Ice-Cream Truck
T he fight is beautiful. I know it’s a strange thing to say, but we are all fighting hand in hand. I may have the top powers but the rest are as badass as any Inkling would be proud.
Jack who has been silent most of the time, is skilled in a way I didn’t see before. He seems lost in the haze of not knowing if he is dead or alive but when it comes to killing Reds — or saving me — he is on top of his game.
Fabiola has so much effective rage. Let’s just not talk about her now. Lewis and Constance are happy children playing a game of virtual reality. They have enjoyed the theatrical play on Tom so much.
When we finish every last one of the Reds, Constance ties Tom to the truck.
“I don’t know what to do with him,” she tells Lewis.
“Leave him be,” Lewis says. “We have to get back on our purpose.”
“The Kew Garden,” Jack says. “Let me go find another vehicle.”
“Make it a Lamborghini, please?” Constance shouts after him.
“That won’t fit,” Jack winks as he leaves.
“Is everyone okay?” I ask.
“I am,” Constance says telepathically.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask back with my mind. “You could have sent me a message of the plan you cooked up with Lewis to get Tom.”
“I was sending it to you, but it seemed blocked,” she sends back. “I told you I can’t get my message through when I am tensed or worried sometimes.”
“So this must have been the pain in my ears.” I send back.
“Could be. We both don’t know how this mind-talk happens. I don’t want to bother Lewis by asking now.”
I nod and go back to check on the March. “It’s strange he didn’t wake up in all of this mess,” I tell Lewis, standing next to him.
“Well, I did!” the March stands up all of a sudden and rubs his clothes clean.
We let out many laughs.
“Were you awake all of the time?” I ask him.
“I awoke to the gun shot,” he says. “I was going to burst into tears when I saw Constance on the floor, but then I saw there was no blood, so I got it.”
Constance and the March high-five. I roll my eyes, and Lewis laughs.
“What are you laughing about?” I ask him.
“You’re too tense. Loosen up, Alice,” Lewis says. “I write children’s books, not horrors.”
“You call this life we’re in children’s books? This is a mad nightmare.”
“True, life is tough,” he says. “But look at Constance. Someone just shot at her, and she is all fun and giggles.”
“So I am the one who spoils the party now?”
“Far from it,” Fabiola remarks. “We need you. You just need to take it easy.”
I don’t think Fabiola is taking anything easy herself, but I don’t comment.
“So now you’re awake,” I turn to the March. “Do you remember anything else? Is the Kew Garden the right answer.”
“I’m not sure about the Kew Garden, though we still have to go there, as it’s our only chance for now,” the March says. “But I remembered something as important.”
“Please tell us, March,” I say.
“The Six Keys aren’t keys.”
“Interesting,” Lewis says. I can’t imagine how strange it is not to remember what he’d told the March two centuries ago. “Did I tell you that?”
“Yes,” the March says. “The memory is still blurry, though.”
“So if they’re not keys, what are they?” I say. Were we chasing an illusion all this time?
“They don’t open a safe, or a door, but something else.”
“Can you elaborate?” I am as patient as I can be.
“They open…” the March divides his gaze among us. “Are you ready?”
“Don’t do this,” Constance says. “Just spit it out.”
“They open the mind.”