"C alled you ?" I know it's rather insulting to call Fabiola, but it must be one of his sinister tricks.
"Phone call, Skype, WhatsApp?" the Pillar says, but we dismiss him.
"He came to me in the form a repenting woman in the confession room," Fabiola says. "I don't want to talk about it."
"And he made her an offer she can't refuse," the Pillar mocks.
"The Cheshire said he knows how to stop the Muffin Man," Fabiola says. "And before anyone comments, I know how humiliatingly ironic this is. The man who created an evil murderer to terrorize us is also telling us how to get rid of him."
"He is mocking us. It's an analogy." The Pillar's seriousness returns.
"For what?" I ask.
"In the Muffin Man's mind, the food companies create food that gets us sick, so we end up going to the medicine companies asking them for a cure for the food. Both medicine and food companies are owned by the Black Chess corporation. They sell us the poison and then the cure for it. The same thing the Cheshire does now."
"I don't want to confuse her with all the details about the Black Chess corporation now." Fabiola waves a hand at the Pillar. "The fact of the matter is the Cheshire demands he only tells you how to get rid of the Muffin Man." She is looking at me. "He will meet you in Mudfog Town—"
"Mudfog, where everyone is dead now. It looks like a smaller version of England's Black Death in the 1600s," the Pillar comments.
"Is that where we're going?" I ask.
Fabiola nods. "You will have to shake hands with the devil to save the innocent. I know this is the noblest thing to do."
"Noble, my tarts and farts," the Pillar mumbles, but I can hear him.
"Are you ready to meet him?" Fabiola asks me.
I nod.
The chauffeur stops his car. I assume we've arrived in Mudfog.
When I pull down the window, the town reeks of the dead. The sight of them sprawled on the ground is really no different from any zombie movie I have watched.
"No one cleaned this town yet?" I can't believe this.
"They said they did in the news." The Pillar winks, but then his face changes. He stops and looks at me from top to bottom. I don't know what he is looking for. "Did you read my paper about Jack yet?" he asks.
"No. I didn't find it." I dig my hand in my pocket and don't find it again.
"Strange, I searched for it in your pockets while you were sleeping and couldn't find too," he says. "Would you like to know who he is before you go to meet the Cheshire?"
The idea of knowing has been paired with the word horrifying . When I woke in a physiatrist's office, I ended up with crippled legs. Whether it's the truth or not, I am afraid that knowing who Jack is will have the same effect on me. And I'd had that feeling for the last couple of days.
"I think I'd like to see the Cheshire first." I pull the handle. "I might return to you briefly when I know what he is asking from me." Gazing outside, I see an overweight kid somersaulting and dancing atop a wall. His moves are impossible for his body figure and shape. I know it's the Cheshire. I step out.
"Tell him the Pillar says 'meow'!" the Pillar chirps from inside before I shut the door behind me. "And if possible, can he tell us how to stuff a head inside a watermelon, because I think it's brilliant!"