Present: On the Road, London
J ack Diamonds strutted all along in the wastelands of the world. Dying people, screaming children, and utter chaos. He had stolen a dead man's rifle and made sure he would make it out alive.
Lewis had run for Fabiola after she accused him of something he didn't quite understand. But it didn't matter. Jack was all alone. No more Lewis, Fabiola, or Constance in his life. This vagabond of friends had been one hell of a ride, but all mad things come to an end.
All he cared about was Alice. He wanted to make sure she was alive. He wanted to make sure she outlived this and found her inner self and won this war. He would help her with all his might if he could only find her.
He didn’t mind her killing him over and over again. For some wicked reason, he wanted to be with her for life. Not necessarily life and death, but maybe life and madness.
He was aware of the fact that the children could only read for so long before they tired or ran out of breath. If they lose hope before the Inklings do something about the end of the world, the Jabberwocky will have their souls for life.
Time was of the essence and he was clueless about how to find Alice.
Also, this memory of the past haunted him.
Alice and him in the poppy fields of Wonderland, separated by the presence of this dark figure. Who was he?
Dread came with this memory, but also love and appreciation. And an explanation.
The memory certainly explained his devotion to Alice. They had known each other since they were kids. This was an absolutely amazing revelation.
But why couldn’t he remember the rest of this memory? Did the memory return with the mushrooms infesting the worlds?
He noted the presence of the jagged-edged plants in the distance. They were huge, like reptiles invading the earth and skies.
For some reason, none of them neared him, even though he remembered them from his past memory of Wonderland. Not that they were as evil and huge, but he had seen them before.
Amidst his exhaustion, he realized that bits and pieces from the memory came back. A slow-burn puzzle of what happened that day.
Still blurry though, because the memory from Wonderland was like a palette of shiny purple and green colors occasionally interrupted with blotches of yellow patterns he could not fathom.
Slowly, he realized the yellow was another memory, one that didn’t occur in Wonderland but in the real world, a few years ago.
A memory of a bus.
A yellow one like the one he survived hours ago.
A memory of Alice going bonkers and killing everyone including him.
Jack stopped in the middle of nowhere, hardly capable of breathing. A jagged-edged migraine attacked him. He cupped his head in his hands as if trying to squeeze his migraine out of his head.
Then he fell to his knees, afraid his eyes would pop out.
Two memories. Years apart. Worlds apart. One fact, one fiction. But with one conclusion.
Both starred Alice Wonder and the Jabberwocky.
It baffled Jack how this was true. Did he not want to accept it. That the dark man in the field was the Jabberwocky?
But who was he?
In Jack’s version, he stood next to Alice staring at the dark figure—he did his best to focus on the memory from Wonderland, as the yellow bus memory also attacked him.
Then he heard the voice.
He thought it emanated from his memories at first, but soon enough realized the voice was standing a few feet from him.
On his knees, he jerked his head up and looked at the man with the voice. Actually, the boy with the voice.
A snicker of a smile pulsed on the boy’s lips. Eyes like stones from hell. Red and firey.
The boy was the same height as Jack. Same….
Who was he kidding? The boy was him.
“How ya doin’, Diamonds?” the boy leaned back against a flipped-over truck with a slight angle. He chewed on a match and held a deck of cards in his hands.
Jack said nothing. Either the migraine was too hard on him or he was meeting his darker self, like everyone else these days.
“You know what I like about cards?” the boy asked, chewing on his matchstick. “They will make you lose, almost all the time, but statistically speaking, people still want to play.”
“Who are you?” Jack’s raspy voice exposed his fractured mind.
“Ah, sorry,” the boys said. “I’m Spades.”
“Spades?” Jack grimaced.
“You’re Jack Diamonds. I’m Spades. You’re a big red heart full of love. I’m a black hole the shape of a spade,” Spades winked. “One round for you, five rounds for me.”
“Why five rounds for you?” Jack found himself sucked into the conversation. Meeting one’s darker self was shocking, yet uncannily familiar.
“I’m evil,” he whispered into the palm of his hand. “I usually win.”
“That’s not true. Good wins as much.”
“That’s movie talk, Diamonds,” Spades sighed. “Good guys love to celebrate their wins too loud and too much. You put Hitler to sleep after he broke the world, you make movies and talk about them for life. Little Hitler boys damaged the essence of humanity so much that none of your celebrations would top it, yet the man never made a fuss about it. Like you and me—“
“What do you want?” Jack felt annoyed more than scared. Something inside him toughened up.
“I want to play a game,” Spade’s voice was smooth, almost seductive, his eyes meeting with Jack’s. Same eyes. Uglier soul.
“Of cards?”
“A last round for the road,” Spades said, “before the world is drained down the toilet.”
“You will not win.”
“I always win. You know why?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Cause I’m restless,” Spades flipped the cards in the air and none of them fell back as he straightened himself to face Jack. “I’ve got nothing to do. I’ve got no purpose. I barely work for Black Chess, where everyone has nothing to do but to mess with people’s lives. Do you see how you have lost before we even play?”
“And you still want to play?”
“I have a weakness, Diamonds,” Spades put a hand on his heart. “I’m addicted to something.”
“Addicted to my pain.”
Spades nodded as the cards fell back in his open palm. He looked at the last card on the deck. A spade. “It keeps me in top form, Diamonds.”
“I've got time to play,” Jack dared him.
“No you don’t, Diamonds. You want to find Alice. But you know you have to get rid of me first. How is Malice doing with her by the way?”
“Malice?”
“Ah, you’re way behind, Diamonds,” Spades said. “Malice is Alice’s inevitable plus-one, you can say.”
“Is she going to hurt her?” Jack looked around in case Alice was nearby. He worried about her.
“She already did, Diamonds,” Spades flipped the cards. “You want to cut first?”
“What are we playing?”
“Well, I was thinking about this game,” Spades, in a swift and unexpected maneuver, hurled a card in Jack’s direction.
Jack watched the sharp card flip like a knife in the air and slice at his neck. It happened so fast Jack had no idea how to process it. He hadn’t the chance to move. The cut was small. It felt like a paper cut.
“But nah, I’m not a violent Spade,” Spades said.
“What kind of game then?” Jack worried that all his None-Fu skills wouldn’t work with Spades. The cards were like flying razors. No amount of fighting or jumping was going to top that.
“I ask you a question and you pull the cards for an answer,” Spades chewed harder.
“Why would an answer hurt me?”
“Words are mightier than swords, Diamonds. Cards are sharper than your IQ. They’ll strip you down of all you’ve got.”
“If you say so, Spades,” Jack wasn’t sure if he was buying time or being utterly helpless.
“Question one,” Spade’s eyes twinkled. “Who is the dark man in your memory?”
“You know about my memory?“
“Cut the crap. Alice asked the same thing to Malice. I know your memory, so who is the dark man?”
“How should I answer that by picking a card?”
“Oh these cards can do a lot,” Spades said. “Come here, Diamonds. Don’t hesitate. I would’ve already killed you if I wanted to.”
Hesitantly, Jack approached, eyes on Spades. What a strange feeling, fearing your own eyes in someone else’s body.
“Pull one out,” Spades spread the cards, face down, on his palms.
Jack pulled one, nonchalantly, wanting to get it over with.
“Look.”
Jack did. It was a spade but with writing in the middle. It said, “Mr. Jay.”
“That’s not news. I’ve guessed it’s Mr. Jay, who is probably the Jabberwocky. Is that the game?”
Spades smiled.
Jack thought he heard something flutter behind Spades. Did this asshole have wings?
“Now pull one more.”
“What’s the question?” Jack said.
“Not a question,” Spades’ enthusiasm showed on his body language. “The cards will tell you who the Jabberwocky is—this is so exciting.”
“The Jabberwocky is the Jabberwocky,” Jack shook his head.
“No Diamonds,” Spades said. “Don’t you get it? How the memory with Alice doesn’t make sense? You ever ask what really happened on the bus? How was it possible that she killed the boy she loved since childhood?”
“I don’t see how it all connects?”
“Pull the damn card,” Spades grunted, his wings slowly showing from his back. “I mean, please pull the card, Diamonds.”
Jack pulled the card, eyes still on Spades.
The card showed him an answer.
Jack couldn’t fathom it. Something didn’t make sense. This was impossible.
Spades enjoyed the puzzled look on Jack’s face and hurled the cards up again. None of them fell back and this time Spades wings fluttered left and right.
“This can’t be true,” Jack said. “The Jabberwocky can’t be…”
The cards fell back and immediately Spades sliced at Jack’s neck again. “It’s true, Diamonds, and now it’s time for only one of us to live—and let die.”