Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
Alice and Shadow spent the night in the woods, with the stream’s burbling long forgotten behind them. When darkness came— true darkness, during which not even stars or moon gave off any light—she curled up in Shadow’s arms, unburdened by fear. He would keep her safe.
She knew what they had to do, but Alice was reluctant to proceed with their plan. What if, once they left this simulation, once they left Wonderland, nothing was the same? What if she never saw Shadow again? What if he wasn’t even in the same facility as her? It wasn’t impossible that Wonderland was a network connecting numerous facilities, each containing hundreds or thousands of patients. And Shadow didn’t even know who he really was, didn’t even know his real name. How would she find him once they got out?
Alice snuggled closer to him, and Shadow released a contented purr and tightened his arms around her. Her connection with him was stronger than any relationship she’d had in her life.
I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose him .
And it was with those thoughts that she’d succumbed to sleep.
They resumed their trek shortly after waking in the morning light, with only a brief side excursion—Shadow vanished for nearly a minute, and when he returned, Sithix’s knife-laden belt was buckled around his narrow waist.
Though his nearness urged her onward, Alice’s reluctance to go to Rosecourt, toward what was meant to be their escape from Wonderland, hadn’t diminished. They held hands through most of the journey, and even when their hands weren’t touching, they remained in contact—with his tail brushing softly against her leg, or Alice holding onto it while he walked slightly ahead. He seemed unwilling to let her out of his sight, unwilling to let her out of reach. And she understood; she felt the same way about him.
Even in this world, there were too many things that could tear them apart. There was too much threatening their togetherness.
Night did not fall again, but it felt like they walked for days, like they crossed hundreds of miles. Despite that sense, Alice was never once bored or tired. Shadow’s presence soothed her, and his conversation—sometimes rambling, sometimes more lucid than she’d ever heard him, but always entertaining—filled the time perfectly.
At some point during their travels, she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since arriving in Wonderland. Even that realization didn’t awaken her appetite. Thirst and hunger didn’t seem to apply here—she’d only had some water at the stream in all her time in the simulation, not counting the drug-laced drink that had been forced upon her by Madame Cecilia. By now, she could simply accept that food and drink were for enjoyment rather than necessity in this simulation; it made as much sense as anything else. She still found it odd that she needed to sleep—it was as though her mind needed a break from Wonderland every now and then.
Alice’s favorite times were the handful of stops they made—not because they delayed their arrival in Rosecourt, but because those were the times during which she and Shadow made love.
The forest was, maddeningly, both incredibly consistent and impossibly varied. Though their appearances remained the same, the plants seemed, at random intervals, to change sizes, and at a few points all the colors were completely different—blue leaves, purple trunks, flowers that were the inverse of their usual colors. Alice and Shadow occasionally traveled through areas that were decidedly not part of the forest, the most memorable of which was a neatly tended garden that seemed to be made in the proportion of the trees and plants surrounding it. The barriers between flower beds—barriers that would’ve been perhaps six inches tall back home—stood almost as tall as Alice, and the stone benches set throughout the garden were high enough that neither she nor Shadow could even see onto their seats. The weatherworn statues, many of which depicted cherubic figures in various carefree poses amidst the flowers, were titanic.
The strangest part of it all was how normal it seemed now. Only a few days ago—a few days ago according to the slowly suffocating rational part of Alice’s mind—such sights would’ve been mind-boggling. Now they just seemed mundane. However…
“Are there giants here?” she asked.
“If there are, I’ve never seen one,” Shadow replied. “Though…I’m sure it’s all just a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”
Alice looked at him, cocking her head. “What do you mean?”
Shadow shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps we are just very small—or otherwise very big. Who’s to say our normal is normal at all?”
She chuckled. “Here in Wonderland? I guess no one.”
Of course there was a giant garden. Just like there was a place where one of the purple cobblestone paths wound in a huge spiral, its loops growing smaller and smaller as it curled in on itself. Shadow and Alice followed that path, and when they reached the center, they were simply…somewhere else in the woods. She shrugged it off without a second thought and continued onward.
As Shadow had said—they would get to wherever they were going. Direction made little difference.
Despite having never been to Rosecourt, Alice knew when they were close—the atmosphere shifted. They emerged from the trees and stepped onto another cobblestone path, but this one was at least thirty feet wide—a cobblestone road . The trees along its edges were bent inward, creating a tall natural tunnel that ran as far as she could see. The air here was thicker, charged with a strange mixture of frantic energy and heavy foreboding. Posts set at irregular intervals along the road were topped with flickering electric lanterns that filled the tunnel with uneven, dancing light. The sunshine did not penetrate the leaves overhead.
“Almost there,” Shadow said, his voice lower and quieter than normal as he stared down the road, the end of which was lost in a distant mist.
A chill skittered down Alice’s spine, and she looked at Shadow. “What’s wrong?”
“The air feels… bad .” He looped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. “We know why the king was coming here. We just…” Shadow turned his head to look down at her, his eyes solemn. “We just need to be careful and keep alert.”
It was at moments like this that Alice knew Shadow had changed; he was different from when they’d first met. He was more lucid, more himself. Something drastic had shifted within him, and it had started during their visit to Miraxis’s house.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. “We can’t just…go in there and confront him.”
Shadow walked forward slowly, and she matched his pace, though part of her didn’t want to take even a single step more toward Rosecourt. The urge to turn back, to find a quiet place to hide with him, to live with him, swelled in her chest and made her throat tight.
But it wouldn’t really be living . This place wasn’t real, and they would never be able to live here peacefully. Their lives would always be in danger so long as they were in Wonderland, so long as their bodies—their real bodies—were left to waste away in the real world.
“That absolutely was not my plan,” he said unconvincingly.
Despite the situation, Alice couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t believe you ever really have a plan for anything.”
“I have all sorts of plans all the time! Like goad the Hatter into anger, or irritate Jor’calla, or toy with Miraxis, or… You know, the specifics don’t matter. I’m an excellent planner.”
“I believe specifics are usually required when you’re planning something. That’s why it’s called a plan, Shadow.”
He threw up his free hand, palm turned skyward. “The best plans are adaptable, which means fewer specifics. You really just need the general gist of the plan. Any more is a waste of time.”
Alice nodded once. “Okay. We can do this.”
I hope.
She faced forward, and they continued to walk along the tunnel. The mist only seemed to thicken as they moved. It was reminiscent of the swamp of sleepers; Alice cast those unsettling memories aside.
“So…we’re going to confront the king and his army with your beltful of knives, overcome them, and force him to tell us how to get out of Wonderland,” she said.
“That is the essence of the plan, yes.”
“That sounds like a terrible plan. Shouldn’t we worry about their guns, or that he has at least twenty or thirty robotic soldiers?”
“I’ve never much worried about any of that before.” His hold on her tightened. “Though the stakes are much higher now.”
Alice curled her fingers into his jacket and tilted her head, resting it against him as they walked. “You can disappear.”
His voice was uncharacteristically thick when he said, “But you can’t.”
Those words bolstered her—because his caring was evident in them—while also reminding her of the immense risk they were taking. Shadow was different from everyone else Alice had encountered in Wonderland so far; he was unique. But there was something different about the Red King, too, something inherently more dangerous—and it all had to do with Jor’calla’s cryptic words about beyond .
Alice had no doubt that the king knew this was a simulation. She just couldn’t figure out how he knew, or why he was able to come and go as he pleased.
The road continued straight— too straight, if that was possible. After experiencing all the nonsensical winding pathways and unnatural angles in the rest of Wonderland, this road, a seemingly normal road, was totally out of place. That only enhanced the unsettling air around it.
Alice’s unease increased with every step. She couldn’t ignore the possibility that they’d find a dead city, its streets piled with corpses and its gutters flooded with crimson streams. The king meant to cull Wonderland, after all. He was marching on Rosecourt to kill people.
A wall materialized from the mist. It was at least fifteen feet high, and as Alice neared it, she realized that it looked to be made of concrete—though the concrete was covered in layer upon layer of colorful graffiti, much of it faded by age and weather. The road ran through a wide gap in the wall, to either side of which lay two massive, rusted metal doors, neither of them attached to the concrete any longer.
Shadow guided her through the gap.
The mist cleared instantly, and Alice halted in shock. There’d been no sign of the tall, vibrantly colored buildings lining the road beyond the wall a moment ago, no sign that there was anything on the other side of the wall but more fog, and yet she now stood on a bustling city street.
The buildings were painted in colors that were sometimes complementary but were just as often clashing, and their architectures presented some of the same odd, impossible angles and shapes that had been so prevalent at the Hatter’s. Alice could only liken it to a child’s crayon drawing made real—none of it seemed right, but everything was clearly what it was, regardless.
Ten-foot-tall flowers and oversized plants were visible in great concentration all over, many of which were in crooked planters along the sidewalks or comically cramped balcony gardens on the buildings. Most prominent of the vegetation by far were the roses. They grew in vine-like tangles that clung to the sides of buildings and in bushes around the few open common areas in addition to within the planters, the blooms varying in size—the smallest were the size of golf balls, while the largest were likely wider than Alice was tall. Regardless of their size, their petals were all the same shade—deep crimson.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds of people milled about in the streets. Most were human, but many were aliens of countless species. Their clothing was so varied it defied categorization—fashions from numerous historical Earth eras clashed with more modern attire and an eclectic array of alien clothing.
A few of the people weren’t wearing anything at all.
There were interactions and conversations happening all over. A few of the people were talking to themselves, while others danced wistfully to inaudible music. One man was even smacking his head against a wall, over and over, his lips moving as though he were muttering. If the king had arrived in Rosecourt, he clearly hadn’t been here yet.
This was closer to what Alice might’ve expected to see in an asylum. Not what she’d witnessed at Hatter’s Tea Party.
“Why is everyone so different here?” Alice asked.
“Different how?” Shadow asked. He maintained his easy pace, leading her along as he gracefully wove between the people crowding the street.
“They’re…troubled.”
A dancing woman spun, eyes closed and a joyful smile on her lips, as Alice passed her.
“Well, not troubled,” Alice continued, “but…some of them seem closer to the sleepers than they do to the people that were at the Hatter’s. Like they’re not entirely here .”
Shadow hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. But there are many more people here than at the Hatter’s; it’s only natural that you’d see more of the crazy ones. Just a matter of population density, I imagine.”
“How many people are here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure anyone does, really. Thousands, tens of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands? It’s difficult to say. I don’t believe anyone even really knows how big Rosecourt is.”
Alice hadn’t seen the asylum from outside, though she supposed even if she had, it wouldn’t have helped her guess how many of those pods were inside. If there really were hundreds of thousands of people in this simulation—and she couldn’t bring herself to believe that was true—it was highly unlikely that they were all linked in from a single facility, but she simply didn’t know either way.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked. “We came here to find the king, but if he’s not here…”
“We go to the likeliest place for information. The Stark Rave.”
Shadow’s words from Jor’calla’s—it seemed like that had been a lifetime ago—drifted back to her.
See? Stark raving mad.
“The Stark Rave? That…doesn’t sound very appealing, does it?”
Shadow shrugged. “I think people are more interested in what they can do there. What it’s called isn’t very important.”
They came to an intersection, and Shadow turned left. The next street was just like the last—not that anything was actually the same, but it was equally colorful, disjointed, and crowded.
“The Stark Rave is just like Hatter’s Tea Party,” Shadow said. “Just no dollies and infinitely more drugs. It’s run by Bokki and Grithis; they’re friends of the Hatter’s. But we don’t need to worry—that mean woman with the bird mask, Cecilia, is never there.”
“And you think they’ll know something?”
“People are in and out of the Rave constantly, and they’re always high while they’re inside, so they talk. Bokki and Grithis make a point of keeping abreast of all that talk. Jor’calla knew things, but those two hear things. Everything.”
Alice’s brows lowered. “That doesn’t mean they’ll just tell us.”
Shadow’s lips stretched into a slow, wide grin.
“Okay, so maybe they will,” said Alice. “You seem to put fear into everyone here, and I’m sure they’ll only be more scared with the threat of true death.”
“I’m not frightening, just persuasive . But I probably ought to inform you that I’m not actually welcome in their establishment, so we’ll have to avoid entering through the front door.”
“I’m sure that has nothing to do with you being scary, right?”
Shadow shook his head. “Not at all. They were just upset that I continuously came out on top in our games.”
Alice stared at him. “You killed them, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but they always came back!”
“They won’t anymore.”
“That means they should be especially friendly and talkative today.”
He increased their pace. Despite everything, Alice’s heart beat with a touch of excitement; hurrying through the streets with Shadow was, in its own way, thrilling, and that thrill was certainly more pleasant than dwelling upon the uncertainty and danger they were rushing toward.
After more turns than she could count—including several through alleyways of varying sizes and degrees of filth—they turned onto a street wider than the rest. The electric lampposts, which lined the streets all over Rosecourt, were positioned at more regular intervals here, and the open space seemed designed specifically with pedestrians in mind. More oversized vegetation was on display in sculpted planters along the street, but they weren’t what caught Alice’s attention now—her eyes were drawn to the building directly ahead, at the end of the street.
At least one or two hundred people were gathered outside of it, their degrees of intoxication implied by their levels of unsteadiness. There was plenty of space for them—the Stark Rave itself appeared to be comprised of more than a dozen smaller buildings mashed together, all perched upon a single column that ran to the ground. It reminded Alice of a bird house. Every one of the clashing planes on the structure was a different color and pattern. Vibrant reds, oranges, yellows and pinks hit cool splashes of green, blue, teal and purple, sometimes in stripes, checkers, or spots, none of it matching and yet somehow comprising a greater, oddly coherent whole. Some of the smaller buildings had balconies upon which more revelers were dancing and talking—the highest of which had to be at least a hundred and fifty feet off the ground.
As far as Alice could see, there was only one entrance—a pair of large doors at the base of the column, which itself seemed far too thin to support the structure above it. A pair of burly guards in dark suits flanked the doors, occasionally stepping forward to block people’s entry.
The guards would’ve looked right at home at the Hatter’s Tea Party.
Alice’s eyes widened as they neared the Rave’s grounds. There were several people having sex outside—on the ground, amidst the large-leafed bushes, on the benches and tables scattered all around, even a group of three up against the building’s support column. Everyone else was talking, drinking from vials, swallowing pills, or eating little cakes. The drinks and drugs seemed to be provided by masked, tuxedoed waiters wandering throughout the crowd.
Alice eased a bit closer to Shadow. This place reminded her too much of her brief time at the Hatter’s. Was this the sort of scene that would’ve awaited her had she remained there? Would she have wound up as one of these drug-addled revelers, sharing her body with strangers, her inhibitions and free will cast away and forgotten?
Something in her gut told her that it would’ve been somehow worse at the Hatter’s.
Shadow led her to the outskirts of the gathering and turned to walk along the edge of the grounds. As Alice swept her gaze around, she noticed several more stoic guards posted at various intervals.
Were all those guards—so big, so intimidating, so calm—patients in the asylum, too?
“How are we going to get inside?” she whispered.
Shadow turned his head to glance up at the building. “I think you already know, dearest.”
She followed his gaze with her own. The Stark Rave looked even larger from up close, nearly as tall as the giant trees between which she’d spent so much time walking. At least she had some idea of what to expect inside—the same as out here only more, only louder.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
Alice swung her gaze aside to see one of the guards shoving through the crowd toward her and Shadow, his expression hard. A spike of fear pierced her chest.
“Hold on, my sweet,” Shadow said an instant before sweeping Alice into his arms, dipping her back, and covering her mouth with his.
Alice’s eyes widened, and she clutched at his arms. Despite her fear, she couldn’t deny the heat that sparked within her in response to the feel of his mouth against hers. Her eyelids drifted shut; she was vaguely aware of the air wavering around her, and then music with thumping bass pulsed over her.
Shadow broke the kiss, and Alice opened her eyes. He offered her a grin before raising her from the dip.
Alice glanced around their new surroundings. They were at the edge of the dance floor in a huge, domed room. Countless bodies writhed nearby, their faces obscured by dim, flickering lights and a thin but prevalent cloud of smoke. The air was redolent with a mixture of powerful scents, but alcohol and that sweet smoke were the strongest of them.
Something tickled Alice’s scalp, and she turned to see an alien woman beside her with a thick strand of Alice’s hair in her fingers. The alien’s skin changed wildly from moment to moment under the pulsing lights—vibrant pink when the bright lights touched it, and a deep purplish-blue under the ultraviolet lights.
The female smiled and raised Alice’s hair higher, rubbing it against her cheek, before she met Alice’s gaze. She extended a webbed hand and ran her fingers along Alice’s collarbone and down to her breast, which she cupped in her palm.
Alice’s breath hitched.
“Such a pretty thing,” the female said, smiling to reveal shark-like teeth.
Shadow spun Alice away from the female, and, with a metallic flash, pressed the blade of a knife to the alien’s throat. “Hello. We haven’t met, but that won’t stop me from slicing you open from top to bottom.”
Alice peeked around Shadow’s shoulder. He kept an arm around her, his fingers curled possessively on her hip. She could feel the press of his claws despite them being separated from her skin by both her skirt and her pants.
The female alien’s glowing yellow eyes flared, and she backed away, raising her hands. “Faceless One, I meant no disrespect. I only sought to taste the pretty.”
“She is for me ,” Shadow growled, angling the knife to keep its tip pointed at the female, “and no one else.”
The alien recoiled and bowed her head, averting her eyes. “Of course. Of course.”
Shadow held his stance until the female had vanished into the crowd before twirling the knife between his fingers—as effortlessly as a person might scratch their cheek—and sheathing it on his belt. “Give people some mind-altering substances and they forget all their manners.”
“Did you take them when you came here?” Alice asked, staring at the sheathed knife.
He turned his head to scan their surroundings and shrugged. “They never had an effect on me. Didn’t see a point after the first few tries.”
Alice glanced up at him. “You tried? You wanted to feel…like that ? Like you’re no longer in control of yourself?”
Shadow sighed and flicked his gaze to hers briefly. In that instant, she saw vulnerability in his eyes, saw the underlying sorrow that he almost never exposed.
“I just wanted to feel… something . Something other than empty and alone. Something… good . I don’t know if I’ve ever been happy until you came along… But this is hardly the time.” He pointed toward a door on the far side of the room—a large, rectangular door that was covered in red, velvety material. The guards posted in front of it were two scaly aliens who looked like hybrids between dragons and bodybuilders. “Bokki and Grithis are through there. I can’t allow the guards to see me, or there will be more trouble than we can deal with.”
“You want me to go in alone ?”
“I’ll be with you. Just…out of sight.”
Of course he’d remain close. Alice should’ve known that. But the thought of walking into the unknown unsettled her—especially in a place so reminiscent of the Hatter’s. If that female alien had wanted a taste , what would everyone else want? How was Alice going to get past those guards?
This is our only way forward.
Alice and Shadow needed information, needed answers, so they could escape Wonderland. And once they were out, once they were safe , she could let herself forget most of her experiences here—all but those with Shadow—like they’d been nothing more than a particularly vivid nightmare.
“Okay.” She took in a deep breath, released it, and stepped away from Shadow. “I’m sure they’ll let me in considering I’m a…you know. A dolly .”
One that’s been played with a little too hard, perhaps, considering my appearance.
She slipped her hands under her skirt, hooked the waist of her pants with her thumbs, and shoved them down. She kicked the pants aside; they disappeared under the feet of the nearby dancers.
“Uh… what are you doing, Alice?” Shadow asked, ears perking. “I know I wasn’t happy when you first put those on, but I’ve changed my mind. Put them back on, now!”
Reaching up, she ran her fingers through her hair, working out some of the tangles. “I’m a dolly here, Shadow.” She tore her eyes away from the door and looked at him. “I need to look the part if I want them to let me through.”
Despite the loud music, she clearly heard Shadow’s frustrated growl.
His ears fell flat. “If any of them get handsy, I will start cutting their hands off.”
Strangely turned on by Shadow’s threats of violence in her honor, Alice smiled. She stepped up against him, slipped her arms around his neck, and drew his face down close to hers.
“I trust that you will,” she said before kissing him deeply.
Shadow groaned against her mouth and gave in to her kiss; within a moment, his hands had slipped beneath her skirt to cup her bare ass cheeks, giving them a squeeze. “Remember, sweet Alice—you’re mine ,” he said against her lips.
She ground her pelvis against him as a bolt of desire flared in her core, causing her sex to clench in need. She moaned. “ Yours .”
He purred appreciatively, and his cock hardened as though straining for her through his pants. “I don’t want anything more than I want you right now, but we have some people we need to threaten first.”
Alice groaned, rested her forehead against his, and closed her eyes. Her body thrummed with the need to be touched, the need to feel his hands sliding over her skin, the need to feel him inside her. But her fear—of something going wrong, of losing him to true death—was stronger than her desire right now. “Be careful, okay?”
He brushed the backs of his fingers down her face, from cheekbone to chin. “Only as careful as I need to be to keep you safe.”
She tilted her head back and opened her eyes to meet his. “I love you.”
He smiled; the expression was warm, genuine, and charming. “I love you, too, my sweet, sweet Alice.”
Her heart leapt with those words. Even though she’d heard them before, they still made her breath quicken.
Alice pulled away from him, and he released her reluctantly. One of his hands lingered on her ass, as hot as a branding iron, but he’d been right—now wasn’t the time. Turning toward the large velvet door, Alice stepped out of Shadow’s touch and slipped into the crowd.