“I never knew. I only heard Margaret telling Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock fourteen years.”
“This is so crazy.” I hold my head in my hands. “Why send me into the future, not the past, to get the keys? I asked them, but they told me some gibberish I couldn’t fathom.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the Pillar says. “Nor does it matter how you left a note to remind you about the whereabouts of the keys. Maybe you have been into the future before. What matters is that we find the keys as soon as possible, then figure out a plan to hide then. You can’t go back with the keys, or Black Chess will have them.”
“Okay,” I say. I like the Pillar when he is on point. “The note says I have to find the Mock Turtle in the Oxford Asylum. You know who he is?”
“Met him a couple of times in Wonderland. Don’t even remember how he looked. He was pretty much no one. Can we go find him now?”
“Yes. I needed to know a few things first. God. I can’t believe the university is an asylum now. And did you see Parliament turning into a circus?”
“Some things never change.” He drives ahead. “Have you seen Mac Burger? It’s Rat Burger now.”
“Nothing surprises me now.”
“All but the fact that we may need help to get into the asylum.” He points ahead. I look and see the Oxford Asylum is heavily protected with Red mercenaries after the fire.
“Just drive through them with your truck,” I say. “We can always fix the past later.”
“Can’t do it. We need to sneak into the asylum, not break into it, or we won’t have enough time to find this Mock Turtle.”
“How do we get inside, then?”
“I have an idea. A rather mad one.” He turns the wheel to the left and guns it through the streets. “Glad to have you back in the future, Alice.”
Chapter 19
THE PRESENT: LONDON
The Cheshire’s head was about to explode. Not that he’d found answers to what he wanted to know about Alice. But Jack’s continued thoughts, and caring, about the mad girl began to escalate to another level. A level of something the Cheshire had never experienced before. He thought humans called them emotions.
“Holy meows and paws,” he mumbled, rubbing his chest. “In the name of my nine lives, what’s that I’m feeling?”
Jack’s thoughts weren’t based on logic. No, not really. Not the way cats would calculate the speed, size, and distance of a scurrying rat. Jack’s thoughts were silver linen to a warm buzz that filled the Cheshire’s chest with light.
It was a good feeling, actually. A dash of anxiety, care, and total devotion to someone else other than the self. Something the Cheshire didn’t think he’d experienced before.
He sat down on a bank, opposite the Inklings.
He was supposed to be ready for when Alice woke up with the keys, deceive her with Jack’s looks, and take them from her, then bring them back to Margaret Kent.
But now the Cheshire doubted his capabilities. Not with Jack’s fuzzy and utterly silly feelings about Alice. Those weren’t the kinds of feelings of someone wanting to hurt another.
What in the name of paws and claws was that?
The thing that bothered him the most was that these were human feelings. The humans he’d hated all his life — and planned to hate for eternity.
How were they capable of this?
“Don’t fall for it,” he told himself. “It’s just a facade made by the hypocrite humans. They use it to pretend they love one another while they don’t. It’s a cliché. It’s cheesy; even more cheesy than Cheshire cheese itself. Jub Jub and slithy and full of rotten mushrooms.”
But still he knew it wasn’t really that. Because Jack was practically dead. And if not, the Cheshire had never possessed a soul that had the ability to mess with his brain.
These were Jack’s true feelings about a girl he met in school a few years ago. It was so weird that the Cheshire began seeing her picture before his cat’s eyes. Not the usual black and white, but very colorful this time.
The Cheshire heard his phone ring. It was Margaret. She was probably calling to ask about the progress of her plan. He picked up and said, “Jack speaking.”
“What did you say?” the Duchess roared.
The Cheshire hadn’t meant to say he was Jack. He realized that he was falling in love with Jack. Maybe Alice. Maybe both.
Because who the heck exuded so much emotion toward a person who’d killed them in a bus accident?
Chapter 20
THE FUTURE: OXFORD
“Where are we going?” I ask the Pillar.
“To meet someone who’ll help us with sneaking into the asylum.” The Pillar honks for the fun of it.
“Someone? Who? Are they going to lend us doctor uniforms?”
“That wouldn’t work with the Reds at this time. They can smell the likes of me and you a mile away.”
“Then who?”
“Someone who’s practically our enemy.”
“Why would we use an enemy to help us?”
“Because he has a gift like nobody else.”
“Stop the puzzles, Pillar. Who?”