Allison's Adventures in Underland

by C. M. Stunich

  “Bacon from pigs?” I ask, but the look Tee gives me is another of those are you stupid ones that makes me sigh. He sets a glass of water in front of me and when I reach out and bring it to my nose for a sniff, Lory laughs.

  “We might be pirates and thieves and all-around assholes, but we're not stupid enough to drink saltwater, missy.” She laughs, his husky, throaty sound that makes my skin pebble with goose bumps. The captain—Dodo—stares at me blankly, but the other guy? He's for sure checking me out.

  “We're on the Long Stretch,” a voice says from behind me, and I glance back to see the last two crew members stepping into the mess hall, their hair twisted and teased into peaks from the saltwater. But if they're in here … then who the fuck is manning the ship?!

  “The Long Stretch is a segment of river that's straight as an arrow and free of rocks, as slow-moving as the Tulgey Woods River ever gets,” Lory explains at what's probably a look of sheer fucking terror on my face. “We've sailed it a million times—try not to piss yourself, missy.”

  The other men gather plates as Tee sits down beside me and I swear, I hear him growl when the blonde—Duck—sits down on my other side.

  “So, what's your name, miss?” he asks, looking at me with eyes so pale they're like chips of ice. He's handsome, but definitely not my type. The way he's smiling at me though, I figure I'm probably his. Fuck, if he's like most of the men I know, women are their type period. As long as she's biologically female in that she has tits and a pussy, they're into her.

  “Sonny,” I say when Tee's hand comes down on my knee and squeezes tight. I've never been so happy for that stupid nickname as I am in that moment. Tee's hand relaxes and he takes it away. It's weird, but I almost liked the warmth of his palm on my leg. God, I need to get laid. That was sort of the point with me getting all close and cuddly with Brandon Carmichael and look how that turned out. Add in the mess with my last boyfriend and we're really getting somewhere fast.

  “Sonny, huh? I like that name,” Duck says, digging into his eggs and bacon with a veracity that makes me raise my eyebrows. I poke at my food for a moment and then finally hazard a bite. Well, hurray for small miracles—it tastes like scrambled eggs with bits of crispy bacon in it. “So, Sonny, how on earth did you manage to get the last two angels in existence out of the king's grubby grasp?”

  I choke on my food and feel tears prick my eyes as I try to swallow the eggs down my throat instead of inhaling more into my lungs.

  Angels.

  Did he just say fucking angels?!

  “That's none of your damn business, Duck,” Tee says, taking small, dainty bites of his food. The way he eats reflects his personality, that meticulousness that demarcates him from his twin. I'm still sitting there gaping and trying to make sense of what the hell is going on, but the conversation moves on without me anyway.

  “I thought Sonny here was the mistress?” Mouse asks from the other side of the table, seated next to Lory and the still silent Dodo. Eaglet's crowded in on his other side, watching me with curious green eyes. In fact, all three men are staring right at me like maybe they think I'm some kind of prophetic Mary Sue, too. Meanwhile, my mind is stuck on angel wing tattoos and curiouser and curiouser things. “Let her do the talkin', why don't you?”

  “Eat a dick,” Tee snaps and I raise my eyebrows. Whoa. Underland might be creepy and weird as fuck, but I guess they're up to date on modern slang? His purple eyes drift around the circle of men—and Lory—sitting at the table with us. “Sonny isn't interested in fucking any of you.”

  “Or maybe you're just jealous and you wish it wasn't so?” Eaglet says, and he's got some of that same rhyming quality to his voice that Tee and Dee get when they're about to start spouting nonsense.

  “I know it isn't so,” Tee says and I slam my palms on the table before this gets out of control.

  “I think I can speak for myself,” I say as I glance over at Tee and he purses his lips. They look extra full, all pinched together like that. I try not to notice, but then … that would be a lie. He really is handsome, this Tweedledum dude. Glad he's not just called Dum, too, because there's nothing sexy about that at all. I much prefer the name Tee.

  “Underland has so few women that sometimes men act irrationally,” Tee growls out, giving the crew members another round of glares. “They hit on anything female and they forget their damn manners.”

  “Not all of us grew up with silver spoons in our mouths, your majesty,” Duck says and weeellll, there's another one. Angels. Your majesty. Ugh. I hate being out of the loop. Makes me feel liable to hang my damn self in it.

  “That silver spoon was shoved up my ass by the king and you know it. Feel lucky you grew up poor and too worthless to pay attention to.”

  My eyebrows shoot up as Tee tosses his fork onto his plate and it clinks against the chipped porcelain. Duck, Mouse, and Eaglet all stand up from their seats like they're about ready to gang up on Tee and beat him senseless.

  Tee stands up from the bench, coat flying out behind him, and grabs his knife from his belt, spinning it around in his fingers as he narrows his eyes on the three men and takes a fighting stance.

  “Let's have a cock-race then,” Mouse suggests, tousling his pale brown hair. “And see how you fair in a real fight, your highness.”

  “A cock-race?” I ask, just as the door swings open and Dee appears, his jovial face dropping into a deep, almost exaggerated frown when he sees his brother facing off against the three pirates. Yanking the knife from his belt, he narrows his eyes a bit. Or maybe they're just droopy and half-lidded as usual? Hard to say.

  “A cock-race,” Dee says, spinning his knife much the same as Tee did and moving over to stand next to me and his brother. “Is when two or more men fight it out for the same woman. Well, if she's not inclined to have them both or all. Usually it's all, but I think some women just enjoy a good fight, too? Do you enjoy a good fight, Al—”

  “Sonny never said she was interested in having a cock-race,” Tee snaps, cutting his brother off. All the eyes in the room go to me. Frankly, I'm more interested in hearing about angels, about royalty, about these fucking weird as shit twins I seem to be stuck with for the next week or two.

  “I'm not looking for lovers,” I say, staring at each of the three sailors in turn and then glancing toward Dodo and Lory. They're both finally smiling at me. “And I don't need to see a cock-race. Like, the words alone are giving me some pretty awful imagery.”

  “You're certain?” Mouse asks, biting his chapped lower lip and sitting back down at the table. “Because, for you, miss, I'd take part in a hundred cock-races.”

  “Uh, that's … nice of you, but thanks, no thanks. I'm on a mission here and I'm not looking for sex of any kind. If you have a cock-race it'll specifically be for your own enjoyment.” I take another bite of my food, refusing to let something as normal as bacon and eggs slip past me. Never know when fruit with cream cheese or crackers with meat paste are going to be on the menu again. “Now, sit down, tuck your junk back into your pants, and let's move on.”

  I've dealt with enough asshole teenage boys to know how to handle myself.

  Fortunately, after a few seconds of tense silence, the other two crew members take their seats and the twins sheathe their knives.

  “You're a tough broad, like Lory, ain't ya?” Eaglet asks and I see the pirate woman give him a look that shuts him up quick. “Nothin' wrong with that, just a compliment.”

  I expect more fussing out of the men, but it's like, as soon as I tell them no, they go back to their food and stop staring at me like I'm the second coming of Jesus. It's kind of … nice, actually.

  “Why is it you always find women not sleeping with you the ultimate compliment?” Lory glances over at me with honey-brown eyes and lifts a dark brow. “He gets attached too easily, Eaglet does—to women he doesn't sleep with. And those he does, he always finds something wrong with.”

  “It's never the women,” the man hedges, reaching up and adju
sting the white bandana over his orange hair. It's decorated with black diamonds—something that I imagine isn't a coincidence in a world where the four kingdoms are named after suits of cards. Or is it the other way around maybe? “It's their other lovers I can't stand.”

  I finish my breakfast while the crew gossips and Dee squeezes his fat ass—okay, his gloriously sculpted ass—in between me and Duck, chowing down on a plate of food piled twice as high as his brother's.

  Once again, I find myself with one twin pressed against either side of me and once again, I find that I kind of like it, too.

  “After this, get outside,” Lory says, standing up and flashing a white-toothed smile at me. “And I'll teach you somethin' useful to take with ya.”

  Four hours of learning to tie ropes with the crew of The Long Tale leaves me with blistered hands and a seriously sore back from hunching as I try to concentrate. I've always been a bit of a homebody, a reader, the kid who gets good grades whose worst sins are smoking pot on the weekend and having safe, consensual sex.

  I've never really been a person who works with their hands.

  It's not exactly my thing, but I have a good time with the crew—especially since the men stop staring at me and hitting on me. That's nice. After breakfast, they're about as polite as Lory, which is to say, not very fucking polite at all. But while their talk and mannerisms are crude, they aren't lascivious or pervy or anything of the sort.

  No, the only person left on The Long Tale that's like that is Dee.

  “One more night in this shitty shit ship,” he says, and I don't know if he thinks he's clever or if he's just that easily entertained because he chuckles, lying on his back next to me. Tee is on my other side in a similar position.

  He was right about the three of us not fitting on this bed—as it is, we're smashed even tighter between the two walls than we were on the bench at breakfast this morning. But it's pouring ass rain outside now and there's another jabberwock screeching in the distance. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about either twin, but I'm not so heartless that I'd make them sit outside in the rain.

  “What's next?” I ask, because although it's wet and smelly and the food is weird as fuck, The Long Tale isn't the worst place I've ever been. No, I can think of four places right off the bat that beat this out a million to one in the shitty shit department.

  Number four—the cold, sterile visiting room at the Humboldt County Women's Correctional Facility.

  Number three—the courtroom where my brother's murderer was found innocent.

  Number two—the blood splattered alley where I found Fred's body.

  Number one—and does it make me heartless that this is number one instead of the alley?—the floor in front of Liam Carpenter's couch where he and his friends tried to gang rape me.

  So, smelly, wet, rotten boat with a bunch of crude pirates and two weird twins who recite poems and speak in riddles?

  Not really that bad, after all.

  “Well, first we'll stop at Rab's place and see if we can't get a royal escort back to the palace. Otherwise, we'll have to stop by the Duke's …”

  Tee makes a sound under his breath, and I vaguely recall that other man with the rabbit ears muttering something about a savage duke. Interesting.

  “The Duke's and then … the Hatter's.”

  “The Mad Hatter's?” I ask, because I can already picture that chapter in the original book. I don't remember anything about a ship and a bunch of pirates and mushrooms the size of houses though, so I suppose it's not exactly on-canon, now is it? Who knows what I should expect from the rest of this stupid trip?

  “Oh, we're all mad here,” Dee says predictably, and I narrow my eyes, turning my face to the side to look at him.

  “Is this where I'm supposed to say but I don't want to go among mad people?” I ask and Dee laughs, closing his eyes as a fat drip of saltwater from the roof splats right in the middle of his face.

  “You've mixed up the order some, but I'll forgive you,” Dee says, smiling but keeping his eyes shut tight. After a moment, I can see that his breathing is slowing, his chest rising and falling at an even, steady pace.

  “Here,” Tee says after a moment, and I'm pretty sure he was waiting for his brother to pass out. I turn back to him and find a small, leather bound book in his hand. Where it came from, I have no idea. Maybe from one of those mysterious belt pouches of his? Or from inside a giant pocket on his magnificent purple coat.

  I take it from his hands and find that it's an omnibus copy of both Alice books, the same text, the same illustrations that I remember from back home.

  “Keep it,” he tells me, and then he's turning away to face the wall and I'm left staring at his back, at the part where his black and white striped shirt's come loose from his pants, revealing a tantalizingly small square of tattooed skin.

  “Thanks,” I say, holding the book against my chest and wetting my lips. I want to ask about the angel thing, and all of that your majesty and your highness and silver spoon crap, but it's too closed-in inside the cabin, too claustrophobic.

  Later.

  Yes, I'll just ask the mysterious twins if they're angel princes from a dead and slaughtered race.

  I can't wait to hear the answer to that one.

  Watching The Long Tale take off down the river leaves a sinking feeling in my gut. I actually sort of like the weird, gruff crew, the bitchy pirate, and the silent captain. I don't imagine I'll see a single fucking one of them ever again.

  But also …

  “I assumed they'd be leaving us at a town of some sort?” I ask as I stand on the tiny dock and look around at … the woods. We're standing at the edge of the river with trees and mushrooms towering over us from both sides, a small dirt path, and a five by three rectangle of old dock. That's it. Just us, the trees, and the fucking fungi.

  As I take in the forest and all its mysteries, something white flashes in the corner of my eye, like a smile without a face. But as soon as I turn to look at it, it's gone and I'm left blinking and wondering if I even saw it at all.

  “That's the problem with assumptions,” Dee says, whistling as he starts off down the path. “They make an ass out of you and shins—two of which we all have.” He pauses for a second before turning around to look at me. “Unless of course you're an amputee which then you could have one shin or none shin and then the only person that's an ass is you.”

  I just stare at him because, like, what the fuck is he saying?

  “There are jabberwocky in these woods, right? And we don't have ammo or fuses for the Queenmaker, so what happens if we run into one? You guys'll fight it off with your knives?” I mean to sound sarcastic, but honestly, once we start walking and I'm engulfed in the shadows of trees, I feel a chill pass over me that has nothing to do with the weather.

  “Something like that,” Tee says and his brother makes an amused sound in his throat, turning forward again and picking up the pace. I walk between him and Tee, letting them do their guard thing because, like, I hardly know what the food in this world is called let alone what threats to look out for. I'm independent and fierce, but I'm not stupid. To actually be a strong character, you have to have more than snark and stubbornness—you have to have brains. And I am beyond determined to be better than half the girls I read about.

  “If the White Rabbit works for the king, then why does he live all the way out here?” I continue, somewhat relieved to hear birds chattering and animals rustling in the underbrush. There's nothing more frightening than dead silence; I can't stand it. When it's quiet, that's when the bad memories and the awful thoughts ring loudest. I'd rather not hear their sinful soliloquies just now, thank you.

  “Because he likes it out here, because it gets him away from the palace,” Tee says, and he sounds gruff—which seems to be normal for him—but there's an edge to his voice and I can't decide if he despises this Rab guy … or if he feels sorry for him.

  “You said Brandon Carmichael was a Rabbit,” I continue, noticing the
hundreds of little mushrooms dotting the forest floor, clustered at the bases of trees, hidden beneath the glossy green fronds of the jurassic looking ferns. Some are as tall as I am. “But I didn't see any ears on the guy and I've known him since he considered crayons covered in paste a delicacy.”

  “A Rabbit is the official term for a ruler's righthand women and men,” Tee explains, and at least he sounds slightly less exasperated with me this time. Heck, maybe he's starting to like me? I slow down a bit, so I can walk side by side with him, the fabric of our jackets brushing at the arms. His shirt is buttoned up and tucked in today while Dee's is rumpled and half-tucked, completely and totally unbuttoned and flashing smooth swaths of muscles when he turns back around to look at us.

  He puts a finger up on either side of his head, mimicking the look of rabbit ears.

  “They make them shift the ears, so their positions are easily identifiable. Well, except for Brandon obviously because he was working as an assassin, and they didn't want to tip you off.” Right. As if seeing a boy with rabbit ears in the human world would automatically make me think I was being targeted by a ruler from another world. Tee and Dee are clearly clueless as to how things work back home. Case in point: a tea party is a fuck of a lot duller there than it is here. Much less hallucinogenic.

  “Shift?” I ask, my satchel swinging as we walk, the book, the gun, and the dress tucked safely away inside of it. I thought Lory might ask for the clothes back when we disembarked—or at the very least the beautiful jacket—but she didn't.

  “All Rabbits are shifters,” Tee explains which doesn't much help me because I didn't know shifters were a thing to begin with.

  “Like werewolves?” I ask because, you know, I read a lot of books. Fuck, I read about wolf shifters, bear shifters, dragon shifters … But I have a feeling that this is nothing like that. Underland is … strange, to say the least.

  “Shifters …” Tee begins, and something passes across his face that makes my stomach flip. He looks like a man who's seen horrid things, awful things, things that haunt his waking hours and his sleeping ones. I recognize that look. My nostrils flare, but I ignore the emotions welling up inside of me. I wouldn't be here today if I acknowledged them every goddamn time they asked. “Some could be wolves, maybe. Don't you have shifters where you come from?”