The Kew Garden
“I ’m sick of getting ambushed today,” Constance announces, squinting at our enemies on the hills.
“Who do you think they are, Alice?” Fabiola tells me, not taking her eyes off the hill.
“Someone who wants the Keys as much as we want.”
“At least this means we’re on the right track,” Jacks says, gripping his gun. “I am glad we didn’t try the Alnwick Gardens you mentioned earlier.”
“Glad we’re going to die,” Constance scoffs.
From the corner of my eyes, I see Lewis looking a bit unsettled. He’s scratching his arms uncomfortably and does not comment on the situation. The March on the other hands, hides behind me for protection.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will not let anyone hurt you.”
“So what?” Constance waves at the men on the hill. “Say something!”
None of those on the hill respond, but the gate to the garden behind us creaks. We turn our heads.
“Welcome,” a short chubby boy says. He looks bored, unexcited, a not quite welcoming. “Please get inside.”
“And who are you?” Constance demands.
“His name is Humpty,” Fabiola says.
“You know him?” I ask her.
“Wonderland,” she says, now not taking her off him. “He is Margaret’s son. Bastard son, to be precise,” a certain bitterness accompanies Fabiola’s words.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the boy says.
“Waiting for us?” I ask.
“He’s bluffing,” Constance says. “Look at him. He is so bored. So unmotivated.”
“That’s because he needs a candy,” Fabiola says. “He’s always been like that. The Queen of Hearts had taken him from Margaret and fed him candies every day. He can’t function without them.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Humpty,” I kneel down and talk to him. The March still clinging to my hand. I wonder why I don’t remember Humpty. “How about you meet my friend, March?”
“He is your friend?” Humpty says, shy not to look in my eyes. “He looks old.”
The March’s ears fall to his sides.
“He just looks old, Humpty,” I tell him. “But he is really funny.”
“Alice’s Adventures in Kindergarten,” Constance mumbles. “Can we just stop this fluff fest? Who are you, Humpty and who sent you?”
Humpty doesn’t look back to Constance. Instead, he turns back and looks at a big building at the end of the green fields on both sides.
“I sent him,” a woman says. She stands on the porch in the distance. I think she is wearing red? “Please come in.”
We don’t exchange looks to agree on the next move. We have no choice. The men on the hill and woman in the garden. Let’s just do it.
Entering, I see the woman clearer now. She wears big black glasses and wears a red fur and red hat.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Alice,” she has a blunt, matter-of-fact demeanor about her. I can’t tell whether she is good or bad. Inkling or Black Chess. She diverts her gaze toward the March Hare. “I mean we were waiting for you, March.”
“What do you mean?” I tell her.
Humpty runs to her, and she pats him and hands candy with kaleidoscopic colors. “I mean we always thought it was you, Alice.”
I shrug. “Can you explain further? And who are you? How did you know we would be here?”
“Who I am and how I know are matters I will explain in few minutes. For now, you should know that everyone around has their agendas.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone wants one thing. The most precious thing. E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. Well, except the Queen of Hearts who only wanted to be loved, so much that she wanted to rule the world to obtain such love. And the Cheshire who is just in pain and wants unquenchable revenge.”
“And the rest? The Pillar?”
“The Pillar, Mr. Jay, Fabiola, Lewis, and even Jack, they’re all playing you,” she says.
“Don’t believe her,” Fabiola says, but I don’t listen.
“Tell me more.”
“Up to twenty-four hours ago the common belief was that you Alice had the power to find the Keys,” the woman in red fur says. “Which turns out to be true.”
“And?”
“You found that precious Hare,” she stretches out her hands and to my utter shock, the March pulls away and goes for her loving arms. “Poor March. Everyone used you too because they knew you’re just a child. Pure and loving.”
“Are you saying I don’t matter now?” I feel feeble and stupid asking the question.
“We’ll see about that,” she says. “To my knowledge, Mr. Jay wants to meet you so badly. But for now, let’s all get inside. Our difference and secret agendas can wait. I’ll explain further while hopefully, the March remembers.”
“You didn’t answer us,” Constance insists. “How did you know we’re coming?”
The woman still doesn’t smile, but she nods toward the yellow bus behind us. “You really should have killed Tom. He sells information to whoever is willing to secure his children’s future.”