Family (Insanity Book 7) (16 page)

Breaking News Update:

The world is devastated by the Queen of England’s assassination by Pilla da Killa. Since her death, the world governments are on standby and in conferences all over the world. The Queen’s death, and the massacre outside the Radcliffe Asylum, leaves the world reader no choice but to take action. Terrorism has taken over our world since the appearance of the Cheshire Cat a few months back.

What had been thought of as a serial killer who sewed girl’s mouths into grins turned out to be a prelude to the madness of terrorism we’re about to face.

It’s not quite clear whether the Cheshire, the Muffin Man, or the Chessmaster were part of the Inklings terrorist organization, and it’s still under investigation. What the BCC has learned for sure is that the new Osama Bin Laden is called Pilla da Killa, a ruthless assassin and murderer who has brutally killed the Queen of England in plain sight.

Attempts to catch the Pillar are being discussed. However, he has not been caught yet.

In a wire release from an insider spy, Al Jazeera News discovered the connection to ISIS, who is only working for the Inklings. An ISIS captive has just confessed to the Pentagon that the top terrorists in the mother organization, the Inklings, are called Mushroomers.

Mushroomers are sleeper cells who, instead of infiltrating nations under the guise of being citizens, infiltrated asylums all over the world. The plan is said to be years old. A few governments have already declared their war on madness; suggesting the destruction of every asylum on Earth.

Tom Truckle, head operations director of the Inklings, runs the Radcliffe Asylum, which is under siege at the moment. The Radcliffe Asylum protects the highest caliber terrorists at the moment, including the infamous Professor Jittery, who’s been confined to The Hole, an underground asylum for the most dangerous terrorists in the world. Jittery, also known as the March Hare and pretending he has the mind of a child, has helped the organization hide their weapons of destruction in every landscape he has designed all over the world. He is a genius landscaper, and a prominent member of the organization.

The British police have announced the confiscation of the Inklings Bar, a proposed meeting place for the organization. It’s being searched now for further evidence.

The second most important member after the Pillar is a troubled nineteen-year-old orphan by the name of Alice Wonder. Two years ago she killed everyone in her class in a bus accident. CCTV has caught Alice’s presence in most of the terrorist attacks in the past months. She’s been reported to have shot poor cats in a festival in Belgium,  killed the warden of a morgue in London, stuffed a bomb inside a rabbit in an attempt to execute her foster family, and most recently, helped the Chessmaster destroy the world and then kill him when she had no more use for him.

Alice Wonder and her crew are now trapped inside the Radcliffe Asylum. Interpol has given them a deadline, after which the building will be stormed..

Only two hours are left now — and the public is demanding quick and unapologetic justice after the Queen’s death.

End of Wire Release

Stay tuned for more mad news: The Vatican’s new pope is encouraging people to dance in St Peters piazza to the tune of James Brown’s
I Feel Good
.

Chapter 63

The Radcliffe Asylum

I’m losing my mind — and my faith.

Constance hasn’t been answering her walkie talkie for a while. I’d die blaming myself if something happens to her, now that she is stuck in a place where none of us can reach her. Next to me, the March is trying to solve the puzzle.

I’ve hidden the Keys in plain sight. A place so bright in the dark of the night. Are you the one to get it right? I’ve hidden the Keys in the a … of light.

“Anything yet?” I ask him.

“No clue what it’s supposed to mean,” he says. “But something keeps happening whenever I read it.”

“Like what?”

“I’m having a headache.”

“That’s because your eyes are glued to the message on the wall. You should get glasses.”

“I’m a kid, Alice. Too soon for glasses.”

I tilt my head, not commenting. I even wait to see if he realizes what he’s just said. The March is an old man living inside a child, but he knows it. Sure, he doesn’t act like an adult sometimes, but never before have I seen him so buried in the act. I should have noticed earlier that he wasn’t all right. Since he has been talking to Constance his inner child has been floating like an adventurous kite in the sky.

It explains why he is really into the puzzle. It’s a game to him. I doubt that he understands the grave situation we’re in.

“So kids don’t need glasses?” I play along.

“Some kids do,” he says, eyes still glued to the wall. He talks to me the way kids talk to their mother while glued to a cartoon on TV. He just wants me to stop bothering him. “I don’t. My eyes have been pretty good.”

“But you
are
wearing glasses, March.” I say the words with cautiousness. I need to know what’s going on.

The March’s shoulders tighten. His hand crawls up to his face, investigating the authenticity of what I’ve just said. He seems surprised. I’m not sure what’s going on.

“Ah,” he chuckles uncomfortably. “I think I forgot.”

I near him, slowly. “March? What’s just happened?”

“I think I got carried away.”

“How?”

“I think I let myself get transported back to yesterday, when I was someone else then?”

“When you were a kid you mean?”

“I believe so.”

I kneel down and stand on all fours, like an adult trying to gain’s a child’s trust. “How did it feel?”

The March’s eyes moisten. “It feels like yesterday.”

“No, really. How did it feel?”

“So…” The old man before me wipes a single tear, trickling down from his right eye. He removes the glasses and feels embarrassed about it. “Awesome?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“A statement.” He nods. “I’m just afraid to admit I cherished the feeling of being transported back to my childhood, so much so I forgot that I’m an adult.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s frabjous.” I pat him. “Try not to lose that feeling of being a child.”

“Really?” His eyes widen, ears prick up.

“Really,” I say. “It’s a beautiful feeling and I want you to hang onto it. Does looking at the puzzle on the wall intensify the feeling?”

“Oh, yes!” The child in him is talking to me. It’s a silly scene, but it’s also beautiful. An aging man with white long hair, allowing the soft light from his childhood to shine upon his old wrinkled skin. “See? If I repeat the phrase I start getting those headaches…”

I am thinking migraines.

“…and then, when I get the headaches, I start to feel dizzy and blurry, but then I feel… happy.”

“Happy? That’s brilliant.”

“But I feel happy without a reason to be happy.”

“Don’t be embarrassed about it. Only adults are so messed up that they rationalize the need to have a reason for being happy,” I say. “What happens next?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just here with you, Alice. We’re having fun, playing, and doing nonsense. Like every other day in Wonderland.”

“Ah.” I nod agreeably. He thinks he is in Wonderland. “Another happy day in Wonderland.”

“Though, you look a bit too old today,” he laughs.

“I haven’t slept for some time.” I have to play along. The writing has an effect on him, and it’s important to keep up with him.

“Do you think we can go visit the Hatter?” the March asks eagerly.

“Hatter?” I say. “You know where he lives?”

The March laughs uncontrollably. “You’re funny, Alice.”

“I am. Aren’t I?” I try to act like the Alice he has in mind. From the books, maybe. His mind is now in Wonderland. I don’t want to lose this connection, because it means, if I play along smoothly, he will remember the things he’d forgotten with the shock therapy in The Hole. The March is free right now. He doesn’t give two craps about the light bulb in his head.

“Of course you are. Silly, too,” the March says. “You know the Hatter has no house. He lives everywhere and anywhere.”

“Then how can we find him?”
Please stay where you are March. Don’t break the connection. This might be the chance to know everything I need to know.

“Alice!” He nudges me. “Stop teasing me. We’ve been through this before. To find the Hatter you have to look for a tea party. That’s the trick.”

“Of course.” I nudge him back. “Was just teasing you, fool. So why not go look for the tea party?”

“Really?” The heartbreaking glimmer shines on his old face again.

“What else do we have to do? Let’s go.”

The March is ready to stand up but stops half way, his face paling all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong?”

He starts shaking violently. “Can’t you see, Alice?”

“See what?” I follow his gaze, but only see the cell’s wall. How I wish I could see through his eyes.

“It’s…” He points at someone coming. Someone who isn’t there now. Someone from a very old memory. “It’s…”

“Who? March? Who do you see?”

“The one I fear the most. I have to hide.” He buries his head in his hands. “You need to hide as well, Alice. Hide!”

“Hide from whom?” I shake him, fearing what I can’t see. Fearing a terrible memory. One I should not have forgotten.

“Hide, Alice, hide. Or he will hurt us. Hurt your family. Hurt the children.”

“Children?” I say. “Who are you so afraid of, March?”

“Him, Alice. HIM. Who else?”

Chapter 64

The Vatican

“I really dig him,” a teenager in a skirt, taking selfies of Angelo Cardone, told her friends. “I mean this is the coolest pope ever.”

“I’m glad we missed the Lady Gaga concert to come see him,” her friend chirped.

The masses in the piazza weren’t praying or visiting. They weren’t even witnessing an honorable ceremony and welcoming the new pope. They were dancing to James Brown’s music. And on the balcony above, the new pope was the star of the show.

“Stop!” Angelo said, taking a breath, looking more like Mick Jagger for a second. “Enough with the dancing.”

The crowd dived into a haze of silence.

“We can always dance more later,” Angelo said as the music stopped. “Now, we have work to do.”

The crowd listened.

“I’m sure you all have heard about the Queen’s assassination.” He cruised the balcony like a preacher selling used bibles. “The world is sucked into madness.”

The crowd agreed.

“Since the arrival of those Wonderland Monsters, we can no longer live our daily lives in peace.”

“Yeah!”

“We can no longer sleep in peace.”

“Yeah!”

“We can no longer feel safe with our kids in school.”

“Yeah!”

“We can no longer trust our neighbors; in case they are a terrorist thinking they are from Wonderland. I mean, to hell with Wonderland!”

“Yeah!”

“Who are they to judge the world we live in? It’s all a scam. They aren’t from Wonderland. They have no message to pass across. They’re just killers. Psychos. They’re just mad!”

“Mad! Mad! Mad!”

“We want to get our lives back!”

“Yeah!”

“We want to have our peace back!”

“We want to party!”

“Yeah!”

“We want to have fun!”

“Yeah!”

“We want to drink all night!”

The crowd was a bit reluctant. They exchanged looks. Were they supposed to admit that out loud? A conservative woman shouted, “Nah!” But the crowd heard a ‘Yeah’. People always heard what they wanted to hear.

“Yeah!” They finally hailed.

“We want to play games all night!”

“Yeah!”

“We want to be rich!”

“Yeah!”

“We don’t want to pay taxes!”

“Yeah.”

“In fact, we prefer not to work!”

“Yeah.”

“We’d love it if the governments just pay us for being there!”

“Yeah.”

Angelo stopped and stared his fans in the eyes. “And what’s stopping us.”

“The terrorists!”

“Here you are.” He raised his hands sideways. “Wanting so much but doing so little.”

The crowd seemed confused.

“But how about if I offer you a new solution?” Angelo said. “How about if I offer you a way out of your miserable lives?”

The crowd was all ears now.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Angelo said. “I have the solution against madness. All I ask of you is to listen with an open heart.”

Chapter 65

The Radcliffe Asylum

I’m about to lose the March for good, even before the police decide to barge in and kill us in less than two hours.

He is lying on his back, shivering and kicking like a mad child. He cups his ears, trying not to listen to His voice. Then shuts his eyes tight, hoping it will snap him out of his scary Wonderland memories.

In spite of my demanding need to enter his head and learn about my past through his memories, I end up doing the total opposite. I realize I cherish the March’s friendship too much to sacrifice anything else.

“Calm down, March.” I grip his hand tight. “You don’t have to continue the memory. Just snap out of it.”

“I can’t,” he screams. “It won’t leave me alone. It won’t.”

At least he is now aware of the situation. Earlier, he’d been so immersed in it he thought it was real. “You can.” I insist. “Just open your eyes and look at me.”

“I’m afraid to.”

“Think of it. If Him, I mean the Pillar, is scaring you in the memory then he isn’t here in the room. In real life.”

“What did you say?” His hands cup his ears again. It seems as if he’s affected by a loud noise from the memory.