"Alice!" Jack finally pulls me outside. He does it fast and with a bang. Never have I thought he was that strong. He pulls the door behind me and locks it with a digital code on a pad next to the wall. The code is 1862. The date in my vision when I met Lewis was 1862. What are all these puzzles, and what are they supposed to mean?
"Are you okay?" His hands search my face, looking for a bruise. He makes sure I am all right. Never have I seen someone so concerned about me. "Thank God you're okay, Alice. I was so worried." His cuteness doesn't match his seriousness, but it's understandable. When I lay my eyes on Jack, all I think about is fun.
"I am so glad to see you, Jack." I wrap my hands around him as he touches my face with his gentle hands. His touch is warm. I need it, even inside a morgue. Who the hell are you, Jack? Why do you always come to save me?
With my emotions flaring, I hug him tightly. I embrace his body and feel I'd like to hide inside it. Maybe he could shelter me from the mad world; maybe he could shelter me from my mind.
"Wow," he jokes as he pats me on the back. "It's too soon for that. I like a girl to take it slow, who takes me out for dinner first and tells me funny stories."
I hit him lightly on the chest while I am in his arms. His silly jokes make me think this world isn't worth any anger. I wish I could be like him.
"I was thinking about you, Jack." I stare at the closed door, waiting for the Cheshire to open it from inside at any moment. "You make me feel..."
"Funny?" His hands run through my hair. I can feel his breath on my ears.
I nod.
"You're a funny girl, too," he says. "You just have bad taste in clothes. Always stained with blood."
"Come on, you confessed you liked me in the Vatican. I heard you in the booth," I tease.
"Guilty as charged." He raises a hand to his chest.
"We have to go, Jack." I stare at the door. "He has a key."
"Who has a key?"
"The Cheshire."
"Who?"
"You remember the nasty old woman chasing me in Belgium?"
"Wow. She must hate you so much." He rolls his eyes, not even questioning what is happening.
I nod, not having the strength to explain.
Suddenly, sirens blare outside the asylum as we speak. I gaze at Jack for an explanation.
"It's the police," he says. "We need to get you out of here."
Chapter 22
"I guess someone reported suspicious activity in the morgue," Jack says. "We need to hide from the police. They will not understand."
"What will they not understand, exactly? I have no idea what's really happening."
"Nor do I, Alice," he says. "But it doesn't matter. What matters is we're together. Come on." He pulls my hand and walks me to a side door leading to another doctor's room. I look behind me one last time, wondering why the Cheshire didn't come out. Maybe it's the code Jack entered. Does it prevent the door from getting opened manually with a key?
"Jack, where did you get that code you just entered for the door?" I turn to him.
"There is senior nurse who I saw use it on all other doors, so I gave it a try," he replies. "Let's rid you of this thing in your hand." He tries to pull the mallet away as he closes the door behind us. It's a doctor's private room. "You look like a maniac."
It shocks me that my grip is still tight on the mallet. I can't give it away. My hands are stiffened with fear.
"It's all right, Alice." He gazes straight into my eyes. "It's me, Jack. I won't hurt you." He loosens my hand, finger by finger.
The sirens are getting closer outside.
"Wear this." He hands me a nurse's uniform from the wardrobe. A pair of nerdy glasses and shoes he'd brought from a storage room nearby complete the ensemble. "You will pretend you're the nurse, and I will hide in one of these." He points at one of the death bags on the tables. There are three of them. "You play the nurse and I play dead." He smiles. "Don't forget the nametag." He hands it over. "All you have to do is pull me out and tell the police there were intruders in the morgue. It's common. Thieves love to steal corpses and sell them."
"You think it will work?"
"It's the only chance we have," he says. "Neither of us know what to tell the police when they arrive. Now I have to turn around, so you dress up."
We both turn to opposite sides as the sound of police cars surrounds the morgue. I peek over my shoulder and see if he is checking me out while I am getting dressed.
He is.
But he turns around and clears his throat once I see him. I blush and turn back, facing the wall. I feel awkward being the weak one with Jack, now that my heart is unconditionally open to him. I wonder how intimate we were when he was Adam, my boyfriend. I know we were in love because my heart tells me so, but how intimate?
"Jack," I say, unbuttoning.
"Yes?"
I am contemplating asking him if he knows anything about our past lives, but don't want to turn him away if he thinks I am crazy. "How do you always find me?" I ask instead.
"I don't know, really," he says. "It's strange. I'll be sitting somewhere, and then feel this need to see you. This intuition that you are in danger. And suddenly I find myself near you."
I don't know what to think of that. I pull on the nurse's dress and glasses.
"And you?" he asks. His voice is muffled now, having zipped himself inside the bag.
"Excuse me?" I put on the glasses.
"Aren't you going to tell me where you live so I can pick you up for our postponed date?"
I turn around and smile at his persistence. My face changes when I realize I can't tell him I live in an asylum. He might be a weird guy. But I am nutcase. At least my life fits a nutcase. The song "I am a Nut" replays in my head.
"If we survive this, I might tell you," I say as I roll the bed out to the entrance.
Outside, the main doors spring open, and an endless horde of men with guns enter. I am surprised when they greet me with concern. They ask me if I am all right.
I play shocked for a while and recite the story Jack told me. I point at the Cheshire's room. Funny how they buy it. There aren't any signs of breaking in. But they believe me. They are good to me. Maybe it's my looks, wearing a nurse's outfit.
Is that what the world asks of me? To blend in? A nurse's outfit or a doctor's would do the job? Is that mandatory to fit into any society, to become a recognizable stereotype?
I feel like I've had too much Pillar in my head lately.
Still rolling the bed toward the main door, I am expecting to meet the Pillar's chauffeur on the way.
"Wait!" Someone summons me right before I leave through the main door.
I turn around, and it's another nurse. A buff policeman stands proudly next to her. I hope my cover isn't blown.
"Yes?" I adjust my glasses and wiggle my nose.
"Who's that you are taking out?" the nurse asks.
"A patient who'd been wrongly admitted about an hour ago." I twist the truth. "An ambulance is waiting for him outside to transfer him to another morgue."
"Him?" Her face knots as she reads the charts.
"Oh, silly me." I play nerd of all nerds. "I mean her. It's a deceased girl."
"What's her name again?"
I shrug. "Wonder," I say. "Alice Wonder."