Present: The Kew Garden
I t’s not long enough before we reach the garden. From a distance, it looks like some houses in white. Closer, I see how big it is. A lush green and vast space with open-ceiling structures with plants inside.
“That’s strange,” Fabiola says.
“What is?” Lewis asks as Jack parks the school bus.
“It seems intact. No one vandalized it or stole from it.”
“Though I don’t think people would be that interested in botanical plants in the end of days, I agree, it’s strange,” he says.
“Should I drive in or stop here?” Jack says.
“I’d say stop here,” I tell him. “If this is where the March is destined to be then it could be dangerous?”
“Dangerous?” Constance asks.
“According to you, it’s where the most precious thing could be obtained,” I say. “Do you think no one else wants it?”
“Black Chess, of course,” Lewis says. “But we know they don’t know where it is, or they wouldn’t have sent the Reds after us.”
“Where is Tom by the way?” I ask,
“I locked him at the foot of the floor in the back,” Constance says. “He can’t speak. I duct-taped his mouth.”
Fabiola smiled. “Good girl.”
“So let’s do this,” I say, picking up my sword.
The rest pick up their guns and disembark the bus.
On our way down, I pull Jack closer. “Why a school bus?”
“What?”
“Couldn’t you find other vehicles?”
“It’s just coincidence,” Jack looks back at the bus. “Geez, Alice, I am sorry. It’s really… just a coincidence.”
“A very unusual coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he seems sincere. I wonder if he is faking it.
“Or are you trying to get me to remember something?”
“Alice,” he holds my hand as we follow the rest. “I don’t remember what happened with the bus. Why would I do that? Besides, what are the chances that I go fetch a school bus to remind you of something?”
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s just a hell of a coincidence.”
“It is,” Jack says. “Who knows? Maybe it’s fate, and you will remember something?”
I don’t reply, but I don’t believe him. It occurs to me that we’re all keeping secrets from each other.
We arrive at the garden’s gate and find it locked.
“What are we waiting for?” Constance says. “Let’s shoot the lock.”
“I don't know about that,” I say. “Something here is wrong.”
“I agree,” Lewis says.
“Everything is so perfect,” Fabiola says. “An intact garden, untouched, and locked properly?”
“So?” Constance says. “Let’s shoot the lock. Can’t you see we’re all alone here?”
“I have to oppose that statement,” Lewis says, not looking at her. He is looking upward at an angle. “See?”
We follow his gaze toward the hills surrounding the garden. He is right. We’re not alone. Tens of men and women are up there. Guns are pointing at us.