by Selena Kitt
“I say!” called the Mad Hat Man. “Don’t forget us here!”
But the door was closed behind them and the guards were dragging her down the hall before she could hear him say anymore. Poor Caterpillar, poor Cat, poor Mad Hat Man. She wondered who might come along to release them. Certainly someone, and soon. This place had to have rules. They had safe words, after all. That proved something. It had to. They might get kicked out, of course, after being with the queen’s tarts, she surmised. That was apparently against the rules.
And she’d been with the queen’s tarts, hadn’t she?
Oh yes, she most definitely had.
“Tweedledee.” The sound in front of them drew Alice’s attention. There were two men coming toward them, filling all the available space in the hallway.
“Tweedledum.” As they got closer, Alice could see they were both naked, their bellies so rotund and pendulous they obscured their privates. They were twins, had to be, with the same moon faces and wide smiles. They were also holding hands as they came down the hall, making an impenetrable wall of flesh blocking the way.
“Tweedledee.” The one on the right would say this, and the one on the left would echo it with, “Tweedledum.”
The guards stopped. An impasse.
“Out of our way!” The Red Queen waved from behind them. “Get!”
The two brothers looked at each other, behind them, then back at the queen, incredulous. There was no way they could turn around. Even if the two of them went single file, they wouldn’t all squeeze past. The twins grew very distraught, mumbling, tweedledumtweedledee tweedledumtweedledee tweedledumtweedledee over and over, their hands flapping at their sides like trapped birds.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” The Red Queen threw up her hands and pushed against the wall to her left. A door opened and Alice watched in wonder as another hallway appeared. How did anyone keep track of where anything was in this place? She wondered. But she didn’t have long to ponder the question because the hallway led around into another, and that one let them into a great hall where food and sex and games had all melded into one great orgy of excess.
Alice winced as the guards dragged her to the front of the room, depositing her without ceremony on the floor in front of two large thrones. They were silver, not gold, high backed and upholstered in red. The Red Queen huffed past Alice, sitting in one of them and reaching for a long cord beside her chair. She pulled it, but nothing happened.
“Please.” Alice spoke, still trying to cover herself, everything about her trembling. “Let me explain.”
“Verdict now, explanations later,” the queen snapped. “Did you or did you not steal my tarts?”
“I didn’t steal them,” Alice protested, glancing over at the women. “They rather stole me.”
“What say you?” The queen turned to the trio but they just shook their heads, quivering together.
“This is just a formality.” The queen waved Alice’s protests away. “I saw you with my own eyes. Collar her.”
Alice didn’t know what it meant until one of the guards fit a red collar around her throat and snapped it closed. She clawed at it, but it seemed to close seamlessly, like everything else in this strange place.
“Now!” The Red Queen pointed at Alice and one of the guards pressed her down to her knees. “Off with her head!”
This isn’t happening, Alice thought, but the flash of a blade behind her made it very immediate. One of the guards was holding an old-time executioner’s ax and it looked very real.
“Wait!” There was that word again, but this time Alice didn’t speak it. Wade burst into the room wearing a white robe trimmed in red and silver, something similar to what the Red King had been wearing when she met him. And where was the king anyway? She wondered, glancing around the hall. The place was full with bodies, writhing, moaning, piled on top of one another, but she didn’t see him.
“I call for mediation.” Wade stepped between the guard and Alice, grabbing her upper arms and bringing her to standing. She had never felt so safe and leaned back gratefully against him. “Where’s the Red King?”
“Mediation?” The Red Queen snorted and waved her hand. “What do we need that for?”
“For fun of course.” The Red King appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his robe only half-closed, although he was trying to fix that. He grinned and winked at Alice and she instantly relaxed. “The girl has to solve a riddle. How’s that, my pet?” He raised an eyebrow in the queen’s direction.
“Oh fiddlesticks.” The Red Queen turned her nose in the air, waving the idea away.
“Wait.” Wade took a step toward the Red King. “If she solves it, we crown a new king and queen.”
Both of the king’s eyebrows rose. “That’s quite a wager.”
“I believe in her.” Wade looked over at Alice and gave her the smile that made her melt into little puddles.
But she couldn’t do this. Solve riddles? It was insane. “Wade…”
“So be it!” The Red Queen’s eyes brightened as she looked at Alice. “Solve the riddle and you will be the new queen.”
Alice gulped. “I’ll do my best.”
“Tell me…” The queen leaned forward on her throne, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
Alice blinked, frowned, and looked over to Wade for help. If she failed, what did it mean? Were they really going to chop off her head? And if she solved it, well what did that mean? Is this what Wade had meant about being together, forever? Or was this part of the test?
She tried to think of any way the two things could be related but couldn’t come up with anything. A crowd had gathered around them, distracted from their own distractions by the queen’s proclamation. Finally, Alice had to admit defeat. Ravens and writing desks had nothing in common. They were going to cut off her head and she was never going to see Wade again.
She swallowed hard and met his eyes, blinking back her tears. She didn’t regret dying for him, not really. She just hated to disappoint him. More than anything, she wished she could be back home snuggled under her down comforter with Dinah while Wade made pancakes in her little kitchen. Thinking of home made her remember Maddie, and how she’d never see her again either. Her poor sister would always wonder what had happened to her.
And that’s when it came to her. Maddie and her solid belief in science was going to save her life in this strange, surreal place.
“A raven is like a writing desk…” Alice swallowed and turned to meet the Red Queen’s eyes, feeling rather triumphant. “Because a raven and a writing desk are, without a doubt, scientifically proven to be both made of atoms.”
The whole crowd was quiet and then a deafening cheer went up around her. The queen stood, sputtering her protest, but the king, looking proud and amused, stepped in.
“That’s as good an answer as I’ve ever heard,” he exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing Alice’s hand. He kissed it gently as he had the first time and the way he looked at her made her flush.
“That’s not the answer!” the queen screeched. “There is no answer to that riddle!”
But no one heard her. They were all starting to chant: “Long live the White King! Long live the White Queen!” and a white robe trimmed with red and silver was being draped around Alice’s shoulders. She smiled over at Wade and he winked at her. The Red King was shaking his hand and passing over his crown and didn’t look too upset to be giving it up either.
“Look out!” The cry came from behind her and Alice whirled toward the sound, a woman’s voice. One of the tarts pointed at the queen’s throne, where the Red Queen had tussled for and won the executioner’s ax from the guard. She wielded the heavy, ungainly thing with no grace or skill, but it didn’t seem to matter. The queen swung and the ax was headed straight for the red collar around Alice’s neck as if it were a magnet.
The last thing she heard was the Red Queen screaming, “Off with her head!”
* * * *
�
��Alice.” The sound of her name was far away, in another world. “Alice! Wake up!”
She jolted awake at his command, gasping and clutching Wade to her. He wrapped his big arms around her and held her close, rocking her in the darkness.
“Was I dreaming?” she whispered incredulously. “Was it only a dream?”
“It must have been something.” Wade chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You were screaming ‘Off with her head!’”
Alice’s hand went to her throat, which was thankfully still attached to her head. And then she felt it—a collar. It was fastened seamlessly to her neck and she was sure, if she turned on a light and looked into a mirror, that it would be red.
“Wade…” she whispered, fingering the band at her neck. “Was it really a dream?”
He was quiet for a moment and then he asked, “Do you want it to be?”
In an instant, she relived every moment in the strange land she’d visited and knew, no matter what her sister said about Alice’s imagination, it was as real as she was, as real as Wade or ravens or writing desks.
“No,” she admitted.
His lips moved over her neck, kissing her new collar. “Then let’s go back to Wonderland.”
She surrendered.
Her only regret was that she would have to leave Maddie behind. But maybe, some day, she could convince her sister to come over to the other side.
GRETEL
Gretel loved her big brother and he had to admit—he took advantage of that fact on occasion. It wasn't that Hans didn't care about her. He did. But to him she was just his sometimes-annoying little sister, the one who used to tag along and make his life miserable at pick-up baseball games when she wanted to run around all the bases with him.
He’d finally gotten her to stay on the sidelines, watching him with worship-filled eyes, but he could never get her to stay home, and his stepmother was no help in that regard—the old bat didn't want to be bothered with either of them, especially in the summer when the two of them had an extra eight hours a day, five days a week to spend in her hair.
But Gretel didn't just love her brother—Gretel worshipped him, always had, although he hadn't done anything to deserve the attention. And Hans figured, if you couldn't beat them, why not join them? So he didn't feel too awfully bad about taking advantage of her willingness to do something—anything—for him. She seemed to want to, and who was he to argue?
Although occasionally he felt guilty, like now when his sister presented him with a gift on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday instead of the other way around. He had something for her, of course, but the surprise party wasn’t until that night and he didn't want to spoil it for her.
"Gret, it's your birthday, not mine."
"I know." She just smiled and held the pretty wrapped package out for him, practically vibrating with excitement. What could he do but take it?
"I shouldn't let you do this," he grumbled, snatching the package from her hands, feeling the heavy weight of it, already wondering, in spite of himself, what could be inside. No one knew him and what he liked and secretly wanted like Gretel did.
"Open it!" she insisted, shifting from foot to foot as she stood in the doorway to his room. There was no dampening Gretel's enthusiasm—she was 220 volts running on a 110 line.
"Did you spend your own money?" He put the gift on his desk where he'd been studying for his organic chemistry final, deciding to torture her a little and increase his own anticipation.
"What other money is there to spend?" She rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as if their penny-pinching stepmother might be lurking in the hallway. "Now open it!" She picked the package back up off the desk, shoving it into his lap. "Before she comes home and asks where I got the money to buy it."
Hans raised his eyebrows, hefting the box again. "Where did you get the money?"
"Open! Open! Open!" she chanted, ignoring his question.
He finally did, finding a large obstruction in his throat in the way of a “thank you.” Gretel just beamed, exclaiming about the gift, telling him where she’d purchased it and how much she knew it would help his research.
“It’s not as expensive as you think,” she assured him, seeing the look on his face as he gazed from her to the microscope in his hands. “I got a good deal. At least the Attack Jack taught me how to bargain hunt!”
Hans laughed at her use of that old, secret name for their stepmother—Jack, after the cheapskate Jack Benny, and the “attack” part, well, the woman was known for her malicious, manipulative and underhanded tactics. Even against her stepchildren. Especially against her stepchildren.
“You are the best sister ever.” Hans stood and gave her a one-armed hug, still holding the microscope in the other. “What am I going to do without you?”
“Why, what have you heard?” Her eyes widened as Hans sat back down, putting the microscope on his desk, gazing at it fondly. “Are they sending me to military school?”
“Worse.” He sighed, meeting her wary eyes. “Finishing school.”
“Oh god.” Gretel’s face drained of blood, her normally rosy cheeks turning to marble. “I’d really prefer the Marines!” She blinked at him in disbelief and then exploded in her usual, spontaneous way. “You got to go to college! Why not me?”
Hans winced at the whine in her voice. “I heard her telling Dad that you wouldn’t be able to find a suitable husband in college.”
“Suitable meaning rich.” Gretel snorted, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.
“Of course.” He smirked. “How else are we supposed to pay off all the debt Dad’s in?”
“You mean the debt she racked up since she married him!” his sister hissed, glancing toward the open door.
Hans shrugged. “As soon as I have a degree, I promise, I’ll get a job and we’ll find a place together and get out of here.”
“You’ll probably get married and forget all about me by then.” She pouted, crossing her arms and looking unhappily at her own reflection in the mirror over his dresser.
“I won’t forget about you, sis. I promise.” Hans smiled indulgently, standing to give her another hug, this time with two arms. “Now, you better go get dressed up.”
“How come?” She pulled away, giving him that wary look again.
“That’s all I’m saying.” He made a turning motion with his hand in front of his lips—locked up tight. But she already knew, he could tell by the look in her eyes, and he wasn’t sorry he’d slipped. He liked seeing that ridiculously happy look on her face, in spite of her annoying habits, like buying him gifts on her own danged birthday.
“Really?” Gretel squealed, shoving him away and clapping her hands, starting to preen in his mirror. “Oh, I wish I had a new dress.”
Hans sighed at the downturn at the corners of her mouth, already giving in. Okay, so his stepmother had picked it out and wrapped it for him—and paid for it too. She insisted on doing all the household purchasing, down to their underwear and socks. But it would make Gretel happy, and that’s all that mattered. “Look in my closet. There’s a gift for you in there.”
His sister squealed again in delight when she opened his birthday present, giving him a quick thank-you kiss on the cheek before running down the hall and around the corner like she used to run around bases, off to try it on.
* * * *
“I still can’t get over at this dress!” Gretel nudged her brother again at the punch bowl, her voice dropped to a stage-whisper. Hans handed over a glass of red punch—a disaster waiting to happen with the cream-colored satin backless gown she was wearing, but she took it anyway—and he gave her another once-over with his eyes.
“She picked it out, you know,” he admitted, the punch in his own glass gone in one swig.
“I know.” Gretel smirked. “But that’s what I mean. Why would she get me something so…so…nice! So expensive!”
“Good question.” He shrugged, dismissing her as their father approached, holding his own glass of p
unch. He smiled at them both fondly, and Gretel sighed at the look on his face. That expression hadn’t changed since they were little. It was love mixed, with a deeper sorrow and an even deeper guilt he never spoke and probably didn’t even know was there.
“How are you liking your party, little miss?” Her father kissed her cheek, his breath hazy with alcohol. He’d obviously been sneaking it by their stepmother, probably pouring it from a flask into his punch. “Eighteen! I can’t believe it! Where did the time go?”
“It’s a lovely party, Daddy.” Gretel looked around at the room full of adults—all of her stepmother’s friends and acquaintances mingling with her father’s business associates. There wasn’t one of Gretel’s own friends in the bunch. “Thank you.”
“Thank your mother!”
Stepmother. Gretel corrected him bitterly in her head, but she let her smile widen as the woman approached, towering over their father, throwing him completely in shadow. If she had been asked to pick an antithesis, someone so different, so frozenly polar opposite from the warm, feminine being that their real mother had been, Gretel would have chosen Vivian without a second thought.
“This is all Viv’s doing.” Their father looked up at the woman with such a grateful expression it made Gretel want to vomit.
“Thank you for the party.” Gretel said what she knew her father wanted her to say, even managing to do it without gritting her teeth, and he smiled approvingly.
“Nothing is too good for our cherubs.” Viv flashed them a smile—her smiles were full of straight, white teeth, almost blinding. She was a beautiful woman even at her age, her long dark hair pulled up and back in complicated coils and loops, the material of her dress hugging her curves like blue waves. Gretel knew the tag was likely still attached to it, tucked up somewhere, hidden, just as hers was. Hans smiled, taking his cue and complimenting their stepmother on her appearance. She beamed, but Gretel saw her brother roll his eyes and sneer as Vivian leaned in to whisper something in their father’s ear.
“Hey Sis, whatcha think are in all those boxes up there?” Hans nodded toward the gift table piled high with presents.
