The Radcliffe Asylum
“I ’m going to face them outside and tell them we’ve been framed!” I say, turning around, ready to face death itself.
“No one’s going to believe you, Alice,” the Pillar says behind me.
I dismiss his words and walk on through the corridor.
“He is right,” Tom says. “No one’s going to believe you.”
“We have to stand up and face them.” I stop and turn back. Tom, the Pillar, the March, and the Mushroomers are staring back at me. A variation of different stares. But one thing is similar. They look up to me as if I’m the leader who has to find a solution. “We can’t let Black Chess rule the world, posing as if they’re the world’s savior.”
“It’s too late for that,” the Pillar says. “This isn’t a yesterday’s plan. This has been going on for two hundred years. Black Chess is everywhere. In every industry. In every authority. The masses are brain washed. No argument can change that.”
“You’re the last one to tell me this,” I say. “You’ve convinced me we can do it. You made me believe I can save lives. So stop the hypocrisy.”
“I meant every word I said,” he says. “But just be real about it. The world has been suffering from so many terrorist attacks in the past few years. The public is hungry to find who is responsible. Hungry for justice. We’re the scapegoats now.”
“Then what should we do?” the March asks, worried like a four-year-old.
“Anything but go outside and talk to them,” the Pillar says, but then falls into a thinking silence for a moment.
I let the silence fill the room. Let it slow down the anger. When in anger everything is confusion. All actions executed in confusion end up being mistakes. The silence stops time. Time heals — partially. But it helps make us think. The Pillar is a master of such moments. I swear I will kill him eventually, but it’s a good idea to have his deception on my side for now.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him.
“It has just occurred to me that part of their plan is to lure us outside,” he explains. “The fake threat, claiming they’d barge in, was a game. They wanted us to give in and go out.”
“Why?”
“It’s hard to tell. This whole situation is bonkers, but maybe they want to shoot us in public and pose as heroes in the public eye. Maybe something else.”
“Then my idea of confronting them wasn’t that bad.”
“You could be right, Alice. But…”
“What is it, Pillar? We only have five hours left.”
“I think I have a better idea.”
“You think?”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay. I have a better idea.”
“Speak up. And it better be good.”
“I know someone who can crawl into the small space of the hole.”
“That’s hard to believe. The hole is too small. Besides, what good will come out of it? We can’t fit anyways.”
“I’m sure the asylum is full of secret tunnels none of us, or anyone else, have discovered. Somewhere in these tunnels there must be a wall leading to a usable tunnel. All we have to do is bring the wall down.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“History. It’s a given fact that the Radcliffe Asylum was surrounded with tunnels in the time of war. Escape tunnels, now buried in the rubble of time and neglect.”
“We could punch through every wall, starting now,” a Mushroomer suggests.
“That would take forever,” Mr. Tom Pessimistic Truckle comments.
“If we get someone with a tiny figure to crawl through, they could find a way and guide us. We could use Tom’s walkie-talkies to communicate.”
“How do you know I have walkie-talkies?” Tom says.
“You’re an eighties guy. I searched your office, but that’s not the point,” the Pillar says.
“It’s not the point indeed.” I step forward. “The point is, who do you think can crawl in that small space?”
The Pillar shrugs. “Someone I should not introduce, but I have no choice.”
“Who?”
“A girl.”
“A girl?”
“A little girl who once was the sixth member of the Inklings.”