The Complete Alice Wonder Series - Insanity - Books 1 - 9

by Cameron Jace

  My pocket watch says two minutes left.

  "Where are your children?" I ask.

  "They are trapped in my house." He can't stop crying, trying to free himself, as we don't have a sword or a knife handy. "I live in a mushroom house, and have them locked inside."

  "What?" I hold my head with my hands. "Why lock up your children?"

  "There is a beast who eats children, roaming in Wonderland. They asked me for pepper. The little one asked me for muffins. I paid the Duchess for the muffins, but she ate them in front of me after she took my money. She said Galumphs like me shouldn't eat muffins, as it's considered a luxury to eat them in our times. I have always tried to fulfill my children's wishes after their mother died. I made a mistake and stole from the Queen's kitchen. She caught me. Save my children, please. They are locked in the house."

  "It's okay," I say, trying my teeth on the strong rope.

  "What?"

  "I mean, it's all right," I say, not quite believing myself. "If they're locked, we will get to them once Lewis kills the Reds and frees you."

  "It's not all right," Gorgon protests. "I left them three days ago. The food in the house isn't enough. They will die of starvation."

  "Three days ago?" My whole world tumbles around me when I hear this. I have to go and save them myself. Maybe take Lewis with me.

  "Tell me where you live, Gorgon," I demand. "Where is your mushroom?"

  And right before he utters it, the answer already rings a high note in my ears.

  "I live on Drury Lane!"

  57

  I run as the nursery rhyme rings in my head. The nursery rhyme was made after him. Because the Muffin Man, captured by the Queen, was never able to go back to Drury Lane and save his children. That's why Lewis told me, I couldn't save them, in my vision. I wonder if I will be able to save Gorgon's children.

  I tell the rabbit to show me the way to the Drury Lane of Wonderland.

  I have only one minute left.

  Lewis picks me up, having learned we need to save the children. He takes me by the hand toward another blackboard he hid in the forest for immediate escape when he couldn't fight the beast everyone feared by himself. Lewis has many Einstein Blackboards with mirrors hidden everywhere so he could easily escape Wonderland to his office in Oxford when needed.

  "Listen to me, Alice." He kneels and grabs me by the arms. "There is a mirror right in front of this blackboard. You will walk into it back to Oxford. I can't risk you being here longer. You have done well already. I fear the Reds will hunt us and hurt you. You mean so much to me, Alice. And you're still a child. I don't want you to die young by the Queen's guards," he says, not knowing that I can't stay much longer anyway. If I do, I will die without any of the guards even laying a hand on me. "I will save the children."

  "But he said they have been there for three days—"

  "Have faith, Alice." He shushes me. "I will save them. Hopefully, they're still alive."

  "I hope so," I say, staring at my pocket watch. I almost have no time left. I don't even know how I am going to go back through a mirror I fear. But Lewis is Gorgon's only hope to save his kids and save him from becoming the Muffin Man. Hell, Lewis is Britain's only hope against mass food poisoning.

  Lewis turns me around to face the mirror. He does it so fast I have no time to resist. When my eyes meet the glaring reflection of the mirror, I shriek, thinking I will see the scary rabbit right away. But I don't.

  Lewis kisses me on the forehead and runs away to save the children, his loyal rabbit following him. I wish him all the luck in the world, regretting that I have to go back now—that is, if I am not already late.

  As for the mirror, I get it now. I understand why I am not scared of it. I think it's because I am seven years old. Whatever made me fear mirrors happened later when I was older.

  I look at the pocket watch and realize I broke the fourteen-minute deadline. I begin to feel dizzy. Something urges me to dig my hand in my pocket to read the Pillar's note about who Jack is. If I am not going to make it, I think I deserve to know that, at least. I dig my hands into my pocket but come up empty-handed. There is no paper inside. How is this possible? I think it's because I am wearing a different dress in this world. If I die, I will never know who Jack is. I use the strength I have left to walk through the mirror before it's too late, hoping Lewis will save the Muffin Man's children.

  58

  PSYCHIATRY, RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD

  I am lying on my back again. This time, I am on a comfortable leather couch. The room's temperature is just about right. The smell of flowers fills the room, which is dimmed except for a faint yellow lamp next to me. I feel tired, but I feel cozy. I think I just woke up from sleeping.

  Where am I? Why am I not waking in Einstein's room at Oxford University?

  "You realize nothing of what you said makes any sense," a man tells me. I can't see his face, dimmed by a curtain of darkness. I can smell the tobacco from the pipe he is smoking. It has a certain flavor I can't put my hands on. "The Pillar, the Cheshire, the White Queen; you realize they are only characters in a book," he says as the chair he sits on creaks against the parquet floor.

  I am too tired to look deeper or stand up. It feels better lying on this couch. Does this place feel familiar? Have I been here before? Why don't I feel the need to resist the man's voice? His voice is soothing, and I like it.

  Where am I? Who am I?

  "I see you'd prefer silence," the man says. A tinge of pity is lurking in this voice. "Would you like to end this session now?"

  My hands are too lazy to move. Was I sedated? Am I being hypnotized? Why is this man saying the Pillar's existence doesn't make sense? Have I not returned to the right time?

  "We've reached a great point in your story," the man says. "Usually, patients need to let their imagination go wild." He drags from his pipe. What's that flavor he is smoking? "We encourage patients to let their imagination go wild because, however creative, it always goes too wild and hits against the walls of absurdity." He pauses, and I don't feel the need to speak. How can you speak when you're not sure whom you're speaking to? When you don't know who you are. "Absurdity is good for patients. It makes them start to realize they are hallucinating. Because, frankly, some stories can't be believed, even by the most delusional patients. Like the story you just told me about entering Wonderland through Einstein's room at Oxford University, then trying to save this Gorgon from the Queen of Hearts. A man who has his eyes pop out when he sneezes? You don't really believe this. Do you?"

  I feel like I have no mouth, and I want to scream. My arms are still numb. I have no idea where I am or who this man is.

  "I'd say we stop the session today," the man says and scribbles something on a paper. The scratching of his pencil is annoying to my ears. "I'll prescribe you a new drug called Lullaby. It will help you let your imagination go even wilder. I need you to stretch your mind as far as you can so you can see and realize how none of this is true. How none of it is but a production of your overactive imagination influenced by a book you read as a child." He pulls the paper out. "I will also tell Waltraud to stop any shock therapy for a while. See you next week?" He sounds like a gentle doctor smiling at me, but I still can't see his face in the dark. "Great." He stands up. I hear footsteps walk out of a nearby door.

  I crane my neck to take a look at my numb arms. They aren't numb. Nor is there anything seriously wrong with my arms, except that I am wearing a straitjacket that this time I can't free myself from.

  59

  ALICE'S CELL, RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD

  Waltraud and Ogier enter the room and help me to a chair. At first, I tell them I don't need a wheelchair because I can walk. But then I discover my legs are even number than my arms. I let them wheel me through the corridor underground. Patients are holding their cell bars without saying a word.

  Not even Waltraud or Ogier talk to me. They roll me into my cell, which terrifies me when I enter it. Nothing is rea
lly different, but a mirror is stacked on the wall right in front of me.

  I shield my eyes and shout, "What is this mirror doing here?"

  "Relax," Waltraud says in her German accent. "The mirror won't bite you."

  "You don't understand." I press my eyelids tighter. "Get it away from here."

  "You have to face your fears," Waltraud says. "Doctor's orders."

  "I can't," I plead. "Please take it away."

  "I can't too," she says. "Your doctor said you have to look in the mirror. Nothing bad will come out of it but the truth. And it's time to face the truth, Alice. You can't keep denying what happened to you. Face your fears, and you might be out of here sooner than you think."

  "Deny what happened to me?" I have no idea what she is talking about. Then a thought occurs to me and somewhat changes my mind.

  I am mad. Totally bonkers, hallucinating a whole world in my mind. Then I wake up on a couch and a doctor tells me I need to push my imagination to the limit in order to heal. I WANT TO HEAL. Maybe I should push it further and look in the mirror. What do I have to lose? Vomiting or fainting again when seeing the scary rabbit?

  I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

  Nothing happens—just like in Wonderland. Maybe I am finally cured of my phobia.

  The mirror in front of me has no rabbit in it. There are only a few dirt stains on its surface and a cobweb on the frame's upper left. But no white rabbit sneering at me.

  It doesn't mean I shouldn't panic. In fact, I might cry for hours. Days. Years.

  The girl in the mirror in front of me is tied in a straitjacket and sitting in a wheelchair, not because her legs are numb, but because she is paralyzed.

  "It happened after your accident," Waltraud says. She looks happy I am finally realizing my dilemma and facing my fears. "You're the only one who survived, but like this." She points her prod at my feet. "See, that's what the doctor meant. Facing your fears. You made up this silly story about a rabbit appearing in the mirror so you wouldn't confront the reality of your paralysis."

  My eyes scan the room for my Tiger Lily, but it's gone. I feel lonelier, pushed into a dark corner too tight for my size.

  "I'd like to be alone," I say, still holding the tears, but not sure for how long.

  "I can't object to that. You're a lucky girl. The doctor denied me the satisfaction of your shock therapy for the whole week." She turns to walk away, but then stops and looks at me in the mirror. "But, I am sure you will do something stupid and be my slave in the Mush Room again." She laughs and closes the door.

  Alone again. I can't stand any of this. Whether it's true or not, I close my eyes and pray to God to get me out of this, even it means to send me back to the insane world I have supposedly imagined. I don't mind being mad. I don't mind the madness in the world if only I get up walking again. If this is really my real and sane world, then I am in love with my insane one. Whether I am imagining it or not, I want to be the girl who saves lives. Please, I want to wake up from this.

  60

  PILLAR'S LIMOUSINE, SOMEWHERE ON THE ROAD BACK TO LONDON

  "You're all right, sweetie?" Fabiola's generous smile lands upon my face and blesses it with safety I have always needed: a rare moment to feel that someone truly cares for you.

  I don't reply to her, though. I realize I am in the back of the Pillar's limousine, stretched with my head resting on Fabiola's lap. The first thing I do is stare at my legs. They look all right. But it's not enough. I wiggle my toe. It's all right. But not enough. I bend my knee, and it works. I am not crippled. Then what was all of this? A bad dream? Or am I living in my imaginary world right now?

  If so, then so be it!

  I don't mind.

  "Where am I?" I straighten my back on the seat of the Pillar's limousine. The chauffeur is driving. Fabiola, the White Queen, sits so elegantly next to me, and the Pillar is in the front passenger's seat. I guess Fabiola made him sit there, against his wishes.

  "We're in—" the Pillar begins, his head turned back to face me.

  Fabiola shushes him immediately. "We're in the Pillar's limousine, driving to London. You seem to have entered the mirror back into our world, but a bit later than fourteen minutes." She hands me a glass of water. "Thank God almighty you weren't that late. A few seconds after the fourteen-minute range usually causes dizziness, but no great harm. At least, this is what Lewis' transcripts say about the Blackboard. You just came back unconscious and the Pillar thought you'd died. He sent for me to help. And I am glad I could."

  "Sent for you?" I gulp the water, still not quenching my thirst, neither for water or the questions piling up. "From the Vatican?"

  "It took me about four hours, including the drive and wait at the airport," she explains. "Gone are the days of Wonderland, when I was able to travel to some place by the blink of an eye."

  I remember entering Einstein's Blackboard a few minutes after midnight. What would the time be now? How long did it take me to wake up? I dig my hand into my pocket to find the watch. It seems I have lost it, along with the letter.

  "I took my watch back, if you don't mind." The Pillar shows it dangling from his hands. A weak smile is plastered on his face. He is really annoyed that we're occupying his backseat. As usual, he can't stand up to Fabiola, and I still wonder why.

  "It's three o'clock in the afternoon," Fabiola says. Her soothing voice has the power to bring such horrible news with ease. Otherwise, I would have panicked. It's only two hours to the Muffin Man's deadline.

  I can't panic. I can't complain. Whatever happens in this mad world, I love it. Because if I am truly crippled in an asylum in real life, I can't go back there, no matter what. I love it here. My arm itches, right where my tattoo is. Right where it says: I can't go back to yesterday because I was someone else then. I wonder if "yesterday" only means "reality."

  "I was unconscious for that long?" I ask.

  "What you did wasn't an easy task," Fabiola says. "I mean, none of us can go back in time through that mirror. Lewis' leftover papers say only 'the Girl' can."

  "Does that mean I am the Alice?"

  "I can't say," Fabiola says. "'The Girl' mentioned in his transcript could be anyone. We're only suggesting it should be Alice."

  "But I passed."

  "It wasn't easy. You were almost going to die. I had to use special potions I rarely use to bring you back," Fabiola says. "I'm truly sorry; I still can't confirm you're the Real Alice."

  Although I love Fabiola, I am rather mad at her. Why can't she just tell me I am the Alice? I need to hear it so much now because I am so afraid I will lose consciousness and go back to that scary "reality" of mine again.

  "Don't listen to her," the Pillar sneers. "Religious people are always hesitant and old-fashioned. They can hardly cope with anything that's new to their ancient beliefs. As if we're not supposed to evolve and create." Fabiola tries to shush him, but the Pillar doesn't care. Not when the subject comes to me being the Real Alice. "You are the one and only, Alice. You want me to prove it?"

  "Pillar!" Fabiola raises her voice elegantly, though.

  "Yes, please prove it." I lean forward.

  "If you're not the Real Alice, why did she save you?" The Pillar points at Fabiola, who lowers her eyes, escaping mine. "Why are we now sending you on a last new mission? Ask her!"

  I stare back at Fabiola, whom I can't believe could be lying. Ever. But why is she shying away from my eyes?

  "When Galileo discovered the earth's rotation, the likes of Fabiola killed him for opposing the 'man up in the sky,’" the Pillar says.

  "Stop it!" Fabiola's jaw tenses. "We could argue about who you are all afternoon," she says to me. "And let people die." She breathes briefly and closes her eyes as if meditating. When she opens them up again, serenity has caught her. Is it possible she can show a darker side sometimes? "We do have a new mission, Alice," she says. "It's less than two hours before the Muffin Man mass-poisons millions of people. You're the last hope for millions of people."r />
  "So, he didn't change his mind?" I am disappointed I couldn't change the course of events when I was back in Wonderland. I can't even begin to think what this means. Does it mean Lewis couldn't save Gorgon's kids? Oh my. I feel like I am going to vomit again.

  "No," the Pillar says. "We don't have time to tell you what happened since it didn't work anyway."

  "So, that's it?" I am not going to cry. I have seen too much already. I know that crying doesn't solve anything.

  "There is one last thing you can do," the Pillar insists as we enter London. "And it's not even an option."

  "I'll do it. Time is running out," I tell them both. "What is it?"

  "I feel ashamed that our final hope is what I am going to tell you." Fabiola exchanges a look with the Pillar and turns back to me. "The Cheshire called me in the Vatican a few hours ago."

  61

  "Called you?" I know it's rather insulting to call Fabiola, but it must be one of his sinister tricks.

  "Phone call, Skype, WhatsApp?" the Pillar says, but we dismiss him.

  "He came to me in the form a repenting woman in the confession room," Fabiola says. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "And he made her an offer she can't refuse," the Pillar mocks.

  "The Cheshire said he knows how to stop the Muffin Man," Fabiola says. "And before anyone comments, I know how humiliatingly ironic this is. The man who created an evil murderer to terrorize us is also telling us how to get rid of him."

  "He is mocking us. It's an analogy." The Pillar's seriousness returns.

  "For what?" I ask.

  "In the Muffin Man's mind, the food companies create food that gets us sick, so we end up going to the medicine companies asking them for a cure for the food. Both medicine and food companies are owned by the Black Chess corporation. They sell us the poison and then the cure for it. The same thing the Cheshire does now."