by Cameron Jace
"Please, sir."
"So it's a valuable book, eh?" Mr. Scrooge glances at it one more time with a smug look on his face. The book is about Lewis Carroll's life at Oxford University. "How much would you pay for it?"
"Pay?"
"Bugger," the Pillar says. "Now you have to get a loan from the bank to save the girl. I think it takes between three and four weeks to clear. Not too shabby. You could save the girl's corpse by then. Besides, I don't think the banks give loans to girls with a record of madness. They know girls are shopaholics."
"Shut up!" I yell.
"You're telling me to shut up?" Mr. Scrooge frowns. "That's it. No book for you, young lady."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Listen, I can give you this." I show him the six o'clock rabbit watch. It looks expensive, even classic.
"A watch?"
"It's not just any watch. It is Lewis Carroll's own watch. See the rabbit? It's even six o'clock all the time, just like when the Mad Hatter sang and froze time."
Mr. Scrooge tilts his head and inspects the watch for a long time. His gaze is penetrating. His eyebrows arch as if he is a British minister about to take a crucial decision. He glances back at the book, then at the watch. Time is running out.
"You want this book for this watch?" he says.
"Yes, please." This must be the hardest bargain I have ever had to make.
"You got it, young lady." He hands me the book and laughs. "She wants this book so badly," he mumbles as he walks away. "It's full of holes." He leaves the hall. A security guard comes and shows him out, then nods at me. He has that silly pointed nose and a face full of freckles. He is the same person who pretended to be the officer asking for my ID. Before he pulls the hall's door to a close, he tells me, "Do what you have to do. Fast!"
"It's nice to know someone is helping," the Pillar says.
"Who is that, and how does he know me?"
"He works for me."
"And where are the real guards?"
"Sedated and bound somewhere in the Tom Tower," the Pillar says.
I know I should object, but all I can think of is saving the girl. There are certainly no morals whatsoever when working with the Pillar.
I get on my knees and inspect the book. This fits the sequence: first, the "boor," who turned out to be Mr. Scrooge, then the "book" about Lewis Carroll, and then "look" inside the book.
"I'm looking inside the book. I imagine that should send me to the 'lock,'" I tell the Pillar.
"Are there any messages from the Cheshire on the first page or the cover?"
"Yes." I almost laugh when I read it. "It says: What is the Use of a Book, Without Pictures or Conversation."
"And?"
"The answer is holes."
"I assume the book you have has holes in it like Mr. Scrooge said."
"Yes. The book has two big holes on each page," I tell the Pillar.
"What shapes are the holes?"
"They look like two tall rods, thicker at the bottom, and thinner as they stretch up. They have two heads at the ends that look like some kind of soldier with an unusual hat, I think. It could be a plate on their heads."
"I see." The Pillar's voice dims. "Damn that, Cheshire. He was really playing with us from the beginning."
"You know what that is?"
"If you're sitting, raise the book and look through at the east wall." I do as he says. "You should come across two brass firedogs in front of a fireplace. My guess is, if you stay right in the middle of the room at that level, you'll see they fit the cuts in the book"
I do as he says, and he is right. I see the brass firedogs. They're gold plated and very unique. In fact, they remind me of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland right away. I don't know what it is, but they carry his sense of nonsense and humor.
"What are they supposed to mean? I don't see a 'lock.'" I feel out of time and disappointed.
"You like the firedogs?" a voice sneaks up from behind me. I thought I was alone in the hall, or is it one of the Pillar's assistants? When I turn around, it's Jack Diamonds.
26
Jack has his backpack on one shoulder, and his curly hair falling down his forehead again. And, of course, that attractive smirk.
"What are you doing here?" I snap.
Jack closes his eyes and puckers up his lips as if we're about to kiss. "You owe me a kiss."
"What? You're out of your mind." I can't even imagine this guy is for real. "How did you even get in here?"
"I'm a dangerous man." He opens his eyes and shapes his fingers into a gun. He starts to shoot like a cowboy. "Wanna go out on a date?"
"Ugh," I sigh. He is certainly a distraction. Where did he come from?
"Doesn't have to be a date, then," he says. "I could drive you around Oxford in a limousine, and be your chauffeur for one night."
I shake my head. I wonder how the Pillar knows Jack. "Do you even own a limousine?"
"No, but I will steal one for you, buttercup." He pulls me closer by my waist so fast that I can't even shake myself free. "My name is Jack Diamonds, by the way," he whispers softly in my ear, "I'm a thief of hearts. Pun intended, of course."
"Let go of me," I say as I pull away.
"Wow, you're good at squeezing yourself away from a man's arms." He looks admiringly at his empty embrace.
"You haven't seen me with a straitjacket." The words spill out of my mouth spontaneously. It takes me a second to realize that I can't let him know I sleep in the asylum at night.
"Straitjacket?" He raises an eyebrow, "I didn't know you're into bondage and stuff."
"Get rid of him," the Pillar says. "I told you he is a distraction."
I stare at the watch and gaze back at Jack.
"Why are you always on the phone?" He tilts his head and flashes his boyish dimples. Too boyish for a twenty-year-old. "Are talking to that old man who just walked out? You're not dating him, are you?"
"Shut up." I have one minute left, and I look back at those brass firedogs. "What about the firedogs? I have no time." I squeeze my headset, talking to the Pillar. I'll have to work, even if Jack is still behind me.
The Pillar abandons me.
"You don't need a date, buttercup. You need a tour guide." Jack spreads his arms and bows his head, as in "I'm at your service." "The firedogs are Lewis Carroll's inspiration for the long neck chapter when she eats that cake and gets taller."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she keeps getting taller and shorter and taller and…"
"I know the book." I wave my hand in the air. "This is how the Cheshire was fooling us from the beginning." I click my fingers together, pretending Jack isn't here. "When he wrote 'eat me' on the Cheshire Cheese, he was referring to the girl's hiding place," I tell myself, interpreting the last piece of the puzzle. Suddenly, I shriek. "It's the fireplace! He's locked the girl behind the fireplace!"
Thirty seconds left.
"There is a girl behind the fireplace?" Jack looks puzzled as I run around, looking for anything to help me bring down the brick wall blocking the fireplace.
"A big hammer will do, Alice." The Pillar has decided to talk to me again. "Faster. Go get help from outside! They'll know how to break it."
And just before I run to the door, I hear the bricks falling in a series of thuds. I turn around and see Jack bringing down the brick walls with the firedogs. He has strong arms, and he is determined as heck. He also looks like he has a thing for vandalism.
"The heck with national treasures!" he pants, as the bricks fall down.
I pass the firedogs and squeeze myself into the tight place behind them. Then I get on all fours and use the phone's light to peek into the darkness of the fireplace. I smell ashes, but can't see anything. Then I hear a girl moaning. I don't hesitate and crawl into the dark.
It doesn't take me long before I can see the shadow of a girl inside. She's lying on the floor with her hands and knees tied.
27
Oh, my God. She's only ten or so. I run
to her and get on my knees. I have to crawl inside to get to her. Her mouth is tied, and her dress is torn, ashes covering her legs. The look in her eyes is killing me. Those pleading eyes. I can't imagine she's been locked in this awful place for so long. This damn Cheshire Cat. I swear I will catch him.
When I reach for the girl, she pulls away, still panicking. I'm assuming she is in great shock. "It's all right," I say. "I am here to help you."
The girl stops panicking but doesn't move or allow me to untie her hands and legs. I feel like I want to scream and cry at the same time. I want to tell her that I know what it feels like being trapped and isolated in such a small room. She reminds me of myself in the asylum. I am praying the Cheshire didn't do this on purpose, sacrificing the girl to play with my head.
Whenever I crawl closer to her, she shies away. I don't want to force her. She's been through enough. I need to find a way for her to trust me. I reach for the ashes and smear them on my face and hands, trying to assure her we're both alike. That I can save her if only she'll let me. The girl still doesn't trust me. Her mouth is duct-taped, so she can't speak. But her eyes speak. I wonder what she wants to tell me.
"Please, let me help you," I say, tears trickling down my cheeks.
She does that thing with her eyes again, unable to speak.
"At least let's remove the duct tape, so you can tell me what you want."
She thinks about it, then nods. I crawl over and pull it slowly. She's brave. She doesn't moan anymore.
"Are you Alice?" she asks me, with her faint and weakened voice.
"I am." There is no point in asking her how she knows now.
My answer makes her relax. She allows me to unbind her and help her crawl out of the fireplace. We get out to the middle of the hall, where she hugs me while I am on my knees. Then she finally let’s go and cries hysterically. She's been through a lot.
My whole world is falling apart. I have never felt this much emotion for such a long time—I don't even know how long. The sane world is too cruel, I think as I hold her tighter to me. I don't even know her, but I want to give her all the love I can provide. How can the Cheshire do something like that to this young kid? The sane world is horrible. The Pillar was right. Living among the sane is insane.
"I'm not a fan of drama," Jack says from behind me. When I tilt my head, I see him climbing out of one of those highly arched windows. Is this guy some kind of a thief, or what? "But you owe me a date!" He points a finger at me, then waves goodbye to the girl. I am surprised that she waves goodbye to him. For the first time, she smiles.
When I turn to look at Jack again, he's gone.
"Well done, Alice," the Pillar says in my ears. "Not too shabby for our first day at college. See you in the asylum tonight." He hangs up on me.
"Are you okay?" I ask the girl as I catch my breath.
She nods. "As soon as you told me your name was Alice, I knew I was going to be okay. Thank you."
"Really?" I check her body for any bruises. "Are you hurt in any way?"
The girl shakes her head. I can tell she is all right. The Cheshire didn't hurt her, which makes me wonder what all of this was about.
"What's your name?" I run my finger through her hair.
"Constance."
"What a lovely name." I hug her again.
"Not as lovely as yours." Her small hands cling to my pullover from behind. "My mom was going to name me Alice first."
"You love that name a lot, huh?" I smile, wondering why my name means so much to her.
She hits me with the answer: "The man who kidnapped me told me a girl named Alice was coming for me."
"Oh." My face tightens, and my need to catch the Cheshire heightens. "Did you see his face?"
"No, he was wearing a mask of a grinning cat," she says. "But when I asked him if it was Alice in Wonderland who was coming to save me, he said yes, it was her. He meant you," the girl continues, her head on my shoulder. I fight the tears. She thinks Alice is her hero from the books, and that she came to save her. Or maybe I am too stupid to notice that she is right. That I am Alice, and that I am destined for much more than a cell in an asylum. "I told him Alice is only seven," the girl continues. "She can't save me."
"What did he say to that?"
"He said, 'Alice is grown up now, and she will try to save the world.'"
28
THE RADCLIFFE LUNATIC ASYLUM, OXFORD
Going back to the Radcliffe Asylum, I don't know what's worse: the mad people inside, or the mad people outside.
Dr. Tom Truckle taunts me for ten minutes for being late and jeopardizing his reputation by being a hero. He doesn't care at all about saving the girl. I feel better about the way the Pillar blackmails him. Also, I try to tell him to get over it. I shoved the girl out to the public and escaped through the window Jack used. No one saw me save her but the Pillar's chauffeur, and a few tourists who cannot prove anything but the existence of a mad girl who ate a block of cheese at the Great Hall. Then, of course, the media began showing the video of the mad girl who ate the block of cheese and began connecting me to saving the girl.
Tom permits me to see the Pillar one last time before I am shoved back to the ward underground. He has given my Tiger Lily to the Pillar, just to anger me. Now I will have to get it from the Pillar.
As I walk to the VIP lounge, I think about how I couldn't have done much without the Pillar, whom I have no idea what to think of. And Jack, who is a total mystery. The fact that every passing second brings me closer to the idea of the existence of a real Wonderland, that everyone I meet seems to be part of it, is both enchanting and maddening at the same time.
I sit on the chair facing the Pillar's bars, feeling super powerful.
"Some people say that Lewis Carroll must have been on drugs to write such a whimsical, nonsensical, and radical tale as Alice's Adventures Under Ground." The Pillar shoots me one of his seemingly irrelevant remarks, like always. He doesn't even glance at me, treating the hookah as if he's fixing his new Porsche.
"In Wonderland, you mean." I fidget, caught in his mad reality again.
"It was called Under Ground until Lewis published his first draft in 1865," the Pillar says. "Two thousand copies were published before he came to his senses and collected them back from the market, to republish it again as Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."
"Why did he do that?" I am astonished at the way he can change the conversation. I thought we were going to talk about what happened today.
"That's a big question." He wiggles his gloved finger. "I don't really have the answer. Historians will tell you that John Tenniel, his genius painter, wasn't satisfied with the pictures. The truth is, Lewis hid a lot of messages inside the book, which at first draft didn't seem that hidden to Tenniel. Lewis needed to rewrite it one last time."
"Did he succeed in pulling back the two thousand copies from the market?"
"All but fifty copies." The Pillar raises his copy as if he is holding the Olympic torch. "This is one of them."
"So, that's why you treat it like your personal Wonderland bible."
"I don't think I am a bible man, Alice—I love comics, though," he says "But I get your metaphor. There are chapters in here that have never been seen by human eyes." He steps to a brighter spot in the cell. For the first time, I notice that something is wrong with the Pillar's skin. It's why he probably wears too much clothing. It's like he has a mild allergy, and it looks like his skin is slightly peeling off.
"Why did the Cheshire tell Constance that a girl named Alice was going to save her?" I cut in. There are so many questions in my head. I need an answer to one or two, at least.
"Isn't it strange when you talk about Alice in the third person as if it's not you?"
I shrug. It's the question I have been escaping all day. "I am not Alice," I tell him, even though Constance made me think I must be her. But thinking it over on my way back, I found the idea unbelievable. "I can't be, not even logically. The Real Alice lived in the nineteen
th century. We're in the twenty-first."
"When it comes to Wonderland, what's logic got to do with it?" he says. "You know what I think? I think you're afraid to be Alice."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you think you're fragile. The craziness you've seen in the so-called sane world is too much for you." His eyes are unusually piercing. "I mean, just click your TV on and look at the madness in the world. Wars, killing, envy, hatred, and the whole nine yards. It doesn't look too encouraging, going out there and helping people, not when you could just spend your time in this cozy cell and bed downstairs. It's easy downstairs, isn't it?" He cranes his neck. "You're sure you have a place to sleep at night. You don't have worries about tomorrow. And in your case, you have no past to haunt you. And all you have to do in exchange for food is entertain the wardens with thirty minutes of shock therapy every now and then. Life is just so easy for the mad."
I find my hands laced together as I listen to his words. I hate how he sees right through me. I haven't thought about it like that exactly, but he hit the jackpot about the world outside. I wasn't comfortable with it and wished I could return to the crazy cell I was trying to escape all of the time. It's a horrible feeling. It feels inhuman and wrong. But so is my fear of the sane people out there. When I think of it, I haven't met a Mushroomer downstairs who is capable of trapping a girl in a dark crawlspace, like the Cheshire did.
"You know who mad people really are, Alice?" the Pillar says with his pipe between his lips. "Just lazy people who took the easier way out in life."
"Please give me some of that stuff you're smoking." I try to make it sound like a joke, hiding the fact that he is getting to me. "It seems very good."
"Beware of what you wish for, Alice," he says. "I'm one of the few Lewis wrote about accurately. I mean, without mushrooms, hookahs, and smoke, where would I be?" He stands up and starts tapping his feet in place. It's funny seeing him dance and enjoy himself. Whether he is a real killer or a hoax still puzzles me.
