by Cameron Jace
"But he said they have been there for three days—"
"Have faith, Alice." He shushes me. "I will save them. Hopefully they're still alive."
"I hope so," I say, staring at my pocket watch. I almost have no time left. I don't even know how I am going to go back through a mirror I fear. But Lewis is Gorgon's only hope to save his kids and save him from becoming the Muffin Man. Hell, Lewis is Britain's only hope against mass food poisoning.
Lewis turns me around to face the mirror. He does it so fast I have no time to resist. When my eyes meet the glaring reflection of the mirror, I shriek, thinking I will see the scary rabbit right away. But I don't.
Lewis kisses me on the forehead and runs away to save the children, his loyal rabbit following him. I wish him all the luck in the world, regretting that I have to go back now—that is, if I am not already late.
As for the mirror, I get it now. I get why I am not scared of it. I think it's because I am seven years old. Whatever made me fear mirrors happened later when I was older.
I look at the pocket watch and realize I broke the fourteen-minute deadline. I begin to feel dizzy. Something urges me to dig my hand in my pocket to read the Pillar's note about who Jack is. If I am not going to make it, I think I deserve to know that, at least. I dig my hands into my pocket but I come up empty-handed. There is no paper inside. How is this possible? I think it's because I am wearing a different dress in this world. If I die, I will never know who Jack is. I use the strength I have left to walk through the mirror before it's too late, hoping Lewis will save the Muffin Man's children.
Chapter 58
Psychiatry, Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum, Oxford
I am lying on my back again. This time I am on a comfortable leather couch. The room's temperature is just about right. The smell of flowers fills the room, which is dimmed except for a faint yellow lamp next to me. I feel tired, but I feel cozy. I think I just woke up from sleeping.
Where am I? Why am I not waking in Einstein's room in Oxford University?
"You realize nothing of what you said makes any sense," a man tells me. I can't see his face, dimmed by a curtain of darkness. I can smell the tobacco from the pipe he is smoking. It has a certain flavor I can't put my hands on. "The Pillar, the Cheshire, The White Queen; you realize they are only characters in a book," he says as the chair he sits on creaks against the parquet floor.
I am too tired to look deeper or stand up. It feels better lying on this couch. Does this place feel familiar? Have I been here before? Why don't I feel the need to resist the man's voice? His voice is soothing, and I like it.
Where am I? Who am I?
"I see you'd prefer silence," the man says. A tinge of pity is lurking in this voice. "Would you like to end this session now?"
My hands are too lazy to move. Was I sedated? Am I being hypnotized? Why is this man saying the Pillar's existence doesn't make sense? Have I not returned to the right time?
"We've reached a great point in your story," the man says. "Usually patients need to let their imagination go wild." He drags from his pipe. What's that flavor he is smoking? "We encourage patients to let their imagination go wild because, however creative, it always goes too wild and hits against the walls of absurdity." He pauses, and I don't feel the need to speak. How can you speak when you're not sure whom you're speaking to? When you don't know who you are. "Absurdity is good for patients. It makes them start to realize they are hallucinating. Because, frankly, some stories can't be believed, even by the most delusional patients. Like the story you just told me about entering Wonderland through Einstein's room in Oxford University, then trying to save this Gorgon from the Queen of Hearts. A man who has his eyes pop out when he sneezes? You don't really believe this. Do you?"
I feel like I have no mouth, and I want to scream. My arms are still numb. I have no idea where I am or who this man is.
"I'd say we stop the session today," the man says, and scribbles something on a paper. The scratching of his pencil is annoying to my ears. "I'll prescribe you a new drug called Lullaby. It will help you let your imagination go even wilder. I need you to stretch your mind as far as you can so you can see and realize how none of this is true. How none of it is but a production of your overactive imagination influenced by a book you read as a child." He pulls the paper out. "I will also tell Waltraud to stop any shock therapy for a while. See you next week?" He sounds like a gentle doctor smiling at me, but I still can't see his face in the dark. "Great." He stands up. I hear footsteps walk out of a nearby door.
I crane my neck to take a look at my numb arms. They aren't numb. Nor is there anything seriously wrong with my arms, except that I am wearing a straitjacket that this time I can't free myself from.
Chapter 59
Alice's cell, Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum, Oxford
Waltraud and Ogier enter the room and help me to a chair. At first I tell them I don't need a wheelchair because I can walk. But then I discover my legs are even number than my arms. I let them wheel me through the corridor underground. Patients are holding their cell bars without saying a word.
Not even Waltraud or Ogier talk to me. They roll me into my cell, which terrifies me when I enter it. Nothing is really different but a mirror stacked on the wall right in front of me.
I shield my eyes and shout, "What is this mirror doing here?"
"Relax," Waltraud says in her German accent. "The mirror won't bite you."
You don't understand," I press my eyelids tighter. "Get it away from here."
"You have to face your fears," Waltraud says. "Doctor's orders."
"I can't," I plead. "Please take it away."
"I can't too," she says. "Your doctor said you have to look in the mirror. Nothing bad will come out it, but he truth. And it's time to face the truth, Alice. You can't keep denying what happened to you. Face your fears and you might be out of here sooner than you think."
"Deny what happened to me?" I have no idea what she is talking about. Then a thought occurs to me and rather changes my mind.
I am mad. Totally bonkers, hallucinating a whole world in my mind. Then I wake up on a couch and a doctor tells me I need to push my imagination to the limit in order to heal. I WANT TO HEAL. Maybe I should push it further and look in the mirror. What do I have to lose? Vomiting or fainting again when seeing the scary rabbit?
I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
Nothing happens—just like in Wonderland. Maybe I am finally cured from my phobia.
The mirror in front me has no rabbit in it. There are only a few dirt stains on its surface and a cobweb on the frame's upper left. But no white rabbit sneering at me.
It doesn't mean I shouldn't panic. In fact, I might cry for hours. Days. Years.
The girl in the mirror in front of me is tied in a straitjacket and sitting on a wheelchair, not because her legs are numb, but because she is paralyzed.
"It happened after your accident," Waltraud says. She looks happy I am finally realizing my dilemma and facing my fears. "You're the only one who survived, but like this." She points her prod at my feet. "See, that's what the doctor meant. Facing your fears. You made up this silly story about a rabbit appearing in the mirror so you wouldn't confront the reality of your paralysis."
My eyes scan the room for my Tiger Lily but it's gone. I feel lonelier, pushed into a dark corner too tight for my size.
"I'd like to be alone," I say, still holding the tears, but not sure for how long.
"I can't object to that. You're a lucky girl. The doctor denied me the satisfaction of your shock therapy for the whole week." She turns to walk away, but then stops and looks at me in the mirror. "But I am sure you will do something stupid and be my slave in the Mush Room again." She laughs and closes the door.
Alone again. I can't stand any of this. Whether it's true or not, I close my eyes and pray to God to get me out of this, even it means to send me back to the insane world I have supposedly imagined. I don't mind to be mad. I don't mind the madness in
the world, if only I get up walking again. If this is really my real and sane world, then I am in love with my insane one. Whether I am imagining it or not, I want to be the girl who saves lives. Please, I want to wake up from this.
Chapter 60
Pillar's limousine, somewhere on the road back to London
"You're all right, sweetie?" Fabiola's generous smiles lands upon my face and blesses it with safety I have always needed: a rare moment to feel that someone truly cares for you.
I don't reply to her, though. I realize I am in the back of the Pillar's limousine, stretched with my head resting on Fabiola's lap. The first thing I do is stare at my legs. They look all right. But it's not enough. I wiggle my toe. It's all right. But not enough. I bend my knee, and it works. I am not crippled. Then what was all of this? A bad dream? Or am I living in my imagined world right now?
If so, then so be it!
I don't mind.
"Where am I?" I straighten my back on the seat of the Pillar's limousine. The chauffeur is driving. Fabiola, the White Queen, sits so elegantly next to me, and the Pillar is in the front passenger's seat. I guess Fabiola made him sit there, against his wishes.
"We're in—" the Pillar begins, his head turned back to face me.
Fabiola shushes him immediately. "We're in the Pillar's limousine, driving to London. You seem to have entered the mirror back into our world, but a bit later than fourteen minutes." She hands me a glass of water. "Thank God almighty you weren't that late. A few seconds after the fourteen-minute range usually causes dizziness, but not great harm. At least this is what Lewis' transcripts say about the Blackboard. You just came back unconscious and the Pillar thought you'd died. He sent for me to help. And I am glad I could."
"Sent for you?" I gulp the water, still not quenching my thirst, neither for water or the questions piling up. "From the Vatican?"
"It took me about four hours, including the drive and wait at the airport," she explains. "Gone are the days of Wonderland, when I was able to travel to some place by the blink of an eye."
I remember entering Einstein's Blackboard a few minutes after midnight. What would the time be now? How long did it take me to wake up? I dig my hand into my pocket to find the watch. It seems I have lost it, along with the letter.
"I took my watch back, if you don't mind." The Pillar shows it dangling from his hands. A weak smile is plastered on his face. He is really annoyed that we're occupying his backseat. As usual, he can't stand up to Fabiola, and I still wonder why.
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," Fabiola says. Her soothing voice has the power to bring such horrible news with ease. Otherwise, I would have panicked. It's only two hours to the Muffin Man's deadline.
I can't panic. I can't complain. Whatever happens in this mad world, I love it. Because if I am truly crippled in an asylum in real life, I can't go back there, no matter what. I love it here. My arm itches, right where my tattoo is. Right where it says: I can't go back to yesterday because I was someone else then. I wonder if "yesterday" only means "reality."
"I was unconscious for that long?" I ask.
"What you did wasn't an easy task," Fabiola says. "I mean, none of us can go back in time through that mirror. Lewis' leftover papers say only 'the Girl' can."
"Does that mean I am the Alice?"
"I can't say," Fabiola says. "'The Girl' mentioned in his transcript could be anyone. We're only suggesting it should be Alice."
"But I passed."
"It wasn't easy. You were almost going to die. I had to use special potions I rarely use to bring you back," Fabiola says. "I'm truly sorry; I still can't confirm you're the Real Alice."
Although I love Fabiola, I am rather mad at her. Why can't she just tell me I am the Alice? I need to hear it so much now, because I am so afraid I will lose consciousness and go back to that scary "reality" of mine again.
"Don't listen to her," the Pillar sneers. "Religious people are always hesitant and old-fashioned. They can hardly cope with anything that's new to their ancient beliefs. As if we're not supposed to evolve and create." Fabiola tries to shush him, but the Pillar doesn't care. Not when the subject comes to me being the Real Alice. "You are the one and only, Alice. You want me to prove it?"
"Pillar!" Fabiola raises her voice elegantly, though.
"Yes, please prove it." I lean forward.
"If you're not the Real Alice, why did she save you?" The Pillar points at Fabiola, who lowers her eyes, escaping mine. "Why are we now sending you on a last new mission? Ask her!"
I stare back at Fabiola, whom I can't believe could be lying. Ever. But why is she shying away from my eyes?
"When Galileo discovered the earth's rotation, the likes of Fabiola killed him for opposing the 'man up in the sky,'" the Pillar says.
"Stop it!" Fabiola's jaw tenses. "We could argue about who you are all afternoon," she says to me. "And let people die." She breathes briefly and closes her eyes, as if meditating. When she opens them up again, serenity has caught her. Is it possible she can show a darker side sometimes? "We do have a new mission, Alice," she says. "It's less than two hours before the Muffin Man mass-poisons millions of people. You're the last hope for millions of people."
"So, he didn't change his mind?" I am disappointed I couldn't change the course of events when I was back in Wonderland. I can't even begin to think what this means. Does it mean Lewis couldn't save Gorgon's kids? Oh my. I feel like I am going to vomit again.
"No," the Pillar says. "We don't have time to tell you what happened, since it didn't work anyway."
"So, that's it?" I am not going to cry. I have seen too much already. I know that crying doesn't solve anything.
"There is one last thing you can do," the Pillar insists as we enter London. "And it's not even an option."
"I'll do it. Time is running out," I tell them both. "What is it?"
"I feel ashamed that our final hope is what I am going to tell you." Fabiola exchanges looks with the Pillar and turns back to me. "The Cheshire called me in the Vatican a few hours ago."
Chapter 61
"Called you?" I know it's rather insulting to call Fabiola, but it must be one of his sinister tricks.
"Phone call, Skype, WhatsApp?" the Pillar says, but we dismiss him.
"He came to me in the form a repenting woman in the confession room," Fabiola says. "I don't want to talk about it."
"And he made her an offer she can't refuse," the Pillar mocks.
"The Cheshire said he knows how to stop the Muffin Man," Fabiola says. "And before anyone comments, I know how humiliatingly ironic this is. The man who created an evil murderer to terrorize us is also telling us how to get rid of him."
"He is mocking us. It's an analogy." The Pillar's seriousness returns.
"For what?" I ask.
"In the Muffin Man's mind, the food companies create food that gets us sick, so we end up going to the medicine companies asking them for a cure for the food. Both medicine and food companies are owned by the Black Chess corporation. They sell us the poison and then the cure for it. The same thing the Cheshire does now."
"I don't want to confuse her with all the details about the Black Chess Corporation now." Fabiola waves a hand at the Pillar. "The fact of the matter is the Cheshire demands he only tells you the how to get rid of the Muffin Man." She is looking at me. "He will meet you in Mudfog Town—"
"Mudfog, where everyone is dead now. It looks like a smaller version of England's Black Death in the 1600s," the Pillar comments.
"Is that where we're going?" I ask.
Fabiola nods. "You will have to shake hands with the devil to save the innocent. I know this is the noblest thing to do."
"Noble, my tarts and farts," the Pillar mumbles, but I can hear him.
"Are you ready to meet him?" Fabiola asks me.
I nod.
The chauffeur stops his car. I assume we've arrived in Mudfog.
When I pull down the window, the town reeks of the dead. The sight of them
sprawled on the ground is really no different from any zombie movie I have watched.
"No one cleaned this town yet?" I can't believe this.
"They said they did in the news." The Pillar winks, but then his face changes. He stops and looks at me from top to bottom. I don't know what he is looking for. "Did you read my paper about Jack yet?" he asks.
"No. I didn't find it." I dig my hand in my pocket and don't find it again.
"Strange, I searched for it in your pockets while you were sleeping and couldn't find too," he says. "Would you like to know who he is before you go to meet the Cheshire?"
The idea of knowing has been paired with the word horrifying. When I woke in a physiatrist's office, I ended up with crippled legs. Whether it's the truth or not, I am afraid that knowing who Jack is will have the same effect on me. And I'd had that feeling for the last couple of days.
"I think I'd see the Cheshire first." I pull the handle. "I might return to you briefly when I know what he is asking from me." Gazing outside, I see an overweight kid somersaulting and dancing atop a wall. His moves are impossible for his body figure and shape. I know it's the Cheshire. I step out.
"Tell him the Pillar says 'meow'!" the Pillar chirps from inside before I shut the door behind me. "And if possible, can he tell us how to stuff a head inside a watermelon, because I think it's brilliant!"
Chapter 62
Mudfog Town, seventy miles from London
Amidst the corpses, I walk toward the overweight boy dancing upon a wall. His egg-shaped body reminds me of Humpty Dumpty in Through the Looking-Glass. When I get closer, I notice his head is cut off. He wears it on and off, and even kicks it like a football and runs after it. His overalls are spattered with blood. I am going to talk to another dead boy.
But the silence in the town of Mudfog isn't quite silence. A corpse stands up and greets me here and there. "Welcome to my frabjous playground of madness," they say, possessed by one of the Cheshire's nine lives.
