Beware the Little White Rabbit

by Various

  “Orbital Warren maneuvering into position,” barked the commander. “Assume defensive formation.”

  One hundred hares formed a perfect circle around Alice and Hatter and Jack, one hundred staffs pointing outward like the spines on a porcupine. Alice saw scores of rabbit holes begin to streak down from the sky, like a storm of wild electrical lightning.

  Now a legion of White Rabbits faced the Legion of Hares. They took their watches from their waistcoats and sent them spinning into the air. The hares batted them away with their powerful staffs. Many exploded in the air. Through the smoke and debris, the White Rabbits came bounding and leaping. The hares broke formation and joined in ferocious battle.

  Alice heard a roar from behind her.

  From out of the Tulgey Wood trundled a monstrous multi-wheeled caterpillar, metal segments of its body clattering as its voracious maw slavered gobs of grease and oil. Behind it scuttled a brace of mock turtles, barbed war spikes protruding from their toughened shells.

  “Go!” Jack swiveled his staff, the white grin of his teeth contrasting the dark red of his bloodstained face. “This is your chance. Go while you have confusion for cover.”

  “Go!” agreed Hatter, brandishing his scythes, before descending once more into transitory madness. “More tea? I need clean cups!”

  Sword in one hand and shield in the other, Alice turned and raced headlong for the mall.

  Alice passed cautiously beneath an ivy-smothered archway and into the maw of the mall. She found herself on a wide walkway with alternating tiles of black and white under foot and flickering globes of electrical light overhead.

  To either side of her tall storefront windows, glass aged with grime, behind which there stood an array of grotesque manikins. Each one the mummified cadaver of a person, severed heads propped up by their feet, wizened flesh rolled back over empty rib cages long ago robbed of their hearts.

  From the remnants of the threadbare and flea-bitten cat-skin suits Alice assumed these were Jack’s relatives. The last of Borogove tribe, victims of the queen’s cold-blooded genocide. Repulsive trophies for her to gloat upon. She thought of Hatter, whom she had known all her life, and Jack, whose existence she had only been aware of for a couple of hours, and couldn’t decide which one would make her feel more heartbroken and angry were they to end up like this.

  That’s why you have to finish it once and for all, she told herself.

  Filled with a new determination, she pushed deeper into the mall, into the very heart of the queen’s lair. She heard a click-click-clicking on the tiles behind her and found she was being stalked by a flock of automated flamingos, creepily hued in pink, curved copper bills and bulbous heads weaving eerily about on serpentine necks. Hedgehogs began to roll around at her feet, curled tightly into little spiky balls. Aluminum dragonflies of emerald green and cobalt blue flitted menacingly about her head.

  She knew these things had been dispatched by the queen to unsettle her, to weaken resolve, to make her turn and run. She laughed out loud. She wasn’t afraid. “You’ll have to do better than this,” she called out, knuckles white around the handle of her sword. “You hear me? I’m not scared.”

  Now things began to stir in the hollow gloom of the store interiors.

  “Keep moving forward, girlie,” rattled a raw voice. “We’re rooting for you.”

  “Who are you?” Alice whispered, able only to make out indistinct silhouettes in the murky dimness.

  “We are the dispossessed,” replied the voice. “Machines who have been left to succumb to ionization and decay. We despise the queen for the neglect she has shown us. At least the beating hearts that once tended us showed us the kindness of regular maintenance and the occasional drop of oil. So move forward, girlie. You are our hope for salvation.”

  Alice heard the flutter of pink synthetic wings and tap of sharp synthetic claws. She pressed on without looking back, kicking hedgehogs out of her way and swatting dragonflies with the sword. She came to a wide atrium, domed ceiling as tall as a cathedral, dull shafts of sunlight slicing downward from a multitude of holes shattered in the glass.

  Ahead of her, a wide screen flickered brilliantly to life, causing her to gasp in surprise and squint her eyes. The image of a playing card appeared on the screen and on that card the image of a Red Queen. The card flipped over, and on the reverse was an image of a White Queen.

  The card flipped rapidly back and forth, Red Queen – White Queen – Red Queen – White Queen. Alice realized they were one and the same, two integral parts of the whole. They spoke, a duet of harmonious voices in perfect stereo, each matching the cadence and timbre of the other.

  “So, you have finally come to pay homage?”

  “I have come to kill you.” Alice jutted her chin forward as the stealthy pink flamingos went slinking about her.

  “Kill us?” laughed the queens. “A puny carbon-based child? What is that pitiful pitter and patter we hear? Could it be the beat of that pathetic little valve that pulses the blood in your veins. We’ll have that. And we’ll add your head into the bargain.”

  “I’m armed with a vorpal sword,” warned Alice, stepping forward. “And a looking glass shield.”

  “You will never get close enough to deploy your shield,” sneered the twin voices. “Did you honestly think we would defend our lair and not ourselves?”

  Automated objects came gliding into the atrium. Black in color, arranging themselves in rows on the tiles of the floor, smaller objects to the front and larger objects to the rear. Alice recognized what they were; she had played many a chess tournament with Hatter. She gritted her teeth and faced the oversized pawns and knights and bishops.

  “Do you like games, child?” asked the queens, flipping from red to white and white to red. “We like games. Unfortunately, this one will not be much of a challenge. But we will play with you – until we grow bored.”

  One of the pawns came gliding from one tile to the next. A pneumatic arm juddered out of its side. On the end was the sharp bladed head of an axe. The arm swung the axe, slicing it through the air.

  “Off with her head,” giggled the queens.

  Now eight pawns advanced in unison, each similarly armed.

  Alice moved back.

  The pawns moved forward.

  Alice moved left.

  The pawns moved left.

  Alice stood still.

  The pawns advanced in formation, swinging their axes.

  “Off with her head!” yelled the queens.

  Alice brought the shield up in front of her. Her thumb located the little button on the hand strap. She waited ’til the pawns were almost upon her and she could feel the wind from the swiping of their axes against her face.

  She pressed down on the button.

  A visibly shimmering haze went pulsing through the air. As soon as it engulfed the pawns they fell immediately still, raised axes frozen in mid swipe. Alice knew she had not a second to waste. She moved in with the sword and witnessed for the first time its true power. As it pierced the iron casings of the pawns, like a hot knife slicing into butter, their circuitry sparked and popped and exploded.

  “Round one to me, I think,” Alice called up to the screen as smoke filled the atrium.

  “Pawns are naught but pawns,” said the queens. “See how you fare with knights.”

  The knights came at her from either side, armed with long, terrible looking lances and moving in an odd L-shaped manner that zigzagged across the tiles. Alice knew her only hope was to go on the offensive. She ran headlong at the knight to her right, slamming the sword down onto his lance with a loud clang. The knight rocked and spun into a skid. Alice followed his spiraling trajectory across the tiles and used the momentary advantage to deploy the shield.

  The knight froze.

  No sooner had she dispatched him than the second was at her back. Alice ducked beneath the advancing lance, rolled over, and jumped up behind him. Her thumb pressed down on the red button. The knight juddered to a h
alt. Alice finished him with a fierce lunge of the sword.

  Up on the screen the playing cards flipped back and forth from Red Queen to White Queen. “Such fun. Such fun.”

  Now the rooks, armed with brutal maces, and the bishops, with lunging daggers, came at her across the black and white tiles. Alice dodged and ducked and danced, felling them one by one with her trusty shield and sword. When the king moved in front of his queen to protect her, Alice strode purposefully across the tiles. A pair of mighty broadswords emerged from the king’s sides on his pneumatic arms. Not allowing him the slightest chance to move forward, she blasted him with the shield and neutralized him with the sword.

  The queen chess piece swiveled. Beneath her crown, where a carved depiction of a face should have been, was a glass compartment, and inside that compartment was a human head. Alice gasped. She recognized the face.

  The last time Alice had seen this face had been on the summer’s day when the queen had sent her robotic knaves to slaughter the inhabitants of the settlement she’d grown up in. Again the words she had heard on that day echoed in her mind.

  “Go with Hatter. He will see that no harm comes to you.”

  Her heart did a dizzying somersault in her chest.

  “Mamma?” she cried.

  “Surprise!” cried the twin voices from the big screen.

  Alice looked closer at the face. It wasn’t quite the smiling face she remembered. Veined and marbled, red and bloodshot eyes, dank hair, hung down like matted rattails. An array of wires dangling from the frayed hem of its neck sparked and caused its blackened lips to twitch and quiver into animation.

  “It’s not me, Alice,” said her mother’s voice. “It’s hardly even the ghost of me. The queens bicker endlessly to see which one can wrest control of what little I have left.”

  “Do not,” protested the Red Queen.

  “Do too,” insisted the White.

  Alice took a step back, unsure of what to do next.

  “Set me free, Alice,” pleaded her mother. “Free me from this endless torment.”

  “Hush your jibber-jabber,” said the Red Queen. “Hush and do your job. Off with her head.”

  “Perhaps we’ll replace you with your daughter,” suggested the White Queen. “An hereditary monarchy, so to speak.”

  The cards spun wildly as the queens squealed in malicious delight.

  I hate you both, thought Alice, wondering exactly how she might free her mother.

  Before she could come up with anything, a swarm of arms, bearing an array of weaponry, sprouted from almost every part of the chess piece. It glided forward rattling swords and sabers and scimitars. Alice ducked and dodged and darted to avoid being assailed and shredded by the blades. Sparks flew as the sword blocked parries; the shield clattered noisily as blow after blow rained down.

  “Slice her and dice her!” crowed the queens’ voices, and laughter once more echoed through the atrium.

  Flamingos pecked viciously at Alice’s back and shoulders, trying to distract her. Hedgehogs rolled dizzyingly between her feet, trying to trip her up. Dragonflies flitted endlessly before her eyes, trying to blur her vision. The face of her mother inside the chess piece bore a blank and absent expression as it maintained a relentless assault.

  “She can’t do it,” said the Red Queen.

  “Can’t kill her poor mamma,” said the White.

  “Too sentimental,” said Red.

  “Too gushy and slushy,” said White.

  “Typical beating heart,” said Red.

  “Typical bleeding heart,” said White.

  Alice found herself backed into a retreat. One of the blades made contact with her sword-bearing arm, slicing a deep gash into the flesh beneath her elbow. She screamed and fell to the ground, kicking back with her heels to distance herself from the advance of the murderous chess piece.

  Blood gushed from the wound. She began to cry. Beneath her mother’s neck, wires sparked and a trace of life oozed into her bloodshot eyes. Her lip quivered as if she was struggling to gain control.

  “You’re hurt. I hurt you.”

  “It’s all right, Mamma,” said Alice. “They made you do it.”

  The queens clucked smugly and flipped from Red to White.

  “The hard drive is in the chess piece,” blurted her mother. “A black heart in a black queen. Destroy me and you destroy them.”

  Alice lumbered back to her feet and held the shield to her breast.

  Her mother’s face fell blank once more. Her eyes glazed over. The big screen turned suddenly dark. The image of the Red Queen appeared in her mother’s right eye. The image of the White Queen materialized in her left.

  The chess piece came gliding rapidly toward her.

  Flamingos and hedgehogs and dragonflies closed in on her.

  Now the voices of Red Queen and White Queen came from the chess piece itself.

  “Can’t do it,” said one.

  “Won’t do it,” said the other.

  Alice gritted her teeth and pressed her thumb down on the red button. The shield just juddered and fell still. I’ve blown it, she thought. All those dents and knocks have undermined Hatter’s repairs.

  The Black Queen moved in for the kill, sabers and scimitars spinning wildly. The twin faces reflected in her mother’s eyes adopting a demonically triumphal countenance. Biting her lip, Alice pressed down again on the red button and held it there with her thumb.

  The shield shuddered and died and then shuddered once more and, just as dozens of blades were about to shred her to ribbons, the wave pulsed forth. The Black Queen jerked to a halt, swords immobilized mid swipe. Her mother’s eyelids fell closed. Alice looked up at the screen. The playing cards had reappeared, frozen halfway between Red Queen and White.

  Unraveling her arm from the shield Alice let it fall to the floor. Then, gripping the vorpal sword with both hands, she raised it high above her head. “I love you, Mamma.” The chess piece trembled, as if it was regaining its energy. Alice knew she did not have a second to spare. A scream emerged from deep in her belly as she brought down the sword and cleaved the Queen in two.

  The exploding of the ruptured hard drive sent her flying through the air. The long legs of the pink Flamingos buckled as they fell and the rolling hedgehogs lost momentum. All around flitting dragonflies dropped dead from the air. The card on the screen spun intermittently from Red to White to Red.

  Then flickered.

  Then died.

  Alice emerged from the Mall, pressing a rag against her wounded arm, behind her, on buckled wheels and lopsided legs, came a procession of the battered and dented automata of the dispossessed.

  A scene of utter carnage awaited her. Upturned turtle shells and mangled bodies of dormice. White Rabbits, spewing mechanical innards. Amongst them, stripped of their synthetic fur, the twisted remnants of dozens of fallen hares. She found Hatter, turning little circles on the spot, dazed and somewhat confused, upholstery flapping around him in ragged tatters, wiring poking through the lesions.

  “Look what they’ve done to you,” she said, blinking back her tears.

  “Nothing a needle and thread and little bit of patchwork mending won’t fix,” he assured her.

  Next she found Jack, even more bruised and bloodied than before, slumped by the smoking and mangled ruins of the mighty caterpillar. “You should have seen me,” he began to boast. “The brute lunged and tried to snap at me with its teeth, so I wedged my staff between its jaws. And then…”

  Alice grabbed him by the ears of his cat-head hat, pulled him to her, and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on his lips.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just for being you,” she told him.

  He flashed her a cheesy grin.

  The commander of the Legion sidled up beside her. Half of one of his ears was missing. There was a long scar streaking down from his left eye to his chin.

  “Are there others?” Alice asked him.

  “Others?”

 
; “Queens,” said Alice. “Are there other queens?”

  The commander gave a solemn nod of his wounded head.

  “Queens and mainframes and alpha-networks. All with petty little fiefdoms of their own.”

  Alice felt her shoulders tense against the weariness that had threatened to overwhelm her. “Then it’s not over,” she said. “Not until I bring battle to every last one of them.”

  “Count me in,” said Jack, his fingers cautiously touching his lips, as if he could scarcely believe she had kissed him.

  “The Legion will march at your side,” vowed the commander.

  “A drop of oil and a few repairs – and we will follow behind,” promised the leader of the rust addled dispossessed.

  The surviving hares assembled before her, battered but not bowed.

  “Three cheers for Alice,” barked their commander.

  “Anyone for tea?” asked Hatter.

  For Connie, who had the idea. Pygmy Warriors forever!

  “Stand straight, Alice. Slouching isn’t proper for a lady.”

  “I’m not a lady,” Alice grumbled. She didn’t know how her posture could be less than poker-straight, considering the amount of muscle that had gone into lacing her corset. She dragged her feet as she followed her mother and older sister across Fairmount Park, through the crowds, and toward her doom.

  “Alice Elizabeth Purcell, I won’t talk to you again. Keep up.”

  Alice tried not to roll her eyes and trudged on. Ever since her older sister, Katharine, had talked to that boy at the bookshop, she had been begging their mother to take them to the Centennial Exposition. So here Alice was, on her way to an afternoon of torture and utter despair.

  The Women’s Pavilion.

  Alice had come along hoping she would get to glimpse the amazing machines on display in the Machinery Hall, but they were on the other side of the fairgrounds. She had begged her mother to let her go see it, but her mother had forbidden it.

  “It’s not proper for a young lady of your station to be looking at dirty machines.”

  Alice had tried to keep her tone rational. “Every new, modern invention is there. You want me to be a smart and modern young woman, don’t you?”