by Cameron Jace
“I’m not a villain, Constance,” Jack raises his head and stares at her. I can’t tell if it’s an innocent or malevolent look. The blood on his face makes it harder to judge. “I just gave up on the one I love.”
“Love. Love. Love,” Constance rolls her eyes. “Since when was Jack so sentimental, Alice. Just kill him.”
When Constance says the word ‘kill’ the Vorpal sword in my hand glitters. I find myself gripping it harder.
“He will sweet-talk you and kill you before you know it,” Constance says.
“I’m not a bad guy, Alice,” Jack says.
My sword is already in the air. It might be a bad move. Irrational and reckless. But if the world is saved by killing the Jabberwocky, would I miss the slightest of chances? I know if I’m wrong I will suffer greatly, but I killed him before in the bus. What’s new?
My inner thoughts distracts me from the fact that my sword is on its way to Jack’s neck. It’s hard to stop myself. No power I know of can stop the momentum of my swing and my hungry sword.
“I’m sorry I ran and left, Alice,” I hear Jack say. “I was a coward. I left you alone with the Jabberwocky. I’m sorry…”
This time, I was too late.
I've already chopped his head off.
36
Present: Hell, (Who knows where?)
“Whoa! Off with their heads!” The Queen of Hearts cheered with a white wine glass in her hand. “That was brilliant!”
“Wasn’t it, my Queen?” Margaret Kent, the Duchess cheered back.
They sat sweating on a black leather couch in the resting room. Other residents sat next to them, exhausted and trying to catch their breath. Not to mention all of them were repeatedly burned, and their skin was peeling off.
As for the Queen and Margaret, they enjoyed their lunch break with white and red wine and a lot of bacon. God bless the guards of hell for providing a TV. Everyone in hell enjoyed watching the end of the world. Business was doing great as so many people died and so many were about to be punished. Even in hell, it was all about supply and demand.
The scene of Alice chopping off Jack’s head was being broadcasted on the BBC. Who knew you could still watch the news in hell?
“She’s done, my Queen,” Margaret was talking about Alice. “Seeing her on TV chopping Jack’s head off will only show the world that she and the Inklings are the enemies.”
“I don’t care about her being guilty,” the Queen chewed on some of her favorite nuts, which had been provided to her specifically. Who said you can’t use your influence and prestige in hell? “I care about the misery in her eyes, having killed the one she loved.”
On the screen, Alice was on her knees crying next to Jack’s chopped off head. Malice the plant swung but didn’t talk, waiting for the BBC cameras to leave. Constance the small girl hugged the broken Alice.
“How come we couldn’t make her suffer like that when I was alive?” the Queen mused.
“We’re still alive, my Queen,” Margaret said. “Only we’re in hell.”
“Don’t remind me,” the Queen sipped her wine. “Soon it will all be over.”
“I hope we win this time.”
“Who cares?” the Queen said. “Sometimes I wonder what happens if Black Chess keeps winning. I’m mean it gets boring. Let them win for once.”
“But if they win, we might never win again.”
A loud knock came from behind the door, which fumed a smoke from underneath. “Lunch break is over.”
“Sad,” the Queen said. “Watching the news is even better than Netflix.”
“Maybe they should turn our lives into a series,” Margaret said. “I’d be paid a lot.”
“Nah, they won’t believe it. People want cupboard heroes, happy endings, and they certainly don’t want madness.”
“I wish I had time to stay and see the Pillar suffer for killing me,” Margaret said.
“He is going to suffer, darling. Don’t worry. Besides, I don’t care about his suffering as much as I want to know who he really is.”
The guard ramped the door again. “Time’s up!”
“Blimey,” the Queen said, putting down the wine. She turned and looked at Margaret. “Ready?”
“Not really,” Margaret pointed at her burned arm. “Can we switch seats this time, my Queen?”
“You want the one next to the window?” the Queen mocked her.
“I just don’t want to be squeezed between two people like everyday. Can I burn in the big bed of yours on top of the hill?”
“I’m a Queen, Margaret,” the Queen rolled her eyes. “When I burn, I burn high in my throne. Accept that, darling.”
The door opened and the fumes from hell plowed into the room. The heat was enough punishment already.
“Don’t worry, Margaret,” the Queen’s last words. “It’s just fire. Count sheep, meditate, or think of it as medicine. Until the next lunch break, that’s if the world survives this long.”
37
Present: The Wonderland War, London
On my knees, I cry my heart out, unable to understand what I’ve just done. I realize that I’ve chopped off Jack’s head out of confusion more than anything. I want the sounds and noises in my head to stop. The utter illogical world that surrounds me succeeds to drive me to insanity. No matter how much I oppose it, insanity prevailed.
Constance’s hand is tender on my shoulder, but it only adds to the pain. Sometimes the closest people to you will fail with their sympathy because the pain inside has already consumed you.
From the corner of my eye, I notice cameras. TV news? Why catch this specific incident on film? Where did they come from? Their microphones say BBC.
They’re packing and leaving already, so it’s too late to investigate. And I’m exhausted as hell.
I guess someone wants to capture the death of Jabberwocky on film.
My mind reels, staring at Jack’s head. It still puzzles me how he is the Jabberwocky. Why? How?
“You did the right thing, Alice,” Constance says. “Soon the world will be saved.”
Her words remind me that nothing is saved. That it’s still a crazy world around me with mushrooms and swirling plants all over the place.
“I don’t see any change,” I tell her then turn to Malice. “When will it happen?”
Malice musters a sympathetically disappointed face. “Soon, darling. Soon.”
“Wait a minute,” I stare at her. “How are you still alive?”
Malice says nothing.
“My darker side should die when I kill the Jabberwocky, right?”
She still resorts to silence.
“Besides, you wouldn’t have let me kill the Jabberwocky,” I’m mostly talking to myself, not Malice. To my stupid, reckless, impulsive self. I stare back at Jack’s head. “What have I done?”
Malice snickers. “We duped you. Isn’t it fun?”
I slash my Vorpal sword at her but in vain. Malice will not be killed in an act of anger. I have to ambush her. Besides, why has my Vorpal sword dimmed? Where is the light that emanated from inside of it?”
“Alice is so stupid,” Malice sings and dances. “Alice is so stupid.”
I grit my teeth, trying my best to postpone the feeling of suffering and guilt. If I’ve wrongfully killed Jack, it won’t help thinking about it now. Why did Malice make me do it?
And why the heck did Constance help?
When I turn to look at Constance this time, a shriek escapes me.
The Constance next to me isn’t the innocent and lovely one I know anymore.
Her eyes have changed and she stares at me with dark intent. Her head is lowered and her eyes slightly upward. What happened to her?
Then I remember Malice saying, ‘We duped you.’ She didn’t say ‘I duped you.’
“Why, Constance?” I ask. “Why did you make me do it?”
Constance says nothing, still staring at me. She only shows a gap in her mouth which exposes her ugly sharp teeth from und
erneath.
“Because, Alice,” Malice whispers in my ear. “This isn’t Constance. This her darker side. I sedated the real Constance under the mushrooms back where we met.”
38
Present: Near the Ferris Wheel, London
The Cheshire watched the Pillar fight the devilish plants all around him. It was like watching David fight Goliath, if Goliath had tens of tentacle arms slithering at him.
It surprised the Cheshire how the Pillar was a master of his hose, even better than Indiana Jones.
The Pillar whipped at the plants with his hose left and right, enough to stay alive, but not enough to avoid their cuts.
His suit had been torn and tattered, blood dripping out everywhere. His face--and already suffering from his skin disease--had been adorned with lines of the same blood. However, his hat was still intact. The Pillar’s hat never fell off, just like in the movies.
The Pillar had also stopped asking the Cheshire for help. His priority was to protect the children in the car from the tentacle plants of Wonderland.
Cold-hearted and calculating, the Cheshire stroked his plastic chin with his thumb, assessing the situation. What in Wonderland's madness was going on?
He didn’t even bother to help the children.
Their father had already died under the weight of the car, and their mother was trapped, trying to free herself before the car exploded.
But no, the children kept reading Alice in Wonderland.
One of the plants drummed the flipped car like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park and flipped it over again. The mother screamed, hitting her head against the window and fainting.
The children, however, flipped, dropped the book, but waited until the car settled again. They soon picked up the book to keep reading, as if their lives depended on it.
The Pillar turned and whipped his hose at the plants, trying to get hold of the snake-like creature.
“Let me be,” the huge plant grunted. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the one who’s going to kill each and every one of your species today,” the Pillar said with a firmness the Cheshire had never experienced before. The blood didn’t bother him, not even the pain, and probably not even death. “Let the children read.”
A shimmering light began to fill the car as the children continued reading.
“Whooo aaaahre yooooh?” the choking plants asked. Even though the sentence was an exclusive phrase of the Pillar’s.
Which confused the Cheshire.
These plants had always existed in Wonderland. They should have recognized the Pillar, owner of Mushroom Garden, and seller of Mushrooms. How come the plants didn’t know him?
“He is Carter Pillar!” the Cheshire yelled, intentionally wanting the plant to hear him. “How come you don’t know him?”
“No, he isn’t!” the plant whined as the Pillar squeezed the hose harder and watched the giant thing plump to the ground.
“You didn’t want her to tell me who you are!” the Cheshire dared the Pillar who had already turned his back to him to fight the other tentacles.
“Stay out of it, Cheshy,” the Pillar said.
The children in the car began to elevate inside. It seemed like the light was a ghost that protected them and now turned into a huge hand that pulled them out of the car. They sat as if upon a transparent flying carpet, reading in midair.
This drove the plants crazier.
In fact, the children’s reading escalated. They sounded as if there were thousands of them.
The Plants began to retreat.
“Thank you…” a child said to the Pillar.
The Pillar nodded back with a heartily smile but said nothing. He still whipped, then nodded in the Cheshire’s direction.
The Pillar didn’t want the children to pronounce his real name, the Cheshire guessed.
“Who is he?” the Cheshire asked the children. “Tell me.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” one of the children, the little girl, told him then continued reading and ignored him.
Now the light filled the streets. A coning shimmer as if from an alien species, surrounding the children.
“You’ll have to leave,” the Pillar told the children. “I can’t keep the plants occupied longer.”
“We will,” a child said. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us.”
The Cheshire was losing his mind. “Did you children just thank Pilla da Killa? Do you even know who he is?”
One of the children, a boy this time, turned his head to the Cheshire, “We know who he is, but we think you don’t know who you are.”
39
Past: Yellow Bus, London
The day Alice got on the bus to kill the Jabberwocky, Carter Pillar sat in the back, wearing his tennis outfit, trying to blend in. Alice looked away from, wondering if he would risk his life being nearby.
Jack, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave Alice. As her boyfriend at the time, he wanted to stick around. Alice didn’t mind. She liked him, even though she had become his girlfriend to get to the Jabberwocky first, but then she realized how good a person he was.
She had faked loving him arriving to the real world, but then fell in love with him, so much that it compromised her judgment.
Jack was a good soul, her childhood friend, raised by bad parents and had no memory of he really was.
Right now, she had no time for love. She waited to spot the Jabberwocky in human form so she could drive the bus off the bridge. But what did he look like in human form?
She turned and blinked at the Pillar who shrugged his shoulders out of disappointment. He meant to say, I don’t know who the Jabberwocky is. She had counted on the professor’s cunningness to recognize the Jabberwocky in human form.
Alice bit her lip and fisted her grip. This had to work.
She continued her investigative gaze all over the bus.
Fabiola was disguised as one of the teachers in front. She made brief eye contact with Alice as well, saying ‘Nah, I didn’t find him.’
Alice turned to Lewis who faked being a professor on the bus. Lewis blinked. It meant he couldn’t tell as well.
They were all on the bus to help her find the Jabberwocky. The plan was to get off once they spotted him and leave her with the mission to kill him.
Disappointment shrouded Alice. Not that it was a perfect plan, but she had thought that spotting the Jabberwocky was going to be easy. Evil can’t hide, even if it tries to look good, she had thought. She was naive.
The Pillar mouthed ‘We’re getting off at the next station, maybe you should too.’
Fabiola and Lewis were leaving as well. This wasn’t the first time they had failed to find the Jabberwocky.
‘Maybe ask Jack about him,’ the Pillar mouthed as the bus stopped.
‘I’m not going to use Jack to get to the Jabberwocky’ Alice mouthed.
‘I know you love him but he can help.’ the Pillar said, disembarking with Fabiola and Lewis.
Alone in the bus, Alice stared at Jack. She wondered if he would cooperate, and worried about the pain it would bring onto him if he did.
“All good?” Jack smiled at her with his dimples.
“I guess,” she let him hug her tighter. “I was just looking for someone and can’t find them.”
“I know,” Jack said, rubbing her shoulder.
Alice tilted her head and stared at him. “You know?”
“He is not coming.”
Alice’s eyes widened.
“Did you warn him?” Her face tightened as she slipped away from under his hands.
“I didn’t.” Jack looked forward as if this conversation wasn’t happening, probably not to attract attention. “He is just too informed. Killing him isn’t going to be that easy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you remember Wonderland?”
“Because I didn’t want you to remember how much you loved me.”
“What?” Alice grimaced. “Why would you do that?”
; “Because I can make you win this without having to kill him.”
Alice said nothing. Jack was being cryptic, and she sensed too many lies thrown into the equation. She wanted to leave the bus.
Jack gripped her hard. “Wait.”
“Let go of me,” she grunted. “I should have known from the beginning that you would lie to me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re the Jabberwocky’s son,” she hissed. “Why should you be any different?”
“You remember me in Wonderland,” he said. “You remember us walking in the fields, hand in hand. You remember seeing him stop me from being with you.”
“We were kids. People change when they grow up. They mostly become a version of their parents.”
“You remember him torturing me not to come near you?”
“I do, but let go of me, Jack.”
Jack’s grip began to hurt her. He said, “I won’t. I’m not like him. I will let you win.”
“You keep saying that. How can the Jabberwocky’s son save the world?”
Jack let go of her, his eyes still piercing through her. “If you can’t kill the devil, kill his offspring.”
It was a hard sentence to swallow. Alice stood in awe, not sure what Jack was suggesting. Did he just ask her to kill him to get to his father?
40
Present: The Wonderland War, London
My guts burn with self-loathing, looking at the darker version of Constance. It’s mind-boggling seeing this sweet girl’s darker side. But all I care about is the real Constance now.
“Malice, where is Constance?”
She keeps snickering like she is keeping a secret.
“I won’t hurt you,” I tell her. “You tricked me into killing Jack and I’m not going to make you pay for it if you let me find Constance.”
