“Nah,” Number 7 said. “I’m sure everything will be recorded with the garden’s surveillance cameras. Besides, the big moment hasn’t arrived yet.”
“You keep talking about the big moment,” Number 9 said. “When is that exactly?”
“The moment when she is closer to circus.”
“The circus?” Number 9 chortled. “That would be a slithy borgrove and totally mishmash moment.” He laughed from under his cloak.
Number 7 laughed too. “Oh, man. This girl is in for the surprise of her life.”
“I wonder why she is so eager to enter.” Number 9 still watched Alice through his binoculars. “Why does she care so much? I mean, it’s only a rabbit that will explode, along with a few people. It’s not like it doesn’t happen every day.”
“She is insane,” Number 7 said. “Insane people think they can save the day. If she only knew what’s in store for her.”
Number 9 and Number 7 watched Inspector Dormouse open the main gate to the vacant Garden of Cosmic Speculation. Everyone seemed to hesitate to enter, but not the girl. Alice stepped forward, standing by the threshold.
Chapter 37
The Garden of Cosmic Speculation, Dumfries, Scotland
Time remaining: 13 hours, 30 minutes
I stand before the gate to the garden.
I stiffen. The haze in my head returns. I am a little dizzy again. It’s as if I am about to remember something but can’t quite cross the threshold of blocked memories.
The garden looks endless from here, with all its bumps and turns. Its grounds, mostly green, seem bright against the cloudy sky above. There is a vast land that looks like a chessboard in the distance, the one I saw in the pictures. A little farther is what looks like a huge DNA helix, made of silver. Farther beyond, I see the sparkling waters of a river.
A sudden feeling of being seven years old again overwhelms me. I want to run the distance. Aimlessly. Irresponsibly. So happy without a specific reason to be. I want to sing all the songs, jump up and down, and declare my existence. I want to be whoever I want to be without even considering the consequences.
I want to own the world again, to be a child all over again.
But the place is the weirdest piece of art I have ever seen, too. It’s like an awesome roller coaster where you can’t help but wonder if it’s going to kill you. Its vastness, as beautiful as it is, scares me, though.
I swallow hard, holding to the gate, as I remember the March Hare’s warning. He told me something was really wrong with this garden, and so has the Pillar. But the March Hare was specific about it: I have to stay away from the circus.
“Do you know what the Snail Mound looks like?” The Pillar stands behind me, sharing my view into the garden.
“It’s a spiral green hill, overlooking one of these rivers,” I say. “I should not waste time and start looking for it.” I turn and face him. “I want my bag with the housemaid dress, the gloves, and the fan.”
The pillar hands my backpack over. “Want your umbrella, too?”
“Nah, I’ll stick with what that so-called Hatter led me to collect. Let’s see what this is all about.”
“Great,” Inspector Dormouse says. “Let’s look for the rabbit with the bomb. My men will spread all over the place.”
“I’ll be with you as well,” the Pillar says.
“I don’t mind, but we’ll have to spread to find it faster. And I’d prefer to take my route alone.”
Why I don’t trust the Pillar now, I have no idea. But all the warnings must have some truth to them. I try not to think too much about it.
I remember the so-called Hatter said only Mary Ann can find the rabbit. And I am supposedly Mary Ann.
But why am I Mary Ann? I guess I will find out.
I take a deep breath, as if I am about to take a dip in the ocean of the unknown, and step inside.
Chapter 38
The Garden of Cosmic Speculation, Dumfries, Scotland
Time remaining: 13 hours, 06 minutes
While Inspector Dormouse’s men spread through the garden, I take my own route, curious about a few tiger lilies over a hedge. I follow them up and down the hills, as they flare their orange hue onto the place.
But they don’t lead me anywhere specific.
Then there are a few other flowers with petals that look like mouths. They remind me of the roses in Lewis Carroll’s book, talking to Alice and making fun of her.
I still can see the police flashing their lights in the distance. Deep inside, I don’t want to totally lose them. I glimpse the Pillar too. He is sitting over a hill with a bag of carrots.
Still walking, I wish I could glimpse a memory hidden deep in my brain—maybe between the right and left part, like Professor Jittery said. I realize I really like this man.
If parts of this garden are from the real Wonderland then I should remember something, or so I like to believe.
But nothing comes to me. I am just a stranger in a garden I have never been too before. I am a stranger, even to myself.