by Cameron Jace
33
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC
The man in the room, one of the American president’s closest confidants, pulled open the envelope.
He had an idea about what he would find inside, but he needed to make sure.
As he read the invitation, a wide grin slowly formed on his face. Finally, the Queen of England had taken the initiative and called for the Event.
He flipped the envelope over and saw the list of the names invited. He was impressed.
God, if all of those people got together, there would be no stopping the likes of him and the Queen.
He tucked the envelope in, knowing he couldn’t make it to London in time. But that was okay. He’d send one of his men, currently in England, to attend the Event on his behalf.
It was about time Black Chess revealed itself to the world.
34
GLASGOW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
TIME REMAINING: 14 HOURS, 13 MINUTES
After a two-hour flight, we land in Glasgow in some private plane arranged by the Pillar.
I can’t help but wonder about the Pillar’s connections—and fortune—but he dismisses my inquiry whenever I ask. The idea of a super-rich professor favoring being in an asylum over his wealth in the outside world thickens the pile of questions on my part. I know the Pillar will only tell me what he wants to tell me, so it’s up to me to figure out the rest of the puzzle.
Once we leave the airport, we’re told we’ll soon meet up with Inspector Dormouse at the Garden of Cosmic Speculation. It’s an hour's drive to Dumfries, where it’s located. I also learn that the inspector had to coordinate with Scotland Yard to allow us a visit to the garden.
“So, you actually knew about the Snail Mound?” I ask, sitting in the back of another limousine, driven by the Pillar’s chauffeur.
“I knew about the Garden of Cosmic Speculation, but not the Snail Mound,” the Pillar says, entertaining himself with a hand-held hookah. “The Garden of Cosmic Speculation is incredibly vast, so it needs a specific map. I didn’t know there was a place called the Snail Mound inside.”
“So, what is this garden exactly?” I scroll through my phone, staring at the unbelievably amazing pictures of the inside of the garden. Uncannily, it reminds me of Wonderland. I think whoever sees it would think of Alice’s books instantly. I wonder why Lewis Carroll movies haven’t been shot here.
“There are two versions about the Garden of Cosmic Speculation. One that is told to the public, and one that is the truth. Let me educate you with what is generally told to the public.” The Pillar drags from his pipe. Eyes turning beady. He loves it. “The garden is a thirty-acre sculpture garden. It was created by professor, architect, and landscaper Jittery March at his own home, Portrack House, near Dumfries in South West Scotland.”
“Okay?” Still looking at the pictures, I am mesmerized by the garden’s beauty. It’s almost hypnotic looking at it. Part of it is designed to look like the man-sized chessboard in Alice in Wonderland, only its square tiles are green and silver.
“Common people will tell you that the garden is inspired by science and mathematics, with sculptures and landscaping on these themes, such as black holes and all that hard-to-comprehend stuff,” the Pillar says. “The garden’s main motif is green, but it actually has very few and selected plants. People will tell you that Professor Jittery was looking to represent mathematical formulas and scientific phenomena in a setting which elegantly combines natural features and artificial symmetry and curves.”
I blink at the complicated words. Am I insane to not understand half of what he just said?
“See? It’s all some jibber-jabber, snobbishly complicated talk, mainly meant for you to not understand anything and not question why it looks uncannily like the Wonderland carved in the collective conscious of the world.” He coughs. “Scottish tobacco. Horrible.” He puts his small hookah away and orders the chauffeur to hand him a Scottish bagpipe. Instead of playing some tune with it, he amazingly starts to drag from it like a regular hookah. “Hmm...” His beady eyes smile. “So, where were we?”
“You told me about how the public is supposed to think of the Garden of Cosmic Speculation,” I remind him, in case he is wasted by now.
“Ah, that.”
“So, what is the version the public doesn’t know about?” I say, pretending I didn’t hear it from the March Hare. I’d like to hear the Pillar’s version.
A moment of silence passes before he continues. “This garden was created by the lunatic scientist you met in the secret asylum they call the Hole.” The Pillar lowers his voice as if reading a children’s mystery novel in a book club. “Who in reality is the March Hare, another Wonderland character thrown out into this world.”
“So what?” I shake my shoulders. “This isn’t the first Wonderland character who lives a completely different life in the modern world and excels at it. Like Fabiola.”
“Indeed, but the March Hare designed this garden for a reason,” the Pillar says. “The March Hare mapped the Garden of Cosmic Speculation after his faint memory of what Wonderland really looked like. That’s what they don’t tell you on Wikipedia.”
35
THE PILLAR’S LIMOUSINE ON ITS WAY TO THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION
TIME REMAINING: 14 HOURS, 04 MINUTES
“Why would he do that?” I ask the Pillar, as his chauffeur takes a bump in the road. I am trying to dig for more info about the garden and the March Hare, although I already learned most of what I’m hearing now.
“Because he wanted to find a way back to Wonderland,” the Pillar explains. “Jittery is one of the most sentimental people/hares. He wasn’t in tune with living in this modern world. He didn’t like it. He thought it was utterly harsh, insane, and rubbish. Unlike others, he looked for you all the time.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Alice. He believed you could take him back to Wonderland.”
“But you need Six Impossible Keys to go back.” I am not even going to discuss the fact characters like the Cheshire did their best to escape Wonderland. So why go back?
“Of course you need the keys to go back.” The Pillar drags from his bagpipe some more. “Jittery, however, claimed he found a magical way back. Some kind of a cosmic spell.”
“By replicating Wonderland in real life?” I am just guessing.
The Pillar nods. “It’s some kind of bizarre wishful thinking if you ask me. I never paid attention to the idea. I believe the March Hare was just nostalgic, unable to live in the mad world we live in now. Replicating Wonderland helped him cope with his own insanity. The March Hare had always been a child in a grown man/rabbit’s body.”
“So, the Garden of Cosmic Speculation is actually a replica of Wonderland?” I think this is insane but also incredibly fascinating. It means we have some kind of clue of what Wonderland looked like.
“Not exactly,” the Pillar says, debunking my speculations. “But it works fine as a map. Meaning the distance and location of places is very similar to Wonderland, although he changed the names of locations to sound modern and scientific.”
“That’s why you didn’t know what the Snail Mound was.”
The Pillar nods.
“So why did this Hatter hide the rabbit in the garden?” I ask.
“I told you. He’s playing games.”
“What kind of game requires I collect a glove, a fan, and a housemaid dress, and then visit a replica of Wonderland?”
“It doesn’t make sense to me,” the Pillar says. “But I wouldn’t worry about that now, as I’m sure it will all be explained in the end.”
“Then what should I worry about?” Again, I am not sure if I can trust the Pillar with everything he tells me.
“There is something else you don’t know about the garden.”
“Which is?”
“The Garden of Cosmic Speculation isn’t open to the public. It’s a private garden.”
“Really? This beauty isn’t available for
all people to visit?”
“See?” The Pillar breathes out spiral smoke. “Like I told you, Professor Jittery built it to find his way back. There was no point in keeping it open to the public. It’s more of a doorway to Wonderland.”
“So, how are we getting inside?” I ask, but then I realize why Inspector Dormouse is meeting with Scotland Yard right now—probably to get permission to enter it.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, you’re right.” The Pillar smiles as if reading my thoughts. “However, the garden opens only one day each year for the public, but it’s not anytime soon.”
“So why haven’t we just asked Professor Jittery for permission to enter?” I say. “Why hasn’t he told me about this?”
“Now you’re asking the right questions,” the Pillar says. “The garden has been confiscated and sold to an elite organization. Why do you think Professor Jittery went mad? And why do you think he is locked in the Hole, which no one knows about?”
“So that’s it?” I am starting to understand why Professor Jittery thinks someone is spying in his head. This garden is somehow important in this Wonderland War. Although I don’t know how.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about the name of this organization?”
“I don’t need to,” I reply. “It’s Black Chess. The organization Professor Jittery warned me about. The same organization the Muffin Man tried to oppose last week.” I stare directly at the Pillar. “Except no one knows who they really are.”
The car stops, and we arrive at the magnificent Garden of Cosmic Speculation.
36
OUTSIDE THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION, DUMFRIES, SCOTLAND
TIME REMAINING: 13 HOURS, 44 MINUTES
Two men in red cloaks, part of the Reds clan who had once chased the Pillar and Alice in the Vatican, stood atop a green hill overlooking the Garden of Cosmic Speculation. They wore red robes but stood far enough away that no one saw them at the moment. Underneath the robes, their faces weren’t visible.
But their voices were audible enough.
One of them, the taller one with a golden number nine sewn to the fabric of the robe, held binoculars. He was watching Alice leave the limousine and meet with Inspector Dormouse.
“Can you see them?” the shorter one, Number 7, asked.
Number 9 nodded. “Inspector Dormouse must have gotten permission to enter the garden.”
“And the girl?”
“She is with the police force,” Number 9 said. “It’s not the Scottish police, though.”
“Must be Inspector Dormouse’s team,” Number 7 said. “The Department of Insanity.”
“Poor Inspector Sherlock. He thinks he is doing a real job. Should we make the phone call now?”
“Nah,” Number 7 said. “I’m sure everything will be recorded with the garden’s surveillance cameras. Besides, the big moment hasn’t arrived yet.”
“You keep talking about the big moment,” Number 9 said. “When is that exactly?”
“The moment when she is closer to the circus.”
“The circus?” Number 9 chortled. “That would be a slithy borgrove and totally mishmash moment.” He laughed from under his cloak.
Number 7 laughed too. “Oh, man. This girl is in for the surprise of her life.”
“I wonder why she is so eager to enter.” Number 9 still watched Alice through his binoculars. “Why does she care so much? I mean, it’s only a rabbit that will explode, along with a few people. It’s not like it doesn’t happen every day.”
“She is insane,” Number 7 said. “Insane people think they can save the day. If she only knew what’s in store for her.”
Number 9 and Number 7 watched Inspector Dormouse open the main gate to the vacant Garden of Cosmic Speculation. Everyone seemed to hesitate to enter, but not the girl. Alice stepped forward, standing by the threshold.
37
THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION, DUMFRIES, SCOTLAND
TIME REMAINING: 13 HOURS, 30 MINUTES
I stand before the gate to the garden.
I stiffen. The haze in my head returns. I am a little dizzy again. It’s as if I am about to remember something but can’t quite cross the threshold of blocked memories.
The garden looks endless from here, with all its bumps and turns. Its grounds, mostly green, seem bright against the cloudy sky above. There is a vast land that looks like a chessboard in the distance, the one I saw in the pictures. A little farther is what looks like a huge DNA helix, made of silver. Farther beyond, I see the sparkling waters of a river.
A sudden feeling of being seven years old again overwhelms me. I want to run the distance. Aimlessly. Irresponsibly. So happy without a specific reason to be. I want to sing all the songs, jump up and down, and declare my existence. I want to be whoever I want to be without even considering the consequences.
I want to own the world again, to be a child all over again.
But this place is the weirdest piece of art I have ever seen, too. It’s like an awesome roller coaster where you can’t help but wonder if it’s going to kill you. Its vastness, as beautiful as it is, scares me, though.
I swallow hard, holding on to the gate, as I remember the March Hare’s warning. He told me something was really wrong with this garden, and so did the Pillar. But the March Hare was specific about it: I have to stay away from the circus.
“Do you know what the Snail Mound looks like?” The Pillar stands behind me, sharing my view into the garden.
“It’s a spiral green hill, overlooking one of these rivers,” I say. “I should not waste time and start looking for it.” I turn and face him. “I want my bag with the housemaid dress, the gloves, and the fan.”
The pillar hands my backpack over. “Want your umbrella, too?”
“Nah, I’ll stick with what that so-called Hatter led me to collect. Let’s see what this is all about.”
“Great,” Inspector Dormouse says. “Let’s look for the rabbit with the bomb. My men will spread all over the place.”
“I’ll be with you as well,” the Pillar says.
“I don’t mind, but we’ll have to spread to find it faster. And I’d prefer to take my route alone.”
Why I don’t trust the Pillar now, I have no idea. But all the warnings must have some truth to them. I try not to think too much about it.
I remember the so-called Hatter said only Mary Ann could find the rabbit. And I am supposedly Mary Ann.
But why am I Mary Ann? I guess I will find out.
I take a deep breath as if I am about to take a dip in the ocean of the unknown and step inside.
38
THE GARDEN OF COSMIC SPECULATION, DUMFRIES, SCOTLAND
TIME REMAINING: 13 HOURS, 06 MINUTES
While Inspector Dormouse’s men spread through the garden, I take my own route, curious about a few tiger lilies over a hedge. I follow them up and down the hills, as they flare their orange hue onto the place.
But they don’t lead me anywhere specific.
Then there are a few other flowers with petals that look like mouths. They remind me of the roses in Lewis Carroll’s book, talking to Alice and making fun of her.
I can still see the police flashing their lights in the distance. Deep inside, I don’t want to lose them totally. I glimpse the Pillar too. He is sitting on a hill with a bag of carrots.
Still walking, I wish I could glimpse a memory hidden deep in my brain—maybe between the right and left parts like Professor Jittery said. I realize I really like that man.
If parts of this garden are from the real Wonderland, then I should remember something, or so I like to believe.
But nothing comes to me. I am just a stranger in a garden I have never been to before. I am a stranger, even to myself.
There are a few thick trees that block the view. A few hedges and turns where someone could easily hide. I begin to hear birds humming all around me. That’s when I realize I am too far from the rest.
Looking back, I can’t see a
ny of them.
The wind swirls around as the sky above dims. Is it going to rain?
Be brave, Alice. You have a job to do.
But how am I supposed to spot the rabbit in here?
It dawns on me how foolish I am, looking for a rabbit in such a huge place. Really?
Then I hear something hopping next to me.
When I turn to look, the sound disappears.
Then it returns. This time I’m sure it’s an animal. I hear it nibbling on something.
Feverishly, I follow the sound, detouring from one tree to another.
Hot. Cold. Then hot again.
Where is it?
I realize I better stay put so that I can locate the sound’s source.
When I do, I realize the animal is right next to me, only hiding behind a tree branch.
It’s a white rabbit with black, beautiful, and curious eyes. It’s nibbling on a carrot, which isn’t good, since the Hatter told the children that carrots would expedite the bomb’s explosion. I pad toward it, ever so slowly, from behind.
How am I supposed to catch a rabbit if it runs away?
Slowly, I turn back, wishing a police officer were looking my way. They brought those huge nets along. I could use one of them to catch it.
But none of them are nearby.
And it’s not a good idea to summon them. My voice will scare the rabbit away.
Slowly, I take my shoes off and pad closer, only to scare myself when I hear the rabbit ticking. It is the rabbit we’re looking for.
Stupidly, a notion urges me to stretch out my hands and try to catch it.
