Running down the stairs, he entered the underground ward and walked among the Mushroomers on both sides. They were panicking, afraid of the world outside. Tom couldn’t help but remember all of the Pillar’s warnings about the world outside the asylum, how they were the real mad ones, not the Mushroomers.
“You’re going to be okay,” Tom tried to calm them down, looking for Waltraud.
“We want Alice!” the Mushroomers said.
Tom had no idea what to tell them. Alice and the Pillar had left on one of their crazy missions. As much as he loathed them both, he also felt sorry for them, having to deal with the mad world outside.
“Waltraud,” Tom called upon seeing her, mushing the brains out of a patient. “Stop whatever you’re doing.”
“Why?” she said in her German accent.
“Why?” he roared at her, his hands reaching for his pills already. “Apocalypse is why! The world is ending outside. I am issuing Plan-X. We’re closing all doors and will self-contain ourselves inside.”
“But—”
“Stop interrupting me! I’m only waiting for my children to arrive, and then the doors will seal shut. I want you to order our people in the kitchen to open up all the reserve refrigerators and start pulling out all food and supply.”
Plan-X had been the asylum’s contingency strategy since long ago. Actually, it had been Tom’s father’s idea. The old man, now in his grave, had predicted the end of the world long ago. Thus, the asylum was pre-prepared with food and living supplies for one year on.
And the time has come father, Tom thought.
But Waltraud Wagner stiffened in her place. She couldn’t pull her eyes off the TV. Something about what was happening outside seemed to appeal to her.
Tom had no time to argue with her. He should have shoved her in a cell long ago. After all, he’d only hired her because she had killed her own patients back in the day, when she was a nurse in Vienna.
Tom turned to the bald Ogier and ordered him to speak to the people in the kitchen.
Ogier nodded obediently and issued the process.
“Don’t worry,” Tom addressed the panicking Mushroomers. “You will be safe in here.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said those words. Never had he loved the Mushroomers, but with the world going down in flames outside, he saw how weak they were. He suddenly began to relate to them.
Then Tom remembered something he’d forgotten upstairs. Two stairs at a time, he dashed into the VIP ward, finally standing before the flamingo’s cell.
“I couldn’t leave you alone,” Tom said, wondering why his heart began softening toward the animal. Maybe it was the end of the world’s effect on him.
He pulled the cell’s door open and let the flamingo out.
“You have two options,” he told it. “Go back to your Queen in the mad world outside or stay with us...well, in the mad world inside.”
It was clear the flamingo wanted to stay, but it also looked puzzled, as if awaiting an answer from Tom.
“Okay,” Tom waved a hand. “I will tell you one of my biggest secrets, and I will only tell you.”
The flamingo’s eyes bulged out with curiosity.
“I’m not who you think I am, but I will not tell you about it, at least not now.” Tom swallowed another pill. “What I can tell you is that I was told about this by my father long ago. He called it the last days before the War. And by this, I mean he told me about the end of times, the appearance of the Wonderland Monsters, the end of the world, and how to build a safe house, a bunker to survive it. Only I was asked to disguise it as an asylum and gather as many mad people as I could, because those are the ones who’re going to save the world.”
I hesitate taking it from him.
“Come on. It’s not poisoned. I won’t hurt you.”
I’m not really sure of that, but I have no choice. If I don’t drink it, I’ll die.
It’s actually not just that. Since I heard about the Pillar being a drug lord, I’ve had the unexplained urge to shoot him dead. I don’t know why I feel so aggressive. It could be the hallucinations.
Maybe all this world really needs is to get rid of the Pillar.
“So Senor Pillardo”—the Executioner guides us into his missile-proof Humvee—“let’s go back to my castle. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Actually, I’m running out of time...”
“Trust me, we have a lot of time—and drugs and mushrooms. And hookahs. And girls. All you need, like in the old days,” the Executioner says. “I understand that you didn’t just come here to see me. We know that is definitely not the case.”.
For the first time ever, I see the Pillar lower his gaze, just a little. What is going on between those two?
“I promise I will look into whatever you need to talk about, but first we have to enjoy some time in my castle. Just like the old days, Senior. Remember those? Man, you were some psycho maniac back then, but you sure made the deals of the century selling drugs, and a lot of money.”
My hands slide down and reach for my umbrella. What if I just shoot both of them? Wouldn’t the world be a better place?
Entering the Humvee, we watch the world burn in flames behind us as we’re driving to the Executioner’s castle.
“So what’s this war all about?” I ask. “Aren’t you all friends here, selling mushrooms?”
“I think Senor Pillardo can tell you himself.” The Executioner laughs.
The Pillar takes a moment then returns to his sarcasm. “It’s nothing. The Executioner’s boys are having fun. Killing for sport.”
The Executioner eyes the Pillar. “Ah, so you don’t want to tell her?” He turns to me. “Let me tell you why my men are killing each other, little girl. But right after we have some drinks in my castle.”
“We don’t have time for your damn castle!” Is it the drugs? Is it me? “We came for...”
The Executioner pulls out another machine gun, a bigger one this time, and points it at me. I’m starting to get bored of this. If you’re going to point a gun, better use it. “I really don’t like shooting.” His sinister intentions show through now. “We’re going to have a welcome meal, then I will listen to what both of you want with me, and then I will decide whether I will kill you or not.”
The Executioner’s castle looks as if it was cut from the pages of a fairy tale, except the part with the guards and their machine guns. It’s hard to believe this man lives in such an expensive mansion while enjoying the world burning all around him. I’m still not over this dark world I have been thrown into. But I can’t do anything about it before the mushrooms’ effect wears off completely.
I don’t want to end up spreading violence to an already violent reality, and then figure out later I had a chance to bring some peace into the world with a little patience instead.
Crossing the lush landscape full of hedges shaped after Wonderland characters, the Executioner informs me he had the March Hare design it for him. “I had to put my business on halt for two months and inject him with a hallucinogen so he wouldn’t know who I was,” he explained. “The March with his naive child-like attitude wouldn’t have designed it if he knew who I was.”
“And who are you, really?” I pretend I have given in to his reality.
“I’m the Executioner, like in the Alice books. I used to work for the Queen to chop off heads, but now I’ve gone solo, and trust me, she fears me more that anything else.”
“So you’re just another Wonderland Monster.”
The Executioner laughs again, entering the vast entrance of his castle. The architecture looks like something from a thousand and one nights.
“That’s not an answer,” I say.
“It’s not meant to be,” he replies without looking at me, then sits himself on his throne in the middle of a sky-lit hall.
“What a fabulous job you did to the castle.” The Pillar, cigar in mouth, admires the place. “I feel like I’m in Taj Mahal.”
“I’m humbled,” the Executioner says. “Senor Pillardo himself compliments me.”
“What happened to the horses?” the Pillar asks.
“Sorry, senior. They all died after you left. I tried to be nice to them, but they kept kicking my men, looking for you. I had to shoot them all,” the Executioner says, pouring himself a pink drink. “We built a casino where your horses used to live. Very profitable, but nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”
The Pillar grins. “How does no one go there anymore if it’s too crowded?”
I sense it’s not a question, but some kind of an inside joke.
“It’s Wonderland logic,” the Executioner explains to me. “It’s like saying: it ain’t over until it’s over.” He hands the Pillar a drink.
“Ah, I remember those.” The Pillar sips his drink. “I remember when we used to say: always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t go to yours.”
The Executioner is amused. “I loved that phrase. Because if you went to their funeral, they were dead already.” He turns to me with a smile. “I bet your friend here hasn’t seen the Wonderland days.”
“Be careful.” The Pillar winks. “She thinks she is Alice. The Real one.”
This throws the Executioner off. “Oh, my.” He chuckles. “That’s a new one.” He turns to me again. “Alice is dead, darling. True, we can’t remember what she looked like, but she’s dead.”
Just when I am about to ask why he’s so sure, a horde of young and skinny children are brought into the castle, wearing tattered clothes, dirt sticking to their sunburned skin.
“What now?” The Executioner pouts at the man who brought them in.
“I thought you’d like to see that we cut their fingers like you asked us.” the man says.
My eyes flip, staring at the children’s bandaged hands. They cut their fingers? What the hell?
“Two knuckles from each kid,” the man says. “Just like you always demand. Should I send them to the field now?”
My anger chokes me up. I turn and stare at the Pillar. He signals for me to stay cool and hush it down. I will explain later, he mouths.
But damn it, I won’t stay cool. Who is this horrible Executioner? I was right when I thought of ridding the world of him.
“Just figure it out!” The Queen padded the chamber left and right, hands behind her back. “It’s too soon for an apocalypse. I want a mad world. Not a dead world. Besides, why is he here? What does he want with the end of the world?”
“I have no idea, but what you’re asking me isn’t something I can do,” Margaret says. “Normally I’d use the Cheshire’s help with something like that, but he made it clear he isn’t on our side. He just wants to bring chaos into the human world for his own giggles and grins. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in this with Lewis Carroll.”
“Then the Pillar is our only chance,” the Queen says. “Where is he?”
“Haven’t seen him since the last time when I visited this Alice girl to convince her she should be one of us,” Margaret said. “I met him briefly afterward, trying to get the key from him, but he said he’d like to keep it until we find the next one. Sort of a guarantee, so nothing bad happens to him until we both fulfill our sides of the deal.”
“I know how to get the key from the Pillar later, that’s hardly my problem,” the Queen said. “Don’t mention it to him now. Just find him, and ask for his help. He has his own out-of-this-world methods. He should be able to stop this Wonderland Monster.”
“I will look for him right away, My Queen.” Margaret was checking her phone. “Wait, I just received information: he took Alice and flew all the way to Columbia?”
The Queen stopped. “Columbia?” She tilted her head. “You’re thinking what I am thinking?”
“The Executioner?” Margaret spelled out slowly.
“It makes sense. Whoever designed this plague in the hookahs must be related to the Executioner. It’s where all the hallucinogens are cooked.” The Queen rubbed her chin.
“So the Pillar is looking for a cure in Columbia?”
“I hope that’s all he is looking for,” the Queen said. “I hope he isn’t digging into the past, or this will have dire consequences. What kind of complicated day is today?” She romped her feet on the ground.
“Today is Sunday, My Queen.”
“Here’s my second request to the Parliament,” she said, chin up. “No more Sundays!”
“That’s impossible. It’s an important day to the people.”
“No, it’s not. I haven’t been cool with the days of the week being seven anyways. God made the world in six days. And Lewis Carroll, when he was still sane, thought about six impossible things for breakfast. And we’re looking for six keys. Now six weekdays feels about right.”
“Whatever you say, My Queen.” Margaret chewed on the words.
“So, back to our problem. Send someone to follow the Pillar in Columbia.”
“You’re aware that very few Wonderlanders have the guts to go there, right? Not even me or the Cheshire.”
“Then find those who have the guts. Wasn’t Wonderland full of gory loons? Find one and send them after the Pillar to expedite his search for a cure.”
“I need to make some phone calls,” Margaret said and left the chamber.
The Queen turned and stared into the mirror. “What are you doing, Pillar?” she mumbled. “Are you planning on opening those old wounds from the past again?”
“Where are they going?” I ask, my hands trembling.
“None of your business, little girl,” the Executioner says. “I’m starting to lose my patience with you.”
“Why not have another drink?” the Pillar interrupts.
Oh, God. How I hate both of them.
“Indeed.” The Executioner pours more of the pink liquid. “And since you’re in the mood for more drinks, here is what I will do. I know you have a question you want to ask me.”
“Finally,” I hiss.
“Yes,” the Pillar says. “I’m looking for a cure for the Hookah of Hearts plague that’s sweeping over the world by the minute—suspiciously enough, it has no effect on this region of the world.”
“Oh, that.”
“I know you don’t care about the world outside of Mushroomland, but I really need to stop the plague,” the Pillar says.
“I saw it on TV this morning,” the Executioner says. “Very funny plague. Did you see the naked teacher on the bicycle chasing his wife, trying to kill her?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure,” the Pillar says.
“Well... I understand it’s Lewis Carroll who spread the disease,” the Executioner considers. “I have to admit I don’t want to have anything to do with him. You know how mad and angry he can get, with all those migraines of his.”
I can’t believe they’re talking about Lewis Carroll, but finding the cure is my priority now. I don’t say a word.
“I know,” the Pillar says, “but we need the cure.”
“The thing is, there is no cure, Senor Pillardo.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure because you have no idea what the hookahs do to people.”
“It turns them into nuts, just like the mushrooms did to me,” I say.
“That’s an understatement to the brilliance of what this plague really does to people.” The Executioner taps the diamond grail he is drinking from. “This plague does something to people you would never have imagined in a million years. And once you realize what it is, you’ll understand why there is no cure.”