The Mush Room
C onstance and the Dude arrive and start showing the Mushroomers the way out. It’s going to take some organizing to do so. I let them, not sure if I’ll leave with them.
“What do you mean you won’t leave?” Constance argues.
“I just killed the March. I don’t feel like saving myself.”
“It was an accident, Alice. The world needs you.”
“You sound like the Pillar.”
“Well, maybe he is the only one who’s been right about you so far. Come on, Alice.”
“If he is right, why’d he escape?”
“It’s not like he’s turned down an invitation back to the asylum.” Constance also seems to favor him like everyone else. I’m not sure why I don’t support those feeling about him anymore. “He’s blown off the queen’s head, Alice. He’s the most wanted man in the world right now.”
“Do you think he should have done that?”
“Who knows?” Constance says. “Who cares? We’re in big trouble right now. The world thinks we’re terrorists. If you don’t escape and we don’t get ourselves together, Black Chess will rule the world by tomorrow.”
“I’m sick of this Inkling slash Black Chess thing,” I say. “I’m sick of all of it. We don’t know what we’re fighting for. We don’t know what we’re up to. I tried my best, and in the end I killed the most innocent person I’ve ever known.”
Constance sighs, unable to argue anymore. Behind her, through the Mush Room’s door, the Mushroomers are running like crazy, guided by the Dude. Constance told me earlier how they met, but I’m not sure of the Dude’s intentions. It’s just too hard to focus on too many things at a time.
“I’m staying with the March,” I tell Constance. “It’s my final decision.”
Constance lowers her head and fiddles with her feet. “Whatever you want, Alice.”
With a breaking heart, I watch her walk out the door. It’s hard to explain why I don’t want to leave. Maybe I want to die. Want to punish myself for giving up on the March. God, I didn’t only let him die, I’ve just killed the childhood he’d hung onto for so long. What kind of hero am I?
Before Constance leaves, Tom dashes into the room, hardly catching his breath. He grips the doorframe and spits out the words, “We have to expedite the escaping process.”
“It can’t be expedited,” Constance argues. “The door to the tunnels is small. And there is a fissure outside. It’s not easy to cross over. Then there is the water occasionally rushing in from nowhere. We’re doing our best.”
“You don't understand,” Tom says.
“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand.” Constance’s frustration with me is fired up against Dr. Truckle. “We’re doing our best, and you’re only causing panic. I’ve made up my mind that you should be the last to leave. You’re useless.”
For a moment, Tom feels offended by the tiny girl, but then he snaps to whatever he’d come to tell me. “Listen. I was just in the control room. I was fiddling with the buttons, in case I need to prepare myself for pushing it and locking up the asylum before Constance and the Dude arrived.”
“So?” I say.
“I pushed some wrong buttons, and a digital timer appeared.”
“What did you do?” Constance can’t help herself.
“I don’t know exactly. The timer is counting down from twenty minutes. It says the asylum will self-burn then.”