I am glad you’re alive,” I hug him again.
“I think the first thing we have to do when we land isn’t getting the March to a doctor,” Constance says with a smile.
“Then what?” Jack asks.
“We have to get you two a room,” she sticks out her tongue then slaps Tom Truckle hard on the cheeks. “Imaginary boyfriend, you said? He doesn’t look imaginary to me.”
“I need a phone!” Tom insists, humiliated.
“We’re close to the warehouse,” the chauffeur says.
“No warehouse,” Jack interrupts. He gazes back at me, hold my head in his hands. “The Pillar told me what to do next.”
“He told you?” Constance is curious.
“He said Alice has to find his Wonder,” Jack says. “The yellow paper he’d given her.”
“His Wonder?” something tells me I never want to know.
“He said it’s in a locker in King’s Cross train station,” Jack says. “It explains everything, he said.”
“It’s one word,” I say. “How can it explain everything?”
“Besides,” Constance says, “it would be suicidal going to the train station now with all the chaos outside.”
“She is right,” I tell Jack. “My priority is not to know but to save the Mushroomers and the March.”
“Exactly,” Constance says. “I don’t know what the Pillar had on his mind, but we’re all sure the March knows the whereabouts of the Six Keys.”
“We do?” Tom Truckle asks, but no one listens to him.
“The March is Patient 14,” I tell Jack.
“I know. The Pillar told me. He knows where the Keys are and what they are for. So you don’t care about the note?”
“Not now. Save the people first,” I turn to the chauffeur. “Is the warehouse safe from up here?”
“It’s looks abandoned,” he says.
“Perfect,” I reply. “Land us there,” I turn back to Jack. “You have a lot to explain.”
“I will,” he says. “As much as I know,” he lowers his head. “I don’t even know how I am alive, but I will tell you what I know.”
“And I will tell you what I know!” a voice squeaked behind Jack.
All our heads turn to watch the March sitting up. He looks dizzy, not sure where he is. He isn’t even talking to us, but to the wall. His hands are flat on his laps as he says, “Mushrooms.”
“March,” Constance approaches him slowly. “Are you okay? How did you wake up?”
The March doesn’t talk to her. He doesn’t even know she exists at the moment. It's as if he is in a daydream, “Mushrooms.”
Constance slowly sits in front of him to get his attention. He turns abruptly and grabs her by the arms. “I will remember what the Six Keys are when I see the Mushrooms.”
“What?” She asks.
“I am telling you,” the March says, sweating. “I will remember where and what the Keys are if you take me to the Mushrooms.”
I sit next to him and pat him. “Where, March? Where are the Mushrooms?”
He turns and looks at me slowly. “In London. One of my gardens. One of my designs.”
Then he falls back into unconsciousness.
Past : The Poison Garden, Alnwick, Northumberland, England
A month after Lewis Carroll had taken the Mushroom and passed his secret on to the March Hare, the Pillar sat smoking the best tobacco he’d ever had. A poisonous mushroom, one that needed an expert to smoke. Smoke too little and nothing happens. Smoke too much and A LOT happens: you lose your life.
It was a special occasion. Not only had he gotten rid of Lewis — the Mushroom he’d given him had side effects, that Lewis wouldn’t feel now, but years and years from now.
In fact, the Pillar was waiting for the Queen herself.
Irritated, the Queen entered the garden in her wheeled cart, which had been protected by a certain magic, denying him the pleasure of killing her. They hated each other’s mushrooms, real bad.
“Pillar,” she roared in her intolerable voice. “What do you want?”
“Oh welcome, Queen of Hearts,” he said, leaning back on a pink pillow, set on top of a pink mushroom. He rested one leg on the other. “May I offer you a few chopped-off heads to eat?”
“Stop it, tell me what you want.”
“I think it’s what you want,” he grinned.
“You sent for me. You said it was a matter of life and death.”
“I also said I could offer you something that will make you smarter.”
“Shush,” she waved at him, staring left and right. “No need to be so loud.”
“I am sorry. You don’t want people to know you’re dumb.”
“Shut up,” she approached him. “Do you have something for me?”
“A magic mushroom.”
“Magic mushroom?”
“It’s a drug. Humans take it to go to La La Land, which is practically Wonderland,” he waves a lunatic’s finger next to his ear. “Wacko taco. Loony goony.”
“So?” she grimaced.
“How can this help me rule Wonderland?”
“As I said, the mushroom has the power to make you smarter, devious, and calculating. I guarantee you no one will be a more evil bitch than you, my Queen.”
“But I am not that dumb, Pillar.”
“Let’s face it, my Queen, you’re an ugly woman,” the Pillar smiled, not an inch of anger in his voice. “You’re second best ugly next to the Duchess, of course.”
“Well thank you,” she rolled her eyes.
“Ugly people have no choice, my dear. You either become a tyrant and rule the world, or you become sort of a nerdy scientist. It’s the harsh truth.”
“So what will this mushroom help me do exactly?”
The Pillar set his hookah aside. He wiped his eyes awake and approached. Sitting on top of the mushrooms, he looked as is if he were upon his throne talking to a simple peasant instead of a Queen. “You will simply become the devil—” he itched his head. “I want to say the devil in disguise, but hey, there is nothing subtle about your ugliness.”
“I swear I’ll chop your head off, Pillar, if you don’t stop insulting me.”
“See? Once you take this mushroom, you will no longer need to chop people’s head off to feel good.”
She shook her shoulders, “Then what do you expect me to do for fun?”
“Have them chop their heads off willingly,” he grinned.
She grinned back.
It was an evil-fest of grins. Only the Cheshire was missing.
“Okay,” she said. “I will take it, but I want this mushroom to help me get Alice.”
“Alice belongs to Mr. Jay,” the Pillar said. “Don’t go after her. Go after power. After ruling the world. Soon we’ll have to cross over to the real world. This mushroom will make you outsmart humans.”
She took a moment, contemplating.
The Pillar, being a master seller, had to hit the iron while it was hot, “Listen,” he said, “whether your loyalty goes to Black Chess or the Inklings — which is unlikely — we all know what this whole Wonderland thing is about.”
“What is it about, professor Pillar,” she shook her head left and right, mocking him.
