by Cameron Jace
I didn’t expect her to run away. Was it that easy? I mean it wasn’t that easy but I thought she’d fight back. While running away, I hear say, “I’m not let you this to me again.”
“Again?” I ask, perplexed.
“I won’t let you use me, Malice the darkest of all darkness, to do good like you did to me back in Wonderland.”
I’m not sure what she is talking about, but Jack screams distract me. When I turn, fire spews all over the place.
53
Present: On the Road, London
“I see fire!” Constance pointed and hurried up a bridge of broken mushrooms.
“I think I’ll stay behind,” the Pillar said.
She stopped and turned around. She saw him leaning against an old furnace in the remnants of a house without a roof.
“Don’t play games, Pillar,” the Cheshire said. “I need to kill you.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” the Pillar asked.
Constance was concerned about the way the Pillar said it. He didn't give a damn if someone killed him. She suddenly realized that he wasn’t lying. He had accomplished what he came for.
She stepped down and knelt next to him, “Is there something you want me to tell Fabiola if I see her?”
The Pillar raised his eyes to meet hers.
She would swear she had only seen this kind of look in Alice’s eyes. The look of concern. Of wanting to help. Of not wanting anything in return while regretting the mistakes made in the process.
“No,” he said and leaned back to the furnace, staining his whole costume with ash.
“Is there something we can do, then?” She touched his hands, but he pushed her away. She had never seen him like that. Ever.
“He is pulling an act so I can’t have his face and body,” the Cheshire reasoned.
“He told you that you can kill him if you wanted,” Constance roared at the Cheshire who actually feared her.
“That’s the thing with the Pillar,” the Cheshire hurled the hose in the air. “You never know what he really wants or planned.”
Constance shook her head at the Cheshire’s actions. However, she didn’t blame him. Since when did anyone understand the Pillar? But that wasn’t the point now. The Pillar, more or less, was an Inkling, and she wanted to help a man who was in pain. She wasn’t sure he was dying though.
“I have to go, Pillar,” she turned back to him. “Still I will do what you tell me to do.”
“I want you to…” he said.
“To what?” she said. “I’m listening.”
“To understand…”
“You’re not going to waste our time, eh, Pilly?” the Cheshire said. “Spit it out.”
The Pillar laughed from the corner of his mouth. It was hard to tell whether it was a smirk, a laugh, or madness.
“To understand that one of the…”
“Dear God of cats and not dogs,!” the Cheshire couldn’t take it and went to get the hose again. This time he decided to kill him and stop the mysteries.
“One of the what, Pillar?” Constance asked.
“One of the privileges of not knowing who you are,” the Pillar said as the Cheshire was about to come closer and choke him. “Is that you can pretend to be whomever you want to be.”
This stopped the Cheshire in his tracks. It hurt.
He knew the Pillar might have been hinting to his real identity, but it sure made the Cheshire feel self-conscious. He wasn’t anyone after all, and his whole journey was looking to be someone else, probably someone cool. Was this why he wanted to be the Pillar?
He loosened his grip on the hose and stood silent.
“Whatever you say, Pillar,” Constance said, leaning his weary head against the bricks of the furnace. “I want you to know that it’s been a pleasure,” she kissed him on the forehead.
The Cheshire realized he might cry, but he resisted it. Why the hell would he cry and show emotion? If he ever did he wouldn’t cry over the Pillar.
The Pillar closed his eyes and breathed slowly in a serene peace none of them understood.
“Is he dead?” the Cheshire asked.
“Nah,” Constance stood up. “He is terribly exhausted, or broken. I’ve never imagined seeing him this way.”
“And you’re sure he is not faking it?”
“I’m young enough to be fooled but I’m also young enough to feel it in my heart that he isn’t playing games. Why didn’t you kill him?”
The Cheshire fidgeted, “I have no freakin’ idea.”
“I guess you should pull off the mask as well,” Constance said.
“What do you mean, kiddo?”
“I mean if you’ve finally decided to accept who you are, whatever you are, you may as well not hide behind the Joker’s face.”
“He is kinda trending now,” the Cheshire aimed for a joke to break the tension, but this child was something special. She felt as if she were his mother. He pulled the mask off. “It’s a priest’s face.”
“I know,” she said. “I saw you on the TV. Actually, I should’ve killed you for framing us, but as a fellow Wonderlander… well, forget it, Cheshy. Just find yourself.”
He watched Constance walk away toward the fire in the distance and the Pillar sleeping next to the unlit furnace. He was stuck between life and death, standing at the fork in the road.
Helpless.
Had the Pillar not called for Constance one last time, he would have left and never come back, but Constance came running back.
“Yes, Pillar?” she knelt again. “How can I help?”
“Tell Fabiola…” the Pillar said then noticed the Cheshire listening so he whispered the rest in Constance’s ear.
Not only didn’t the Cheshire hear, but he couldn’t understand why Constance’s eyes lit up as if the sun suddenly shone in the dark of night.
“I will,” she said with the broad smile on her face, “and I always knew it.”
The Cheshire and Constance watched him doze to his eternal sleep, and then, in a most unexpected scene, blue butterflies came from nowhere and circles his body.
54
Present: Jabberwocky War, London
Jack is calming the Jabberwocky down, as I tread lightly upon the beast’s back.
“I’m sorry father,” Jack says. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Get out of my face or I will burn you to the ground,” the Jabberwocky growls.
“I love you, you know?” Jack says.
In the back, I’m about to laugh. Now that Malice ran away into the dark, and the evil Constance is nowhere to be seen. Still, I think it’s a good move on Jack’s part. Keep distracting your father, Jack.
The Jabberwocky doesn’t notice my first few steps, which is promising if I want to reach the back of his head.
“What did you say?” the Jabberwocky growls.
“I love you,” Jack says. “You’re the love of my life.”
Now I have to cup my mouth to stop the wheezing laughter, so much that my wounded back hurts again. A little too much, Jack.
“I mean, I don’t know how to express that I missed you,” Jack says. “Forget about Alice now. Make me your apprentice.”
“You never wanted anything to do with me,” the Jabberwocky growls.
Perfect. The beast is getting emotional. As he is considering, I can keep climbing up to his head.
I do it on all fours, biting the sword between my teeth. I’m barefoot but my insides still hurt a little, too.
If only he didn’t stink so bad, though the layer of mucus on his back may be the reason why he can’t feel me climbing.
“I was wrong, Dad,” Jack says then shrugs and says, “I mean, Father.”
Who calls Jabberwocky Dad?
I’m still climbing upward when the Jabberwocky decides to have an intimate moment with his son and lowers his gigantic head and half of his torso down.
I hold onto some of the sticky jagged edges on his back barely stopping myself from sliding down.
And though I can’t see what's going on between Jack and his father, I see Constance arriving in the distance with the Cheshire following her.
Perfect. Bad. Timing.
55
The Cheshire followed Constance more confused than ever. However, it was a spectacular scene ahead.
The sight of Alice sliding down--or up?--the back of the beastly Jabberwocky who was lowering his head to talk to Jack while the world was set on a hot grill of fire all around, that was an epic palette he had never thought he would see.
He stopped, watching Constance run around the Jabberwocky’s tail, probably trying to climb up to Alice. Smart girl, she was silent all the way, not distracting the Jabberwocky from Jack distracting him.
As for the scene of Jack and the Jabberwocky, the Cheshire had to hide in the shadows as he laughed.
“Do you really mean it?” the Jabberwocky said to Jack.
“I’m your son, and want to do anything to please you,” Jack sounded fake like a ninety-year-old’s makeup.
Still, the Cheshire enjoyed it. Why weren’t the BBC’s cameras around anymore? This was hilariously epic.
Alice tried to shush Constance away as the little girl climbed up toward her. The Cheshire couldn’t hear but she was probably telling her it’s dangerous. He doubted this little annoying girl feared anything.
He wanted to listen to what the Jabberwocky was telling Jack but he noticed the children’s voices were filling the air. Not only was wind whirling everywhere, lightning hit occasionally, but the words read by children all over the world somehow sounded nearby as a soundtrack.
Constance was still climbing up — which now was down — after Alice who had reached the back of the Jabberwocky’s head.
It puzzled the Cheshire what Alice’s plan had been in the first place. Sure Jack was there to buy her time, but she didn’t try to stab the Jabberwocky from behind — not that it would have worked due to his enormous size.
He wondered what her plan was?
Also, why were Alice and Constance so determined to make things right, enough to sacrifice their lives? Since he had made up his mind to become a real person and choose a side, those guys in the Inklings confused him. Wasn’t it easier and reasonable to be a Black Chess? Pure evil. To the point. A ton of fun and power. All he had was to look to Black Chess’s boss, some terrifying beast that looked like a dragon.
Why Inklings? Too enthusiastic, little resources, and hardly winning.
All he had to do was to look at the small sizes of Constance and Alice on the back of the big beast. He really had to reconsider.
Suddenly, he heard what the Jabberwocky told Jack.
“Well, that’s a good one,” the Cheshire told himself, enjoying the last show on earth.
“If you want to prove your loyalty,” Jabberwocky told his son. “Kill Alice.”
Dun. Dun. Dun. The Cheshire thought. The plot thickened.
Jack, the fake, hesitated, but then mustered the courage to say, “I will, father, once I find her.”
“Then go find her and bring me her chopped off head.” the Jabberwocky growled.
The Cheshire admired that dark voice of the beast. If only he had one like that.
But Jack seemed disappointed when the Jabberwocky began to turn away. Sure he still wanted to distract the beast, but it seemed like there had been more to his plan than the obvious.
“Wait!” he called. “You have to lift me up, Father.”
The Jabberwocky stopped turning with frowning eyebrows. “Why?”
Jack shrugged, “Because,” he hesitates some more. “I see her on your back.”
The Jabberwocky’s eyes reddened and looked like he was about to shake his whole body to ruffle her away—and probably kill everything within a few miles radius, including the Cheshire himself.
“Wait, no!” Jack pleaded. “Lift me up,” he said. “Let me kill her for you and prove my loyalty.”
The Cheshire was surprised to see a large smirk on the beast’s face, with a lot of lava-saliva drooling. Funny how even an evil beast favored having sons and daughters in their reign.
Slowly the Jabberwocky pulled Jack up toward his face, the same moment Alice was clawing right above the beast’s forehead. The Cheshire saw Alice and Jack nod at each other.
What in whacky Wonderland’s name did they have in mind?
56
Present: Jabberwocky War, London
Jack’s nod was the sign we had agreed upon. Without thinking, and knowing this will be the death of me, I glide down the Jabberwocky’s forehead, stab him in one eye, blotches of blood splattering back on my face while Jack continues his part.
The Jabberwocky screams in agony while Jack jumps off of his hand and into the open mouth of the beast.
My plan is to pull the sword back and follow Jack, and I do, but the Jabberwocky’s pain makes him move violently while his roars deafen me.
I tumble and almost fall off the edge of his nose while Jack shouts, “Here! Take my hand.”
“Go in first!” I tell him in case I can’t make it.
“I think you have to stab the other eye,” Jack says. “His gut is still on fire.”
I scramble back, hardly balancing upon the angry beast’s face and stab the other eye.
This drives the Jabberwocky crazy. Not only is he shaking his enormous head but his whole body. I can easily fall off now.
Irrationally, I decide to run down his face and figure an acrobatic way to jump down into his open mouth.
Foolish, I slip and now I’ll fall…
But Jack’s hands catch me, and my own other hand grips my sword harder.
“Gotcha!” Jack says and pulls me up.
The Jabberwocky’s mouth looks like the entrance to hell.
“We have to risk it,” Jack says. “Or he will bite us with his fangs. It’s only a few seconds and his gut will cool down. He can’t keep the fire when his eyes are bleeding.”
“Jack,” I shout against the noises, especially the kid’s voices filling the air all around. “If we don’t make it, please remember me the next time.”
He smiles, “Funny how I’ve never forgotten you, even though I forget me.”
And then he pulls me inside.
57
Present: On the Road, London
Not far away, the Pillar’s eyes popped open. Had he looked into a mirror he would have seen tiny bloody veins throbbing inside. But he had already known his end was near.
His skin was literally peeling off now. He didn’t bother looking inside. At least he was going to die without anyone killing him and taking his face and body.
He felt old. The fire inside him had faded and he missed it. He missed the madness.
But it was all good. He was grateful. He did good. He didn’t need a medal or applause because no one was supposed to know who he was. It was part of the deal.
A deal he cherished with his very being, heart, and soul.
He promised her once, and kept his promise.
Why wouldn’t he when that deal back in Wonderland was the one that gave him hope and purpose. He had agreed to play the game knowing he would never get the credit for anything. It could only be done this way and made his purpose even more meaningful.
You could only know this is your purpose when your ego doesn’t need gratification accomplishing it, because only then is it a purpose with the greatest value.
What value? To help? To give? To ascend beyond the self and help others. The children.
The only disadvantage was that Fabiola wasn’t around. It would have been a nice touch having her next to him dying. He would have broken the rule--the promise--for only her. But at least Constance knew who he was. Constance would tell Fabiola when the Pillar died.
The noises and war in the distance pleased him. He could faintly hear but knew it was Alice doing her job. He trusted she would kill the Jabberwocky. He only worried about the consequences. Boy did she have to suffer so many times?
Nothing
new to that, he thought. Real heroes aren’t comic book heroes. No flashy capes, over the top origin stories, or worldwide recognition. Heroes worked in silence. In the shadows. Because they wanted to do it, not to be appreciated. A mother in a rural house, an underpaid cop, or a young nurse in hospice, among others were the Pillar’s real heroes.
The circling butterfly made him smile inside.
He hardly managed to stand up while his cheek peeled off the side of his face and fall to his shoulder.
He didn’t look.
He couldn’t stand to look.
He stood for one reason.
Because he wasn’t one to die on his knees, even if he stood alone. Besides, he actually lied to everyone. He wasn’t finished. He had one last trick under his skin--he meant his sleeve. A trick he himself hadn’t thought of before but made all sense now.
58
Present: Inside the Jabberwocky, London
The insides of the Jabberwocky had cooled down, not much but Jack and I can walk and hopefully tolerate the heat, as long as we evaded a few hotter spots.
“Where is it?” I ask Jack.
“We’ll find it,” he says. “You can’t miss it. It’s a black heart pumping. The size of a big dining table.”
“You’ve been inside your dad before?” I scoff jokingly.
“I just know,” he said. “And please don’t call him dad.”
The beast doesn’t make it easy for us to crawl inside him as he is moving with anger and wrath. I am not sure what he wants to achieve by screaming and shouting. He is probably mad he can’t spit fire anymore. And the fact that he is probably half-blind now.
But that isn’t going to kill the Jabberwocky. I have to stab him with my Vorpal sword in the heart.
Jack entertains himself by kicking the beast’s guts wherever we walk.
