Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

by T. T. Sutherland

  The Red Queen leaned forward and smacked him hard. “Her name is Um. Idiot.

  “Any luck with the prisoner?” the Queen asked.

  Alice’s ears perked up. Prisoner?

  “He’s stubborn,” grumbled the Knave. His birthmark flared brightly across his face.

  “You’re too soft,” snapped the Queen. “Bring him!”

  He did not talk back to the Queen, but Alice could see a dangerous anger smoldering in his eyes.

  A clatter at the door announced the arrival of the guards with their prisoner. Alice had to stifle a gasp as they dragged the Hatter into the room, chained by his hands and feet. Bruises covered his face and blood soaked through his clothes. He’d clearly been roughed up. His eyes had an empty, faraway stare. The Queen seized a hunk of his hair and lifted his head to meet her eyes, but he barely seemed to see her.

  “We know Alice has returned to Underland,” snarled the Queen. “Do you know where she is?”

  The Hatter didn’t respond. Scowling, the Queen clapped her hands in front of his face, and he jerked back to the moment. His eyes cleared and focused a bit, but he still didn’t see Alice.

  “I’ve been considering things that begin with the letter M: moron, mutiny, murder, malice . . .” he said.

  “We’re looking for an A word now,” the Queen responded. “Where is Alice?”

  The Hatter furrowed his brow as if he were thinking hard. After a moment, a look of inspiration crossed his face, then paused and retreated. He considered again for a long while and finally shrugged.

  “Who? That wee little boy? I wouldn’t know.”

  The Red Queen scowled even more. “What if I take off your head, will you know then?”

  The Hatter snickered.

  “Stop that!” the Queen snapped.

  Suddenly the Hatter’s gaze found Alice. Surprised at her new size, he gave her a wry smile, then turned back to the Queen, smarmy and unctuous.

  “What a regrettably large head you have,” he said smoothly. “I should very much like to hat it.”

  “Hat it?” echoed the Queen.

  “Yes. I used to hat the White Queen, you know,” he said. “But there wasn’t very much for me to work with, poor dear. Her head is so small.”

  “It’s tiny! A pimple of a head!” The Red Queen snorted.

  “But this!” the Hatter went on, acting rapturous. “What I could do with this monument . . . this orb. Nay, this magnificently heroic globe!”

  “What could you do?” asked the Queen, intrigued despite herself.

  The Hatter lifted his bound hands in a helpless gesture.

  “Untie him, Stayne!” the Queen ordered. “How can he work if his hands are bound?”

  The Knave rolled his eyes, but he unbound the Hatter’s hands without arguing. The Hatter began to circle the Queen, his hands outlining elegant images in the air.

  “Well, then, shall it be a bonnet or a boater,” he mused, “or something for the boudoir?” His voice rose in pitch, becoming more manic as he went on. “Cloche, dunce hat, death cap, coif, snood, barboosh, pugree, yarmulke, cockle-hat, porkpie, tam-o’-shanter, billycock, bicorn, tricorn, bandeau, bongrace, fan-tail, nightcap, garibaldi, fez . . .”

  Alice could see he would lose the Queen if he wasn’t pulled back from the edge of madness again.

  She pretended to sneeze into her hand so she could let out a muffled: “HATTER!”

  He jerked back, present again. “Fez . . . Fez.”

  The Red Queen looked down her nose at Alice and Stayne. “Leave us.”

  Alice was only too glad to get up and leave that room, although she worried about leaving the Hatter alone with the Queen. On the other hand, at least it took the Knave away from him; he was obviously more suspicious of the Hatter than the Red Queen was.

  Chapter Eleven

  Across the desert and hills, far on the other side of Underland, Bayard the bloodhound galloped across the bluffs toward the White Queen’s castle.

  In her courtyard, Mirana, the White Queen, was speaking with a Loyalist.

  “The trees seem sad. Have you been speaking with them?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the loyalist answered.

  “Perhaps a bit more kindly. Would you all excuse me for a moment? Thank you.”

  Bayard staggered into the Queen’s courtyard and she crouched beside him, stroking his long brown ears and holding out a dish of water for him as he panted.

  “What news, Bayard?” she asked in her soft, kind voice.

  “Alice has returned to Underland.” He gasped.

  A smile lit up the Queen’s lovely face. “Where is she now?”

  “In Salazen Grum,” he admitted, flinching with guilt. “Forgive me, I allowed her to divert from her destined path.”

  The Queen shook her head, her smile widening. “No, no, no, no. That is exactly where she will find the Vorpal Sword,” she explained. “We have our champion! Rest now. You’ve done well.”

  Exhausted, the bloodhound collapsed to the ground.

  In the garden of the Red Queen’s castle, Alice searched through the bushes. She passed the hedgehog, curled under a wide leaf and cleaning the caked dirt off his fur.

  “Have you seen a hat around here?” she asked him.

  The hedgehog pointed and watched as Alice spotted the Hatter’s hat, made a delighted noise, and picked it up. With loving care, she wiped off the mud and straightened it out. Whatever it took to save the Hatter, she’d have his hat waiting for him at the end.

  Evening had fallen, and inside the Red Queen’s bedchamber, the Queen stood at the window with her Knave behind her.

  “You must find Alice, Stayne,” said the Queen, her nails digging into the wood of the window frame. “Without the Jabberwocky, my sister’s followers will surely rise against me.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “Ugly little sister . . . why do they adore her and not me?”

  “I cannot fathom it,” answered the Knave of Hearts, careful not to touch her. “You are far superior in all ways.”

  “I know,” said the Queen without a hint of sarcasm. “But Mirana can make anyone fall in love with her: men, women, even the furniture.” She glanced dismissively at the captive animals that held up tables and chairs and lamps around the room. She didn’t even see them as animals anymore; to her they were simply furniture, and to discover they had any feelings might astonish or amuse her.

  “Even the King,” said the Knave of Hearts quietly.

  The Red Queen turned her dark gaze to the window again, letting it travel slowly down to the grim moat of bobbing heads below. “I had to do it. He would have left me.”

  “Majesty,” the Knave said, “isn’t it better to be feared than loved?”

  “Not certain anymore,” she answered. Some internal struggle seemed to take place, and finally she burst out: “Oh, let her have the rabble! I don’t need them. I have you.” She leaned her enormous head back, looking at him with big, dewy eyes. “I do have you, don’t I, Stayne?”

  He managed a smile, which, fortunately for him, seemed to be enough of a reply for the Queen.

  Alice ducked as she entered the Queen’s dressing room. Strange stars twinkled outside the window in a velvety night sky. The room had only one occupant: the Hatter, surrounded by ribbons, bows, veils, and feathers. He hummed happily as he worked. Already several huge, colorful hats were perched on dummies and scattered across the floor.

  “They’re wonderful!” Alice cried with sincere awe. “You must let me try one on.”

  Instantly the Hatter swept a splendid hat off a shelf and perched it on her head. Tall blue feathers bobbed down in her face and tiny diamonds sparkled around the wide rim. Fake little bluebirds nested among the feathers and an enormous silver veil cascaded down her back. Alice giggled as she whirled around. If only the hats her mother attempted to make her wear were this much fun!

  She struck a “grand lady” pose, imagining Lady Ascot. Then she grabbed another hat and perched it on the Hatte
r’s head. He immediately struck the same pose, and they both laughed.

  “It’s good to be working at my trade again,” said the Hatter, removing his hat and stroking it lovingly.

  Alice took off her hat as well. She gently placed it back on the shelf. “It’s just a pity you had to make them for her.”

  The Hatter looked around the room as if he’d just realized what he’d done. His face filled with remorse and self-recrimination, and he slumped mournfully.

  “What is the hatter with me? Hatter . . . Mmmmm, ma.” he asked.

  Suddenly, fury seized him. He swiped his hand across the table, sending all the tools of his trade flying.

  Alice jumped in front of him, knocked the scissors away, and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Hatter!”

  He froze, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk? I don’t like it here, it’s terribly crowded. Have I gone mad?” he whispered.

  She felt his forehead with her hand as her father had done to her so many years ago. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret . . . all the best people are.”

  The Hatter straightened his shoulders with pride. Even his clothes seemed to puff up.

  Alice reached behind a box and produced the Hatter’s own bedraggled top hat. His eyes filled with emotion as Alice put it on his head and tapped the rim proudly. “That’s better,” she said. “You look yourself again.”

  The Hatter was too overwhelmed to speak. He took off the hat and pressed it to his heart with an expression full of gratitude.

  They were suddenly interrupted by the piercing sound of the Red Queen’s voice. “Hat man!” she shrieked from the next room. “Where are my hats? I am not a patient monarch!”

  The Hatter seemed to come to. He seized Alice’s hand intensely, keeping his voice low. “I’m told she keeps the Vorpal Sword hidden in the castle. Find it, Alice. Take it to the White Queen.

  Alice glanced down at the long, thick chain binding his ankle to the wall. She still wasn’t sure about slaying any Jabberwocky, but she could think of something else she’d like to do with that sword.

  “We’ll go to the White Queen together,” she said, taking his other hand. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and Alice found herself wishing she weren’t quite so absurdly huge.

  The Hatter grinned ruefully, evidently having the same thought. “Why is it you’re always too small or too tall?” he asked.

  Alice slipped away to find her courtroom while the Red Queen was busy trying on hats. The Tweedles were stationed outside the door, one on each side.

  “Tweedles!” Alice said happily when she spotted them. Considering how silly and maddening they could be, she was surprised at how delighted she was to see them. She only wished it were in better, less prisoneresque circumstances.

  They each took one of her hands and shook them vigorously. “Alice!” they cried in unison.

  “Howdoyedo again,” said Tweedledum.

  “Where’s the Rabbit—” Alice started, but Tweedledee interrupted.

  “How is it you’re being so great big?” he asked.

  “She ain’t great big,” said his brother. “This is how she normal is.”

  “I’m certain she is smaller when we met,” insisted Tweedledee.

  “She had drank the pishsalver, to get through the door. Recall it?” said Tweedledum.

  “Where’s the Rabbit?” Alice asked again.

  “Over theres!” they chorused together, but each pointed in the opposite direction. Alice sighed.

  These two weren’t exactly the most reliable guides, but when they set off, she had little choice but to follow them.

  Much to her surprise, after some walking and climbing stairs and roundabout wandering, they actually came to the White Rabbit. He was whispering with a chambermaid, but as they got closer, Alice realized the maid was actually the Dormouse in disguise.

  “What are you doing here?” the Dormouse asked.

  “I’m rescuing the Hatter,” Alice replied.

  “I’m rescuing the Hatter,” the Dormouse corrected her.

  “He told me that the Vorpal Sword is hidden in the castle. Help me find it,” Alice said.

  The Tweedles immediately hurried off, but the Dormouse and White Rabbit remained. “I don’t take orders from big, clumsy, galumphing—” The Dormouse stood her ground.

  Alice loomed over her and pointed imperiously. “Shoo!”

  With a humiliated squeak, the Dormouse stalked off. Alice turned and saw that the White Rabbit was still there.

  “What is it, McTwisp?” she asked.

  He paused, then looked up at her with serious eyes.

  “I know where the sword is.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The White Rabbit drew himself up, looking ruffled, and led her down the hall without another word. Alice followed him through winding passages and down cold stone staircases lined with musty tapestries. Finally, he pushed open a creaking wooden door and led her out into a wide courtyard. He stopped outside the stables and pointed with one trembling white paw.

  “The sword’s hidden inside. Be careful, Alice,” he said.

  Alice bent down to push the door open. A horrible stench hit her nostrils, and both she and the White Rabbit covered their faces, trying not to gag.

  “I know that smell,” Alice said in a muffled voice suffused with horror.

  Sure enough, when she’d worked up the courage to look inside, she spotted the Bandersnatch lying in its stall with its huge ugly bulldog head on its paws. It moaned, clawing at the blood-soaked straw underneath it. Even in the dim light, Alice could see the empty socket oozing blood and goop where the eye had been.

  “I’m not going in there!” Alice cried. “Look what that thing did to my arm!” She held out her scratched arm and noticed that the wound had gotten much worse. It was larger and very swollen, with angry red welts rising around the scratches.

  The White Rabbit gasped and clapped his paws to his face in horror. “Dear, oh, dear!” he fretted. “Why haven’t you mentioned this?”

  Alice studied her arm, tilting it back and forth in the moonlight. “It wasn’t this bad before,” she pointed out.

  The Rabbit’s breath was coming in fast pants. He flapped his paws as if trying to revive himself, but in the end he failed and fell over in a dead faint.

  Well, that’s useful, Alice thought wryly, looking down at the collapsed rabbit. She looked back at the castle, considering her next move.

  It took some searching, but eventually she found Mallymkun. The Dormouse was standing in an upstairs hall, looking into a room; then she shut the door. “Hatter, where are you? Hatter?” she called out in a whisper.

  “Mallymkun!” Alice called, hurrying up. “Do you still have the Bandersnatch eye?”

  “Right here,” said the Dormouse, hitching up her maid’s skirt to reveal that she was wearing her breeches underneath. The Bandersnatch eye still hung at her waist.

  “I need it,” Alice said.

  “Come and get it!” Mallymkun replied.

  Alice quickly and easily grabbed the eye from the Dormouse.

  “Hey! Give it back,” the Dormouse said, drawing her hatpin sword and brandishing it dangerously.

  But Alice missed the Dormouse’s threat; she was running pell-mell down the long staircases, hoping she remembered the right way to the stables.

  Alice sensed someone behind her, practically breathing down her neck. She tried to move away, but he grabbed the arm that had been scratched by the Bandersnatch. Alice let out a yelp of pain. Ignoring her cry, the man pushed her against the wall. It was Stayne, the Knave.

  “I like you, Um,” he murmured. “I like largeness.”

  He leaned in for a kiss as Lady Long Ears went past.

  “Get away from me!” Alice cried, kicking Stayne as hard as she could. She didn’t look back as she ran away, but she could feel
the heat of his glare all the way down the hall.

  Finally, Alice found a familiar-looking door and stumbled out into the paved courtyard. The White Rabbit still lay prone on the cobblestones. Alice hurried past him and held her breath as she entered the stable.

  The Bandersnatch saw her coming and growled fiercely. Even wounded, it was terrifying. Its shark-like teeth gnashed as if it were daring her to come closer and get eaten.

  “I have your eye,” said Alice, holding it aloft.

  The monster’s demeanor changed instantly. Its tail lashed along the floor and it whined, leaning toward the eye with a piteous expression. Alice slowly lifted the bar of the stall door and eased inside. She held out the eye and he whined again, scrabbling toward it across the straw. Alice carefully put it near him on the floor, and he started sniffing it frantically. With another whine, he pulled the eye closer with his paws to examine it more closely.

  While he was distracted, Alice squeezed past him to the back of the stall, where she found a low rectangular object covered by a tarp. When she pulled the tarp back, it revealed an ornate metal chest—exactly the sort of thing one might keep a Vorpal Sword in.

  Unfortunately, it was secured with a large lock . . . exactly what one might use to keep Vorpal Sword– stealers out. Sweating and shivering, poisoned by her wound, she tugged at the lock.

  Disheartened and feverish, Alice slumped to the ground. She’d been running on adrenaline, but the pain in her arm was starting to catch up with her. She felt feverish and woozy. She could barely muster the strength to pull back her sleeve and look at the swollen, infected wound again. Carefully, she tried touching it, but pulled back quickly with a stifled cry of pain.

  The Bandersnatch was still busy fussing over his eye, but that couldn’t last all night. Sweating and shivering, Alice pulled at the lock, then halfheartedly kicked it with frustration. Her vision was starting to dim. She blinked, shaking her head.

  And the world went black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun was peering over the distant hills, lighting flurries of dust from the red desert below. Inside the castle, the Red Queen stood in front of one of her mirrors, wearing one of the Hatter’s enormous red hats. The Hatter tilted his head, regarding her with aloof disdain.