by Cameron Jace
"What a golden afternoon we have!" the boy greets me with open hands, pointing at the sinking sun in the distance.
"It's almost four o'clock." I stop before him, craning my neck up, just like Alice did in the book when talking to the cat on the tree. "Get to the point."
"Not before you see this." He walks on his hands on top of the wall while dribbling his head like a ball with his legs.
"Good for you," I say. "You belong to a circus."
"Why do you hate me so much, Alice?" He stands straight and jams his thumbs behind his overall straps.
"If you don't talk, I will walk away," I say.
The boy lets himself fall, and pretends his neck is broken. His head rolls right under my feet. He props himself up without a neck. His head underneath me talks to me. "Did I tell you my name is Humpty Dumpty?"
"A pleasure," I say with pursed lips. "I've had it. I am walking."
"Could you please give me my head back, then?" His face snickers at me. "How do you expect me to talk to you without my head on my shoulders?"
I kneel down, pull it up, and throw it in his hands. He catches it with ease and hinges it back on.
"Talk," I demand. "Fast. No games."
"Look at you," the boy says with both resentment and admiration. "You're not scared of me anymore."
"That's not fast enough." I am terrified. Somehow, I've learned not to show it.
"Oh, and you have learned good comebacks." He rubs his fatty chin.
"The only comeback you will get is my fist in your ugly chin." I think my fear to awaken crippled again is what moves me now.
"I am beginning to like you," he says. "Here is the deal. I will help you kill the Muffin Man and stop him from mass-poisoning everyone."
I want to ask why he would do that, but I have a much more important question. "Killing him isn't going to solve it. He must have already poisoned food across the country. I need to know what kind of food and where to find it."
"You believed that?" He pulls out a yo-yo and plays with it.
"He was bluffing?"
"Not exactly," the boy says. "At the moment, nothing has been poisoned yet. But he, and a few acquaintances, will start poisoning a lot of candies and junk food across the country."
"I'm not quite following."
"Poisoning the food as he promised wasn't going to work. At best a few people would die, and then a pattern of which foods are poisoned and which aren't will present itself. We had a greater plan. To shock you and do nothing, and then right when everyone on the news calls the Muffin Man's bluff, the poisoning starts without warning."
"Because the food he poisons now will take about week to get into the market, and then when it starts there will be no going back." I am thinking their sinister plan out loud.
"Touché! I'm a brilliant cat." He grins. "Although it all could have been stopped if the Queen and Parliament confessed their wrongdoing, which we knew they would never do."
"This means I have to stop him now."
"Right on, tough girl." He fists a hand, mocking some comic superhero. "If you kill the Muffin Man, all his acquaintances will stop immediately, and you will truly have saved Britain."
"How can I kill him?" I try to be blunt and precise, like the Pillar.
"That's the easy part." He pulls my umbrella from behind his back and opens it with a joker's smile on his face.
"How did you get that?"
"I had to snatch it from your cell when I visited you last time," he says. "I've always been curious about those gadgets Lewis Carroll invented. Fabiola knows a lot about those, but she wouldn't tell me." He meows like a sad cat waiting to be fed. "But that's all right. I always get what I want eventually. I'm a cat, after all."
"So you know I'm not mad," I say. "You have my umbrella and know I used it to escape the tower at Ypres."
"I don't know that," he says. "You know why? Because we're all mad here." He throws the umbrella my way.
I catch it, and without hesitation, I aim it back at him. I pull the trigger and shoot him. I don't get chances like these often, and I should have killed him in the morgue.
A bullet that looks like a sharp tooth slithers through his stomach and doesn't come out. I think I managed to finally kill the Cheshire Cat.
Chapter 63
"Ouch," he says. "That tickled." He grins that awful grin again. "That's why I met you in a dead boy's form, because you can't kill what's already dead. Nice reflexes, though. The bullets inside this weapon are very scarce, so don't shoot me again, please."
"What kind of bullets?"
"Bandersnatch teeth, another Carrollian invention. You know what a Bandersnatch is, right?"
"A monster lurking in the Wonderland forest, according to the books, like mentioned by Carroll in the poem."
"You had three bullets inside. Now two." He furrows his brow. "No other bullet can kill the Muffin Man, unless you're planning to get close to him and fist-fight a big man like him."
"Where is he, so I can stop him?"
"He is in Uxbridge in London, inside the Cadbury factory, stirring some hot chocolate and pouring pepper into it."
"Wait a minute. Something isn't right." Uxbridge shouldn't be far from here. I just don't understand why the Cheshire wants me to kill the monster he created himself. "Why are you doing all of this? You're tricking me."
"It's simple, really." He pulls out the Bandersnatch tooth and hurls it away. "I planned this mess from the beginning only to send you a message. By you, I mean the Pillar, Fabiola, and the whole world."
"Which is?"
"I showed you an example of a man crushed so hard by society he flipped back with anger against it." He is proud of it. "It's a textbook on how to create a terrorist or criminal. Crush him with society's cruelness, take his poor soul to a madman like me, and infest his brain with revengeful thoughts so powerful that he only sees humans as bridges to his cause. Then you've got yourself a first-class nuthead killing for reasons that make no sense."
I stare at him speechlessly.
"What?"
"I just haven't seen anyone sicker than you," I admit. "What are you? What drives your hate to humanity so much?"
"Humans, of course." He spreads his hands wide. "They made me what I am. The same way I made the Muffin Man. I am a reflex to human cruelty and madness; only you weren't prepared for such a powerful reflex like me. And guess what? I am just showing the Pillar and Fabiola how weak human souls are, how I can use most of them against them in the coming Wonderland War. You know how many mistreated men and women walk the streets every that I could take advantage of?"
"Somehow, I don't think this enough reason to want me to kill the Muffin Man," I argue.
"I want to see if you can do it." He steps forward, his dead eyes gleaming with life. "I'm still am curious about you." He throws the yo-yo away. "Either you won’t be able to do it and go permanently insane so I'll stop thinking about you, or you'll kill him, and prove you're the one and only Alice that Lewis trusted so much."
"Then what happens?"
"If you are her?" he asks. "Oh, baby. That's a new ballgame on its own."
I am not sure I want to risk being pushed to further madness. I'd risk waking up crippled in my cell again.
"But I don't think you could shoot the Muffin Man," the Cheshire dares. "You're too weakened by what you've seen in Wonderland. Deep inside, you think he had been a good man mistreated by the grumpy Queen of Hearts, who killed his children."
"We're not sure about that," I object. "Lewis went to save them. He might have—"
"No, he didn't." He grins. "Doesn't it show already? If Lewis had saved Gorgon's kids, he wouldn't be still doing this now. What? You thought you could change the past? The Pillar used you as an experiment to see if the Einstein Blackboard works. Gorgon Ramstein's kids were found dead, their hands scraping at the locked door of their mushroom house, trying to reach for a handle that wasn't going to budge anyway."
I am holding on to the umbrella as s
trongly as I can. If that really happened, I can't picture it in my mind. Is the Muffin Man supposed to pay for the cruelty of the world, or is he supposed to be killed to save those who, some of them, had been cruel to him?
"I can't believe such a thing happened to the Muffin Man." My jaw aches when I speak. I'm fighting both vomit and tears. But like the Pillar said, I can't keep on whining about the insane world. I have to be stronger, although I don't know the recipe for that. "What happened to Lewis when he saw them?" I am angered I have to get my information from the Cheshire, but I can't imagine how Lewis reacted to this. I know how much he loves children.
"Well for one, he st-t-tuttered f-for a-a while." The Cheshire mocks Lewis's shortcomings with a meaty smile from his fatty lips. I barely keep myself from shooting him again. "But then, after he gathered himself, the mathematician priest had an epiphany of a lifetime."
"What do you mean?"
"Lewis Carroll finally knew what could save the poor children of Victorian times," the Cheshire says, mockery underlining every word. "He decided if children could not get clothes, friends, and goods in real life, he was going to give it to them lavishly in a book. A book full of oversized mushrooms, cakes that make you taller, marshmallows, tarts, and more. All free, but only in the figments of imagination of the poor children."
"You mean..."
"I mean the Muffin Man's story is actually the inception of the Alice Underground books. He actually believed that if Gorgon's kids had such a book they might have not starved so quickly. A 'food for the soul' thing, if you know what I mean." He rolls his eyes, obviously envious of everything Lewis did.
"My God."
"Yes? How can I help you?" The Cheshire tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "Just kidding. Come on, let's see if you can pull the trigger, so-called Alice." The Cheshire shows me his latest grin. He disappears, evacuating boy's head and torso so they fall down to the ground.
Chapter 64
Cadbury factory, Uxbridge, London
The Pillar takes care of getting me into the factory. It isn't that hard, now that it's abandoned. Who wants to make chocolate for a world withering away half an hour from now?
In the elevator to the factory's manufacturing floor, the Pillar pushes the stop button.
"You can do it," he says.
"I know I have to," I reply with my umbrella in my hand. "But I am afraid to hesitate, knowing what I know about what happened to the Muffin Man's children."
"If we consider every Bin Laden-like terrorist's miserable childhood and make excuses for him, the world will end up perished in a few days," he says. "Everyone is responsible for themselves. You can't blame the world for what happened to you." He stops for a breath and asks me, "Now, do you want to know who Jack really is before you do this?"
"I am not sure."
"It's all up to you. I am only reminding you in case you don't come back alive," he says. "Who knows what might happen up there?"
"I think I know who Jack is." I finally falter under the pressure. Why should I deny it? I woke up crippled in a world that seemed to be the real world, while all of this, although it feels real, simply can't be real, because it doesn't make any sense. "Jack is just a figment of my imagination."
"Go on..."
"I made him up to compensate for his absence after I killed him in the school bus for reasons I can't remember..."
"And?"
"He just pops up whenever I am in great danger because it feels better thinking he came to save me." I am crying already. "I made him up so I don't feel guilty about him. Sometimes I think people see him, but I could have made that up as well."
"Is that all?"
I crane my head up at the Pillar. "I am ready to admit that, but I want him to stay near. Please, don't make him disappear," I say to the Pillar, throwing myself in his arms. It has been so long since I needed to let these words out.
"I can't make him disappear, Alice." The Pillar doesn't put his arms around me. He just lets me do whatever I want, but doesn't show his sympathy.
I pull back and ask what he means.
"All you've said is wrong," the Pillar says.
"Does that mean Jack is real?" I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.
"Not really."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Are you ready for the truth?"
I nod eagerly.
"Jack isn't a figment of your imagination, Alice," the Pillar answers. "He is a figment of his own imagination."
"What?" I can't even comprehend the sentence he just said. "A figment of his own imagination?"
"When people die in this world, sometimes they aren't ready to cross over to the other side," he explains. "Usually it's someone they have left behind that keeps them attached to the living world. It's not something that happens often. Maybe one in a million." I'm beginning to see where this is going. "There is no doubt you killed Adam—I mean Jack. He just wasn't ready to leave you alone in this world. He believes there is something you haven't learned yet, and he can't leave without helping you with it. Don't ask me what it is, because I don't know."
"You mean he is a dead man walking in my life?"
"He doesn't know that. If you ask him where he slept last night, he usually can't answer it, right?" the Pillar asks. "He is in a haze himself, driven by only one force in this temporary figment of existence."
"One force?"
"His love for you."
My tears burst out again.
"He will appear when your heart needs him the most. He will be seen by others and he will be effective," he says. "If he kills someone, they will die. He is rather true when he is present. Think of him as a living soul borrowed from the other side."
"This so confusing." I hiccup. "But it means he will always be there for me."
"Like a guardian angel." The Pillar chews on the words. "I pretended I didn't see him because of the emotional pressure he will put on you. The world is in danger, Alice, and emotions make us weaker. You can't be like that. You have to learn the art of bluntness in order to face the enemy."
I pull the umbrella up and wipe my tears. "You have it all wrong, Pillar," I tell him. "I don't know what you know about love, or what happened to you in the past that made you so blunt and without feelings, but love strengthens, not weakens. Why didn't you just tell me he was a figment of his own imagination long ago?"
The Pillar stays silent. I sense there is more he isn't telling me.
"If there is anything else I should know, please tell me now."
"There isn't," he says. I believe he is lying. "Do me a favor and don't call for Jack with your heart when you confront the Muffin Man. I want you to know your powers and what you are capable of doing. Jack and I can't be there for you forever."
"How can I do this?"
"Just don't think about Jack up there when you meet up with the enemy," the Pillar says. "Be yourself. Everyone else is taken."
"I will." I like the idea. I can't keep using Jack or the Pillar's help to get me out of every problem. "But still, you have no idea what it's like to be in love." I push the elevator button up, ready for a kill.
The Pillar seems slightly insulted by my words. For the first time, I realize that this ruthless killer was definitely in love one day. The kind of love that maybe left him the way he is now.
Chapter 65
Cadbury factory, chocolate stirring floor
I ask the Pillar to leave me alone with the Muffin Man.
"If you say so," he mumbles as the elevator door closes. "I would have liked to see a chocolate factory just like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," he teases.
The sound of working machines and drills surrounds me as I walk in between. The factory is huge; I am worried it will take me too long to find the Muffin Man.
Surprisingly, it's easier than I thought. Gorgon Ramstein is humming his own nursery rhyme as he is working.
"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who lives in Drury Lane?"
/> I take off my shoes so I can surprise him and he can't hear me coming, my umbrella held up high like a loaded gun.
"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who somehow lost his brain?"
A few rows of stacked-up material later, I see him standing behind a huge, round machine. It looks like a bathtub, with chocolate stirring inside. It has huge mixing fans that are so long and sharp they could cut through a person. The Muffin Man has tons of pepper sacks next to him. He begins opening one to pour the pepper into the mix.
"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who's gone utterly insane?"
"Stop!" I stand firm and point my umbrella at him. It's surprising how I got a straight window for a shot so easily. It occurs to me that I must have been taught to use this umbrella before—or was my clash with the Cheshire in Ypres just about enough? "Or I will shoot!" I say.
"How did you know I was here?" He is utterly surprised, one of the sacks open in his hands.
"That doesn't matter." I manage to control my voice. I have to be loud enough so he knows I will shoot. "I need you to put that sack down, sir." I don't know how it works, but the Cheshire said if Gorgon is stopped, his acquaintances will stop.
"How did you find me?" He is perplexed. "You should be out there with all the panicked people, trying to find the poisoned food or stay away from it."
"Please, sir," I repeat. "Put down the sack of pepper."
The sound of stirring machines demands I raise my voice even more.
"The only one who knows I'm here is the Cheshire." His jaw tenses. "Did he tell you I was here? Why would he do that?"
"Because he is the Cheshire. You shouldn't have trusted him." I'm trying to use this conflict. "I promise you won't be hurt if you stop, sir. We will consider you an ally who helped prevent millions from dying." I am lying. I talk as if I am the police or something. Anything to stop this from happening. "I promise I will tell you anything you want to know once you put the sack down." I readjust the position of my feet. Holding a gun up for a long time turns out to be a hell of a task.
