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

by Cameron Jace

  "What do you care? Wonderland isn't real to you, correct?" He smirks. "I will guarantee that you leave this asylum twelve hours each day, see the world outside, do the little tasks I ask of you, and then come back and sleep in the asylum at night."

  "That's not possible. The judge says I am insane. It's official."

  "I believe you noticed I have an effect on Dr. Truckle. Trust me. He will do as I say."

  "I assume these tasks have something to do with catching the Cheshire Cat?" I raise an eyebrow. This conversation seems surreal to me. I'm not sure if I am not just hallucinating it.

  "If you do as I say, we'll catch him," the Pillar says. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to shoot a gun or be in great danger. You'll just help me solve some puzzles about him, and then go to bed like any obedient mad girl."

  "You realize this should be the police's work, right?"

  "Trust me; they can't catch him. Besides, wouldn't you feel better if you helped in catching him and saving tons of other girls from getting killed?"

  I like the idea, although saving people isn't something mad girls should be doing. "And what will I get in return, other than the chance of seeing real sunshine and snow for the first time in the last two years?"

  "I am hoping that at some point, you'll remember Wonderland again, and I can prove your sanity. But I know you're not enthusiastic about this idea," he says. "Tell you what: I can make Dr. Truckle get you a cell like mine."

  "I don't care about the cell," I say. "For my first mission out, I want my Tiger Lily back."

  "The Tiger Lily again," he says.

  "And a bigger source of sunshine for it to grow in my cell."

  "I like a girl who knows what she wants. We have a deal," he says.

  I nod, not knowing exactly what I am doing. All I can think of is that I will get out of this place, even if it's for a few hours a day. I wonder if I will get to go watch a movie or go out and eat ice cream like normal people do. "Deal," I say.

  "Frabjous," the Pillar chirps. I find it silly that he uses this word, but I also find it amusing.

  "How do we start?" I ask.

  "Why don't we start with that silly straitjacket of yours? I heard you're a master of escaping it."

  Part II

  We're All Mad There

  15

  VIP WARD, THE RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD

  The next morning, they send me back to the VIP Ward. I'm surprised no nurses or wardens are present. Instead, the hallway is filled with Mushroomers from another ward.

  "Welcome to the pinnacle of insanity." The Pillar waves his cane in the air, like a circus ringmaster. He hasn't started smoking yet. I guess it's too early, or maybe he prefers to be sober while I am on this mission. The mad patients in their tattered gowns surround me with giggling eyes. I feel like I am in an insane zombie movie, the princess of all zombies. "Aren't you going to greet your fellow lunatics—or should I call them 'colleagues'?" the Pillar says, throwing parental glances at them. They seem to adore him.

  How did he even get them out of their cells?

  "What are they doing here?" I try to keep a stride or two away from the nearest fellow. I was thinking today was going to be my first day to mingle with normal humans. I guess I was wrong about that.

  "The nature of your mission is highly secretive," the Pillar explains, patting a mad girl who hugs him tightly as if he is the Easter Bunny. "I mean, maddeningly secretive. You're going to deal with the Cheshire Cat himself, a most wanted criminal Wonderlander." He excuses himself from his fangirl. "This means no sane person can be part of this." He air-quotes the word "sane."

  "And if anyone asks me what I am doing?" I say.

  "Anyone, like who?" he asks.

  "Police, for instance?" I tilt my head.

  "Didn't you listen to the Cheshire's footage, explaining that this is a Wonderland War?"

  "Yeah, right." I purse my lips.

  "Alice, Alice, Alice," he sighs. "Here is how I look at it. In order to prove you are sane, you will have to do insane things. Think it over before you accept my offer. This is truly like a rabbit hole: once you fall in, there is no coming back."

  "You mean none of the nurses or wardens are even going to know?" I thought I could get Waltraud and Ogier to treat me better, at least.

  A mad Mushroomer laughs with puffy eyes at me and wiggles his forefinger into a "no." He has a big, crooked finger he could wipe windshields with.

  "But Dr. Truckle knows," I remark, avoiding the Mushroomer.

  "Oh, Tommy," the Pillar says. "I consider him one of us." He points to the patients. "He's just good at hiding it, fooling the universe that he is a sane man running an asylum. Isn't it so, Mushroomers?" The patients nod eagerly.

  I rest my case.

  The Pillar signals to a few of his Mushroomers to bring something. They arrive with a wardrobe on wheels, one that wasn't here before. They pull it in front of me and point at it with mouths drooling. I'm now Alice, princess of fools.

  "Harrods?" I read the name on the wardrobe. "You bought me clothes from Harrods?"

  "I'm not sure we bought them." The Pillar exchanges glances with them. "But they're here, aren't they? Insane people have to get dressed too." The patients' nod at me.

  I let out a long sigh, then breathe all the sanity I can think of back in. Before arriving, I was offered a nice shower in the underground ward. Waltraud and Ogier thought I was going to be examined by a highly regarded specialist outside of the asylum, where I'd be exclusively supervised by Dr. Truckle. I understand now that Waltraud is going to stay oblivious to my secret mission. But it's all right—who can resist a wardrobe from Harrods?

  I rummage through it and end up choosing dirty blue jeans and a white t-shirt. A girl in tattered clothes flashes her thumbs at me, liking my choice. I can't help it and toss her a dress out of pity. She looks at it for a moment, not knowing what to do with it, and ends up chewing on it.

  The Pillar tells me that it's lightly snowing outside, so I throw on a light blue pullover with a hood and long white sleeves. An older Mushroomer woman throws me white boots and giggles at me. Gotta love them loons. They're all I got, after all.

  "Look at you." The Pillar looks happy. "A modern-day Alice. Lewis would have been proud."

  Although I don't have the guts to stare in a mirror to see how I look, I feel really fresh. I'm not sure if it's the clothes, the freedom, or my loony friends. But here I come, Wonderlanders.

  The Pillar's fangirl passes me a pink watch. It's beautiful.

  "I was going to get you a golden pocket watch, but then I faced some obstacles," the Pillar says.

  "Couldn't steal from the guys at Rolex?" I chuckle, putting on my watch.

  "Problems with Wonderland rabbits, actually. They are the watchmakers, and control the industry all over the world," the Pillar says. "Caterpillars and rabbits don't get along, you know." The Pillar turns to look at a couple of Mushroomers working on a typewriter on the writing desk in his cell. They are typing furiously and debating something. One of them types; the other pulls the bar to start a new line. They stare at it as if it's an atomic bomb. I peek in to see what this is all about. They keep gluing and cutting papers.

  "Are we done, or what?" the Pillar puffs impatiently. I am wondering what this is all about.

  One of them walks out of the cell with an old camera. It's a nineteenth-century-style camera with bellows for focusing. He places it on a tripod in front of him and asks me to pose. I am still puzzled.

  "Say 'cheese,' Alice," the Pillar demands. "The Mushroomers have no use for technology and smartphone cameras. They must've been here since long ago." He rolls his eyes.

  I smile flatly at the Mushroomer taking the picture. As fast as a rabbit, he hops back to the writing desk and continues writing and cutting with his friend. He returns with a card in his hand and a drooling grin. It's a pretty smile, actually. Insane, but truly and outrageously happy. I am starting to envy the Mushroomers.

  I'm not going to ask
how the Pillar knows about my mirror phobia. I assume he knows more than I know about myself.

  Seeing my face on the card is a better solution than looking in the mirror. I've never thought about it. I like the way I look. I have auburn hair, naturally wavy—or is it just an aftereffect of too many shock therapies? I have light blue eyes and a slightly edged face. You can tell I don't eat much, I guess. My skin is fair, and I have an overall ordinary and familiar face. If I hadn't been in an asylum, I could have been someone's neighbor or girlfriend, or a college girl in a small town.

  But that's not what this card is about. When I read it, I discover it's an Oxford University card. It has my name on it: Alice Pleasant Wonder. I am a freshman.

  "It's Pleasance, not Pleasant," I tell the Pillar.

  "Pleasant is more pleasant," he says. "Besides, you're not an Oxford University student either. Don't be picky when it comes to forging."

  "You're right about that. I'm just silly," I note. "I haven't even finished high school."

  "Oh, you have finished that." He laughs. "How many did she kill again?" he asks the Mushroomers. They start jumping and clapping, and his fangirl grabs my hand and raises it, like a winner at a boxing match. "She finished all her schoolmates, didn't she?" The Pillar is overly content with having mad people around him. It's a totally different side of him that I don't think he shows to the world outside. "Now, it's time to catch a killer and save some lives." He rubs his hands together and walks back to his couch in the cell, and starts smoking his inverted mushroom-shaped pipe.

  16

  THE PILLAR'S CELL, THE RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD

  "Are you ready?" the Pillar says.

  "I'm not sure. For what?"

  "It means you're ready. Shall we start?" He pushes a copy of Alice's Adventures Under Ground toward me, as I stay right behind the bars. The copy isn't his. It's an old library edition, and it has a girl in a yellow dress on it.

  "I always thought Alice wore blue," I comment, picking up the book.

  "False myth number one," the Pillar says. "John Tenniel, who drew all the paintings in the book, depicted Alice in a yellow dress in the first released version in 1865."

  "You're not serious, are you?"

  "I am insanely serious. From now on, everything I say about Wonderland is deadly serious, Alice."

  "Why yellow?" I glance at the cover again.

  "Yellow was considered the color of madness at the time," the Pillar explains. "But let's not get lost in such debatable details now. Flip through the book, and tell me what you see."

  "A regular Alice in Wonderland paperback." I tilt my head, then flip through it. "It's a library copy. It has a British Library stamp on it."

  "Good." He nods. "Where is the British Library located?"

  "In London?"

  "Right. What else do you see?"

  "Someone borrowed this book yesterday." I can see the date on the inlaid card. "I didn't know libraries wrote borrowing dates inside their books."

  "They don't," the Pillar says. "Someone wants us to know the date. What else do you see?"

  "There is a map tucked between the pages. It's old, and it looks like it's been drawn by hand. A map of Oxford University." I unfold it. "A place called Christ Church, to be exact. One location is circled in red." I stop and resist the peak in my pulse. The red circle has the face of a grinning cat on it. "Is the book another message from the Cheshire?"

  "It is. What does it say under the cat with the grin on the map?" The Pillar doesn't waste time.

  "It says: 'We're All Mad Here.'"

  "Clichéd to the bone, isn't it?" The Pillar smiles faintly.

  "There is an arrow pointing to a location underneath. What is all that? I don't understand."

  "That's Cheshire the Cat's most recent message," the Pillar says. "He is playing with open cards now, knowing you and I are in the picture."

  "Should we be looking for something where the arrow points?"

  "Indeed," the Pillar puffs. "You're going to follow that trail today."

  "I am? I thought it's my first day at college," I say.

  "College sucks. The first days especially suck. Saving lives doesn't."

  "Who said anything about saving lives?" I inquire. "It's just a map. I am assuming it leads to a treasure or something."

  "You're wrong. This book was found in the hands of another dead girl this morning."

  "What? Different than the one he killed in Christ Church two days ago?"

  "Yes. In London, next to the British Library. They're going to announce it on the news later. For some reason, he left evidence to show the girl is dead but took her with him."

  "Is that his way of mocking the world, sending messages with dead girls?"

  "In his case, he is grinning at the world. He wants us to discover something in that location he circled," the Pillar says. "I believe it's another girl he has trapped somewhere."

  "Why is he killing those girls? What does he want?"

  "I have no idea what he wants with the girls. But I think he is also testing you, Alice."

  "Why would he test me?" I feel anger seeping through my pores.

  "He wants to know if you're the Real Alice." The Pillar's gaze is stripped of any emotion.

  I consider all the possibilities of who I really am for a moment. "You realize it's my first day among sane people," I say, thinking about what I am getting myself into.

  "If you've survived parasites and bacteria until the age of nineteen, you can survive sane people." He draws on his pipe.

  "But you realize this is a bit too much for me. I don't want to end my first day being called insane in the sane world."

  "You're caring too much about people, Alice," he says. "Take it from me: sane is mundane; insanity is the new black."

  I can't even smile at his absurd comment. Saving someone is a big responsibility. I am not sure I can save myself. All that I can think of is this: What would the Real Alice do?

  Save the girl, of course.

  17

  OUTSIDE THE RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD

  When Tom Truckle opens the asylum's door for me, I shield my eyes from the sun. Although weak against the snow, its rays feel hot on my face. We haven't met for so long, and I guess that's why.

  My legs are stiff as the cold breeze outside licks at my face, like an unfriendly dog. The idea of facing the sane world again isn't as exciting as I would have thought. I feel like I am missing the dimly lit corridors and the crazy faces of patients. Watching people walking around me in suits and coats just doesn't feel right. I wonder if evolution wasn't from ape to man, but from insane to sane.

  I take a deep breath and step outside. The sound of the door closing behind me echoes in the back of my head. I feel disconnected, left alone in this new world. I find it ironic. I wanted to escape the asylum before. If the wardens only knew I'd feel so intimidated. I wonder if that is why the Pillar always returns. Is it possible he couldn't make it among the sane, so he began killing them?

  I walk to the first bus station with books in my hands. I haven't even looked at them. It feels good standing among people and waiting for a bus, though. No one knows I am insane. No one cares who I am. I hope it's going to be easy fooling them into thinking that I am one of them. One of the privileges of not knowing who you are is that you can pretend to be anyone you like.

  Getting on the bus, I pay for my ride to Oxford University, which isn't that far from the Radcliffe Asylum—people outside call it the Warneford hospital. I guess they're embarrassed to say "asylum." Money feels funny in my hands. If I give you this slice of paper, you let me on the bus? It's ridiculous.

  I pick a seat by the window in the last row and sit. I'm used to sitting with my back against my cell's walls. The last row suits me fine. I make sure I don't pull my knees to my chest and bury my head in my hands like I usually do. It reminds me that I am lonely out here without my Tiger Lily.

  I don't know how I'd feel if someone sat next to me. Proximit
y with others doesn't sound like a good idea right now. I haven't sat close to someone for a long time. I'm not even sure I am capable of having a regular conversation with anyone. What if they ask me about a street address? What if they ask me what I am studying, or who I am? I glance at my books. They're mostly psychology and philosophy books. One of them is a children's novel, though. It's called There is a Mad Girl at the End of this Book. It makes me laugh. I take it that it's the Pillar's doing.

  My phone buzzes. I look around as if I am doing something wrong. Everyone's phone buzzes. I am just not used to it. I pick it up. It's a message from the Pillar. Next to a mental health hotline, he is the only one on my contact list. The Pillar doesn't stop playing with me.

  Doing all right? His message reads.

  A little uncomfortable with being around people, I write, having a hard time typing on the phone's small touch keypad.

  Do you see a rabbit with a watch, late for an appointment?

  No. I giggle, and I think people notice.

  Then you're all right. You're a psychology student with exceptionally high grades in high school, in case someone asks you.

  Why psychology?

  Most serial killers and criminals study psychology at some point. It's easier to spot them that way, he writes. I want you among them.

  Did the Cheshire Cat study it?

  Definitely. Tell me, what do you see around you, Alice?

  Trees, pavement, and people walking outside my window, I write.

  And the passengers on the bus?

  Normal people. I see an old woman who just bought some groceries. A young couple, probably heading to the university, too. A middle-aged man with a suitcase. He looks like a professor. And a few other regular people.

  All sane?

  I take it this is a joke, I write as I smile. How do I know?

  Sane people care too much about silly things, Alice, the Pillar writes. Is the professor checking his tie and jacket, maybe the suitcase? Does he look insecure about his looks?