tried to shake
the other out
couldn’t run, or roll, or wobble
away.
He walked, ran, toward
the glow
of a sterile room
bright lights
the voice
growing louder.
Knives excised,
pulled tissues apart
cells rearranged
electric shock therapy
division
and multiplication
adding and subtracting
a miracle of life
through nuclear transfer.
The clone grew
swallowed up all the memories
as the first flesh home
became a shell.
The second body
matured at an alarming rate
the gel medium allowed the space.
There was no softness
planted by a mother’s embrace
no scars formed by the sticks and stones
of playground bullies.
This one didn’t learn the rules
about putting fingers into
light sockets
about sticking everything into its mouth
about pushing knives
into the bellies of others.
It woke speaking full sentences
as the rasp of dee, dee, dee
escaped the first one’s mouth
lying under a white sheet
eyes open
not seeing
the brother whose face
he had searched for every day.
The second
within minutes
spoke cruel verse
peaking in a heated stanza
a curse
to the one
who had grown beyond an embryo
so long ago.
The earlier frame
soft and round
easily molded
fading.
The replica used its
mass to lift and run
building blocks
for abs, thighs
and biceps.
The dum, dum, dum
rose to a drum, drum, drum
footfalls not mere steps
but leaps
and no one thought there
was more than one
standing in front of them.
Hands
had split
the sequel from the innocent one
whose only fight had been with sorrow
missing part of himself.
The copy took more
than its fair share
didn’t wish
for a (br)other.
All was quiet
as they readied
to read the last blink
to close the seeking eyes
to pull the covering up
and over.
Dee, dee, dee
rattled breath
in, in, in
and
out, in one long puff.
There was only ever one
at a time
thriving
an independent beast.
The DUM, DUM, DUM
a heartbeat, a drumbeat, a heartbreak
forged without the warmth of a womb.
The world had only space
for one.
TRUE NATURE
Sara C. Walker
I left the crowded tea shop for the buzz of pedestrians and traffic on Queen Street. A rush of heat seeped through the paper cup, warming my hands through my gloves. Exhaustion permeated my bones. I took a sip of tea and winced at the teeth-cringing taste, wishing I had grabbed a cup of Wonderland’s much superior stuff before making the jump home. I fondly recalled a particular English breakfast with a clean bouquet and just a hint of raspberry in the finish.
As a White Rabbit Enterprises messenger, my duty was to deliver communications across the oceans from one court to another. During the delicate peace negotiations the job came with danger, and after a long day, the tea kept me alert.
Old City Hall’s clock tower bells sang the hour. I glanced over at the ornate yellow brick building.
Crap. I was late.
“Is that you, Alice?”
The deep raspy voice came from a man-sized lump of worn cloth crouched on the sidewalk, huddling against a lamppost. He – or she – seemed old, a dark face hidden by the hood of his – or her – coat. I thought I glimpsed a pair of oversized sunglasses, an odd choice given the evening hour.
Toronto sheltered plenty of homeless. I turned away and returned my attention to my horrible tea. Guilt warmed me. If Rachel were here, she’d want to buy him a hot beverage and a sandwich. I would remind her she couldn’t save the world. And she’d reply that was no reason not to try. It was her nature to help the helpless.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he-she-they insisted. “I’d know you anywhere. You smell like a beamish flower – an English rose—”
My communicator chirped. Relieved, I moved out of the vagabond’s earshot and hit the respond button on my wrist. My supervisor’s face filled the flexscreen. “Yes?”
“Lacie, have you booked your flight to London yet?” Mary Anne said in a rush.
“I have a flight in the morning. I was just on my way home—”
“There’s been a change. Stand by. Details will be sent to your communicator shortly.” The screen went dark.
I frowned. The Home Office kept tabs on us through the communicators whether we were in the real world or through the looking glass. I was supposed to spend a brief night with Rachel before making the trans-Atlantic flight to jump to Red Court Wonderland and give the White King’s plea for assistance to the Red Queen.
Wonderland’s war between Asia’s Black Court and North America’s White Court necessitated that messages be received and delivered in person to the royals to avoid chances of interception.
If only Wonderland had reliable trans-oceanic flights, I could save so much time. On the other hand, I might also be out of a job.
I tapped the flexscreen to ring home. My heart skipped a beat as Rachel’s face brightened the screen, but the thrill disappeared a moment later when I noticed her gloomy expression.
“You’re going again, aren’t you?”
“Rach, I—” Inside my pocket, the ring I’d picked up in White Court Wonderland pressed uncomfortably. The tight suit didn’t allow for anything extra. A queen-cut diamond – considered even better than a princess-cut for its larger crown on a grander pavilion – set in sparkling platinum, could not be rivalled this side of the looking glass.
The pressure of the ring hadn’t bothered me before this moment.
“It’s my job,” I said softly.
Damn the job. I pictured Rachel all cozy in our Toronto apartment. I should have gone straight home. I would have been almost there if I hadn’t stopped for tea.
“I know,” she grumbled. “I just miss you. And we had plans—”
Rachel had nabbed tickets to The Taming of the Shrew. I was going to ask her in the dark before the final act. “Keep them.”
“Lacie—”
“I mean it. You should go tonight. We can go together another time.”
“No,” she said firmly. Her eyes shone, knowing I’d rather stay home. “We’ll go when you get back.”
I relented. It made Rachel feel better if we had date night plans on my return.
“Of course.” I smiled. I’d always been a sucker for those pretty eyes.
“Don’t forget I love you.”
“That is the one thing I shall never, never forget.”
“You’re not going to say it, are you?” To anyone else her tone would seem light and teasing, but I heard the disappointment.
“You’re a messenger, Lacie.”
My cheeks burned despite the brisk wind. I tried to explain. “Rach, I’m standing in the middle of the street. There are people all around—”
; She waved her hand with a half-hearted laugh. “It’s okay. I love you enough for the both of us.”
By the time we ended the conversation – we never, ever said “goodbye” – she smiled between issuing her ritual cautions and warnings. Her heart seemed lighter, though mine wasn’t.
My stomach knotted. Words might be my trade, but that didn’t make speaking my feelings easier.
“Blast,” I exhaled.
“Excuse me, Alice?” The homeless man had skittered his way up the sidewalk to the lamppost next to me.
“Stop following me,” I snapped. “And my name’s not Alice.”
He shrank away and the streetlight glinted in the shadow of his hood, reminding me of his dark glasses. Did he wear them because he was blind?
“White Rabbit’s girls are all named Alice,” he said. “That is, if you’re not named Mary Ann.”
The tea went cold in my belly. How did he know that? I hadn’t uttered my supervisor’s name.
“Stop following me.”
Couriers of White Rabbit Enterprises were untouchable by law since there were so few genetically capable of jumping through a looking glass, but there were still those vicious enough to try. The regulation vorpal blade in my left boot bolstered me.
“In the war between Black and White, Red will come out all over,” he droned.
“Why don’t you get out of the cold? It’s clearly affected your brain.”
“I can whiffle the Kevlar woven into your jumpsuit. You’re one of the White Rabbit’s girls, aren’t you?” He sounded pleased. “A pawn hoping to be promoted to Queen.”
This pest needled me, but I was more upset because it was working.
“What do you want?”
“Only what anyone stuck on the street is without.” He skittered away, pressing his back against the lamppost. His face retreated into the hood’s depths. Something bugged me about the way he moved.
“Home? You want to go home?”
“It’s where the heart is. Isn’t it, Alice?”
His statement lanced my chest. Right at this moment I wanted nothing more than to be home with Rachel. Did he overhear that conversation, too? Or was it just a lucky guess?
I wanted to slam him for being up in my personal business, but stopped myself. Rachel wouldn’t approve.
The wind blew strong, funnelled between the buildings. He hugged his knees to his chest, rags flapping and snapping. In that moment he seemed vulnerable. Still creepy. But he was clearly cold. Helpless.
“Maybe you should at least move to an alley so you’re out of the wind.”
As much as I wanted him to go away, Rachel was right. She was always right.
The ring in my hip pocket dug a little deeper. It would stay there tonight. I supposed that was for the best. The timing was off, anyhow. November was too bleak for this. Best to wait for an occasion. Winter solstice, maybe. Or perhaps closer to spring…
“How about I buy you a cup of tea?” I suggested.
“I’ve tasted the tea here. I’d just as soon kiss a jabber-wock.”
I bit back my urge to cut and run, and instead tried to sweeten the deal.
“A sandwich?”
“With honey?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, frabjous day!”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“In there? They’ll never let me in.”
“They will if I say so.” There were perks to the place being owned by White Rabbit Enterprises. The tea shop was always open, always busy, and the large bathroom mirror opened directly to the White Court.
With another gust of bitter wind, he gathered his feet under him and rose, stretching out long legs and torso until he towered over me.
Inside, people went about their evening, chatting with cups in hand, giving the vagabond wary glances as we made our way toward the back.
“Here.” I grabbed a handful of rags and pulled him to a chair at a vacant table. “Stay.”
I went to the counter and placed my order, and a few minutes later, carried a sandwich and tea service back to the table. I poured out two cups and placed them on the checkerboard tabletop.
“How did you get here?” I asked, setting the honey-smeared bread in front of him.
He shrugged. “Followed a messenger.”
Great. We weren’t supposed to allow anyone to follow us through the temporary rift when we touched a looking glass. I would have guessed he followed Alice, but we hadn’t had a messenger by that name since before I started. He couldn’t have been here that long, could he?
Unease wrapped my bones. I tried to shake it off, remembering he was helpless and probably blind. But the unease stuck.
“So, why don’t you tell me what’s really keeping you from returning home?”
He sat with his head bent, hood falling forward, shoulders slouched. “Have you never been away, never worried things will be maxome burbled when you get back?”
Only every damned mission.
I pulled in a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on my patience. “Yes, things change when you’re away, but they also stay the same.”
“Such as?”
“Well, people might look different, but the love is the same.” How many times had I come home to find Rachel with her hair another colour or cut in another style. A new shade of eye shadow. A change of wardrobe. A new hobby. A new job. But through it all, the same Rachel. The same scent of her hair. The same soft silky skin. Her loving eyes on me. Her laughter.
“Not always,” he said gloomily. He’d made no move to eat or drink, simply held his hands in his lap.
“Tell me why you can’t go home,” I said softly.
“I ran away.”
“You ran away? From Wonderland? But why?”
“Because of the wig.”
“The wig?”
“The wig is gone,” he mourned.
“So, if I get you another wig, you’ll return?”
“It won’t be the same.”
“But if I could—”
“And after all I did for the White Queen. I was the inspiration for her waistline, her silhouette, you know.”
“You lost the Queen’s wig?”
“The wig was mine. It was stolen.”
“By who?”
“The Queen’s men. She really has too much power, you see.”
I had no doubt about that, but I couldn’t understand her reason for taking this poor man’s wig, nor why that should cause him to run away. “I’m confused.”
“Words are not my gift, not like they are for you, Alice.”
I had a feeling Rachel would beg to differ. My communicator suddenly felt like a boa constrictor tightening around my wrist. The truth was I had so many words to say to her that I didn’t know where to begin.
The man cleared his throat. “Why do you hesitate to profess your love?”
I cut my gaze to him and glared.
“It’s just I couldn’t help overhearing earlier—”
“Mind your own business.” I flushed hot and angry.
“My apologies.” He sagged, deflating from his sudden burst.
Rachel would scold me if she were here. “Drink your tea.”
He leaned forward, peering into the cup. “Sugar?” he asked hopefully. He placed his hands on the table. It would take hours to unknot the rags just so he could grip a spoon.
I picked up the sugar dispenser.
“Any brown sugar?”
I clamped down my frustration, opened two packets of brown sugar, and stirred them in.
“More,” he said. I added another, and he asked for two more before finally pronouncing the beverage passable.
“I can see you once were strong and mighty. What happened?” I asked. “What made you forget your true nature?”
He shrugged. “It was the Queen. One day I was her favourite – out of all my brothers and sisters – and the next, we were all sent away.”
“You thought you would be staying?”
He nodded. �
�I found this wig, and it changed me. I felt so slithy, so sure she wouldn’t reject me again. For a while we were happy… Then she had more children. She took my wig and cast me out again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Being cast out once was frumious, but twice? How could I show my face there ever again?”
“So you came here.” Poor thing must have felt humiliated. “I completely understand. You need to forget her. Anyone who would cast you out twice is not worth another minute of your thoughts.”
“Really?” He sounded incredulous.
“You need to find someone who loves you just as you are – no wig required. Someone who isn’t going to replace you with children. Someone who – who is there when you get home from a long day at work. Someone who makes your favourite foods, rubs your aching shoulders. Someone who makes you laugh, makes you forget the trouble of the world.”
He lifted his head. “Sounds like you already have that someone,” he said quietly.
The tightness in my stomach eased. “I do.”
“Sounds like you might be in love.”
Like a tiny butterfly trapped in a large jar, my stomach fluttered and felt hollow at the same time. I wiped sweaty palms on my knees. “You might be right.”
“Sounds like you need to tell her.”
The hollow feeling spread. I should have been angry at him, I should have said again it was none of his business, but I did neither. I could only focus on what Rachel must be feeling – what I caused her to feel when I declined to say the words she wanted to hear.
“It’s not so easy to be true to your nature when it matters, hmmm?”
I glared at his shadowed face. “I don’t think running away is a good solution.”
My communicator beeped again, not a video message, but text only.
We’ve received word the White King wishes to amend the message you received. You are to return immediately.
White Rabbit had a policy in place for amendments − rare as they were – the original messenger must also receive the amendment to avoid possible conflict in messages.
There was no choice: I had to return to the White Court.
I turned to the homeless man. “Well, I guess this is your lucky day. I’m returning to Wonderland right now. I can accompany you to the other side; I could even escort you home, if you like. Be there for you when you see the Queen.”
He leaned back against the chair. The question weighted his shoulders.
“Will you come with me?” I asked.
“You really think it will be all right?”
Alice Unbound Page 11