Present: Near the Ferris wheel, London.
H adn’t the children been reading, the Pillar and the Cheshire would have been swept away by the wind already. Eventually, the wind lessened and both stood to their feet.
Immediately, the Pillar circled the children in the bubble of light and made sure they were safe. The Cheshire stood prefixed nearby.
“Can you tell me when this whole mess ends, please?” he asked the Pillar.
“I guess the Jabberwocky is fighting Alice already,” the Pillar considered. “And all of this ends when either one of them dies.”
“Jabberwocky or Alice, you mean.”
The Pillar nodded in agreement. “And then it’s a good life after or hell on earth.”
“The human race,” the Cheshire shook his head. “So dramatic. Why couldn’t you just all go to hell already?”
“I have to find Fabiola like I told you,” the Pillar said. “The children are safe. Soon they will gather with other children who are also reading.”
“Where will you find Fabiola in all this mess?” the Cheshire said. “Besides, gimme back that whip. We had a deal.”
The Pillar handed it to him nonchalantly, which only added to the Cheshire’s continued puzzlement.
“You can’t kill me before I find Fabiola, deal?”
“We said that before. But let me ask you, is that all about telling her who you are? I mean the same person the children think you are?”
The Pillar nodded. “Just don’t worry about it, Cheshy. Curiosity will really kill the cat. You don’t care about anything. Don’t pretend you do.”
“I’m not pretending I care,” the Cheshire said. “I just have an itch that I keep scratching. You!”
The Pillar noticed him staring at the children. “Don’t bother. They will not tell you who I really am if you ask them. They’re busy reading and fighting the Jabberwocky with Alice.”
“So why don’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?”
“The world is ending,” the Cheshire shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing’s left to care about.”
The Pillar smiled. “If I tell you who I am now, it will defeat the purpose of you wanting the hose. Does that make sense?”
“None whatsoever,” the Cheshire said, staring at the hose in his hands now.
“Look, Cheshy,” the Pillar approached him slowly, the old look of mischievous Pillar returning on his face. “A wise man once said that one’s value to others is in his mystery. Expose it and you’re just another disposable John Doe.”
The Cheshire didn’t really get that. Metaphors and overcooked words weren’t his thing. A product of humankind’s desire to be perfect. He liked straight words that hurt and told the facts.
But even though there was silence between them, he began to have an idea of whom the Pillar might be.
“I think I know who you are,” the Cheshire said. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Yeah?” The Pillar looked like he was going to kill the Cheshire right then. “Tell me.”
“You’re the…” the Cheshire said.