Where's Hatter, Random? -cries- and I thought you loved me for ME! Oh well. As long as you read and leave feedback, I'm happy. So, this chapter is longer than any two of the previous three, but I think Hatter deserves it, don't you?
She could see around her, but not because of street lights. It was somehow daytime again, or some variation of it - dawn or dusk. It had been after nine when she'd run out of her house after Jack, so how was that possible? To her right there was a loud clang, followed by an equally loud curse. Thank God for small favors, the distraction caught her attention away from the pit of despair. The sinister man had apparently cracked his shin on what looked like a metal chimney sticking up from the ground at the end of the building before which she stood. Faced with the bizarre city and extreme drop off before her, Alice had all but forgotten about the man - and Jack. He saw her see him and took off around the corner. She went after him without thinking. Thinking could only lead to badness when certain death waited for her only three feet away.
She picked her way across a mound of rubble extending out from the back of the next building over, which had collapsed almost entirely. Or, at least, the part on this level. Her stomach lurched and tried to empty when the thought struck her that, if these buildings were as dilapidated as all that, the whole tower could collapse at any moment. If the mist was any indication, she'd have a long time to think about death on her way down to meet it.
"Get him inside," came the haughty voice, now strained and out of breath. Alice pressed herself against the wall closest her, taking comfort in its solidness despite her misgivings about its structural integrity. Before her now was far more open air than she was comfortable with, as the ledge of earth extended between the tower next to which she stood and across the void to another. This new sky scraper looked to be in much better condition than the ones she had already passed.
The white haired man was joining up with two of the men who had kidnapped her Jack. She knew this not because she had gotten a good look at them, but because right now they were dragging her unconscious lover between them. The group made its way up the stairs and into the building and Alice only hesitated a moment before following. She might have taken note of the address and run home to call the police, but somehow she was quite certain this was not New York and there was very little chance of her making it home on her own. Plus, if she told the cops Jack had been snatched away to a city in the clouds, they'd lock her up instead of the bad guys.
The double doors leading into the structure were marked with a strange emblem, a shield with a red eye, topped by a white bunny, with the words "White Rabbit" across it. White Rabbit? She pressed her ear to the door, listening as the men moved further away. She needed to follow them now, but not be seen. Three of them could easily overtake her in this unfamiliar place. As her hand gripped the door handle, a loud rumbling caught her ear. Not entirely unlike a jet engine, the sound grew to a deafening volume as what looked for all the world like a giant, mechanical beetle came hovering from between the buildings. She was too taken aback by the strange flying machine to think clearly and so, when it turned its too bright spot light on her, she did not dart away quickly enough.
The light felt scalding on the skin of her forearm and Alice gasped in pain and surprise. She yanked the door open and all but fell inside the building, away from the harsh beam of heat. Inside, in the dimness, she cradled her arm and looked it over, expecting to see redness or even blisters. Instead, the pain faded almost immediately and on her forearm, standing out in stark contrast to the milky, pale skin was a dark green mark. She must have gotten something on her when she was splashing through that stagnate water in the hallway. Yuck. She tried to brush it off, but it remained in place, like it was painted on. She looked closer and saw the mark was actually quite intricate and, if she had to describe it, she'd have said it looked like stylized seaweed. Why wouldn't it come off?
"This way." The man she had been chasing's voice brought her from her revere. She'd worry about the strange mark later. It wasn't until she started toward the voice that Alice noticed this building was even stranger than the last one. From Silent Hill to Troll, she was now surrounded by plants which grew out of the very floor of the structure. For a moment, she thought maybe this was all a dream. But if it was a dream, she would not have thought it was a dream, now would she? Alice moved as quickly and quietly as she could after the men.
The corridor she was in ended in a T-junction. To her right was a dead end, but to the left she could see artificial light. She crept silently down the hall, listening hard for voices or footsteps, but could only hear her own shallow breathing. The light was coming from a small room with padded walls. Padded walls seemed appropriate for a mad house and this too strange city she found herself in seemed to fit the bill. The only thing in the room was a small table, on which stood a small crystal vial of some pink liquid. The tag read "Drink Me" and she almost snorted, but caught herself. Obviously Jack's captors were not in this room, but they had to be nearby. There were small slots set into each of the padded walls, which meant there must be something on the other side. Perhaps there was a secret way through, which seemed reasonable. More reasonable than four men vanishing into thin air, anyway.
Alice crouched down and carefully slid one of the slots open, peering through into the next room. Expecting to see more deteriorated hallways filled with plants, she gasped when her eyes found small boxes stacked on top of each other and side by side like cubbyholes. Each box held a person, all curled up and seemingly asleep. Each person bore the same seaweed like mark as she now did, as well.
"What happened to you?" she whispered to the people, knowing full well they would not be able to hear her. They probably wouldn't know anyway, she guessed. She gasped anew as she suddenly recognized one of the people. A homeless man who frequented the street where her grocery store was located. The locals called him Scary Larry, as the man had obvious mental problems an would often argue angrily with himself. Alice had bought him fruit and sandwiches on more than one occasion. How the Hell did he get here?
SHUNK! She whirled around, only to see the doorway she'd just come through seal off with another padded wall. "No!" she threw herself against it, pounding at the soft padding with her fists. Somewhere outside the room, the sound of a hydraulic press started up and Alice shrieked, falling to the floor as the ceiling started to descend on her. "No! Stop!" She cried, terror curling her into herself in a corner of the room. When it was mere inches from her head, it did stop, but before she could feel any relief, another press kicked on and the walls started closing in on her. Jesus Christ, it was a nightmare. She was going to be crushed to death by a booby trapped room, like something out of a horror movie. But again, like the ceiling, the walls stopped inches from her, leaving her in a box about the size of a large dog house.
The one remaining viewing slot slid open and she scrambled to look through it, reeling back when the cold blue eyes of the sinister man peered in at her. "Good, we've got her." Got her? It had been a trap all along. She hadn't been chasing him, he'd been leading her. "Take them away." Shit.
"Let me out of here!" She demanded, knowing it was futile, but not able to stop herself.
"Temper, temper," the horrible man mocked.
"You can't do this!"
"You shouldn't have followed me, little oyster." His tone was snidely admonishing and before she could respond, he'd closed the slot again. She heard him lock it. Her shouts for him to come back and let her out were cut off when the box began to move. Now Alice knew the purpose of the padding as she was jostled about as it was moved. Finally, her tiny prison stopped bouncing about and fell into a rhythmic sort of rocking. They must have loaded her, and the others presumably, onto a truck or something for transport. It was dark in the box, but light spilled under the bottom edges.
She felt along the gap with her fingers. There had to be some kind of latch keeping the box together. If she could just find it, maybe… There. It wasn't a hinge, it was a straight piece of metal and as she pushed at it with her fingertips, the box bounced slightly and the piece moved just a hair. Her heart leapt with hope. Her fingers wouldn't do for this, as the gap was small and the angle awkward. She pulled the chopsticks from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and used them together as a small lever. Every time the box bounced, the bit of metal moved further. Once it was open, she would try to lift the box. If it was on a hinge, it would most likely swing upwards. If not, there were probably three more latches for her to jimmy open before she could lift it off. Either way, she now had a chance at escape.
What had had not expected was for the floor to drop out from under her suddenly. With a sort scream, she fell. Her fingers closed around the metal latch which had been keeping the box closed. Talk about nightmares coming to life, Alice's wits immediately evacuated her body as she took in the fact that she was not on a truck, but suspended at least fifty feet in the air above some large body of water.
"Jesus Christ!" she gasped out, kicking her feet as she tried to somehow get back up into the box. Her fingers quickly went numb and, as they started to give out, the force of her terror cause her stomach to finally revolt and she vomited. The spasm caused her to lose her grip entirely. What little air that was left in her lungs rushed out in a blood curdling scream as she fell. Fear of heights and fear of water were two different things and Alice knew her way around a diving board. She could not handle the high dive, but the medium platform had not been a problem, so her body instinctively assumed the position she'd learned in high school swim class - feet together, thighs and buttocks clenched, arms crossed over her chest.
The water was a crushing shock of cold and cold and cold. She went deep, the force of her fall driving her into the water like a bullet. The chill made her suck in an involuntary breath, but instead of air, she drew a lungful of water. Her vision threatened to black over but she fought it, clawing her way to the surface. The liquid spewed from her chest, mingling with the lovely meal her mother had prepared. Not as good the second time around, unfortunately.
Alice struggled to get herself, mind and body, under control. Deep breaths of cool air did much to clear her head. She treaded water, rinsing her mouth of the awful taste there as she tried to get her bearings. Looking up she could see another large beetle-like machine making its way across the lake, or maybe it was the same one. She didn't know. What she did know was that where ever it was heading was too far for her to swim. She turned in the water and saw the city did, in fact, have a bottom. It was at least half a mile behind her, so she swam at a steady pace. Her biggest threat now was the cold of the water seeping into her muscles and bones, making her more and more tired with every stroke. She dared not take a break, however, fearing - quite correctly - that if she let herself stop, she would never make it.
But finally, she was among the forest of skyscrapers again, the lake flowing into the city in a canal system reminiscent of Venice. In trying to make her way back onto solid ground, Alice made a startling and unhappy discovery. Her belief that water and the ground always went hand in hand had been false, for the canal in which she swam, as it turned out, appeared to be some sort of aqueduct and she was no closer to the ground level of the city than she had been before. So, which had come first, the city or the lake? She didn't really care. Finally she reached a place where the walkway as almost level with the water and struggled to pull herself out.
When her torso was securely on something relatively solid, Alice allowed herself to rest, panting heavily from exertion. She counted in her head, insisting to herself that she must get up and vertical in no more than three minutes for fear that she might just fall asleep right here. Where ever here was, she was certain it was no place to fall asleep, even if her legs weren't still dangling in the water. Oddly enough, the thought that kept running through her mind during the swim and now that she was out of danger of drowning was how her dress was certainly ruined. It might seemed trivial, but the thing had cost her sixty dollars! The original price tag had been well over a hundred, but one of the thin spaghetti straps had been broken so the garment had been marked way down. This suited Alice, who was handy enough with a needle that she had easily made matching replacements. On the heels of the ruined dress were the lost sandals. One had been knocked off when she hit the water and the other she'd abandoned as a hindrance two minutes into her swim. What good was one uncomfortable sandal anyway?
Her deep breathing brought a rancid stench into her nose and had she not already emptied her stomach in the lake, she would more than likely have done so now. Opening her eyes, she found herself less than three feet from a dead, rotting rat corpse in a wire trap. Ugh! She pushed against the ground, clumsily getting her feet under her so she could get away from the smell, but was jolted again when she saw that she was not alone with the dead rodent. It was a man, slightly taller than she, old and skinny and malnourished with stringy hair so dark with grease and dirt she couldn't have guessed at its actual color. He wore a black slicker and cap, like a fisherman might, which was shiny with awfulness and crusted with foulness she didn't even want to contemplate.
He was also holding a very large knife. Despite the cold induced weariness in her bones, Alice snapped into a fighting stance. "Don't even think about it, buddy," she warned. The man's eyes went to her arm and widened.
"Yer an oyster?" Surprise and, strangely, a touch of fear filled his words. He held up his hands in surrender, quickly putting the knife away. "I don't want nothing to do with ya," he insisted, bending to gather up the rat trap, a small net, and shovel with quick, jittery movements. "I'm a working man and I don't want no trouble."
"Same here," Alice assured him, lowering her hands. She didn't take her guard down completely, though, even if he didn't seem like a threat any longer. A now familiar roaring filled the air and the man grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the water and out of the sight of another large flying machine as it passed.
"Suits see us together, we'd both be dead," he said by way of explanation. By suits he must be referring to the white haired man and his cohorts, who had all been dressed quite dapperly. He let her go and scurried off, obviously trying to put some distance between the two of them. She followed after him, despite his desire to get away.
"Wait, please! I need help," she beseeched him. Yes, he was creepy and gross, but he was the nearest person to her and should at least be able to point her in the right direction.
"Go away. Can't help no oyster," he responded without even looking back.
"Then tell me who can!" she pleaded, still following on his heels.
"No one gonna help you here." She took him at his word for now, not knowing anything about this strange place she had found herself.
"I can pay you!" Alice insisted, at her wits' end. It wasn't entirely a lie, she had money… at home. This seemed to bring the man up short. He turned back to face the girl.
"Eh?" Okay, now she had his attention, that was a start.
She straightened her spine and lied through her teeth. "I have some money and if you help me, I'll give it to you." That was a point against her karma, but she'd just have to deal with that later. Give twenty bucks to the Salvation Army or something to make up for it.
"Money?" The man came closer, looking intrigued by her offer. Okay, so far so good.
"I'm looking for my friend, Jack. He was taken away by some of those suits you mentioned. I think he was, anyway."
"An oyster like you?" She shrugged, not having a clue what he was talking about.
"Yeah, I guess so. My name is Alice Hamil-"
"Alice?" He blinked, shocked like she'd told him she was Cleopatra. "The Alice?"
She took a step back from him now and it was his turn to pursue her. "No." Whoever the Alice was, it wasn't her.
"The Alice of Legend?" Okay, great. She'd enlisted the help of a nuthatch.
"No. Look, you're kind of freaking me out," she admitted, holding up her hands to ward him off from coming closer. "My friend is probably locked up in that beetle thing. Do you know where it's headed? Or maybe where I can find the police?" Even as weird as this place was, there had to be police. There were police everywhere, after all.
The man smiled eagerly. "You come with me." He caught hold of her hand and scampered off, dragging her behind him. Her skin crawled where he touched her, but she let him pull her along, not having much of a choice. He led the way down alleys between more crumbling buildings. She didn't complain about having to scramble over debris with bare feet. So long as he kept to places she couldn't see the drop off, Alice was just peachy, thank you very much. Her tetanus shot was up to date.
Soon enough, open space loomed before them and she tried to keep her eyes on anything but the lack of ground. A big red, European style phone booth did the trick. She focused on that as the man stopped beside it.
"Here," he said, setting down his trap and tools and pulling a nasty red bandana from his pocket. He lifted her arm and wrapped it around her, covering the green mark.
Ugh, no, she did not want that on her skin. "No, thank you, I'm fine," she protested ridiculously. I'm fine? Really, Alice? The man scoffed, knotting the bandana securely with disgustingly grimy fingers.
"They see you, oyster, you dead."
She wanted very much to know why the Hell he kept calling her that, but the idea of being dead outweighed a strange nickname. "They who?" What she should have asked was why he'd taken her someplace there were people who might kill her. He ignored her question.
"First I go," he instructed firmly, if a little manic. "Count ten, then follow. Got it?"
Alice shook her head. "No, don't got it. What's in there?"
The man was already scampering off, her denial apparently not registering. "A man who knows!"
"A man who knows what?" But he had already crossed the bit of ground bridging the chasm between the phone booth and the building he'd brought her to. It was only now that Alice took a good look at it. Much like the others, if only in slightly better shape, the building sported a large electronic crawl that proclaimed "Tea Shop" over and over in glowing red letters. Tea Shop?
Alice huffed frustrated and leaned against the booth. She looked down at the filthy cloth on her arm and had to make a fist with her hand to keep from pulling it off. Death beat out gross every time. She counted to ten and then ten again, just in case her anxiousness was making her go too fast. It also afforded her a few more seconds to avoid crossing the little not-bridge. There was nothing for it, she had to go. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she locked her eyes on the door of the Tea Shop and ran the distance across. Her thighs burned as she took the stairs two at a time, but it was worth it when she was inside and out of sight of the abyss.
Inside she found the Tea Shop filled with men and women, all shouting at once and waving slips of paper in the air. A man stood before a large chalk board, marked off into grids, writing, erasing, and rewriting numbers under categories with names like: Greed, Ecstasy, and Peace. It was more like a stock exchange than any kind of shop, tea or otherwise. Alice made her way across the room, noticing more people along the walls, browsing lighted glass shelving stocked with bottles. Each bottle held about an inch of colored liquid and, when she looked closer, were labeled with the same words as on the chalk board.
Bam! The sudden banging of a gavel made her head snap around so fast, her neck clicked. The room fell silent as another pound of the gavel rang out. All eyes turned to the front of the room where a small man in a very large fur coat stood behind a podium. He was only recognizable as a man by his thick mustache, so effeminate were his features. When he spoke, the pretty man had a voice to match his looks.
"I have an important announcement," he declared. " A new tea has just come on the market." Was that what was in the bottles? Types of tea? Well, Alice, it is called the Tea Shop. Derp. The little man leaned against his podium, his voice taking on an almost empathic tone. "Ever get that guilty feeling? Huh? Maybe you abandoned the wife and kids and left them without a crumb to split between them? Or maybe you killed someone… A relative, or neighbor?"
What the Hell? She saw people around the room shifting uncomfortably as the man went on. He couldn't be serious.
"And that's left that niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach; that's growing little by little into a dull, throbbing pain. Gnawing away at you, undermining your confidence, and making you feel sick… and worthless… and fearful." He paused then. You had to hand to him, the guy had a flare for the dramatic. "Well, fear no longer!" He proclaimed joyfully, slapping a hand against his podium. He pulled one of those bottles from under it, this one filled with clear liquid Alice assumed was not water. "Because, Clear Conscience has finally arrived! Ha ha! That latest wonder of wonder from that remarkable wonder of all wonders - The Hearts Casino!" He laughed again, lifting the bottle in a toast to his audience… and promptly fell asleep. Wow, guess that speech had taken a lot out of the little guy.
The shouting instantly resumed, people clamoring to be heard over each other. Alice jumped when someone caught her elbow, turned to see the dirty man in his slicker at her side. It was at this point that she realized he no longer carried the dead rat and that the sickening smell was actually coming from him.
"This way," he tugged her through the crowd and out a side door. They passed down a long hallway. The cacophony of voices faded behind them as they went through another door and turned onto yet another hallway. This corridor was open ended and, as they grew closer, Alice could see more plants growing from the floor. Then, a lushly green, perfectly manicured… lawn. And on the lawn were pieces of moderately art deco furniture that only matched because they were all done in white, and chrome, and glass. The pairing of nouveau furnishings and grass seemed to go together somehow, because really, at this point, why not?
As her guide brought her to a halt just at the edge of the grass, Alice noticed a tallish, tightly woven and shellacked straw hat peering over the top of a large, dramatically exaggerated wing-backed chair.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" came a disembodied voice from the chair, presumably under the hat. The girl blinked, taken aback by the offer.
"Uh… no? Thank you," she stuttered her reply. Well, he had not brought her to the police, that was certain. She looked at the man at her side. "Who is this?"
The white chair swiveled around and for an instant Alice was certain either The Claw or Dr. Evil would be sitting in it, stroking a chubby feline. Instead, the chair seated a lanky man, no more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine years and old dressed like swinger from the seventies. Brown work boots under deep maroon slacks, a wildly patterned shirt that looked to be silk in shades of crimson and gold - unbuttoned to show his collarbone, a loose and sloppily tied neck tie - probably silk also, a well worn, fawn-colored leather jacket and, of course, the hat. The outfit worked in a moderately sleazy kind of way. The man himself was attractive, she supposed. He had a strong jaw and softly pink lips all tied up in a bow. Rugged stubble was carefully maintained, more than likely in an effort to give him a more masculine appearance and draw attention away from his "adorable" button nose. His black hair was as wild as his shirt, sticking out from under his hat as though trying to escape, his bangs actually curled upwards over the brim. But the most striking feature was without a doubt his eyes; dark and deep, sharp as diamond cut glass.
"A friend," he answered her question with an air of surprise. "I hope."
Like Jack and Mr. Sinister, this man had a British accent. Though, unlike the upper class lilts of the other two, his was much less proper and formal; not unpleasantly base, though a bit nasally.
"I run the Tea Shop," he explained. The man by Alice's side quickly untied his bandana and gripped her arm, turning it mark-up to show the other.
"See?" Alice tugged her arm from his grasp, wiping her skin off on her wet dress only half covertly. The younger man stood, walking over to one of two glass topped desks in the room.
"How did you break out of the Scarab," he asked, searching the desktop for something.
"Sc.. That beetle thing?" She supposed it looked like a scarab as much as any other beetle. He grunted in agreement, picking up something off the desk and turning to face her. "I used my hair pick to jimmy the latch and-"
"Fell." His expression shifted ever so slightly into amusement as he leaned his butt on the desk, hands curling around the edge. She shrugged, spreading her hands in defeat.
"Yeah. Liked the lake so much, I brought some of it with me," indicating her still somewhat drippy dress. His lips twitched at her phrasing as his eyes moved over her, taking in her appearance and lack of footwear. She curled her toes under as if it could hide her bare feet, then forgot all about it when she felt a blush creep up her neck, cheeks heating. His gaze had fallen on her split lip and darkened with displeasure. "What- Where is this place?" Alice blurted out. She certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore, that much she knew.
"Oh," he lifted his hands, fingers pointing up and out, indicating the world in general presumably. "Wonderland."
Alice only stared at him. "Wonderland Tea Shop?"
"Well, a Tea Shop in Wonderland," the man clarified.
"Wonderland," she repeated dubiously. He nodded. "Like the kids' book, Wonderland?"
His amusement vanished like a light flicking off, eyes on hers, unblinking, intense, and dead serious. "Does this look like a kid's story to you?" Her first impulse was to say, "kind of, yeah". But obviously, that would be the wrong thing to do at this juncture, so she obediently shook her head. "It's changed a lot since then."
"You mean it was real?" That was nuts. Of course, if you recall, Alice, you fell through a mirror in New York and ended up here, after all. There was that.
He stood away from the desk, coming towards her. In his hand, what he had picked up off the desk, was a magnifying glass. "You oysters don't know how to find us so -excuse me." This close, the man almost loomed. Not so tall as Jack, but still quite a few inches taller than Alice herself. (Though, to be honest, most people were taller than Alice, who stood just over five foot four.) He took hold of her marked arm and lifted it, inspecting the green image closely. For some reason (probably his outfit and taste in decor), she assumed his hands would be soft, his nails manicured, but they were not. While clean, his nails were obviously chewed off, some to the quick in fact, and his hands themselves were rough in a way that said he used them. The smooth band of the silver ring on his left pinky raised a few goosebumps as it slid against her skin. "You tell yourselves we don't exist. And frankly, I'd like to keep it that way."
The accusatory tone of his voice raised her hackles and Alice pulled her arm from his grasp, stepping away. "Why do you people keep calling me that?"
"What, oyster?" She nodded. He smirked and pointed the magnifying glass at her arm.
"This?" She looked at the seaweed imprinted on her skin.
"That's not gonna come off," he told her. Alice's eyes snapped up and, dumbly, she wiped at the mark. The young man shrugged apologetically.
"Sorry." He followed the word with a little chuckle that had her doubting his sincerity. then was kind enough to explain. "Only people from your world turn green when burnt by the light. It's the Suits' way of branding their catch." Well, she supposed that made sense, given that everyone in those boxes had been marked green like her. He turned away, moving to put the magnifying glass back on the desk. "And they call you 'oysters' because of the shiny little pearls that you all carry inside." His tone took on a sort of sing-songy quality on the last bit about pearls.
"What do you mean, 'pearls'?"
Before he could answer, the smelly man beside her, whom she had nearly forgotten about until he spoke up… spoke up. "She's Alice," he said eagerly, poking her in the arm to motivate her to action. "Tell him who you are."
Alice turned to the younger man who looked amused, once again. "Wow? Really?" he said with feigned amazement. He circled around behind her and Alice let him, fairly certain he wasn't about to try anything fishy. She scowled at him in annoyance and confusion when he let out a taunting, "Whooooo!" as he came around her. The two men shared a chuckle at her expense, which ended awkwardly.
The younger man slung his arm around his compatriot's shoulder and Alice cringed involuntarily. Yuck. "Ratty here thinks you're Alice."
"I am Alice."
"Of Legend," he clarified, making the words sound gravely important.
"He mentioned that," she acknowledged. When they both just looked at her in silence she shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know what that means."
The Tea Shop owner released the other man. "The last-" he looked down at his hand, rubbing his fingers together and Alice didn't even want to think of what he'd gotten on them from Ratty's slicker. Letting it go for now, he started again. "That last time a girl called Alice came here from your world," he said, circling back around her. Okay, if he did that one more time, she was going to trip him. "She brought down the whole House of Cards."
"So, that really happened?" So, the stupid theory she'd heard as a kid was true? That Alice Liddell, the girl Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll) had known in his twenties, was the Alice and had actually traveled through the looking glass to Wonderland and lived to tell the tale.
"Oh yeah," he nodded. "Made quite an impression. Although, it was a hundred and fifty years ago." He turned to Ratty admonishingly. "It can't be the same girl; oysters don't even live that long."
Ratty shrugged. "I still want a good price, Hatter." he told the other. Alice frowned, nonplussed.
"Whoa, whoa. I am not for sale!" she insisted angrily. What the Hell, man? The younger man, Hatter apparently, lifted a finger towards her for silence and she barely restrained herself from breaking it. He turned away from Ratty and looked at her, lifting his eyebrows and smirking with a little jerk of his head towards the disgusting man as if to say get a load of this guy. He crossed the room again, moving behind his desks to a small set of glasses shelves, lighted like the ones in the main room of the shop; holding the same glass bottles. Ratty scurried after him, but was brought up short when the younger snapped. "Not on the grass."
Hatter sighed to himself. "Right." He contemplated a moment and picked up a bottle of blue liquid. Glancing back towards Ratty, he apparently changed his mind and set it back down, then chose a pink one instead. "Here we are."
Coming back around the desk, he displayed the bottle like a game show host showing off a prize, two more rings of silver on his right pinky and ring fingers clinked against the glass lightly. "Mmm!" he hummed enthusiastically. "Pink nectar," he said, holding the bottle up and motioned with it for emphasis as he spoke. "Filled with the thrill of human excitement. Fifty oysters were drained of every last drop of hullabaloo so that you, Ratty, can… taste what it feels like to win, just once." Quite the salesman he was, this tea shop owner. Ratty reached for the bottle, but he pulled it back. "Warning," his tone now serious. "Don't take it on an empty stomach and only one tiny little drop at a time otherwise the experience might burst your shriveled up little heart. Got it?"
"Got it." Ratty nodded, positively giddy.
"Good," The younger man handed him the bottle. "Go." Obedient as a puppy, Ratty scampered out the door. Hatter seemed to lose interest in him the second their business was done and turned his attention back to his soiled hand, lifting it to sniff. He winced and looked to Alice with an expression that was a mixture of horror, disgust, and pity. "He really smells."
It was true, but beside the point. "Did you just buy me?" She demanded. His lips twitched again and he lifted his eyebrows curiously.
"Why? Would you like to belong to me?" Har, har. Smarmy bastard.
"Yeah, we're gonna go with a no on that one. No offense," she told him sarcastically. He shrugged, unoffended. "What did you mean, 'oysters were drained'?"
Instead of answering her, he changed the subject. Which she might have resisted, but didn't, since it was the reason she had sought help. "Ratty tells me you're looking for someone." He went back onto the grass and Alice followed. The man picked up a packet off his desk, opened it, and pulled out what was unmistakably a moist toilette. This he used to clean the Ratty off his hand before tossing it in the trash.
"Yes. His name is Jack Chase. He was taken by a man… with white hair." Great. That's a lot of helpful information. Hatter picked up a cup of tea off his desk, sitting in a chair the styled after the kind used on movie sets for directors and such. "Oh, he was taken into a building with the White Rabbit logo on the doors?" Her tone was questioning and hopeful, it was all she had to go on, really.
"I see. Hmm." He lifted his teacup to take a sip. "The White Rabbit is an organization controlled by the Suits. They travel back and forth through the looking glass and vanish people from your world to ours."
And they'd taken Jack and she'd run right into their trap of her own free will. "Why?" Please don't say Soylent Green.
"To use. In the casino," Hatter told her, taking another drink.
"Use?" Something told her they weren't being taken so they could lose money at blackjack. He choked on his tea, spitting a little back into the cup.
"Did I say use?" he backpedaled, affirming her belief that something very bad was going on here. "I- Slip of the tongue," his tone dismissive as he set the cup and saucer down and stood, facing her again. "They're fine," he assured her, waving a hand as though it was nothing to worry about. "You know, they keep 'em… alive and… moderately happy."
Right. That was convincing. "I suppose going to the police to get Jack back is out of the question?"
He shook his head. "The Suits are the police in Wonderland, I'm afraid."
"Great." She sighed and wrung her hands together for a moment. "How do I get to the casino?" The next question would be, how the Hell do I get him out of the casino? Hatter's face lit up.
"That's the thing!" he exclaimed. Then, his face dropped back down to the grave expression. "You don't. Way too dangerous."
"Well, I figured that out myself," Alice told him flatly.
"Yeah?" She nodded. He pursed his lips and thought a moment, then spoke again. "Well, it just so happens I know some people." He stepped towards her, his manner turning almost seductive, which was running dangerously close to creepy. "Who know some… well, other people." Teasing little grin. "If you know what I mean." He leaned in way too close. The man had some serious issues with personal space, she decided. "It's one of the privileges of owning a Tea Shop." He popped his lips on the P and Alice jerked a little, reflexively, but no spittle actually came from his mouth. He chuckled, eyes twinkling and when she didn't join him in the joke, he admonished her gently, "Lighten up."
Turning, the man half-bounded eagerly over to a glass wardrobe that stood off to the side on his patch of grass. He pulled the doors open with a flourish. "Ta-dah!" Hatter bent and pulled out a pair of boots, like the ones he wore but black, and brought them to her. "Here, put these on. Can't have you gallivanting about Wonderland like that. Don't worry about dirtying the couch," he added when she hesitated to sit on his all white furniture in her current state.
Alice nodded and took his advice, sitting on the couch to pull the boots on as he went back to the closet. The shoes were obviously his and quite large on her, but beggars cant be choosers and she was just grateful he even cared enough to lone her them. She tied the laces as tightly as she could, but still felt clompy as she stood and took a few steps.
"Brilliant," he praised, pulling a lush purple velvet coat from the hanger. "And you should wear this," the man advised, bringing it over. "It'll cover the glow-" pointing a finger at her arm "-and keep you from catching a cold."
His concern was almost sweet. Which set her on edge, reminded her that she knew nothing about him. Not even his real name. Hatter could not be his given name any more than Ratty was the other man's. Could it? More importantly, she didn't know what he wanted in return for his assistance. She could tell he would not be as easily fooled as Ratty.
"I told Ratty I had some money, but-"
"Pieces of paper?" Hatter asked with a hint of incredulity. "Pointless." He moved behind her, lifting the coat to help her into it.
"Then why are you helping me?" Alice was realistic enough to know that people rarely, if ever, did things truly out of the kindness of their hearts. She could feel the heat coming off him onto her chilled skin as he leaned in close to answer.
"Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl in a very wet dress?" The girl jerked away, spinning to face him as she stepped back a few paces.
"Excuse me?" If he thought that was the kind of payment he was getting, the man had another thing coming. He seemed genuinely surprised by her reaction, which meant he was probably joking again and - again - she just hadn't gotten it. He frowned, jaw muscles tightening.
"Oh, I see. You don't trust me," he accused. When she didn't contradict him his jaw jutted out stubbornly. "Fine." He slammed the velvet coat onto the arm of the couch and laid his now empty hand over his heart. "I am genuinely hurt."
Alice lifted an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. "Well, you just bought me from a man named Ratty for a bottle of pink juice," she pointed out snappishly.
"Do you know why they call me 'Hatter'?" he asked, insulted.
"Because you wear a hat?" came her deadpan reply. He stopped and blinked. Apparently her answer, unintentionally, had done much to diffuse his anger.
He tsked through his teeth. "No." Then moved around her, back amongst his furniture. The man just did not want to stand still, did he? Like his mouth was attached to his legs, it was the most animated conversation Alice had ever held. She kind of liked it. "Because I'm always there when they pass the hat. So to speak." Ah, clever. Hatter walked towards his big white Dr. Evil chair, but kept his eyes on Alice, making grand gestures with his hands and arms. "Philanthropy, generosity, I mean, you can call it what you will, but it's who I am. And right now?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the top of the chair back, but that didn't stop them from moving. "Looking at you there, there's nothing I want more than to help you find…"
"Jack," she supplied.
"Jack," he repeated as though he'd never paused. "And return you both to your charming world of children's stories." Yeah, might have been more convincing if he'd actually remembered the name. Might have been, but still probably not.
"I don't believe you," she told him flat out. If he wanted something out of her, she wanted to know what it was up front. The whole thing would be a lot simpler that way. Or it wouldn't be at all. Either way.
"I know what you're thinking," Hatter said, coming towards her again. Like talking to a hummingbird. "But if I'm the frying pan, then that out there is the fire." He pointed to a door on the far wall she had not noticed before. She supposed he was right. So far he hadn't kidnapped her lover and locked her in a tiny box, so he had those points in his favor. He took in her unyielding expression and changed tactics. "I'll be square with you. I know people who like to help your kind. And if every once in a while, I scratch their backs…"
The man trailed off, brows lifted expectantly, so she finished the thought. "They'll scratch yours."
"Precisely," he smiled, pleased by her following along so well. "Lots of scratching."
That, at least, was a believable motive. By helping her, he was really helping himself. So be it. As long as she got Jack out of the casino and home safely, Hatter could use to her to get whatever favors he wanted. Alice nodded, going to get the velvet coat and pulling it on.
"Do try to keep up," came Hatter's voice from further away than she expected. She looked up and found him standing in the doorway, now open and leading outside.
Maybe she should have said yes to that cup of tea. At least then she would have gotten to sit down for a few minutes and rest. She was cold and tired and her joints and muscles were starting to ache. But the man was waiting and Jack was waiting and she had to cowboy up and put on her big girl panties. As she passed Hatter's desk, she stole a pair of pencils from the cup sitting there and quickly used them to secure her hair back in a sloppy bun.
"Okay," she said firmly. "Let's go."
Anyone who read Dark Storm, I swear I don't have an obsession with bare-footed heroines. SciFi just likes to drop them from great heights into water and I can't help myself.