The cook tells her to stop a few feet away from him. He opens his jar of pepper and pours some in the air near her.
There is a long moment of waiting before the woman sneezes.
Once.
No one is laughing this time.
Then twice.
No one utters a word.
Then she can't control it. She sneezes and sneezes until she starts shivering and collapses to the floor.
"Sneezed to death," the Pillar murmurs.
Before the crowd panics, the cook holds the jar up high. "All doors in the theatre are locked." His voice still fills the place. "Everyone here is going to die here tonight. This isn't a warning. It's a fact that the theatre's surveillance camera will witness it for the world to see."
Everyone goes silent again. Me too. Running and knocking him down crosses my mind, but he already has the jars open in his hands. All he needs is to give them a little shake and dance.
I look for Jack, but he is gone again. Maybe he was never there really. It still isn't fair.
Behind me, the Pillar holds my hand. I am perplexed. Are we really going to die? Is this the end to the whole madness? Death by pepper?
"Of course, your beloved Margaret Kent is gone." The cook points at the empty balcony upward. "People like her always get away," he says. A bitter smile curves his lips. I notice a tinge of sadness in his last words. Is this cook the Duchess' real cook from Wonderland, now used like a puppet by the Cheshire to create chaos in the world?
"Before you have to die, you need to see this." The cook kicks a few things from behind the cauldron with his foot. Something rolls down before the stage.
A watermelon.
Finally, we realize who he is. We're staring at the Muffin Man himself. The mysterious man responsible for the watermelon murders.
The Muffin Man turns his head toward me and the Pillar. "You fell for the bait, Professor Pillar," the cook says. "You and your Wonderland apprentice are going to die too. Only the Real Alice would know her way out of this."
The shock value reaches its zenith. Although he hides his eyes, the smirk on his face is made for us. Somehow, he sees us. Even the Pillar next to me feels like a fool.
"He tricked us into coming here to die?" The Pillar is as shocked as me. I never thought I'd see that day.
The crowd around us begins running aimlessly, like in a Caucus Race.
The cook, I mean the Muffin Man, puffs his pepper in the air, like a madman would spread the Black Death's disease onto the world.
Everyone sneezes around me. The effect is fast and abrupt.
One sneeze.
Two sneezes.
Three sneezes, and if you last long enough for the fourth, you're already eligible for a death certificate.
Am I really going to die? Didn't Jack promise he'd die for me? Aren't I supposed to find a way out if I am the Real Alice?
It saddens me that those who haven't died from the sneezing yet are about to die under the scrambling feet of others trying to escape. Some people try to break the locked doors, but they are made of steel and locked with digital codes from outside. I wonder if the guards know about what's happening here inside the auditorium. Is it possible they are involved in the crimes, or did the Cheshire possess each one of them?
Now, I'm left waiting for the first sneeze to hit me, wondering why I ever left the comfort of my cell in my asylum.
I admit it. There is comfort in madness.
Unexpectedly, my moistened eyes meet the Pillar's. I never thought I'd see that look on his face. He is no less shocked than I am, staring at the endless sneezing people all around us. Dying by sneeze is as humiliating as it is terrifying.
"Well." The Pillar considers his last words. "It did cross my mind that I would die of hiccupping, but sneezing?" He looks angry that he has been fooled by the Cheshire and the Muffin Man.
Suddenly, I realize I have a last wish. "Pillar." I grab him by his collar. "I need to know who Jack is before I die."
"Don't worry about your boyfriend, Alice," he says, still looking over my shoulder. "You're going to meet him in a few minutes when we die."
My hand drops like a dead thing from his collar. I'm not really sure of anything. This is another Catch-22, I guess. If I die now, I haven't been mad at all. What a way to prove one's sanity.
"We have been seduced to solve a trail of puzzles that only lead us to our own deaths," are the Pillar's last words, just before I experience my first sneeze.
Chapter 4 2
Queen's chamber, Buckingham Palace, London
The Queen of England sipped her five o'clock tea while sitting in a bamboo chair in her private garden among her Welsh corgis. She wore her solid red coat, matching her red hat with white feathers and few flowers wrapping it. She didn't like her tea much though.
A few hours earlier, she had been bored to death, taking selfies of herself back in her chamber. Selfies sucked when you barely knew how to smile, she had thought. So she took snapshots of her bowls of Brazilian nuts, which looked even more delicious in high-resolution photos.
Now, sipping her tea in her balcony, she was waiting for someone. The Queen hated waiting, but things had gotten out of hand. She needed to fix them by meeting a few people.
Another sip reminded her of how she missed the Mad Hatter's tea. This Twinings tea she was sipping was nothing compared to his genius invention—and oh, those mad parties.
But those were times gone past. She wasn't even sure if the Mad Hatter would be on her side if the Wonderland Wars really took place.
She wondered if the wars were necessary. But then, people loved wars, whether they admitted it or not. Wars were always profitable and a great release for years of suppressed anger, and the gushing of blood.
But the Wonderland Wars weren't going to be like that. Blood and gore were merely the background of their war. It was a war of minds. A war of truth. More than anything, a war of insanity. Those who'd stay sane long enough usually won these kinds of wars.
The Queen sipped that poor tea again and spat it out on the floor near one of her dogs. Not Bulldog. It was Maddog, her favorite female corgi. She had been cured from her constipation and was in good health again.
Maddog licked the tea obediently from the floor, then panted pleadingly. Maddog had eyes the color of pale pearls.
"No more nuts today," the Queen declared. "They're addictive and they cost me a fortune. And you get constipated."
Maddog looked disappointed.
"I apologize for being late, Majesty." Margaret Kent arrived in her grey business suit. She wore a twenty-four-carat blood-diamond ring on her left hand today. It didn't distract from the grumpiness in her surgically enhanced face today. The beautiful Parliament woman looked overly exhausted.
"Apology denied." The Queen merely waved her white-gloved hand. "You're lucky I can't chop your head off," she muttered with fake, super-white teeth. "I still need you."
Margaret Kent sat next to her, unable to look Her Majesty in the eyes. "I know the situation got out of hand," she began. "I never thought the Cheshire would go that far."
"He wouldn't if he hadn't gotten his grin back." The Queen poured herself another cup of tea, knowing she'd eventually spit it out like the last. "That was a terrible mistake. You should have stopped him."
"It's all because of Alice Wonder," Margaret said. "She gave the Cheshire his grin back to save some poor girl's life."