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

by Cameron Jace

  The Queen pushed the lid open and stared at the woman inside. “I wonder what I should do with your body,” the Queen said. “Should I burn it, or will I actually need to wake you up someday?”

  It only took her a moment to pull the coffin closed again. Before she did, she took one last look at the real Queen of England inside, the one she had managed to change her features to match.

  The Queen of Hearts of Wonderland wasn’t happy with looking like the real Queen of England. That Queen looked too peaceful, too smiley. Where was the grit? Where was the power?

  But it was a necessary evil to her—she’d made the transformation through a nonsensical Lewis Carroll potion—at least until she persuaded her visitors with her world-changing plan.

  45

  THE RABBIT HOLE, THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION

  TIME REMAINING: 12 HOURS, 01 MINUTE

  I wake up to a continuous beeping on my phone.

  Eyes still blurry, I reach for it blindly until I clasp it by accident from the floor. When I bring it to my face, I am shocked by its size. It looks as big as a plasma TV.

  How so, when I am gripping it in the palm of my hand?

  The pain in the back of my head attacks me, and I remember that I am under the influence of the pink drink in the bottle.

  Did it really shrink me, now that I think I am smaller than my own phone?

  But I’m gripping it. What kind of mind-bend is this?

  Through my hazy vision, I realize that almost everything around me is much bigger than me. Or I am much smaller than them.

  Even the small door at the foot of the wall.

  Then again, when I reach for it, I can touch it as if it’s small, not big.

  The phone keeps beeping.

  I push the overly big answer button—the one that is also small—and find more than a hundred messages from an anonymous number.

  It must be the Hatter.

  What you’re experiencing now is no hallucination—although it is in a way. It’s a medical condition, induced by the pink drink. It’s called the Alice Syndrome.

  What?

  Furious, I message back:

  Why don’t you just talk to me face to face, instead of hiding behind the alphabet of your messages!

  The reply arrives instantly:

  I don’t think that will be useful since you can’t talk at the moment.

  Suddenly, I remember my numb tongue. I try to say my name but can’t. My tongue is just dangling like an earring from my mouth. I suppose it was also induced by the drink, but it feels horrible.

  What do you want from me? I message back.

  A reply arrives:

  To continue playing the game until it has to stop.

  I don’t even know what that means. He continues writing:

  You will crawl through the small door and find yourself in a vast tunnel system underground. Then, with the GPS coordinates, I want you to find a place for me.

  I write back:

  How can I even get past the door?

  He writes back:

  Don’t worry, I will tell you how. You haven’t asked me about the place I want you to find. I’m starting to think you’re not taking this seriously. If you don’t, I will set the rabbit loose on the streets of London.

  I have no idea how he’d send the rabbit back to London or where the rabbit is right now. All I know is that I am dealing with the craziest maniac I’ve met so far. I don’t think I can ask him where I really am.

  Where is that place?

  He responds immediately:

  If I knew, I’d have found it myself. Only you can find it. It’s either in Wonderland or the real world. I am not sure, but I know it can be accessed behind that small door—and don’t ask why.

  My tongue still feels numb. I write to him:

  I will do as you say, but you will show me the rabbit’s place in return when I finish your mission. Again, does the place have a name?

  He takes a bit longer again:

  It’s called the circus.

  A lot of memories flood into the swimming pool of my brain. It’s as if I know this place, but I can’t really tell. I remember the March Hare telling me about the circus in the Garden of Cosmic Speculation, and how dangerous it is. Why did he warn me about a circus? Isn’t it supposed to be a fun place? Unless you meet the clown, of course.

  I type back:

  If you don’t know where the circus is, how am I supposed to find it?

  A response arrives:

  Once you pass that door, memories of your past should come back to you. That’s when you will know where the circus is.

  I type:

  Are you saying you’re one of those who believe I am the Real Alice?

  The reply:

  You better be, or a lot of people will die. Now get past that door.

  Furious again, I write:

  How?

  He responds:

  What do you mean how? I suppose you think you need a key. Not all doors open with keys. With some, you only have to knock, and they will let you in.

  46

  BEYOND THE DOOR, THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION

  TIME REMAINING: 11 HOURS, 30 MINUTES

  Once I knock, the doorknob turns, and the door opens, and a gust of wind blows against my chest. It smells of mushrooms.

  With a numb tongue and misleading vision, I realize I am not underground anymore. Instead, I’m looking at the colorful world of Wonderland.

  It seems hard to grasp its vastness at first—harder to believe this is really happening.

  But I step forward onto a green road with yellow bananas for trees, bending on both sides. The banana trees have their sides peeled. A few birds twitter on top on the edges.

  The sky is the color of marmalade, which is gross at first sight, but within the context of all the green and yellow, orange shines through. It all looks like a child’s drawing.

  There isn’t enough time to take in the surroundings. I prefer to figure out how I’m supposed to find the circus—which isn’t showing on my Wonderland map.

  I walk ahead, looking for someone to meet, but the place seems abandoned.

  Where did everyone in Wonderland go?

  A banana tree bends too close as if spying on me.

  “What do you want?” I want to say, but nothing comes out. My tongue feels like cotton.

  I am not even sure the banana—or the tree—is as large as I think.

  When I stare at my feet, they are bigger than the hole I fell through earlier. They flap loudly as if I’m a seal.

  My toe is also scaring me. It’s really awful and big. Red, as if bruised. It’s one big tomato.

  I look away.

  Where is everyone?

  I take another look at my phone. I see a few locations on the map. The Queen of Hearts’ palace, the Muffin Man’s house, and big chessboard land.

  I also spot Lewis Carroll’s studio, which looks like it’s on the edge of Wonderland. It makes sense now that I saw him enter Wonderland from a door in Oxford University when I met him through the Tom Tower a couple of weeks ago.

  But if Oxford University is tangent to Wonderland, how am I in Scotland right now? Or am I?

  It’s mind-boggling. Messed up. Dizzying.

  I decide to accept things the way they are, just like the Pillar said.

  I hate how the Pillar is always right. Trying to apply logic, or even a fragment of logic, in the insane world I am in is useless.

  So I go with the flow.

  I have a circus to find.

  Strangely enough, the map doesn’t show a circus in Wonderland, and I don’t remember a circus in Lewis Carroll’s book.

  I have no idea where to find this circus, or why it’s so important—the March Hare warned me of it, and the Hatter desires it. The Pillar doesn’t know much about it.

  “Psst,” I hear a female voice call me. “You can’t keep walking like that in here.”

  I stop in my tracks but don’t see anyone around me.<
br />
  Nothing but a tiger lily bending over toward me, a little too large, of course.

  I shake my head, longing for an explanation, as I can’t talk.

  “You look like you’re from another world, walking in those jeans and boots,” Tiger Lily says, and suddenly I realize it’s my Tiger Lily. “You should put on the maid’s dress.”

  How does she know about the maid’s dress in my bag?

  “Hurry!” she insists, as she always does in the real world.

  I take a moment to think about it. Whenever she talks to me, I am usually in my hallucinating mode. So what does that mean now? Or is it part of my induced Alice Syndrome?

  Tiger Lily grins. I think she knows what I am thinking about. “Ah.” She twists her petals. “You think you’re mad because I’m talking to you.”

  I nod.

  “I don’t blame you, because frankly: how come a flower talks?” She snickers. “But the thing is, who will you be talking to if I don’t talk to you? In other words, would you prefer loneliness over madness?”

  Well, that’s the Tiger Lily I know. I wonder why I am so attached to her. Whatever happened in the past between me and her?

  But if I am going to comply with her logic, I need her to do something for me first. I point at my dangling tongue.

  “Are you bargaining now?” She takes a minute to think it over. “I like it when you don’t give up easily. Why not?” She spits blueberries at my tongue.

  They break open and tickle me, then sting, but finally, I am able to speak again. “How do I get to the circus?” I ask immediately.

  “Ah, the circus,” she says. “You don’t want to go there, Alice. You don’t want to go there.”

  47

  WONDERLAND

  TIME REMAINING: 10 HOURS, 38 MINUTES

  “Don’t give me advice,” I retort. “I know what I am doing. I need to find the circus for this Hatter so he’ll show me where to find the rabbit. I think I have around ten hours left before a bomb goes off.”

  “Boom!” Tiger Lilly snickers again. I hate her when she goes nuts like that. “Well, first, you need to put on the dress like I told you.”

  Since I don’t want to look like an intruder in this world, I put it on. It’s a bit too small for me, but I force myself to fit. “Should I wear the gloves and the fan too?”

  “Nah,” she says. “Their time hasn’t come yet.”

  “So you know what all of this is about,” I say.

  “I do.” She nods. “So do you.”

  “What do you mean? I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Oh, you do. You just don’t remember it yet.”

  “Then why don’t you remind me?” I sigh.

  “What’s the fun in that, Alice?” she says. “One is never told the truth. One has to find it out.”

  “Whatever that means.” I tighten the laces of the dress and take off my shoes.

  “But I can tell you that the gloves and fan in your pockets are useless. All you need is the dress.”

  “They can’t be. I found them, according to the Hatter’s clues.”

  “Not those,” she says. “You got the wrong ones. The real ones are with the wonders.”

  “Wonders?” I blink. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a puzzle you have to solve, but way later, not now,” she says. “Now, let me tell you about what you’re looking for in here.”

  “The circus,” I say. “Where is everyone, by the way?”

  “Everyone is in the circus.”

  “Okay?” I tilt my head. “So it shouldn’t be hard to find it, right?”

  “It’s tricky, Alice,” she says. “Very tricky. I mean, doesn’t it strike you as strange that every single Wonderlander is in the circus right now?”

  I look around and shrug. It’s extremely unsettling that Wonderland is vacant like this. She is right.

  “That’s why you should think twice about the circus.”

  “I told you, I’m not going to rethink it,” I say. “Tell me how to get to the circus.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice,” she says. “I want to protect you from the circus, so I will not lead you to it.”

  “You know what? I’ll find it myself.” I turn around and walk ahead.

  Something inside me isn’t right. I know it.

  Since I put on the dress, I’ve felt changed. I also feel a bit stubborn and childish in the way I am acting.

  It’s that haze that surrounds my mind. Those distant memories that seem to crawl toward me, so slowly.

  I wonder if I am suppressing certain memories and don’t really want to remember. Why, Alice? What happened to you in the past?

  When I turn back to look at Tiger Lily, she is sleeping, as if she hadn’t been talking to me.

  I decide I’ll message the Hatter back:

  I can’t find the circus. You must have a clue about how I should find it.

  He responds:

  I wouldn’t have needed your help if I did.

  I write:

  What’s so important in the circus?

  He responds:

  You will know when you get there. It concerns you as it concerns me. You have less than 10 hours, and the circus might be closing soon. I need you to find it while it’s full of people, or otherwise, it will mean nothing to me. I’d hurry if I were you.

  48

  WONDERLAND

  TIME REMAINING: 9 HOURS, 54 MINUTES

  It occurs to me to call the Pillar, but I get no signal to the real world. However this works in Wonderland, I have no idea. I realize I’m as confused as the March Hare when he told me about the doorways.

  And, of course, it occurs to me that I’m just in my own escapist La La land of my mind, evading that ultimate truth: that I had a bus accident and that I’m nothing but a crippled girl inside an asylum, killing time by making up stories.

  In truth, there’s not much sense in anything I am doing—or have done since I met the Pillar.

  In truth, I could be just insane, and anyone who is listening to my rambling is only a victim of my bothered mind.

  In truth, I could just accept all the madness around me and laugh at it, like a morning cartoon on a TV screen—you get a few laughs, eat your cereal, and just totally forget about it.

  I can just admit my madness and be fine with it. Lie back as the world spins like a cuckoo around my head.

  But what always bothers me about my madness is that I know about it. I question it. I try to analyze it. Aren’t mad people supposed to not know about themselves being mad?

  My thoughts are interrupted by something all of a sudden. Something that connects the dots somehow. At least it moves things forward, just like our everyday lives, when we don’t have an idea of what’s going on but hang on to the little clues we have for today.

  What I see in front of me is the Snail Mound, the one the Hatter wanted me to find, and the March Hare warned me of.

  49

  MEETING HALL, BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON

  Squeezed in a chair, among the big crowd in the hall, was Dr. Tom Truckle.

  He had managed to fool the guards, pretending he was the person whom the invitation was originally for. It wasn’t hard. He wore his best tuxedo and rented an expensive Bentley, and made Ogier pretend he was his private chauffeur.

  Once he arrived at the palace, he pompously flashed his invitation and trotted inside.

  He was led through dimly lit corridors, one after the other until he reached a secret meeting hall somewhere inside the palace.

  Then he was shown his seat without anyone realizing what an impostor he was.

  In the dimmed hall, he couldn’t see the many important men and women from all over the world who sat beside him. Was he really sitting among those people?

  The stage itself was bright, awaiting the Queen’s arrival. Dr. Tom Truckle waited with anticipation to know what the heck this Event was about.

  50

  WONDERLAND

  TIME REMAINING: 9 HOURS, 44
MINUTES

  Stunned, I try to think it over. So the Hatter thought the Snail Mound was in the Garden of Cosmic Speculation in the real world, but it’s actually in Wonderland?

  It seems plausible to me since the Hatter seems ignorant of how to get to the circus.

  Let’s rethink this, Alice. You’re here, mainly to catch a rabbit before it explodes, but to do that, you have to play the Hatter’s game by finding the circus. That’s all you know about this. STOP analyzing and go find the circus.

  I run barefoot toward the Snail Mound. It’s a spiral mountain, like inverted cones with green roads upward until you reach its tip. It reminds me of a picture I once saw of Babylon, but I’m not sure if the two images are related.

  I climb and climb in wide circles, wondering what I’ll find at the top. Now it reminds me of Jack and the Beanstalk.

  The spiral Snail Mound is huge. I am starting to pant, and I’m starting to feel weaker, but I keep going. It’s surprising that the spiral movement wears off the induced Alice Syndrome. I am starting to see things in their normal sizes again.

  In the end, when I reach the tip, I realize it’s much smaller than I thought it was. A thought occurs to me suddenly: is it possible that Alice in the book never shrank, that she was only sick with Alice Syndrome, a scientifically known medical condition that may be caused by migraines?

  Migraines? The kind Lewis Carroll suffered from? Is it possible that Lewis was ill? That his migraines drove him crazy? That he was just mad, like all of us?

  I wash the nutty thoughts away and focus on my climb.

  It’s comforting seeing things as normal as they should be—not that many things about Wonderland are normal.

  But it’s beautiful from up here on the Snail Mound. It’s like staring at a rainbow from the seventh sky, not from earth. Every curve in Wonderland is enchanting. I can easily spot the Queen’s castle from here, and the Muffin Man’s house, which I visited before.