MUSHROOMLAND, COLUMBIA
O kay. So I am dying.
Why am I falling deep through the mud into a pool of marshmallows underground?
And how come fish are swimming inside the mud?
Those mushrooms have really messed me up. I have no idea what’s going on.
Sinking deep into a marshmallow abyss, I see the Pillar far beyond the translucent mud, arguing with the machine gun man. When they talk, bubbles foam out of their mouths.
This is so trippy.
I’m Alice underground in the marshmallow water world. I’m Alice, who may not be Alice. Hello, nice to meet you. Where have you been? How long am I going to keep sinking?
“Alice!” The Pillar’s voice shakes me from the inside.
“Yes?” I manage to say—or have I? It could be all in my mind.
“You must know the answer to this puzzle,” the Pillar says.
“The Wonderland mathematics puzzle?” I think I said that. How am I talking beneath the sea of marshmallows?
“Yes. What do you get when you divide a loaf with a knife?”
Suddenly, there is this aching pop in my ears.
“I know the answer!” I raise a hand like a student in a class.
The pop in my ears blew off the pressure in my head. The effect of the mushrooms all around me, I guess. I am back in the real world.
Running my palm all over my chest, I realize I wasn’t shot. Not with marshmallows or real bullets.
Sneaky mushrooms.
“That’s some wickedly mad daughter you have here,” the machine gun man tells the Pillar. “So, what’s the answer? I don’t have all day.”
“In Carrollian terms, if you divide a loaf by a knife you get,” I say, “bread and butter.”
“Right answer!” the machine gun man cheers.
The Pillar raises an eyebrow at me.
“What?” I shake my shoulders. “It’s lame, but it’s Lewis Carroll. And don’t ask me how I know. I just remembered it. I think the real question is how those lowlife gangsters use Lewis Carroll’s puzzles as passwords.”
“Shut your mouth, girl.” The machine gun man is provoked. “You and your father are good to go.”
“About time,” the Pillar sighs, grabbing my hand.
“You’ll meet other gangs on the Mushroom Trail. Good luck with that.” The machine gun man says behind us.
I am trying my best to stay focused as the mushrooms grow bigger all around me. “You’re sure of this Executioner we’re risking our lives for?”
“I’m sure. He definitely knows who cooked the plague.” The Pillar clears the way through the thick mushrooms. “Can’t you see what the mushrooms are doing to you already?”
“Why aren’t you as affected, then?”
“The substance I’ve been smoking in my hookah for years. It gives me immunity.”
“You sound like you’ve been preparing to come here for a long time.”
“Sort of.” The Pillar chugged through the darkness. “I’d stop asking questions if I were you. The mushrooms’ effects aren’t just in your brain. It’s like a sleeping poison. If you don’t drink from the Executioner’s special coconuts in less than an hour, you’ll...”
“I will what?” I fold my drugged arms before me.
“You will die, Alice. Why do you think no one outlives the Mushroom Trail unless they meet the Executioner?”