Alice (13 page)

“The knife,” the mermaid said, her contempt indicating what she thought of Alice’s “ways.” “So crude.”

“Not as crude as sticking a sword in a man’s bum,” Alice said, thinking of what the Caterpillar had said of the mermaid’s dreams. “You killed him too quickly,” the mermaid said.

Alice sighed, suddenly very tired. She was sorry for the mermaid, very sorry to see such a proud and beautiful creature laid low for so long. But she was not going to argue with this woman all day about the quality of a murder she’d committed. It was done. The Caterpillar and all his butterflies and all the men who’d used and abused them were falling into nothingness, perhaps forever. Alice was sorry for the girls, although she wasn’t certain they would have escaped their fate even with the Caterpillar’s death. She had learned very quickly that there was always another man waiting to scoop up a helpless girl and put her to his own use.

So instead of bandying with the mermaid further, she simply said, “You’re welcome.”

The mermaid did not have anything to say to that, so she stalked ahead of them, her pale body shimmering in the shadows. She didn’t want to be grateful, Alice knew. She’d wanted to take her own fate in her own hands, not be rescued by someone else. They walked along for a time, though they had no sense of how much time might have passed. The tunnel curved occasionally, but there were no junctions. They followed the mermaid because there was no other place to go.

Alice’s feet began dragging on the ground, her boots leaving long trails behind her. Hatcher put his arm around her shoulder to lift her.

“I’ve got to take a break, Hatch,” she said. “I’m so tired.” They had gone too many days without sleeping properly, and it was catching up to Alice. The lack of rest didn’t seem to bother Hatcher, which made her feel irritated. For some reason it disturbed her to think that the mermaid might find her weak. Alice realized that she’d expected not only gratitude from the mermaid, but sympathy. They had both survived evil men. The mermaid ought to have shown some fellow feeling for Alice. But the only time the creature had appeared human was when she’d held the butterfly in her arms.

“We have to stop,” Hatcher called to the mermaid, who’d gotten far ahead of them. He lowered Alice to the ground, where she slumped against the cave wall.

“Then stop,” the mermaid said. “I am not tired.”

“But what about the Rabbit?” Alice asked.

“I’m certain he will find you if you do not find him,” the mermaid said, and laughed.

Then she was gone.

“I hate to say it, but I am relieved to see her go,” Alice said. “Yes, it’s easier without another obligation,” Hatcher said. “It will be difficult enough to get close to the Rabbit as it is.” “I didn’t mean because she was an obligation,” Alice said. “I only meant that she was unpleasant. Though she is correct. It won’t be difficult to get close to the Rabbit. He obviously wishes to see me again, if he has mentioned my name so often that everyone knows it.”

“It won’t be difficult to see him if you walk to his door and announce yourself,” Hatcher said. “But I don’t want him to keep you. We must at least attempt stealth.”

“I don’t suppose there is any food in that pack other than Cheshire’s magic cake?” Alice asked hopefully.

Hatcher rummaged in the bag and placed all the remaining items on the dirt floor. The cloaks were still there, and the rope, and Hatcher’s extra weapons. The bread and apples that Bess had given them were gone, and so were Nell’s pies and the cake and drink from Cheshire. In their place was a pile of sandwiches wrapped in sacking, and a tall green glass bottle stoppered with a cork. Hatcher removed the cork and sniffed the contents.

“Cider,” he said, offering it to Alice.

“Should we trust it?” Alice asked. “The last drink Cheshire gave us made us large. It would not be a good thing to grow so large that we’re trapped in this tunnel.”

“This is all we have,” Hatcher said. “It’s this or we starve until we can leave this tunnel, and when we leave it, we will likely be on the Rabbit’s doorstep.”

“Cheshire has played some sort of game with us ever since we arrived at his cottage,” Alice said.

“You believe he sent us into the maze to be eaten by the creature?” Hatcher asked.

Alice nodded. “And when that failed, he ensured we arrived at the Caterpillar’s.”

“Do you think the sandwiches are poisoned?” Hatcher asked. “I don’t know,” Alice said. “But I don’t think Cheshire means us any good. And how is he doing this? Yes, he’s a Magician. I comprehend that. Is he watching us? Does he know what’s happening? Or is he guessing? Has he actually expected we would survive all along? Did he plan for us to rid him of his monster?” Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t know, Alice. I’m hungry. I’ll risk it.”

“And what if they are poisoned?” Alice asked, watching in alarm as Hatcher raise one of the sandwiches to his lips. “Who will find Jenny then? Who will help me destroy the Jabberwock?” Hatcher’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “I suppose it’s not worth the risk.”

“No,” Alice said. “Let’s . . . let’s just take a nap. Maybe when we wake we won’t feel so hungry.”

Hatcher repacked all the items in the bag. Then he leaned against the cave wall with his legs straight and put the axe in his lap, his hand loosely clasping the weapon. He held his other arm out for Alice to crawl into, and she did. His body was warm and safe, and he smelled clean, like the water of the lake that had washed them to the Caterpillar’s door.

Alice expected only to doze, for she was in a strange place, and though they had not seen any folk besides the mermaid, others surely used this path. But she dropped into a deep sleep almost immediately, and she was not troubled by dreams.

She woke to a sound like a cork leaving a bottle, and there was a faint scent of sulfur.

Alice opened her eyes as Hatcher sat up straight, wakened by the same noise that disturbed her.

There was a plate in the middle of the path, just beyond the soles of their boots. On that plate were the same sandwiches that Hatcher had reluctantly rewrapped and placed inside his sack again. Leaning against the plate was a white card with a picture of a smiling cat on it. Alice picked the card up and turned it over as Hatcher jumped to his feet, looking in both directions, the axe ready.

There were several words printed in large block letters on the back of the card. Alice held the card closer so she could see it in the dim light.

NOT POISONED.

EAT NOW. LATER THERE WILL NOT BE TIME.

THE FUN IS ONLY BEGINNING!

CHAPTER
13

Alice handed the card to Hatcher, who read it aloud. “Could he have been here?” Alice asked. “I don’t see any foot prints.”

“Nor I,” he said. “He must be watching us somehow.” Alice felt the back of her neck prickle. It was not a very nice feeling, to think that someone was watching you from afar, to feel that you had no private moments.

“If he is watching us,” Alice said, “then he knows the mermaid was released, and that she is coming for him.”

“Yes,” Hatcher said. “And he will also know that I killed Theobald.”

“Theodore won’t like that,” Alice said, thinking of the big guard who had scowled at them.

“I’m not concerned with Theodore,” Hatcher said with the ease of a man who has killed many and survived much.

“Hatch,” Alice said. She picked up one of the sandwiches, considering. She didn’t think Cheshire would lie to them outright. His way seemed to be concealment, trickery. So if he said the sand wiches were not poisoned, then they probably were not. Probably. “Mmm?” he said. He had walked a little way down the tunnel in the direction the mermaid had gone.

Alice took a bite of the sandwich. It tasted very good, like the cucumber sandwiches her mother liked to have for tea. “Do you remember what you did for the Rabbit?” Alice asked. This wasn’t precisely what she’d wanted to ask. She’d wanted to ask whether he remembered
before
the Caterpillar told him of Jenny, whether he had deliberately concealed his connection with the man who had tried to buy her and keep her as his prize. He walked back to her and crouched before the plate of sandwiches, picked one up and shoved half in his mouth in one bite. “I didn’t remember the Rabbit at all until the Caterpillar told that tale. Then I could see the faces of men I’d fought, feel their flesh give under my hands. I can see Hattie’s eyes, so sad and blue, and Jenny’s, bright and grey. I can see all of us together, having our tea at a tiny table that Hattie polished until it gleamed, and my knuckles scabbed from the day’s work. But the Rabbit . . . I can’t really see his face. I should be able to. It’s blocked out, somehow, by the idea of him that you put in my head. The fellow with the long ears and the blue-green eyes.”

“That’s not what you remember?” Alice asked.

“I don’t think he had long ears,” Hatcher said, and his face had that squashed-trying-to-remember look that he got sometimes. “It doesn’t seem right, your Rabbit and my Rabbit.”

“Maybe the ears came later,” Alice said. “He is a Magician, or so the Caterpillar said.”

“All these Magicians,” Hatcher said, his voice musing. “They must have the ministers in their pockets, else why were they not chased from the City like the others?”

“Do you think that the ministers know?” Alice asked. “Maybe the Rabbit and the Caterpillar and Cheshire and any others hid themselves so well that they weren’t suspected.”

“Rose Way isn’t exactly hiding,” Hatcher said. “And even the Caterpillar’s place was not of this world, and looked it from the outside. No, I think that Cheshire and the Caterpillar just had something to offer the men in power, and so were allowed to stay.” “Or the Magicians who stayed knew something about the ministers, something they could use against the City,” Alice said.

“Cheshire, in particular, probably holds more secrets than a wishing well.”

Hatcher dropped the sandwich suddenly, gripping both sides of his head. Alice spit out the last bit of her sandwich, terrified that the food was poisoned after all.

“Alice,” Hatcher said. “Everything is breaking apart inside.” “Was it the sandwich?” she asked, scrambling to his side. Why had she thought Cheshire trustworthy? “Do you feel sick?” “No,” he said. “Not like that. It’s my head. All the things I couldn’t remember are leaking through now, dribbling through the cracks. Hattie and Jenny. The Rabbit. Bess. I remember being small, and Bess making bread in the kitchen, singing a song about a butterfly.”

“No,” Alice said, rubbing his back, trying to soothe. His muscles jumped, as if sparking with lightning underneath the skin. “That was me. That is the song I sang to you in the hospital.” “It’s all mixed up,” he said. “It was all right before, when I didn’t remember anything except the blood and the axe slicing through them. I didn’t know about Jenny. Now it hurts inside my head and my heart is going to crack open, crack and shatter into a million pieces because I can’t bear it, Alice. I can’t bear to know what might be happening to her, somewhere far away from me.”

He stood and paced, his head twitching. Alice hadn’t seen him this agitated since they’d escaped the asylum. While they’d been out and free, his madness had receded, mitigated by the lack of walls around him. The Caterpillar’s knowledge might have broken open Hatcher’s memory, but the walls around them couldn’t be helping. It was close in this tunnel, and there was no sense of freedom, only a forced march on a singular path.

Hatcher strode back and forth, back and forth, taking no more space than he would if he were in his cell, even though that space was available.

When they’d been in locked in their own rooms, Alice had just let Hatcher’s fits run their course. She didn’t have many options when they were in separate rooms. Many nights she’d fallen asleep to the sound of him ranting and pacing on the other side of the mouse hole.

Now she wasn’t certain what to do. He might lash out at her if she tried to stop him. But he might be lost to her if she didn’t. She deliberately placed her body in his path. He plowed into her but she kept her feet, putting her hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. His eyes rolled in his head, the whites showing like a frightened horse.

“Hatcher,” she said. “We will find her. First we’ll find the Rabbit. Then we’ll find the Jabberwock. And then we’ll find Jenny.

We’ll find her.”

Alice wondered whether this meant they would be doomed to wander forever like Gilgamesh in the old story, seeking something they couldn’t find. They didn’t know where Jenny was, only that she was far away. And the little girl Hatcher remembered was grown now. She might not recall her father. She might even hate him. Hatcher’s body vibrated under her hands. He was a taut bowstring, ready to shoot.

“Be with me now,” Alice said, putting her face close to his. “Be here with me. Everything else is the past or the future. Don’t think about them. Be here with me, right now.”

She took his hand and placed it over her heart and breathed slow and easy, hoping he would follow her. A few moments later he was following the rhythm of her breath so that their inhales and exhales matched. His gaze sharpened, focused, recognized that she was Alice.

She smiled at him, but it was a tired smile. They had slept a little. They had eaten a little. There was so far to go still, and Alice was weary, and there was more fighting to come. She wished for a safe place to rest her head, a sanctuary for them to return to after their task was done. But there was no such place for them, and after the Jabberwock, there was Jenny.

Hatcher nodded, letting her know he was all right, and her hands fell away. He had kicked over the plate of sandwiches while rushing back and forth in his fit. Another white card was revealed, previously hidden beneath the food. Alice picked it up.

THERE WILL BE THREE

P.S. DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE MERMAID

“‘There will be three’?” Alice asked. “Three of what?”

Hatcher stilled, waving a hand to silence her. Alice cocked her head, listening close. There was a sound of claws scraping in the dirt from the tunnel ahead, and something else—a kind of clicking, chittering sound.

“It sounds like—” Alice began.

“Rats,” Hatcher finished.

“Rats,” Alice said. “I don’t like rats.”

“Cheshire said there would only be three,” Hatcher said. He collected their sack of supplies, slung it over his shoulder, took out the axe and started in the direction of the noise. “Why are you walking
toward
the noise?” Alice asked, panic settling into her chest. “And why are we trusting Cheshire?” She didn’t know why the thought of rats scared her more than the Caterpillar or the creature that had tried to eat Hatcher in Cheshire’s maze. Perhaps because the Caterpillar was a man, and thus could be distracted or reasoned with. As for the creature in the maze, Alice had seen it so briefly and acted so quickly she hadn’t had an opportunity to be frightened. She scurried along behind Hatcher, the knife in her right hand “I’m walking toward the noise because we will meet the cause whether we stand or move. Cheshire . . . Well, the sandwiches weren’t poisoned, were they?” Hatcher said.

“There are such things as slow-acting poisons,” Alice said. “If Cheshire wanted us dead, he would have let the roses strangle us,” Hatcher said. “I think he wants us to prove we’re worthy of his help.”

“A few moments ago you couldn’t even think in a straight line,”

Alice muttered. “Now you know what Cheshire’s intentions are?” Hatcher grinned. “Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I’m not right. And you were mad not so long ago yourself.”

The chittering grew louder, faster than Alice wished. Why was Hatcher rushing toward their fate? Why not wait and hope the creatures turned around, went in another direction?

Because Hatcher, whatever his flaws, would always pick a headfirst fight.

And Alice, because she had chosen him, would always be dragged with him.

Alice saw their eyes first, burning red out of the darkness. Then the teeth flashed, sharp and vicious. Hatcher paused, set his feet apart, blocking the tunnel. Alice resisted the very strong urge to cower behind him.

These were very large rats. Very, very large rats. Rats the size of horses. The lead rat would be able to touch its nose to Hatcher’s chest. Their horrible furless tails dragged along behind their enormous bodies. Alice hated rats’ tails most of all. There was something primal and repulsive about them, serpentine and yet not. “There are more than three,” Alice said. There was something like a dozen or more, all moving steadily in their direction. She would never believe another thing Cheshire told her. In fact, she heartily hoped she would never encounter that strange little Magi cian ever again.

“Yes,” Hatcher said, and raised his axe as they approached. “You can hardly kill them all,” Alice said.

He smiled again, and Alice saw the longing inside him for blood and mayhem. “I’ll enjoy trying.”

The lead rat stopped when it was a few feet from Alice and Hatcher. Alice wasn’t accustomed to crediting animals with emotion, but something about the rat seemed frightened. It shuffled its feet in the dirt restlessly, shaking its head to and fro. Alice noted the rat had a long white patch next to its mouth, almost like a scar from a knife.

“Will you let us pass?” the rat said.

Alice’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t help it. She’d seen many strange things already, but never had an animal spoken to her before.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Alice said, remembering her manners.

“That tunnel ends at the Caterpillar’s house.”

Hatcher’s hand dropped a little, and he stared at Alice, then at the rat. “Are you speaking to that creature?”

“Yes,” Alice said.

“And the Caterpillar’s house has fallen,” the rat said. “We know.

Everyone knows. You must have been the one to do it, else you would not be leaving the wreckage.”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” Alice asked.

“All the creatures who live undertown, all of the men who use these tunnels for their own purpose,” the rat said.

“Why are you running toward the Caterpillar’s?” Alice said.

“Why go to a dead end?”

The rat shifted again, its red eyes glancing behind. It moved forward, and Alice resisted the urge to flinch as it approached her.

It would not do to show fear to something with teeth so large. “The Walrus is rampaging,” the rat whispered, looking over its hump as if it expected to see the man behind him. “The Walrus and Mr. Carpenter are at war. The Caterpillar and the Walrus were allied against their enemies, so the Walrus was able to hold his own streets and those he stole from Mr. Carpenter. Now that the Caterpillar is dead, the Walrus finds none to stand with him, for he has poached on their territories for too long. Those who did not intervene before, like the Rabbit, will now side with Mr. Carpenter, and the Walrus will be destroyed.”

“Why did the Rabbit stay out of it before?”

“Because the Rabbit was allied with the Caterpillar as well, so he agreed to be a neutral party. There is no more Caterpillar, and therefore no need to be neutral.”

“But why do you run from a war in the streets?” Alice asked.

“What does it have to do with you?”

“The Walrus is rampaging,” the rat repeated.

“I’m sorry; I don’t understand what that means,” Alice said. “The Walrus uses some of us to fight in his ring. He likes to watch fighting, rats and humans and whatever other animal he can find. But he is so angry now he is killing anyone he sees, even those who served him loyally.” The rat whispered again. “He’s sworn to eat and murder whoever removed the Caterpillar.” “You mean murder and eat,” Alice said.

“No, I mean eat and murder,” the rat said. “I’d rather it the other way around, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d rather it not at all,” Alice said.

“So we are running and hiding where the Walrus will not find us, the place he would least suspect,” the rat said. “We have eight children in our nest, and I want them to live to bear my grandchildren.”

Alice peered at the other rats huddled behind the leader. Several of them were smaller than he.

“What is your name?” Alice asked.

“Nicodemus,” the rat replied. “And this is my nest-mate, Asora.” He nudged one of the rats with his tail, and she came forward, bowing her head at Alice.

“And I am Alice,” she said. “This is Hatcher.”

Nicodemus looked at Hatcher’s axe and then at his face. “
The

Hatcher?”

Hatcher didn’t reply, which Alice thought was very rude. She had never imagined she would be having a conversation with a rat, much less one so large, but there they were. She answered for him, giving him a little frown.

“I suppose,” she said. “I only know one Hatcher.” “The Walrus is looking for him, and you,” Nicodemus said. “Because of the Caterpillar?” Alice asked. She couldn’t conceal her surprise. How would the Walrus know they had anything to do with the Caterpillar’s death?