As the town grew brighter, it grew quieter. It could be of the Jabberwocky’s succeeding havoc or it could be the queens’ rescue. Mirana rallied the surviving citizens to a safe route, directing them to the forest side where it was safe while Iracebeth kept the Jabberwocky’s sight out of the fleeing citizens.

It was difficult to move around with the blazing buildings. They were in the middle of a giant campfire, radiant with heat that could singe should ever they approach a burning source. Mirana did everything in her ability to salvage as much citizens as she could. And she succeeded, somehow.

The people were in panic and were irrational to be talked out of so Mirana could only lead those that still had a sense of reason out of hysteria. She could only save those that idly hid underneath carts, or those that accepted their fate and passively waited for the Jabberwocky to burn them. The desperate ones were the first to go.

The Jabberwocky was in the sky, vanishing above the purple clouds and descending rapidly to spit lightning. Iracebeth kept provoking the creature, throwing whatever she could so that its target would solely be her. She had no strength but she did have fast reflexes. Just about when the Jabberwocky would swoop down to get her, she would always tumble out of its claw’s reach and ready herself again for another evasion.

Her attention was also divided to her sister that leaded a crowd of citizens to an unburning route. They were able to rescue many people but not as many as those that died. Lightning flashed twice in the sky, displaying the silhouette of the ghastly dragon above the clouds. It spiraled in the air before diving towards Iracebeth.

The red queen anticipated another grab but she was caught off-guard when the Jabberwocky breathed lightning. She jumped out of the way, mere inches from the lightning shot. Her hair stood up from the current just as the ground she once stood at exploded from the lightning’s contact. Once again, the Jabberwocky disappeared above the clouds.

Thunder drummed in and the orange hues which covered them turned darker just as the purplish clouds thickened and almost turned black. The arson that faded to the sky was a bright mix of orange and red with sparkles of fire riding the wind.

It became much more difficult to spot the Jabberwocky’s location now that the clouds thickened. Iracebeth had to squint and be fast to observe the sky through the slightest milliseconds the lightning offered… but even with lightning, the Jabberwocky could no longer be seen.

It was quiet above other than the thunder and howling wind arguing. Amid the cacophony of burning wood and collapsing buildings, Iracebeth heard a desperate cry—faint and blended with the noise but audible.

“Help!” the voice shouted.

Iracebeth swallowed, keeping her eyes to the sky. She was afraid that if she looked back, the Jabberwocky would get her.

“Help!” the voice became quieter but no less desperate.

It pained Iracebeth and after hearing the plea, dying for salvation, Iracebeth turned behind her.

It was the same painting of blazing buildings with dead carcasses everywhere—some burnt, some mangled.

“Anyone! Help!” And the voice was coughing out of life.

Iracebeth turned to Mirana’s direction. She was no longer in sight. Without wasting more time, Iracebeth ran to where the sound was coming from. She leaped over dead carcasses, evaded glass that exploded from the fires and stopped to listen. It was quiet.

“Where are you?” Iracebeth shouted.

Faintly, the voice replied again, “Over here…”

It was difficult to spot anything with the brightness of the fires but Iracebeth spotted motion not far from her. It was a waving hand. Quickly, she ran towards it.

A fat woman was belly flopped on the ground with half of her body covered by metallic debris. Iracebeth ran to her and knelt on the ground to inspect how she could get the woman out.

The woman’s life was fading. Iracebeth could hear her breaths become slower.

“I’ll get you out of this,” Iracebeth said, not knowing how. She touched the metallic debris that rested on top of the woman’s lower half and immediately pulled her hand away. It was hot. She tried pulling the woman out of the debris but she was stuck albeit not completely. Iracebeth felt a slight budge and with just the right amount of carefulness, she could get the woman out safely.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Iracebeth said as she encircled her arms on the woman’s belly.

Not long after, the woman was tapping her hand on Iracebeth’s foot simultaneously.

“Does it hurt?” Iracebeth asked.

With enough effort, the woman gasped. “B-behind…”

A loud thud came behind Iracebeth, startling the ground. Then heavy stomps came behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know it was the Jabberwocky but slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

The dragon wasn’t machine after all as she had assumed. It was a genetic abomination. The beast was flesh—ashen scales covering its whole body. Its wings were a gigantic cloak with thumbs of sharp nails puncturing the ground as it walked. Its tongue hissed in and out through the gap of its serrated teeth.

It stared at Iracebeth with its snake-like eyes, breathing mist out of its nostrils. It screeched with a current of wind that blew Iracebeth’s hair back. The red queen landed on her rump and backtracked crawling until she was leaning on the hot metal debris.

The Jabberwocky opened its mouth, displaying strings of purple saliva that hung like vines from one tooth to the other. A purplish glow emanated from under its throat, sparking below the uvula. It would be a direct hit that won’t leave a body. It would turn Iracebeth to ashes.

Before the Jabberwocky could shoot its lightning, electric blasts hit it at the side of the dragon’s head simultaneously. The Jabberwocky was sent off-balance and crawled away, taking to the sky once more.

Iracebeth pulled in a breath of relief and watched as the projectiles shoot to the sky, targeting the fleeing dragon. She followed the source and not far away from her was the March hare wielding a gun.

“Thackery…” Iracebeth was glad.

“It’s James actually,” the March hare replied without a trace of madness in his voice. “Get her out of here. I’ll distract the dragon.”

Iracebeth didn’t spend a second more. She pulled the fat lady out from the debris and just like coming back to life, the woman heaved in a deep breath. She was a cyborg, Iracebeth realized. Half of her body was no longer flesh but a miserable unicycle with a damaged tire.

Iracebeth helped her up but the woman could hardly balance herself.

“I could still move,” the woman’s voice was shaky. And though it wasn’t true, Iracebeth nodded her head to agree.

“Able or not, I will save you,” Iracebeth said.

She helped the woman balance herself. Iracebeth placed one of the woman’s arms around her neck and the other she kept on the woman’s waist. Iracebeth looked around for a safe route. The woman pointed.

“Across my inn is a forest,” she said.

Iracebeth looked but the path was between two burning buildings. There’s no way they could pass without getting burnt but it’s their only option.

James’s focus was on the sky with his gun at aim in case the Jabberwocky swoops down again.

“If we could sprint, we could make it,” Iracebeth said, “But you can’t even move.”

“I’m sorry…” the woman cried.

Iracebeth looked around but it was as if they were cornered inside. “This isn’t Salazen Grum so I don’t know my way around here but… you are from here, are you not?” she asked. “You have to think of somewhere else we could go to.”

The woman calmed herself. “The town’s entrance,” she said. “If anything would be burning there, it would only be the arch and if it still hadn’t collapsed, we could make it through.”

“Alright, where’s the town’s entrance?”

“Far behind us.”

They both turned. Iracebeth could make out the arch and it really was far from them but if they want to get out alive, they have to move now.

“James, let’s go,” Iracebeth said.

“Walk ahead,” the March hare replied, “The dragon could show up again anytime.”

Iracebeth forwarded. She carried most of the cyborg’s weight. The tire was flat and its interior was all mangled and deformed. They moved quickly but no less slowly with the March hare a safe distance behind looking out for the Jabberwocky.

The red queen’s eyes fixed on the arch of the town. It burned as any other building but she kept on praying that it let them pass first before collapsing.

The Jabberwocky didn’t return. They were fortunate but at the same time they were suspicious. The atmosphere just became ominous other than it already being chaotic. Whatever doubts they had, they kept to themselves and just became grateful that the beast wasn’t rooting for them anymore.

When they arrived at the arch, Iracebeth doubled the amount of effort she exerted, eager to get out and at the same time afraid that the arch would collapse.

“Hurry now,” Iracebeth said and the opposite was what the cyborg seemed to have done.

The cyborg became reluctant and tried moving away from the arch.

Iracebeth understand shortly when she saw an army of white soldiers marching towards their direction. They were already under the arch. The wooden pillar that kept it standing was slowly collapsing. They only had two options: to go back or push forth.

The red queen risked getting back inside the burning town.

“James!” she yelled.

The March hare’s ear rose up alertly to the red queen’s direction.

“Collapse the arch!” she shouted just as she returned from the wooden arch.

The March hare had no time for questioning. The first line of soldiers was almost in. Quickly, James shot the pillars of the burning arch. It cracked—its miserable sound resonating with the crackling fire before collapsing on the first line of soldiers that tried to enter.

The rest was blocked outside. Iracebeth, James and the cyborg were safe behind the wall of burning debris but they were cornered inside the town.

Iracebeth sighed in relief, almost relaxing when she got startled at the sudden movement of the collapsed arch before them. Under it, the white soldiers still functioned, clawing in the air and crawling on the ground.

On top of the burning wall, the white soldiers climbed and marched past as if there was no barrier after all.

“Fall back!” James ran in front of Iracebeth and started shooting the soldiers that came under the rubble. They were still safe as the soldiers that arrived were equipped with lances. Their only true threat was those that possessed guns. The soldiers could easily be outwitted but their number was what made them threatening.

James remained at the front, letting Iracebeth escape with the cyborg. He made sure that the soldiers lock-targeted him so that his friend could flee. As the numbers kept on coming, James began backtracking. Eventually, his gun would run out of shots and he would have to resort on running but that also worked.

Gathering the attention of the soldiers, James leaded the army out of Iracebeth’s direction.

***

Rocket sighed in relief as the last card soldier sank in the mud. His weapon, which he had no trouble carrying, suddenly weighed a ton and he had to strap it on his back for he could no longer lift it to aim. There were few of them; Rocket realized when the bodies standing could be counted by the mind. They were scattered in the swamp, fatigued.

The bloodhound approached Rocket, placing his own weapon by the holster behind him. He was panting with an open mouth, tongue dangling.

Rocket made a face but didn’t comment. He was tired… too tired to even be himself. Instead, he commented about the first battle.

“Do you think it’s over?” he asked.

The bloodhound closed his mouth, looking around his standing soldiers. There were already few of them when the battle began and fewer they stood now that the first clash had ended. “It’s over for here,” he said. “There are lots of territories in Wonderland. This is but one.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, annoyed of the fact that their victory was negligible. He sat on the damp mud, too exhausted to give a damn about his tidiness. “Then how do you suggest we win this war?” Rocket asked again.

“We defeat Alice—”

“Great,” Rocket interjected, “Where do we find her?”

The bloodhound coughed. “That, I do not know. And that,” he raised his voice to prevent Rocket from interjecting, “Is not my number one priority.”

Rocket gave an exasperated sigh, once again rolling his eyes. “So winning this war isn’t your number one priority?”

Bayard nodded to agree.

“Then what is?” Rocket almost yelled. “What could be more important than winning this battle?”

“My son,” Bayard whimpered as though as he was a puppy in distress. “I don’t give a bloody-damn about this war. What would freedom be if my son is no longer with me? I might as well just kill myself if ever that happens.”

Rocket massaged his foreheads, taking the time to formulate the words inside his head. “Look,” he began, “I’m no war expert, didn’t want to be in one—who does? But for some reason, I always get myself in one. And if it’s saving the ones you love during war—you guessed it—it’s tracing the source and exterminating it. It’s a simple equation, no difficult numbers.”

Somehow, the words didn’t seem to get inside Bayard’s head. The bloodhound was stubborn as he was old. “With what’s left of my strength, I’m going to my son. You cannot change my mind.”

Rocket groaned, obviously annoyed but he let it out in a long sigh. Primarily, he didn’t know Wonderland and Bayard does. If war is throughout the entire continent, then he’d have no idea where to start tracing the source anyway. He had his best chances in following Bayard.

“Alright…” Rocket wiped his nose and got up. His tail was coated with mud as his rump. “Do you know where your son went?”

Bayard was unsure. “The white queen arrived previously to recruit me and my men for the war. I declined her but my son rallied some warriors with him. The red queen mentioned something about forged weapons.” Bayard’s eyes widened. “They’re at the factory…”

“Factory?” the word suddenly sounded so new to Rocket’s ears. He had the impression that the place manually produced materials so the mass-producing word felt anew. “There’s something like that here?”

“We’re not savages,” Bayard replied and then rallied his surviving men.

To the factory, they go.