Insanity (19 page)

But the world was ignorant and pompous, like always. The Cheshire was going to teach them their last lesson ever. Let's see who has the last grin.

Chapter 58

Kattenstoet Festival, Ypres, Belgium

The Pillar and I are licking ice cream at Il Gusto d'Italia, one of the most famous places in Ypres. It's not like we've come here for the ice cream, but licking it while staring at the madness around us is the best way to hang onto sanity.

The Kattenstoet parade is immense. Many people, a lot of them children, come from all over the world to celebrate that crazy day. It's only seconds before we're pushed among the crowd, urged to walk ahead in the parade. In my modern day Alice outfit and the Pillar's blue suit, we look like freaks. People are either dressed as cats, wearing feline ears, hanging cat's tails or meowing like cats. Girls have whiskers drawn on their faces, and elders have Mickey Mouse cat ears on, along with other medieval clothes and accessories. It's beautiful actually, only if it didn't represent a horrible memory of killing cats.

"This place is nuts," I laugh, holding the umbrella Fabiola has given me. She told me I will need it, but I still don't know how.

"Every dog's dream," the Pillar puffs his pipe. He doesn't look happy. All he is looking for is a sign to spot the Cheshire.

Among the parade, we pass by a famous clock tower where it shows the time is three in the afternoon.

"Ding dong, something is wrong," the Pillar says.

I don't know what he means, but we come across the belfry where a huge bell rings and people start to throw candy in the air.

Colorful marching bands begin to fill the square in front of the famous clothes tower, where the Cheshire family has probably been thrown out in the past--the Pillar educated me all about it this morning. He had his chauffeur research the Cheshire's background in Ypres.

More children dressed in feline costumes make clawing gestures, while elders twirl the flag of a Flemish lion. It's Ypres’s national shield. How ironic, I think. A lion on the flag where they killed the same species in the past.

"Balloons!" I cry out like a little child. Huge balloons gather and take the shape of one huge cat in the sky.

I see young girls march next to us. They are dressed as Cleopatra as a tribute to Egyptian cats, which were considered Gods back then. Viking-costumed flutists follow them with dancing girls in blonde braids as a tribute to Celtic cats.

Things look ordinary, until Alice spots horses drawing a wagon of a caged witch who is acting as if she is pleading not to be burned. She is holding onto the bars and flipping her stiff black hair.

"Gotta love humans," the Pillar blurts out as he still looks for the Cheshire.

"Why? What's going to happen to the witch?"

"In the Grand Finale of the party, they are going to burn her," the Pillar pushes a couple of cat-clothed kids away. "Woof. Woof," he blows at them. "Of course, they won't burn the girl herself. They will burn a feline version of her. Can you believe this is the twenty-first century? People still believe that cats and witches are the cause of their misery."

Then I am distracted by a huge carriage made of feline fur. It looks like a huge red cat with scary jaws. They call it The Cradle. Children cheer seeing it and start climbing on the top and sides. I wonder if the huge cat on wheels is just hollow from inside, because it's big enough to have a dining table and chair inside. For a moment, I ponder if the Cheshire is hiding inside.

"And here comes Garfield." The Pillar points his cane at someone in a Garfield costume, walking next to a Puss in Boots.

I try not to worry like the Pillar and enjoy the parade for a while. The buildings all around us are a work of art. The houses are Renaissance style, and the fact that there is almost no place to take a step makes me happy. Again, for a girl just out of an asylum, this is Heaven.

Suddenly, the parade stops as we're approached by a huge number of Pro-Cat activists. They are holding big animal rights signs, protesting against the cruelty that has been imposed on the cats of Ypres in the past. Their voices are loud and angry. I find myself pushed to the first row with the Pillar next to me. When I get a closer look at the Pro-Cat activists, fear prickles on the back of my neck. The Pillar holds my hand for assurance. What we're looking at might be normal for others, but not for us. All the activists in front of us wear the same exact orange mask on their face. A face of a grinning cat, just like the mask the Cheshire Cat had stolen from Pott Shrigly.

Chapter 59

"Ding dong...something is wrong," the Pillar says again, staring at the activists.

"You think he is one of them?" The thought of me staring at the Cheshire without knowing him is unsettling. He could simply be any one in this masked crowd. I'd rather face a devil I know than one I don't.

"Brilliant isn't it?" The Pillar looks angered by the Cheshire's trick. "He has an unstoppable need to attend the festival and perform the ritual. Now, with all those masks, we can’t even know who he is. He's mocking us again."

"Shouldn't that mean that Constance is here?"

"In many ways, it does," the Pillar says as the activists make way for someone approaching from the back. It looks like their leader, a man dressed in a Pied Piper's costume. He holds a flute in his hand, a dossier, and has a few cat grinning masks with him.

"This is a peaceful protest," he raises his hands and talks to the people. I notice he is in his fifties and his face is heavily lined, as if he's been a big drinker or smoker in his younger days. He has a good tan though, and he is not wearing a mask. "All we ask is that you let us pass to the clothes tower to mourn our cats."

The people behind us murmur. They are wondering if there is enough space for them to walk through. They wouldn't want to spoil the parade, as they still have the need to move forward and continue the celebration.

"I have a couple of masks for those of you who have had a change of heart and want to mourn the many cats that have been killed in this town," the Piper grins, imitating the masks. "Have you ever had a cat, young lady?" he addresses me, bowing his head as he is a bit too tall.

"I think so." I don't remember having one.

"Was here name Dinah?" The Piper's grin continues as the Pillar tenses. I shrug, not knowing what's really going on. Has the man exposed me, or is he just referring to Alice's cat in the book? "Forgive my surreal sense of humor, but you look fabulous in this modern day Alice outfit," the Piper says.

"Does it really show?" I am beginning to worry like the Pillar. My outfit doesn't really make you think that way all at once.

"Please be one of us," he stretches out his long-fingered hand. "You must care for cats the way we do. This celebration is all wrong. We need to educate people that harming cats is unacceptable. It's a crime that deserves the death chamber, like killing human beings."

"We have appointments," the Pillar breaks in. "We love cats. Meow. But I am afraid she can't come."

The Piper turns to face the Pillar and I sense darkness in the air. Is it possible that this tall, tanned man is the Cheshire? Why is he dressed like a Piper, and not disguised among the others behind a mask?

The Piper and the Pillar stare at each other for a long time. I am starting to think this isn't the Cheshire, or the Pillar would have recognized him. I am puzzled all over again. I wish the Pillar wouldn't keep so many secrets from me.

"Professor Carter Pillar, I assume?" the Piper utters finally.

My heart drops to the floor.

"Do you know me?" the Pillar asks, and I am confused again. What's going on?

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the Piper stretches out his hand and shakes the Pillar's warmly as the grin on his face disappears. "I was told I might find you in the parade. In fact, I have two masks and tickets for you to join the Pro-Cats activists. I have heard a lot about your work. I hear you support cats, and love them dearly." I know the Pillar hates cats. "I heard about your great work in the field of
Kittycology
."

"Kittycology?" I know this is a joke, but I don't know what's happening. The Pillar knows it too, but he plays along. He likes games.

"And who told you about me, if I may ask?" The Pillar drags from his pipe, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

"Mr. Warrington Kattenstoet, of course. He is the Director of the Pro-Cat activists. Unfortunately, he couldn't make it today," the Piper hands us the masks and tickets. "But he insisted it would be an honor if you and your daughter would accompany us."

I take my mask reluctantly as the Pillar secretly winks at me. He puts his mask on, accepting the invitation. The name Warrington Kattenstoet is a big joke. Warrington is where Lewis Carroll was born, and Kattenstoet is the event we're attending. The Cheshire is here and he wants us to play one of his games. He is inviting us to his ritual.

"And what should we call you?" the Pillar asks, as we cross over to join the Pro-Cats.

"Call me Piper for now," he smiles.

"I am curious why you're dressed like a Pied Piper at an event about cats," I have to ask.

"It's an in-house joke, young lady," he shakes his head and feet like a jester. "In the Pro-Cats community we think the Piper must have been a cat. Who better to call when your town is rat-infested? The Piper. He does the same job cats do in terminating the rat race."

"Oh," the Pillar and I gaze each other. We look silly in these masks.

"I know all the stuff about the flute and such, but after the Piper tempted rats out of Hamlin, what do you think he did with then?"

"I heard he drowned them in the river," I respond.

"Not true, young lady," he protests. "He ate them, of course. Just like ancient people of this town sent the cats to kill the rats in the clothes tower. Now, follow me. As we walk amid the tourists to the clothes tower, the Pro-Cats start singing a song:

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?

I've been up to London to visit the Queen.

Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?

I frightened a little mouse under her chair!

I have my mouth open wide under the mask when I hear that. The Pillar does nothing but end it with a high note, shouting, "Meow!" He says it as if he's saying “Amen.”

Chapter 60

We pass through the crowd as they let us into the clothes tower. They agree we can use it, only for an hour, then leave so other tourists can use it. We step up. As we do, the Piper gives us mid-sized boxes with metallic hands on top. They are mildly heavy, and something is rocking it from inside.

"There are cats in these boxes," the Pillar says as we climb the stairs. I can hear a meow out of my box.

"Why cats?" I hiss at him. "It doesn't make sense. They are Pro-Cats. They won't be throwing them off the tower like other tourists."

"Other tourists don't throw real cats from the tower," the Pillar corrects me." They throw feline cats as part of the event. Maybe the tower is like Noah's Ark. The Cheshire is going to drown the world with some flood, so he decided to save as many cats as he can." I know the Pillar is being sarcastic. He has no clue what we're up to, and I don't like the anticipation.

"He didn't invite us here for nothing," I remind him. "He wants to show us his power. My guess is the ritual is taking place atop the tower. This means Constance is here."

We reach the biggest room and each activist walks toward the row of cloistered windows looking over the parade and the whole town. They turn and face the inside of the circle, where the Piper stands.

This is definitely the ritual.

"Since the time we have here is short," the Piper says. "I will try to make this quick." One of the boxes rattles from inside. The rattling is unusual. The cats must be big. I hear mine clawing at the inner walls of the box. "I know all of you have lost your ancestors to the incident that happened here many centuries ago when they killed them mercilessly, throwing them out of the windows."

Now, this makes more sense. Each and every one here is originally a cat, now in a human soul. They are here to avenge their ancestors. Being here is scary. I don't dare to even look at the Pillar. We've been ambushed.

"They also burned our ancestors in France a century later," a cat-masked woman says.

I read about cat burning in France on the Internet. Apparently people had a lot of grudges towards cats in that time.

"Not just France," another man raises his voice behind the mask. It's really hard to know who is talking and where the voices are coming from. "They killed cats in Brazil, too. My entire family was murdered."

"My family was murdered in Ancient Egypt. We were supposed to be Gods!" a third one says.

"I know we were Gods in this world before," the Piper calms the others. "The human holocaust on cats in the fifteenth-century didn't succeed anyways. We've always evolved and learned to survive. Some of us are tigers or lions. And most of you survived by stealing the breath of infant humans and taking their souls." He fists a hand and raises it in the air. I suddenly notice it's not a hand. It's a claw in a human body.

I remember one of the Mushroomers say that he wasn't mad. He said a cat had stolen the souls of his kids when they were young and no one believed him. What happens is that the kid dies and the cat grows up in a new human body of its choice. The Mushroomer said that cats live among us everywhere. I thought he was crazy. I don’t know of anyone who'd believe what's happening right now if I told them.

"We should have never let humans domesticate us," the Piper says. "But history is full of mistakes. And on rare days like today, we get our revenge."

Everyone around us hails the Cheshire.

"The Cheshire has been through a lot, but he has always fought for us. He was fooled by Lewis Carroll when he locked him in Wonderland many years ago," the Piper says. "But like the Red King and Queen said in the books, how could they behead a cat with no head?" The Pro-Cat activists, or should I say cats, hail again. "The revenge the Cheshire has promised is closing in. Lewis stole the Cheshire’s power after he couldn't lock him in Wonderland like the others."