Alice Wonder, somewhere in a dark room
W hen I wake up, I am too weary to fully open my eyes. The floor underneath me is cold and hard, and the ceiling, if there is any, seems so far away I can’t see it.
In the back of my head, there is a continuous buzzing, a sharp, needlelike pain that won’t stop. I reach back to touch it and instantly remember the strange incidents in the limousine, and the mysterious Red who seemed to have kidnapped me, but then rescued me as well.
My eyelids hurt when I squint and look sideways to inspect the rest of wherever I am. All I see is blurry darkness, pierced by a slant of yellow light, slithering diagonally from a top window. I think I am in some kind of dungeon.
Slowly I prop myself up on all fours, hardly finding the strength to stand up. There is a tray of food next to me. A sandwich, a glass of water, and next to them is something I didn’t expect. My precious Tiger Lily.
I reach for it instantly, remembering my future children—though I’m not comfortable with the memory of my future husband, whom I don’t know anything about. I hug my Tiger Lily, almost sure it won’t spit at me and call me insane anymore. As far as I know, I am not insane. I am only dealing with an insane world.
Still, I must have been insane once, with all the Lullaby pills, what happened in the circus, and whatever reason that turned me into the Bad Alice in the past.
It only takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the semidarkness, and realize there is someone standing before me. The silent Red who saved me.
“Who are you?” I say, holding tighter to my Tiger Lily and crawling back against the wall.
He says nothing. Doesn’t even move or make a sound.
“Listen,” I say. “You will have to talk to me and explain who you are, or I will hurt you. You know who I am, right?” I am well aware of the nonsense I am speaking. I can’t hurt him. He is too strong and I actually owe him for saving me from the rest of the Reds. Only I need to know what he wants with me.
The answer comes in the shape of a yellow note. A sticky one, which he writes on with a red pencil then hands to me. I take it, noticing it’s of the same type of paper as the note with the Pillar’s Wonder written upon it. The one that is buried at the bottom of Tiger Lily’s pot, which I am now holding.
I read the note: You’re a horrible Bad Alice. I thought you’d be able to fight me back.
“What the heck?” I chortle.
He passes me another note. I take it and read it: Heck is too American for a British girl that inspired Lewis Carroll. But you’re forgiven since you have no idea who you really are yet.
I am not sure if this is supposed to be a joke, but I can sense the Red isn’t here to harm me. “Why did you save me?”
Another note: Consider me your guardian angel.
“I don’t need a guardian,” I say. “And I am not sure angels are on my side at this time.”
Note says: You talk too much.
I say, “As if you talk at all.”
Note says: I made a choice not to. You, on the other hand, do talk, so use your mind and focus, or blabbing will kill you. Then he writes something that makes me chuckle. Too much yappening, not enough happening.
“And you make fun of me speaking in American terms?” I retort. “What you just said isn’t even English.”
A note: It’s better than English. It’s nonsense.
I don’t reply, watching him churn out another note. This one says: We may have started on the wrong note. Let’s start all over again.
“That sounds better,” I say. “Where do you want to start?”
A note: Let’s begin with introductions. You can call me Dude.
“Nice to meet you, Dude—I guess.” I struggle to stand up and stretch out a hand.
He doesn’t shake it, but tucks another note in it: Time is running out. You have to get ready for your next mission.
“You’re giving me orders now?” I ask.
A note: Yes. The world is counting on you to save them from the Chessmaster.