Mushrooms (Insanity Book 8)

by Cameron Jace

  The March raises both hands to his sides, eyes gleaming with excitement. We follow on.

  “The most precious thing,” he mumbles.

  Constance shoots Fabiola a look, “I guess we’re going to know this too,” she sticks out her tongue. “The secret you and Lewis keep from us all the time.”

  “It’s not a secret,” Fabiola says. “We didn’t want to tell you because it’s hard to understand. It will confuse you and make you weaker.”

  Constance rolls her eyes. I have my eyes on the March who finally stops advancing.

  We stop behind him and wait for him to talk. He does even better. He turns to face us. I could easily envy him for the smile he has on his face. So happy, serene, and in wonder. A feeling I have missed long ago, I guess. Like nothing matters anymore, now that he feels so good.

  “Amazing, right?” he says.

  “Yeah,” Constance says. “Brilliantsauce, fantabulous, wonderstastic. Where are Keys?”

  “Ah, that,” his face dims. He rubs his chin.

  “What does that mean?” Fabiola asks.

  “I guess I haven’t remembered yet,” he shakes his shoulders.

  “Are you kidding me?” Constance says. “After all this song and dance?”

  “Maybe it does take time,” I suggest.

  “Wait,” he says, a finger on his lips.

  “Wait for what?” I near him.

  “This,” he points his finger up, in no direction.

  “The ceiling?” Fabiola asks.

  “No,” he insists. “This.”

  Suddenly the earth shakes violently underneath us. Constance loses balance and falls. I hang on, but the earth is still vibrating like crazy. It’s as if it has a voice is humming a dark song to the world.

  68

  Everywhere in London

  “What the hell is that?” the Cheshire asked the Pillar. Mr. Jay, standing in the shadows, didn’t show signs of surprise. “Do you know what this is, Pillar?”

  The Pillar said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the shadow Mr. Jay hides behind. The earth kept vibrating. The Cheshire realized the Pillar didn’t look surprised as well.

  “What the hell is this, Pillar?”

  The Pillar’s smile widens, directed toward Mr. Jay. “It’s happening,” he said.

  “What is happening?” the Cheshire shrieked, holding on a chair so that he wouldn’t fall.

  “The end,” the Pillar said. “The beginning,” he added. “And all the nonsense in between.”

  Outside the Kew Garden, Tom hung onto the side of the bus. “Earthquake!” He swung to the vibration and laughed hysterically.

  Humpty was busy licking his candy when the earth shook. He hadn’t enough time to hang onto something, so he ended up rolling like a ball all over the place with nothing to hang onto.

  “All these things we fight over can just be gone in a second,” Tom couldn’t stop laughing. “Hail Darwin and nature. Nature can just wipe us out whenever it likes. We’re nothing but stardust and stupid cells with imagination.”

  The Reds up the hill held tight to each other. They seemed to know too what’s going on, but they weren’t strong enough not to shake.

  One of them announced to the others, “It’s happening, boys. Hold on tight.”

  People all over London had to stop their fighting and killing. When the earth shook, everyone had to listen.

  “What is this?” someone asked.

  “The end, of course.”

  “Dust to dust, mate.”

  “I think my wife just farted.”

  The kids in an elementary school in London shook violently to the earth’s madness. They held onto each in the class. The teacher, a young blond woman with freckles, assured them it was going to pass. She wasn’t sure herself, but a teacher had to pretend she knew everything.

  She held onto her chair and shouted at them. ‘Hold on. It’s going to pass. Just don’t lose your books.”

  The kids held tighter to their books.

  “Bravo, kids,” she rewarded them. “Soon it will happen.”

  “Does it have to?” a child asked, worried.

  “It has to, but you will be brave enough to save the world, right?”

  He nodded feebly. Neither he or his friends wanted to save the world. Classes at school sucked. He prayed for the weekend to come. Why couldn’t the older folks save the world? Why did always have to be them? He thought elders read too much Harry Potter these days.

  “That’s good,” she said. “Now whose got Alice in Wonderland and who has Through the Looking Glass?”

  Mother Bird stopped tapping her feet in the phone booth. For a moment she wondered if her tapping did that, but then she realized what it was. She took a look at the paper in her hand then at the phone set.

  “This is actually happening,” she mumbled.

  She shifted her gaze between the sky and the earth, looking for it. She couldn’t see it. Not yet. This must be a prelude. The rest is coming.

  When Dormouse had first shown her the ‘event’ on the note, she had laughed. Now she feared for her life. Not her children. She’d taken care of them. The money guaranteed a good ‘after-apocalypse’ for them.

  She gripped the handset but didn't pick up. She just wanted to be ready to make the phone call once it’s all done.

  “Ashes to ashes,” she prayed, hanging on the phone set. “Dust to dust,” she closed her eyes. “And mushrooms to mushrooms.”

  69

  The Kew Garden

  The earthquake or whatever that was stopped. Not entirely. A low vibration, like a boiling pot, still hums and drones underneath us.

  “What was that?” Jack comes in, shouldering Lewis Carroll.

  “Earthquake?” Constance said. “Volcano?”

  “What is it, March?” I kneel, trying to look in his eyes.

  He looks away, his fingers still pointing up there.

  “March, this looks serious,” I told him. “Don’t worry I am not pressuring you to remember the whereabouts of the Keys.”

  “But he has to—”

  “Stop it, Constance!” I say. “March,” I touch his face, gently. “Look at me, please.”

  He shakes his head now.

  “Okay, you don’t have to look at me, Just tell me if you know what this earthquake was.”

  He says nothing but keeps pointing.

  “The sky?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no again. This times he lowers his hand.

  “Ah,” I say. “The mushrooms?”

  He nods yes.

  “Why would the mushrooms do this?

  He shakes his shoulders.

  “You don’t why, but you’re sure it’s them?”

  He nods yes.

  I am in loss for words, confused to what I should solve first. Should I go for the Keys or try to make sense of the earth vibrating underneath me.

  “Whatever happened isn’t going to stop,” Fabiola says. “The earth is still vibrating.”

  “I’d like this scenario for the end of the world better.” Constance folds her arms.

  “What about you?” I look at the Red Queen.

  “What about me?”

  “This mumbo-jumbo about the Ages and the time traveling and the Looking Glass,” I say. “You said you knew or saw the future?”

  “This is hard to explain, Alice, and I will not tell you,” she says. “I told I couldn’t tell you what I saw.”

  “But you know?”

  She shrugs. “I saw this ending, but it was different.”

  “So this is the ending?”

  She nods empathetically.

  “I wonder what the ending to all of this is?” I tell her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean is the ending finding the Keys? Or finding who I am? Or what the hell is going on?”

  “The ending is the beginning, Alice.” the Red Queen says, and makes things harder to understand.

  Lewis is aching harder now. He falls to his knees and
holds onto his stomach. The pain is tearing him apart. His situation distracts me from asking the Red Queen what she meant, but would she have told me anyways?

  “Something is wrong again,” Constance says with a reasonable look in her eyes now. “The March should have remembered when he sees the mushrooms. At least that is something we’re sure of.”

  “So?” Fabiola says.

  “So why isn’t he?” Constance says. “Forget about this earthquake for a moment. If he can’t remember, then there is only one possibility.”

  “Which is?” I ask her.

  “Logical,” she shakes her shoulders. “Those aren’t the mushrooms we are looking for.”

  Her words make total sense, and yet they don’t. “So we’re in the wrong place, Constance?”

  There is certain fear in her eyes now.

  “Where else can the mushrooms be?” I ask.

  “The Alnwick Garden.” Jack proposes.

  “It’s not,” the Red Queen says. “In the vision, I saw the mushroom aren’t there.”

  “You can tell us about the future now?” I ask.

  “I can tell what is not, but not what is,” she says.

  “Stop it!” Lewis panics. He crawls on all fours toward the mushrooms.

  Fabiola runs to stop him. “Hold on, Lewis. It’s going to pass.”

  “No!” he says. “I want that mushroom.”

  My head is exploding. Any day in the asylum has been mush easier to handle than this mad fest. Surprisingly, the March finally talks.

  “I remember,” he raises his moist eyes to meet mine. Oh, God, what’s this fear in his eyes? I can’t take it. He is so afraid. Not for himself. For someone else, I guess. It’s as if he is afraid for the whole world.

  “The Keys?” I say.

  “Not the Keys,” he kneels down slowly. “Alice, I remember something else.”

  “Tell me, March,” I say. “I am sure it’s important. You look so worried.”

  His eyes moisten more and more. “My God,” he holds his head. “I am so afraid for them,” he holds his head. The cap with the screws seems to hurt him more now. “I want to get rid of this!”

  I hold tight on to him, hug him with all might. His body is so cold. “We tried March,” I say. “The cap is fitted, too fitted. It will hurt if we remove it.”

  “I told you it’s the cap that’s holding him back,” Constance says. “It’s stopping him from remembering.”

  “But I do remember,” he tells her, shivering in my hands.

  “You don’t remember the Keys,” Constance says. “Just this thing you fear.”

  “No, what I fear,” he says. “I fear for them,” he touches my face. “Alice.”

  “Yes, March. Just tell me who you fear for.”

  His stare is long, too deep into my eyes, as if he sees beyond my body, into a memory, into the truth. “I remember the most precious thing in the world.”

  “Not again,” Constance says.

  “You have to help them, Alice,” the March says. “You have to. This is all about them.”

  “I will. Just tell me who you are talking about, March,” I tell him. “What is the most precious thing. Why is it in danger?”

  “It’s not ‘it’ Alice,” he says. “It’s them.”

  Fabiola, still holding onto Lewis cuts in, “Okay, March, I will tell them.”

  Our gazes are divided between the both of them. I’m not sure who says it first, and it takes me forever to comprehend or understand. But the answer is, “The most precious thing is the children.”

  70

  Past: Alnwick’s Gardens

  The night Lewis took the mushroom he’d fallen to his knees in the Pillar’s arms. The impact was too strong, and he couldn’t handle it, though he needed to find the March as soon as possible to tell him before he forgot forever.

  It was an emotional moment for Lewis. An opportunity for the Pillar.

  “Feeling weary, Lewis?” he said, holding Lewis in his arms. “It will soon pass. Just keep with it.”

  “I think I will regret taking the mushroom later.”

  “Oh you will,” the Pillar smirked. “But we’re all full of regrets, aren’t we?”

  “What if I die before I go to the March?” Lewis coughed.

  The Pillar knew Lewis wasn’t going to die but saw the opportunity right away. “Maybe tell me, Lewis. What is it you want to forget?”

  “The location of the Six Keys,” Lewis, under the influence, spilled the beans.

  “Six Keys? What do they do?” the Pillar asked, though years later he’d regret not asking where they were.

  “They control the world.”

  The Pillar rolled his eyes. “Ah, that cliched trope that some keys or ring holds all the evil in the world?”

  “It’s not that,” Lewis said. “Mr. Jay found a secret to controlling the children of the world.”

  “Children?” the Pillar scoffed. “Who would want to control those obnoxious creatures?”

  “Imagine having access to a child’s mind,” Lewis said. “Imagine you’re the devil and have a magic potion that helps you insinuate all bad ideas and believes into a child’s heart and soul.”

  The Pillar liked it. “That’s interesting, Lewis. So it wasn’t you who discovered this power?”

  “I spent my life opposing it,” Lewis said. “Mr. Jay has it. I stole the magic from him, and now he is lost without it. The dream of his next generation under his influence is gone.”

  “So you hid it? The secret?”

  “The secret to the most precious thing.”

  “Most precious thing?” the Pillar grimaced. “Ah, of course, to you children are a most precious thing. Obnoxious little bratty monsters to me. How did you steal the power from Mr. Jay by the way?”

  Lewis was about to say but dozed off again in the Pillar’s hands.

  71

  BBC REPORT

  With the world going to meet its maker soon, one thing tops all current headlines: who bought the Lewis Carroll books and what are they doing with it?

  As trivial as it seems, it’s a mystery that someone has the capacity or determination to do this at times like these.

  The issue has roots outside of Britain. Similar incidents have been reported all over the world. In every language possible.

  What is going on? Is someone preserving Lewis Carroll’s legacy, so it survives the end of the world? If so, why not a couple of books?

  Another reported issue is teachers all over the world inviting as many children possible to reading classes. In the collapse of the educational system, those teachers gather the children in remnants of destroyed classrooms for one last reading session.

  Guess what they are reading?

  Not the Bible, my friend. Not even the latest edition of your favorite comic book. But Lewis Carroll’s books.

  If there is anything the BBC crew would love to know before we die, it’s what the hookery cookery is going on?

  72

  The Mushrooms in the Kew Garden

  I have listened in detail to the March’s story about the children and what happened to Lewis — who confirmed the story, even though his addiction was getting worse.

  Knowing that I did all of this is to save the children of the world from Mr. Jay’s dark influence is an honor. Though I am not sure I understand entirely, it makes the journey worth it.

  Imagine some power that controls the heart and mind of those innocent creatures. No wonder Mr. Jay is so keen on owning this ability. No more training terrorists, no more creating armies, no more spying or meticulous technologies to control the world. Just have the power to control the children who will rule this world in a few years to come.

  Imagine the power of influencing every teacher in the world to poison the minds of those children with all evil ideas.

  “Alice?” Constance says.

  “Just a moment, Constance,” I say. “I need to let this sink in.”

  “There is nothing to sink in,” she say
s. “Mr. Jay is like the devil, and instead of manipulating people’s minds for years, he’d decided to go for the little peeps like me, mold and shape their minds to his needs and plans. It’s a perfect plan. All evil leaders in the past, tried it, Hitler and others. It’s an old trick, except that whatever that power is, it seems instant and efficient. Whoever posses it, will not only rule children but the world.”

  “Is that true?” I ask Lewis.

  His back is to me, crouching over and holding onto the pain in his stomach, but I can see him nod.

  “Its’ what Lewis had been fighting for all of his life,” Fabiola explains. “The books he wrote were an antidote for the power Mr. Jay is after.”

  “Antidote?” I say.

  “Why do you think Alice in Wonderland is the second most sold book after the Bible until today, Alice?” she says. “Why do you think it’s never been out of print? It’s not a coincidence.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Lewis wrote a book so powerful and close to children’s heart that it gives them resistance against Mr. Jay’s power if he ever has his hands on it,” Fabiola explains.

  I turn and stare at Lewis. “Is this true, Lewis?” I move over and shake him, even in his pain. “I need to know. Is this true?”

  “He is in pain, Alice,” Fabiola says.

  “Is it true, Lewis?” I need to know. Am I just a character in a book? Am I not real?

  “Stop it, Alice,” Constance says.

  “Not until you answer me, Lewis,” I shake him harder. “Is it true.”

  Suddenly Lewis replies, but in a gush voice I haven’t heard before. Wait, I have heard this voice before. My God!

  I pull back and fall on one hand, as I watch Lewis turn to face me. Face us. What an unpleasant surprise.

  All of us shriek in one breath.

  The ugly creature looking back to us isn’t Lewis. It’s Carolus.