“Brilliant, Humpty Dumpty,” the Queen called him by his Wonderland name, which Margaret had hated all along. “Have you taught them how the game is played?”
“Of course,” Humpty chirped with lips smeared with ice cream. “You tell them the move you have in mind, and they obey without questioning you, as if they weren’t human.”
“Just like in real life.” The Queen smiled. “My government tells people what to do and they just do it. Sometimes we make them think this is what they want to do, so they do it without knowing it’s what we want them to do, but that’s another story. So what happens if one of my chess pieces decides to disobey me?”
“They get their head chopped off, my Queen?” Humpty titled his head, which was too heavy he almost lost balance and fell.
“Exactly.” She patted his bloated face with her chubby hands. “And please don’t call ‘my Queen’.”
“Really? What should I call you?”
“Call me ‘Mum’.”
Humpty looked reluctant, but then she pushed the fat cone of ice cream down his throat and he didn’t care anymore, as long as he was fed.
“But I have a question, Mum,” he said through blotched lips. “Who are you playing against?”
“My dogs.” She pointed at them panting with excitement on the other side of the board.
“Dogs?” One of the guard standing on the chessboard objected.
“Yes, dogs.” The Queen stood straight. “Haven’t you seen a queen play chess with her dogs before?”
“But how are we supposed to understand what the dog wants us to do?”
“Just like you understand me. I talk. They woof. Not much of a difference.” She said.
“Woof?” The guard, whose position was a pawn on the chessboard, said.
“I’ll show you.” She stood by the side of the board and ordered her dogs to kick-start the game.
The dogs didn’t get it at first, still panting with excitement, probably waiting for their Brazilian nuts.
“Come on, sweeties,” the Queen said. “Make your move.”
“Woof. Woof.” Barked the dog in front, staring right at the reluctant guard.
“See?” The Queen waved both hands sideways. “Woof. Woof.”
“So?” The guard grimaced.
“So follow the orders and make the move.” She began to tense and become annoyed.
“Woof. Woof.” Humpty laughed at the guard.
“Don’t interfere, Humpty. Let Mum take care of this,” the Queen said. “You better stick to ‘lick, lick.’”
The dog barked again.
“I don’t know what I should do.” The guard said.
“What does a pawn do in chess?” The Queen asked.
“They either advance or move diagonally,” The guard answered.
“Elaborate.” She said, chin up.
“The pawn moves ahead, only if there is free space. Diagonally if they eat another chess piece.”
“Do you see anything you can eat diagonally?”
“No, my Queen.”
“So the dog can only order you to move forward, right?”
The guard shrugged. “Yes, my Queen.”
“And how many blocks does a pawn advance in the beginning of a chess game?” The Queen flashed a smug smile.
“Two blocks, my Queen.”
“And what did my genius dog say?”
“Woof. Woof.”
“Two woofs, right? Two block moves for a pawn. I rest my case.” She rested her hands on her hips and sighed.
The guard walked two blocks ahead.
“Bravo!” She clapped at her dogs, as they drooled with excitement.
“But what if the dogs want me to move diagonally?” The guard wondered.
“You still don’t get it?” The Queen jumped in her place. “The dog will woof once and you will have someone to eat diagonally.”
“I understand, my Queen.” The guard was already sweating, partially confused, partially humiliated, and partially thinking he’d gone mad.
“So let’s start the game.” The Queen clapped with enthusiasm. “Woof! Woof!”
“What does it mean now?” The guard looked confused.
“Nah, that’s not for you,” she said. “This is for the guard next to you, so he can chop off your head for being stupid, unable to understand the clear and precise and unmistakable language of dogs.”
In an instant, the guard’s head was chopped off, blood spilling on the grass.
Humpty laughed harder, licking his ice cream.
“From now on, I will not say ‘off with their heads anymore’,” the Queen announced to her guards. “I will say ‘woof woof!’”
It was in that instant when Humpty’s big and stocky head was chopped off by the guard standing next to him.
“What did you do, you fool?” The Queen screamed.
“You said woof, woof,” The guard said.
And then another guard’s head was chopped off.
The dogs began to bark. Woof. Woof.
In a few seconds everyone’s head in the room had been chopped off, rolling upon the life-sized chessboard.
The Queen stood pouting and staring at the massacre in her garden, the dogs staring back at her. “What can I say?” she told them. “Humans are definitely woof woof.”
Chapter 6
Alice Wonder, Somewhere in a dark room
When I wake up, I am too weary to fully open my eyes. The floor underneath me is cold and hard, and the ceiling, if there is any, seems so far away I can’t see it.
In the back of my head, there is a continuous buzzing, a sharp needle-like pain that wouldn’t stop. I reach back to touch it and instantly remember the strange incidents in the limousine, and the mysterious Red who seemed to have kidnapped me, but then rescued me as well.
My eyelids hurt when I squint and look sideways to inspect the rest of wherever I am. All I see is blurry darkness, pierced by a slant of yellow light, slithering diagonally from a top window. I think I am in some kind of a dungeon.
Slowly I prop myself up on all fours, hardly finding the strength to stand up. There is a tray of food next to me. A sandwich, a glass of water, and next to them is something I didn’t expect. My precious Tiger Lily.
I reach for it instantly, remembering my future children — though I’m not comfortable with the memory of my future husband, whom I don’t know anything about. I hug my Tiger Lily, almost sure it won’t spit at me and call me insane anymore. As far as I know, I am not insane. I am only dealing with an insane world.
Still, I must have been insane once, with all the Lullaby pills, what happened in the Circus, and whatever reason that turned me into the Bad Alice in the past.
It only takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, and realize there is someone standing before me. The silent Red who saved me.
“Who are you?” I say, holding tighter to my Tiger Lily and crawling back against the wall.
He says nothing. Doesn’t even move or make a sound.
“Listen,” I say. “You will have to talk to me and explain who you are, or I will hurt you. You know who I am, right?” I am well aware of the nonsense I am speaking. I can’t hurt him. He is too strong and I actually owe him for saving me from the rest of the Reds. Only I need to know what he wants with me.
The answer comes in the shape of a yellow note. A sticky one, which he writes on with a red pencil then hands to me. I take it, noticing it’s of the same material of the note with The Pillar’s Wonder. The one that is buried at the bottom of the Tiger Lily I am holding.
I read the note: You’re a horrible Bad Alice. I thought you’d be able to fight me back.
“What the heck?” I chortle.
He passes me another note. I take it and read it: Heck is too American for a British girl that inspired Lewis Carroll. But you’re forgiven, since you have no idea who you really are, yet.
I am not sure if this is supposed to be a joke, but I can sense the Red isn’t here to harm me. “Why did you save me?”
Another note: Consider me your guardian angel.