Ice-Cream Truck
I watch Constance throttle back so hard she hits the truck’s edge. A shriek escapes Fabiola, but her attempt to kill Tom with her own hands fails when Tom points his guns at the March. Apparently, the lunatic director of the asylum has lost his mind.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s calm down.” I am talking to the Reds and Tom. This could easily turn into a massacre. “Tom?” I say.
“You made me shoot her,” he says, sweating now. He is looking at his gun as if he had never shot anyone before, as if he was only bluffing and a bullet came out accidentally. “I didn’t want to shoot her, but I did. Will you come down now?”
“I will Tom, just calm down.” I, the former patient of the asylum, am trying to tame the supposedly sane director or this situation will turn into a bloodbath. Of course, I haven’t had the time to digest that Constance may be dead.
“Then come over here and surrender your Verbal Sword,” he growls, sweating even more.
It’s a Vorpal Sword, but I don’t care to correct him.
“Listen, Tom,” I say, handing the sword to the Reds — I can recall it anytime I want to later, just like I had done in the warehouse. “I will only come with you, if you allow me to save Constance.”
“Can she be saved?” he wonders.
“I don’t know—” my words are cut off by Lewis.
“I can save her,” he says.
“How so?” I ask, the same question Tom asked a breath later.
“We’re bonded,” he says. “Through the picture of the past.”
For a moment I wonder if he knows about my telepathy with Constance. I thought me and her were bonded.
“Then go save her,” Tom waves his gun in her direction. “And you, Alice, go the other way, surrender yourself to the Reds.”
I comply slowly, hands up in the air. At a certain angle, I am sure I can kick Tom in the legs and take his gun, but I can’t risk another bullet in the March Hare’s chest or something. Is it not weird that the March hasn’t awoken in all this noise? Is he drugged or something?
The thought brings a sudden noise to my ear. I lower one hand to cup my ear. The Reds point their guns at me.
“Up with the hands,” Tom says, fidgeting in his place now, like an angry child with a toy gun.
“My ears hurt so much,” I say.
“Seriously?” Tom says. “Try another trick. Lewis, what’s going on?”
“I can save her,” he says. “But I need space.”
“What?” Tom grimaces.
My eyes catch Jack’s eyes. He is too silent. I wonder why.
“The magic I will use needs open space, or she will die, Tom,” Lewis eyes him with intent. “You said you didn’t want to shoot her and were bluffing. Be a man and let me save her. You have Alice and the March. It’s a good deal. We all walk away happy.”
“You don’t walk away Lewis,” Tom snorted. “Why do you always think you’re so slick and important?”
“I don’t think that.”
“Yes, you do.” Tom waves the gun in the air, as if this proves his point. Then he waves it at the rest of us. “And you Fabiola, always so cool, helping people in the Vatican.”
“What’s this about?” She asks.
“And Jack,” Tom points the gun at him now. I have a brief chance to kick him, but Lewis looks my way, his eyes saying no. “You’re dead, Jack. What the hell are you doing here?”
Most of us don’t understand what’s going on, but then Fabiola seems to understand. She stares at Tom in a strange way, like a dog tilting its head and inspecting someone. It feels like she recognizes something in him. She’s seen this madness before. She has felt this confusion and utter hate for everyone in the world before, and in some wicked way, she seems to sympathize.
“Tom?” she says. Her voice is motherly and soft. True and unmasked. “I feel your pain.”
In a moment of pure weirdness, Tom’s eyes moist as he looks back at her. His hand unconsciously lowers the gun, but for only a knuckle of a small finger or so.
Tom seems in a haze. It’s a perfect move for me, but Lewis still grits his teeth, denying me the pleasure. I wonder if he's sure he can save Constance.
“Imagine your kids seeing you now, Tom,” Fabiola conjures her persuasion capabilities from her work in the Vatican. “They love you and don’t want to see you like this.”
Tom lowers the gun another knuckle. I hate myself for not taking this chance. Maybe Lewis is counting on Fabiola solving this without blood being spilled. So he must be sure he can save Constance? I can’t see her as his body is shadowing hers now.
Damn my ears hurt again when I think about her.
Fabiola continues her magic, “I have been in your situation before.”
This phases him off. He pulls the gun up again. “What situation? You know nothing about me.”
“I know about the pills,” she says. “I have been an addict before.”
Has she?
The moist look in Tom’s eyes returns. “I know,” he says. Never have I seen him so empathetic. “I am sorry for what happened to you.”
I have no idea what they are talking about. The pain in my ears is unsettling.