Circus - Jace Cameron - Страница 24
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And there it is: a small door at the bottom of the wall.
Chapter 43
Time remaining: 12 hours, 01 minutes
The door is made of steel. It’s unbreakable.
It has a small keyhole but no key. When I try to look through it, I only see darkness on the other side.
My mind can’t come up with what to do next. There has to be a key, or a clue, but I can’t find any. I stare back at the map of Wonderland. Knowing there are so many places I can get to right now drives me crazy.
I kneel down and look for a key in the dirt. There must be one. But I still don’t find any.
However, I come upon a surprise: a tiny bottle with pink liquid inside.
I lift it up beneath the phone’s light, and I don’t have to guess what’s written on the bottle’s label. It fits with the book, as if I am living the Alice story all over again—or reliving it, pick your insanity and go with it.
The writing on the label says: Drink Me.
I am totally aware of this being the Hatter’s game, and I know the consequences may be dire, but I have to play anyway. Not sure why, though. Am I doing this to find the rabbit, or...?
I pull the cork and stare at the liquid. What will this drink really do to me? It won’t shrink me, will it? That would be so unlike the real world. Of course, I have seen madder things in this world, but I feel that shrinking in size is just too cliched.
But I suppose this is my only way out of this hole. I take a deep breath and gulp it in one shot.
My eyes blur and my head feels like it’s going to explode. The impact is too strong and I fall to my knees.
The phone rings next to me, and I can barely see the Pillar’s name flash on its screen. My hands feel numb, but I try my best to reach for it.
When I succeed, and hear the Pillar’s voice, I realize I can’t speak. My tongue is numb. I am trying my best not to swallow it and die.
Chapter 44
Queen's Chamber, Buckingham Palace, London
Margaret Kent watched the Queen get ready.
It had taken her about an hour to fit into her dress, enough time to chop a couple of heads off in between—she was upset with her servant’s sluggish work, so a dead head lay next to her on the palace’s floor.
“I’m ready, Margaret,” she wailed, powdering her face. “Are all my guests here?”
“All of them arrived, My Queen,” Margaret said. “They’re waiting in the meeting room.”
“So none of them rejected the invitation?” The Queen looked impressed.
“Each and every one of the them from all over the world is in the meeting room.” Margaret hesitated. “Except one, of course.”
“I know who that guest is.” The Queen pouted. “I expected the rejection.”
Margaret was curious. “I’m surprised you invited that guest in particular to the Event.”
“Some invitations are meant to be declined.” The Queen grinned. “But you wouldn’t understand it, Duchess. Some of my actions are too smart for the likes of you.”
“But of course.” Margaret swallowed her humiliation. After all, it was the Queen who was dumb like a drum. But she couldn’t tell her that and risk her head being chopped off. “How would I ever match your genius, My Queen. Should I announce your arrival to the guests?”
“Not before you kiss my hand.” The Queen sneered.
Margaret bowed and kissed the Queen’s hand. It wasn’t an easy task, as every part of it was wrapped in jewelry.
“That’s better, or I’d have sent you to the asylum, along with the flamingo,” the Queen said, chin up. “Now, go tell the guests I’m on my way, and once I arrive I will show them something they have never seen the likes of before.”
Margaret obeyed the Queen and left.
***
Once she was alone, the Queen pushed a button next to her bed and the secret door parted in the wall. She stepped through into what looked like a wall closet.
On its floor, there was a coffin.
The Queen pushed the lid open and stared at the woman inside. “I wonder what I should really do with your body,” the Queen said. “Should I burn it, or will I actually need to wake you up someday?”
It only took her a moment to pull the coffin to a close again. Before she did, she took one last look at the real Queen of England inside, the one she had managed to change her features to match.
The Queen of Hearts of Wonderland wasn’t happy with looking like the real Queen of England. That Queen looked too peaceful, too smiley. Where was the grit? Where was the power?
But it was a necessary evil to her—she’d made the transformation through a nonsensical Lewis Carroll potion—at least until she persuaded her visitors with her world-changing plan.
Chapter 45
The rabbit hole, the Garden of Cosmic Speculation
Time remaining: 12 hours, 01 minutes
I wake up to a continuous beeping on my phone.
Eyes still blurry, I reach for it blindly until I clasp it by accident from the floor. When I bring it to my face, I am shocked by its size. It looks as big as a plasma TV.
How so, when I am gripping it in the palm of my hand?
The pain in the back of my head attacks me, and I remember that I am under the influence of the pink drink in the bottle.
Did it really shrink me, now that I think I am smaller than my own phone?
But I’m gripping it. What kind of mind-bend is that?
Through my hazy vision, I realize that almost everything around is much bigger than me. Or I am much smaller than them.
Even the small door at the foot of the wall.
Then again, when I reach for it, I can touch it as if it’s small, not big.
The phone keeps beeping.
I push the overly big answer button—the one that is also small—and find more than a hundred messages from an anonymous number.
It must be the Hatter.
What you’re experiencing now is no hallucination—although it is in a way. It’s a medical condition, induced by the pink drink. It’s called the Alice Syndrome.
What?
Furious, I message back:
Why don’t you just talk to me face to face, instead of hiding behind the alphabet of your messages!
The reply arrives instantly:
I don’t think that will be useful, since you can’t talk at the moment.
Suddenly, I remember my numb tongue. I try to say my name but can’t. My tongue is just dangling like an earring from my mouth. I suppose it was also induced by the drink, but it feels horrible.
What do you want from me? I message back.
A reply arrives:
To continue playing the game until it has to stop.
I don’t even know what that means. He continues writing:
You will crawl through the small door and find yourself in a vast tunnel system underground. Then, with the GPS coordinates, I want you to find a place for me.
I write back:
How can I even get past the door?
He writes back:
Don’t worry, I will tell you how. You haven’t asked me about the place I want you to find. I’m starting to think you’re not taking this seriously. If you don’t, I will set the rabbit loose on the streets of London.
I have no idea how he’d send the rabbit back to London, or where the rabbit is right now. All I know is that I am dealing with craziest maniac I’ve met so far. I don’t think I can ask him where I really am.
Where is that place?
He responds immediately:
If I knew I’d have found it myself. Only you can find it. It’s either in Wonderland or the real world. I am not sure, but I know it can be accessed behind that small door—and don’t ask why.
My tongue still feels numb. I write to him:
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