The River, London
T he shooting tanks kill our hopes of escaping. The guns in our hands mean so little now. Sure they would help us with protecting ourselves against anyone from the shore coming closer, but not the tanks.
“I love you, man in the sky!” the Mushroomer insists on talking with open arms. I can’t save him anymore. He is enamored with whatever was up there.
As for me, I am all over the place, helping the others who got wounded while Constance begins rowing.
In a glance, I see the Mushroomer is gone. His man in the sky didn’t save him from the tanks.
In a moment of anger I pull out my two guns and fire aimlessly at the tanks by the shore. Nothing happened, of course. I am just blowing off steam.
Behind me, the Mushroomers and Constance look weirdly at me. They don’t expect me to lose my temper. I am supposed to be calm so that they stay as calm as possible. The worst thing in the world is when you have to pretend you know what you are doing when you don’t.
“I’d say I dive in the water toward the shore is a good idea,” Constance shouts against the blaring sounds of the tanks.
“If I go, you will die,” I tell her.
I turn around and shoot blindly at the tanks. Another bomb misses me by a few meters. I flip back and fall into the water.
Swimming up, I wonder if I have a superpower or know some magic. Shouldn’t Alice have this sort of stuff?
I pull myself up and see the Mushroomers and Constance are staring upward.
“The man in the sky,” Constance says.
“What the hell?” I blurt, pulling myself up.
“He is real,” Constance is freaking smiling and pointing upward.
I crane my head and see a helicopter. A black one that strangely doesn’t produce a sound. It lowers slowly in our direction, swirling the wind and shaking the water all around us. We shield our faces with our hands as it closes in.
Then a tremendous amount of guns drop on the boat.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Who cares?” Constance starts helping the Mushroomers into the helicopter.
I help them as well. I bend over to become a stepping stone so they reach for the helicopter’s door. It takes a lot of time and some Mushroomers die in the process.
“What about him?” Constance points at Tom Truckle.
“What about him?” I ask. “We have to save him as well.”
“I don’t trust him,” Constance says.
“I don’t care,” I pull his hand toward the helicopter. “What’s wrong with you?” I sneer at Constance as she ducks away from another bomb.
She lets out an angry growl. “I will take care of the March Hare. He deserves to live.”
As I help the last Mushroomer up to the helicopter, I stretch out a hand for Constance to pull me up. Instead it’s someone else who stretches out.
I don’t know if I should laugh or not, but I can’t believe this is who came to save us. I actually missed him a lot.
“In your service, miss,” the Mousy Chauffeur says. “Let me help.”
I take his hand. “You drive helicopters now?”
“Well, Mr. Pillar let me go, and I needed to make a living. Welcome aboard.”