Alice Wonder's house, 7 Folly Bridge, Oxford
Time remaining: 14 minutes
Outside, the police point their guns at me.
Everywhere around me there is some kind of microphone or a news reporter. Behind them, hordes of people boo at me.
“Get rid of the rabbit!”
“Kill it!”
“She is the one who let the rabbit loose!”
Slowly, I step forward as the police demand I hand them the rabbit.
“Do you have a bomb expert who may know how to defuse the bomb?” I ask politely, well aware my maid’s dress and the blood on my face isn’t really helping my image.
“We don’t need a bomb squad,” says the lanky officer I saw in the Six O’clock Circus. “We’ll drown it in the river and let it explode in there.”
“But what about the rabbit?”
“You’re not going to pull that ‘animal rights’ crap on us again, are you?” another officer says. “We know who you are, you and that imposter, Professor Carter Pillar. You’ve both escaped the asylum.”
“She is mad!” an old woman yells from the crowd.
Like always, I wonder who is mad here. Am I such a silly, unreasonable girl because I want to save a rabbit as much as I want to save myself?
“Hand me the rabbit, Alice,” a familiar voice says. It’s Inspector Dormouse, wide awake now. “I know who you are now. We got the memo. Let’s make this easier on everyone. Hand the rabbit over and let us escort you back to the asylum. You’re not well, young lady.”
I don’t move, patting the scared rabbit and hugging it closer to my chest. I can feel its escalating heartbeat.
For a moment, I realize the scope of what I have been through for two days. This Hatter, not only did he push me to remember the circus to get to the key, he also managed to raise my uneasiness with the world around me. Looking at the police, the reporters, and the crowd, I can’t overlook the fact that they are the descendants of those who created the circus and used the mentally ill as a form of entertainment.
The idea confuses me.
Am I supposed to take the Wonderland Monsters’ side? If not, then give me one reason why I should keep saving a human life every day.
“Pillar!” I shout. “Where are you?”
It’s funny, yet sad, how he is always my last resort. With all the madness surrounding me, I prefer his madness the most.
“The Pillar has been sent back to the asylum, Alice,” Inspector Dormouse tells me. “He can’t help you. Give back the rabbit. I think you only have three minutes left. Give it to us and we’ll drown it in the river. And we’ll all be safe.”
The world is such a useless place, that’s all I can think of now. It’s full of hypocrites, liars, and selfish people. And even if I’m dramatizing things, I realize I prefer to go back to the asylum. At least I know who is who in there.
But first, and since I am a mad girl on national TV, I need to do one last crazy thing.
I run through the cops with the rabbit in my arms, neglecting all the panic and shouting around me. I run away with the rabbit, which I am not going to hand over or drown in the water.
I don’t know what will happen to both of us. But I feel we’re both the same in this world. We’re both overwhelmed by human cruelty—and stupidity—in this mad world. I hug tighter and run away with it.
And before I know it, I hear the explosion.
Chapter 75
Buckingham Palace, London
“Hoooraaay!”
Tom Truckle was overwhelmed by the hailing crowd staring at the screen. They all stood up, clinking glasses and smiling and congratulating each other, as if celebrating an independence day.
Tom stood up, pretending to be as enthusiastic, unable to believe what he’d just seen.
Did he just watch Alice Wonder explode with that rabbit on live TV?
It seemed like it.
And it seemed normal, in a very abnormal way, to have all those lunatic guests of the Queen hail the explosion and the madness it caused. But why were people in the streets happy about Alice’s explosion?
Families congratulated each other and let out sighs of relief, as did the police officers and reporters. It seemed like Alice’s death was the best thing that had happened to them in their lives. Everyone was happy the bomb went off on the poor mad girl who’d just escaped the asylum. As long as it didn’t hurt them, it was just okay.
“And this, my fellow loons”—the Queen of England snickered in the microphone—“is just a small example of the kinds of madness we’ll bestow on this world we live in.”
Was that the plan? To drive the world mad, really?
“Enjoy this hilarious scene for a while,” the Queen said. “And then I will tell you about the ultimate plan. I will tell you about the real Wonderland Wars!” she said as if she were Hitler, brought back from the grave and wearing a wig.
Chapter 76
Psychiatry, Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum
I am back were it all started, in that awful dark room with that awful doctor. I am lying on the couch, and my leg feels numb.