Circus Page 8

  “You won’t, Mister Petmaster,” Inspector Dormouse says. “But you, Amy Watson, will.”

  “But why—”

  I cut through the Pillar’s disdain again. “I have a good feeling about this. You’re Sherlock, and I am Watson, your assistant,” I tell Inspector Dormouse.

  Way to go, Alice. No wonder you’re supposedly majoring in Psychology in Oxford University—where you have not attended one class so far.

  Inspector Dormouse chuckles. The car shakes.

  “So tell me why Professor Petmaster can’t meet the March Hare,” I say.

  “Like I said, I’m taking a big risk here,” the inspector says. “Jittery is a danger to society. A few men and women are secretly kept where he is. I made a few phone calls and arranged for a meeting. Since I’m one of few men in the police force allowed to meet with dangerous madmen, they agreed. Hesitantly. They only agreed when I told him his niece wishes to see him.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I told them his niece is my only way to lure him into confessing anything about his madness.”

  “They believed you?” The Pillar raises a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Welcome to the real world,” Inspector Dormouse says. “No one cares about anything. Each worker in the system only cares to lift the responsibility off his shoulders. Give them a good reason and promise it’s all your fault when something goes wrong, and you're good to go.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I say. “So why aren’t we driving to meet Professor Jittery yet?”

  “Because I will have to blindfold your eyes and stuff your ears with earplugs,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I’m sorry, but no one gets to know the location of the secret asylum. The Hole.”

  Chapter 29

  Flight 321, Beijing airport, China

  The man inside the private airplane, ready to take off, was one of the closest to the president of China. An important man indeed, who had served his country for many years.

  He leaned back in his seat and stared at the invitation in his hand.

  He wasn’t quite a fan of the Queen of England, but he had heard about the Event a while ago. It was without question something he would love to be a part of. He and the likes of the Queen had a lot in common.

  He was curious.

  The Chinese man ordered his pilot to change direction and fly to London immediately. It was about time the world knew about the likes of him and the Queen.

  Chapter 30

  Secret asylum, the Hole. Somewhere in London?

  Time remaining: 20 hours, 34 minutes

  “What’s a cute girl like you doing in the Hole?” a male voice says.

  My eyes are still wrapped with some bandana that prevents me from seeing. I can only rely on my ears and sense of smell to know where I am. But it’s been hard to tell in the inspector’s car. London is noisy, crowded, and I don’t know it well. I only began relying on my senses when I stepped inside what seemed like an elevator.

  Now, I can feel my heart rise in my chest as we’re chugging down. I can hear the drone of a high-tech machine.

  And I don’t answer whoever is escorting me down the Hole.

  “We rarely have visitors to Professor Jittery.” He sounds young. In his twenties, maybe. A nurse of some sorts. “But rarely a beautiful girl like you.”

  I am getting more and more uncomfortable. Having been hit on twice today is a bit confusing—I remember the lanky officer at the circus this morning. Is that what happens to all girls my age when they’re going through their days? Should I giggle and dance, happy that boys don’t realize I am insane? Happy that they think I am beautiful and cute? Or is this the kind of normal obstacle that a girl with a mission has to face all day long? It’s as if girls aren’t expected to handle big stuff or something.

  “Can I pull off my blindfold?” I ask.

  “Of course, we’re almost there,” the boy in the elevator says. “Here. Let me do it for you—”

  His hands touch my face. I slap them as hard as I can. It’s spontaneous. It’s instinctual. It’s what I learned in None Fu.

  “Ouch!” the boy says. “What was that for?”

  I pull off my blindfold, feeling the thump of the elevator stopping under my feet. Slowly my eyes go from blurry to translucent then to normal vision. The boy’s face forms in front of me while the elevator doors open.

  When I fully regain my vision, I see the boy’s hand wounded. I did that? I must be learning to fight faster, although I didn’t need to hurt him.

  “Sorry. I’m not used to someone touching me, or even getting close. You’re cute yourself,” I say, not in an attractive way. “Shall we go?” I point at the door.

  “You also have beautiful eyes,” the boy, who turns out to be in his twenties, with short hair and a muscular figure, says.

  “I know.” I shrug, playing aloof. “But stay away. Some days I wake up crippled and insane.” I don’t have time for flirting. Incidents like these make me remember Jack. And I don’t want to remember Jack right now. It hurts too much.

  The boy laughs. “Beautiful and smart.” He ushers me through a corridor of white walls and white tiles. We stop before a white door, and it takes a while before I see him insert a magnetic card into a white slot in the door. The card is as white as everything else.

  How do they expect a patient to heal in here? All this white is driving me crazy.

  “Take this.” The boy hands me what looks like a very small remote control with a single red button on it. “If anything bad happens, if you want to leave, press the button. I will come to you.”

  I take it. “Don’t you have surveillance cameras inside so you’d know if something happens?”

  “No,” the boy says. “Inspector Dormouse asked for your privacy. Unless...”

  “He is right,” I say. “I better have no one watch me interrogate him.”

  “Great. Would you like to go out somewhere after this?”

  Wow. Where did that come from?

  “I killed my last boyfriend.” I am not lying.

  “So cute.” The boy doesn’t give up. “I don’t mind if you kill me.”

  “Listen.” I sigh. “You look like a nice guy. Seriously, you don’t want to know me. I talk to a flower that spits on me. I have fear of mirrors because of a large rabbit inside it. And again, some days I wake up crippled.”

  “Wow.” He is admiring me more. “You’re insane.”

  “There, you said it.”

  “I love insane girls.”

  I sigh. I don’t know how to shake him off. “No you don’t. Like, for instance, you know Fabiola, the renowned nun in the Vatican?”

  “Of course. Lovely lady.”

  “I watched her kill people inside the Vatican,” I say. Strangely, this seems to offend the boy a little. “With a Vorpal Sword. She fights like Jackie Chan and slits throats like a samurai."

  “You’re funny.” The boy takes a step back. His mouth twitching now. “A little bit weird, though.”

  “Haven’t I told you from the start?” I smirk, feeling like I am possessed by the Pillar. “Now, would you like to kiss me?”

  The boy frowns. Totally put off by me.

  “Nice.” I am happy. “Is there anything else I need to know before I enter to meet Professor March?”

  "Not at all. In fact, I'm totally convinced you're his niece now."

  Chapter 31

  Time remaining: 18 hours, 44 minutes

  Professor Jittery sits at the steel table in the room. It’s bolted to the floor. The first thing I see when I step inside is that his hands are handcuffed to a chain connected to the table.

  I step in slowly and look at him. He looks like a human version of a March Hare, if you unleash your imagination. Long grey hair dangling on both sides instead of rabbit ears. A grey beard, untrimmed, like he is about to write the next Lord of the Rings. His face is scruffy, and his cheeks are a little bubbly.

  I don’t know if I am unconsciously comparing
his image to the book, or if I’m actually starting to remember things. What really clinch it for me are his big eyes. Bulgy. Curious. Big. They’re almost popping out with all the madness in the world.

  He is wearing a white straitjacket, but with hands that are untied.

  “Do I know you?” he says, hands palm down on the table.

  “My name is Alice.”

  His eyes look like they’re about to get watery. A certain sparkle invades them. “I once knew a girl named Alice.”

  “But it’s not me?” I hesitate, still standing, questioning if I am ever going to know if I am the Real Alice.

  Professor Jittery watches me for a moment, as if he can’t tell. “Well, I was cursed not to recognize her face ever again, but no.” He shakes his head. “You’re not her. My Alice would have taken me in her arms and kissed my ears.” He lowers his head, looking at his chains. He seems sad. “I think she is dead, but I am not sure.”

  I find it strange he is opening up to me so fast. Maybe it’s because he’s been locked away here for so long. There is no point in holding anything back. “Sorry to hear that.” Sorry to hear I am dead. Or sorry to hear she is dead, and that I am not Alice. Or sorry for anything that doesn’t make sense anymore. “Someone sent me to meet you,” I begin.

  "Who?"

  "A man who claims to be the Hatter."

  His left eye twitches. "I don't who that is."

  "Whether you do or don't, I really need your help.” I want to ask him why he is locked away, but I am not sure how much time I am allowed with him. My priority is to find the rabbit.

  “I can’t help anyone.” He shrugs. “Because I can’t help myself.”

  “That’s not what the Hatter—I mean whoever led me here—thinks.”

  His eyes widen. But he says nothing.

  "He stuffed a bomb inside a rabbit and let it loose in the city.” I talk slowly so he understands every word. “To find it, he has been sending me clues with a deadline. His last clue was to come and see you.”

  “Why me?”

  “He said you know where to find a place called the Snail Mound. I should find the rabbit there."

  "Do you realize how confused you are?" he says. "One time you say the rabbit is all over the city, and the other time you say it's in this Snail Mound."

  "I know it doesn't make sense, but I can't risk not following the clues and waking up tomorrow with children exploded because of that bomb."

  "Children?"

  "He sent me a video with children playing with the rabbit."

  "This man really messes with your mind," he remarks. Coming from a man locked in an underground asylum, I feel like I have to admit my insanity immediately.

  "Look, I'm trying to save the kids, so either you know where the Snail Mound is or you don't." I sigh. “I guess the Pillar was right. There is something wrong about this whole thing.”

  “Ah, Professor Carter Pillar,” he says. “That’s what it is all about. Please don’t trust that man, young girl. He must be using you for something.”

  “So you know him?”

  “Of course I do. He knows me, too. That’s a long time ago,” he says. “He killed a lot of people.”

  “Tell me more about him.” I approach the table. Sit down across from him. “Why did he kill those people? Why are they saying the Alice Underground book drove him insane? Whose side is he on?”

  "Let's put it this way, the Pillar is on no one’s side but his own.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you should turn around and leave this place. Make sure you never talk to him again. And forget about anything he’s told you,” Professor Jittery says firmly. “The Wonderland Wars, if you’ve heard of them, aren’t a game. You’d be lost and lose your mind over it.”

  “I am already—” I want to tell him that I am insane, but realize we’re off topic here. I need to focus on priorities again. “Okay. I will leave. Just tell me how to get to Wonderland. Isn't the Snail Mound a door to Wonderland?"

  Professor Jittery laughs broadly. “I wish it was that easy.”

  “So you do know where Snail Mound is. What do you mean you wish it was easy?”

  “No one knows where it is now,” he says. “I, of all people, can assure you that. Because I have been searching for it for so long. But for starters, you need to find Six Impossible—”

  “Keys,” I interrupt. “I know that. Then why did this man who calls himself the Hatter tell me he hid the rabbit in Snail Mound in Wonderland?”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “He was specific about it,” I say. “Come on, why don't you tell me how I can get to Snail Mound?”

  Suddenly, Professor Jittery’s eyes dart toward the wall behind me. They’re bulging with curiosity again. Wait. That’s not curiosity. This is utter nervousness. Fear. He starts to stare up at the ceiling. Fidgeting in his place. “I can’t tell you,” he whispers. “They’re listening.”

  “Who is?”

  “Lower your voice,” he insists, his eyes still fixed up. “Come closer.”

  I lean across the table.

  “Whatever you say, and sometimes whatever you think, they know about it.” He shudders.

  “No one can hear us,” I say. “I asked them to stop the surveillance cameras. I assure you, no one is listening.”

  He chews on his lip and winces. The chains rattling. “You’re not listening to me.” He sighs. “Come closer.”

  “I can’t come closer,” I say. I am on the edge of the table. Reluctantly, I stretch my palms across. I want to gain his trust.

  “They don’t need cameras to see what’s in your head,” he whispers. My hands grip the remote tighter. I might need to press the button anytime soon. “They don’t need a recorder. They’re already inside your head. In mine, too.”

  “You mean they planted something in your head?” I play along. Conspiracy girl sitting across from a lunatic scientist from Wonderland.

  He nods, pupils wider.

  “Really?” I am part curious, part acting curious.

  “They always do, but most people don’t know it,” he continues. “Everyone is under surveillance all the time. They know what they’re doing. It’s how they control the world.”

  “Who are they?”

  “You know who they are.” He grunts, frustrated by my utter ignorance.

  “Of course.” I keep playing along. “I just forgot their name.”

  “They call themselves Black Chess,” Professor Jittery announces. His eyes shoot to the roof; he’s worried they heard him. I realize he is not staring at the roof—he is trying to look inside his own head. “They’re the ones who walk on the black tiles of the Chessboard of Life.”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve hear this. The Pillar told this to me, and so did Fabiola, but I have no idea what that means.

  “So Black Chess...” I begin.

  “Lower your voice,” he says.

  “So Black Chess planted something in your head to read your mind?”

  He nods. Getting more fidgety and worried. Now sweating a little. “They want to steal my designs. They want to know what I discovered about this world we live in when I studied science. They want to know if I can expose them. Most of all, they want to know the secrets of my gardens.”

  I remind myself that the Pillar told me Professor Jittery designed a few of the most famous gardens in the world. Why do I have a feeling I should know more about this? The haze in my head begins to slowly form again.

  But before I lunge into another limbo of dizziness, I wake up to Professor Jittery pounding on the table.

  “My gardens. They want to know the secrets to my gardens,” he slurs all of a sudden, drooling a little. He wipes his mouth. The chains give him enough slack to reach for his face. “They want to know about...”

  Suddenly he stiffens, as if someone has shocked him with an electric prod. His eyes are fixed like arrows at the top of his head.

  “They want to know about
what?” I demand, infected by his nervousness.

  “Can’t say,” he barely says through his teeth. “It’s on. They can see me now. They can hear everything I am saying. It’s on!”

  “What’s on?” I press hard on the sides of the remote, arching my head forward.

  “The thing in my head,” he says. “It’s on. They can see everything now.”

  “What’s that thing in your head? Can you see it? What is it?” I am tense, as much as he is. I think the man’s going into a seizure. “What’s in your head?”

  “A light bulb,” he finally says. “They have turned it on. They can see everything.”

  Chapter 32

  Time remaining: 18 hours, 11 minutes

  There is hardly anything I can say now, not after Professor Jittery announces he has a light bulb in his head. I mean, I hoped he was at least a little bit sane until that last sentence. But a light bulb? How am I supposed to believe that?

  I lean back, waiting for his episode to subside, but it doesn’t. His jittery moves intensify. He is a tall and strong man. I am worried he can unchain himself, although he doesn’t look like he’d hurt me. He is just another Wonderland loon, a product of Alice in Wonderland, the weirdest book in history. But aren’t we all weird-speaking nutcrackers on the edge of our minds?

  “I need to cover my head with something. I need to dim the light bulb.” He pulls his head into his outfit, looking like he’s wearing a cloak now.

  “Did you turn the light bulb off?” I ask, not knowing how to help a man who thinks he’s been spied on through a light bulb shimmering in his head.

  “I just dimmed it, which is fine.” He wipes drool from his mouth. “I buried my secrets in a special part of my brain. When I hide my head under my clothes, they usually can’t find their way around for a while. Then they usually give up and leave me alone when they’re frustrated.”

  “You have a special place in your brain where you hide things from others?” I am making conversation until he cools down.

  “Come here,” he whispers. “You know there is a left side of the brain and right side, right?”