by Cameron Jace
“Because you did like I planned,” he says. “To the letter.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “You made me think I am chasing a rabbit, leading me from place to place so that I could remember my past. What’s in it for you?”
“A lot,” he says. “But first, let’s look into what happened. They call it the Rabbit Hole, a scientific term, I believe?”
The memory of me sitting in the psychiatry office in the asylum returns. That man in the dark with the smoking pipe telling me I am insane, that I am just a crippled girl living in my own imagination to escape the horrors that happened to me.
I remember he did tell me about the Rabbit Hole, one of the methods to push a patient’s imagination with their backs against the wall until they remember what they were trying to forget.
“I had to go through all these puzzles so I could tickle your memory,” the Hatter says. “You’d been in the asylum for so long and hadn’t remembered anything yet, Alice. Time was running out, and I needed you to at least remember one part of your past. A part that interests me the most.”
“My childhood?” I ask.
He says nothing. I think his clown mask is trying to forge a smile. A dark one.
“Ah,” I say. “I get it. You weren’t after my memories. Not really. You were after...”
“This.” He pulls my hand and snatches the key from it in one move. “The first key in six, so I can open the doors to Wonderland again.”
How foolish am I? Really!
“I don’t care about you at all,” the Hatter says. “I only care about the keys, which I believe Carroll hid with you, and then you hid them in separate places in this real world. Let’s say it wasn’t hard getting this one.”
I realize this Hatter is much stronger than me. I can’t get this key back. But I also realize he doesn’t know Lewis gave me a key before, in the Tom Tower dream. So, if it’s any consolation, and even if he finds the next four keys, I will always have one he doesn’t know exists.
“I am going to leave now,” he says. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“What makes you think I won’t stop you?” I step forward.
“Because you still have a rabbit to catch.” He grins. “Haven’t you seen the TV? The world is in a panic because of a tiny rabbit.”
“Because you made them, and me, think there is a bomb inside.”
“Who said that isn’t true?” He pulls off his hat and then a rabbit from underneath, the one ticking with the bomb. “Please take it,” he says. “Figure out a way to stop the bomb. You have about eighteen minutes to do that.”
I hug the rabbit in my arms and pat it gently. Poor thing pushed into a mad world of Wonderlanders.
“And by the way,” the Hatter says. “I wanted to make this as exciting a finale as possible, so I called the police. They are surrounding the house. People are out there everywhere. They all demand the rabbit be killed—choked or drowned in the river to get rid of the bomb.”
“Why would you do that?” My mouth is agape.
“Why wouldn’t I? What’s the point of life if there isn’t enough madness?” he says. “See you later, Alice. For now, you’re stuck between exploding with the poor rabbit in your arms or giving it away to the people outside so they can kill it themselves. Talk about a paradox.”
73
ALICE WONDER’S HOUSE, 7 FOLLY BRIDGE, OXFORD
TIME REMAINING: 14 MINUTES
Outside, the police point their guns at me.
Everywhere around me, there is some kind of microphone or a news reporter. Behind them, hordes of people boo at me.
“Get rid of the rabbit!”
“Kill it!”
“She is the one who let the rabbit loose!”
Slowly, I step forward as the police demand I hand them the rabbit.
“Do you have a bomb expert who may know how to defuse the bomb?” I ask politely, well aware my maid’s dress and the blood on my face isn’t really helping my image.
“We don’t need a bomb squad,” says the lanky officer I saw in the Six O’clock Circus. “We’ll drown it in the river and let it explode in there.”
“But what about the rabbit?”
“You’re not going to pull that ‘animal rights’ crap on us again, are you?” another officer says. “We know who you are, you and that imposter, Professor Carter Pillar. You’ve both escaped the asylum.”
“She is mad!” an old woman yells from the crowd.
Like always, I wonder who is mad here. Am I such a silly, unreasonable girl because I want to save a rabbit as much as I want to save myself?
“Hand me the rabbit, Alice,” a familiar voice says. It’s Inspector Dormouse, wide awake now. “I know who you are now. We got the memo. Let’s make this easier on everyone. Hand the rabbit over, and let us escort you back to the asylum. You’re not well, young lady.”
I don’t move, patting the scared rabbit and hugging it closer to my chest. I can feel its escalating heartbeat.
For a moment, I realize the scope of what I have been through in the past two days. This Hatter, not only did he push me to remember the circus to get to the key, but he also managed to raise my uneasiness with the world around me. Looking at the police, the reporters, and the crowd, I can’t overlook the fact that they are the descendants of those who created the circus and used the mentally ill as a form of entertainment.
The idea confuses me.
Am I supposed to take the Wonderland Monsters’ side? If not, then give me one reason why I should keep saving a human life every day.
“Pillar!” I shout. “Where are you?”
It’s funny, yet sad, how he is always my last resort. With all the madness surrounding me, I prefer his madness the most.
“The Pillar has been sent back to the asylum, Alice,” Inspector Dormouse tells me. “He can’t help you. Give back the rabbit. I think you only have three minutes left. Give it to us, and we’ll drown it in the river. And we’ll all be safe.”
The world is such a useless place, that’s all I can think of now. It’s full of hypocrites, liars, and selfish people. And even if I’m dramatizing things, I realize I prefer to go back to the asylum. At least I know who is who in there.
But first, and since I am a mad girl on national TV, I need to do one last crazy thing.
I run through the cops with the rabbit in my arms, neglecting all the panic and shouting around me. I run away with the rabbit, which I am not going to hand over or drown in the water.
I don’t know what will happen to both of us. But I feel we’re both the same in this world. We’re both overwhelmed by human cruelty—and stupidity—in this mad world. I hug it tighter and run away with it.
And before I know it, I hear the explosion.
74
BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON
“Hoooraaay!”
Tom Truckle was overwhelmed by the hailing crowd staring at the screen. They all stood up, clinking glasses and smiling and congratulating each other as if celebrating an independence day.
Tom stood up, pretending to be as enthusiastic, unable to believe what he’d just seen.
Did he just watch Alice Wonder explode with that rabbit on live TV?
It seemed like it.
And it seemed normal, in a very abnormal way, to have all those lunatic guests of the Queen hail the explosion and the madness it caused. But why were people in the streets happy about Alice’s explosion?
Families congratulated each other and let out sighs of relief, as did the police officers and reporters. It seemed like Alice’s death was the best thing that had happened to them in their lives. Everyone was happy the bomb went off on the poor mad girl who’d just escaped the asylum. As long as it didn’t hurt them, it was just okay.
“And this, my fellow loons”—the Queen of England snickered into the microphone—“is just a small example of the kinds of madness we’ll bestow on this world we live in.”
Was that the plan? To drive the world mad, really
?
“Enjoy this hilarious scene for a while,” the Queen said. “And then I will tell you about the ultimate plan. I will tell you about the real Wonderland Wars!” she said as if she were Hitler, brought back from the grave, and wearing a wig.
75
PSYCHIATRY, RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM
I am back where it all started, in that awful dark room with that awful doctor. I am lying on the couch, and my legs feel numb.
“So that’s all that happened?” he asks.
“More or less,” I reply. “It was a hectic adventure. The most nonsensical of all.”
“And how did you survive the explosion?”
“It turned out the Pillar managed to escape his cell—of course, since when could anyone keep him locked inside?” I say. “He created this hoax of an explosion to drive people away from me, and also to give them what they wanted. Relief that it was all over.”
“And the rabbit?”
“It didn’t explode. This whole rabbit bomb was a hoax, too. The Hatter made it swallow a flashing device to fool me.”
“So all he really wanted from you was the key,” he says, skeptically, as usual.
“I believe so,” I say. “He also wanted to mess with my head for some reason.”
“Do you have any idea what the key will do?”
“I suppose it’s one of six keys to go back to Wonderland.” I don’t tell him I have a key in my cell. I don’t trust him that much.
“Hmm...” I hear him write something down.
“Hmm... what?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I think your condition is worsening, Alice. I mean, look at your story. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even have a context. It’s contradictory. And yet you have not come back to your senses.”
“Madness doesn’t make sense. And it’s contradictory.”
“So, you finally admit your madness?”
“Not that madness,” I say. “The other madness.”
“There are two kinds of madness now?” He really doesn’t like this conversation.
“Yes, of course. There is that loony-toony bonkers madness where you’re wrapped up in a straitjacket and locked inside a room.”
“And the other madness?”
“It’s all out there in the world you live in, doctor,” I say. “I mean, you may think it’s not madness, only because you’re used to it. But it surely is all messed up.”
“Uh-huh.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, Alice. I have no idea where to take the therapy from here. All I know is that I will prescribe you more Lullaby pills, and, sorry to say, this time, I prefer you go back to the Mush Room. A few shock sessions might stir some sort of progress.”
I purse my lips for a while, contemplating if the shock therapy still scares me. I think it doesn’t. It’s just pain. And trust me, there are much worse things in this life than pain. “Tell me, doctor,” I say, “do you at least believe what I said about the circus, the Invisible Plague?”
“I know for a fact it’s real,” he says. “Sadly, many mentally ill have been wrongfully treated in the past. What I don’t believe is that you time-traveled to witness it with your own eyes, let alone that the patients were all Wonderlanders.”
“But let’s say you believe,” I say. “What would you do? I mean, would you take the people’s side or the mentally ill’s side?”
The doctor stays silent for a long time, then he says something that shocks me: “To a degree, we’re all mentally ill, Alice. It’s just that, on a scale of one to ten, you’re infinity in your illness. Infinity means straitjacket in an isolated cell.”
76
ALICE’S CELL, RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM
I can’t take my eyes off Waltraud as she ushers me into my cell. I want to tell her that I saw her in the circus, but I am sure she will deny it, and then I wouldn’t know where to take the conversation from there.
I watch her lock me up. Today she says nothing. She doesn’t mock or make fun of me. I wonder why.
“Rest the night,” she says. “Tomorrow, you’re first on my shock therapy list. And you know how good of a customer you are to me.”
“I know,” I say behind bars. “I assume I am as good as those you tortured in the circus?”
She takes a moment to look at me, but she doesn’t seem to grasp any of it. “I guess that’s one of your loony stories again. A circus? Is that part of the Alice Underground book?”
“Nah.” I wave it off. “It’s nothing.”
I could ask her if she saw me on the news, running away with a rabbit in my hand, but I know she usually denies I was on the news.
I watch her walk away and sit down next to my Tiger Lily. It’s weird how I feel at home. I am sorry, but I really missed my cell.
77
ALICE’S CELL, RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM
Sometime around midnight, I hear a knock on my door. I stand up and stare at whoever it is behind the bars. I am sure I won’t panic if it turns out to be the Cheshire disguised as Ogier again. I have seen my share of spooks lately.
But it’s not the Cheshire. It’s Margaret Kent.
“I am not dreaming, am I?” I say to her.
“Nor are you hallucinating,” she says, wearing her expensive jewelry and dress.
“That’s hard to swallow,” I reply. “Because why in the world would you visit me, Duchess?”
“It’s an unofficial visit, Alice—or whoever you really are.” She chews on the words. It’s apparent that she is disgusted by the asylum. “I have a message for you.”
“From whom?”
“From the Queen of England.”
“Her Majesty?” I say it in an ironic way, still wondering if this is really happening.
“We have the key, Alice,” Margaret says in a sharp businesswoman tone. “The Hatter works for us. We planned it all. The rabbit. The bomb. Everything. We had to push you to the edge of your mind so you would remember where you hid the key—one of the six, to be precise.”
I’m not that surprised. In fact, the more pieces of the puzzle that come together, the better I feel. “When you say ‘we,’ you mean who exactly?”
“Black Chess,” she says. “The Wonderlanders who were tortured by humans in the circus. No one can stop us.”
“But not all Wonderlanders are on Black Chess’s side.”
“I know what the March Hare told you,” she says. “You know how we know? Because the light bulb in his head is real. We can see through his thoughts. He tried to protect you by not telling you everything because he knew we’d know. The light bulb is a Lewis Carroll invention.”
“I don’t care how powerful you are,” I say. “Fabiola showed you which side I’m on.”
“So, we’re playing with open cards right now?” She laughs. “Funny you mention cards.” She smirks. “Now that you don’t even have Jack in your life.”
This gets on my nerves. It hurts so much I want to puke my guts out. Damn the Duchess.
“Look, I don’t have much time, and like I said, I have a message for you,” she says. “I know you still have so many questions—hell, I have so many questions. But the bottom line is this. The Wonderland Wars are partially about the Six Impossible Keys Lewis gave you in the past. Don’t ask me why they are important. You will know in time.”
“I figured out that much about the keys, and I figured out I don’t remember where I hid them, and that you’ll do your best to make me remember how to get to them,” I say. “So, tell me what you’re really here for.”
“Let me put it this way,” she says. “Although you found the key, you didn’t really remember where you hid it. Hell, you didn’t even remember the circus in Wonderland happened. From what the Hatter told me, you only remembered what your sisters did to you in real life.”
“So?”
“So, as much as you seem to know about Alice, we’re not sure you’re her yet, but...” She jabs a finger in the air. “The Queen wants you on our side.”
“Are you offering me a
position in Black Chess, really?” I snort.
“Think about it. You’ll be a free girl. We’ll get you out of the asylum. You won’t have to struggle with Wonderland Monsters each week. What else can you ask for?”
“And you expect me to lead you to the keys, of course.”
“There is a price for everything, and sanity is almost priceless.”
“You’re dreaming, Duchess,” I say. “Whether I am Alice or not, the fact that deep in my memory, I know where the keys are, obliges me to hold on to them.” I can’t forget how concerned Lewis was about the key he gave me in the Tom Tower. “Besides, give me one logical reason why I would want to be on the Queen’s side in this war.”
“You want a reason?” Margaret smirks again. She nears the bars and stares into my eyes. “I have one good reason for you, especially if you turn out to be the Real Alice.”
“And what could that be?” I challenge her.
Her answer comes like a heavy tide threatening to swallow me into a sea of sharks. “Because you may not remember it yet, but you were one of us inside the cage in the circus. What humans have done to us was done to you, just the same.” Even though I don’t remember that, it bothers me dearly. “Haven’t you noticed how most people in this world are never on your side? Haven’t you noticed how they were happy thinking you died with the rabbit today? You’re one of us, Alice. You just don’t know it yet.”
78
BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON
Tom Truckle was listening to the Queen’s plan.
“All of you, my dear guests, lunatics, and ex-Wonderlanders, come from so many countries around the world,” she began. “All of you are friends with presidents and the most prestigious men and women in your land. And all of you don’t like any of them, too, because all of you were once in the circus.”