White Hearts Hospital
F abiola heard the news on one of the lesser-known channels — which usually told the truth to gain more viewers — about the possibility of a meticulously organized escape by the Inklings. The news covered the unexplained shooting near the river at the back of the asylum. It also mentioned that it was too dark for their film crew to see, exactly, what was happening.
The channel seemed to support the Inklings, saying they didn’t deserve to be executed but should have a fair trial.
Fabiola’s heart fluttered all of a sudden. Maybe she’d been given a second chance to let go of her stubbornness. If Alice managed to save the Mushroomers, she could in no way return to her Black Chess days.
The healing process of her injuries was expedited, but it was still a long time before she could walk.
Lewis Carroll dashed back into the room, looking like a nonsensical version of Sherlock Holmes. Heck, with these clothes he was wearing, he didn’t even belong to this timeline. People would make fun of him in the streets outside.
“All done,” Lewis said proudly. “I haven’t kicked ass like this since I wrote Alice in Wonderland.”
“You should have seen what he did.” The rabbit flexed its muscles.
“I think Alice is alive.” Fabiola pointed at the news.
“I know she is,” Lewis said. “I don’t need the news to make sure. So are you ready?”
“I am.” Fabiola smiled. “But I can’t move.”
“I will hold you until we get there,” Lewis said. “The Inklings need us.”
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Fabiola said, watching him pick her up from the bed.
“I told you, it’s happening ,” Lewis said. “You just didn’t believe me.”