“The logic is that in the future, the keys should have been already used, and that either Black Chess or the Inklings has already won the Wonderland Wars,” Mr. Tick says. “Also, there is one other advantage.”
“Which is?”
“The rules of time are that you can bring objects back from the future, but not from the past to the future,” Mr. Tick says.
“Aren’t you time? Change the rules,” I say.
“We’re actually working for Time. Mr. Time doesn’t want to be known at this time in history. But we have full authority to talk on his behalf,” Mr. Tick says. “So just humor us. We can’t send you into the future without your consent.”
“So let’s say she follows this loony plan and brings back the keys from the future,” Fabiola says. “Why would Black Chess help us do that?”
“Black Chess’s problem is the whereabouts of the Six Impossible Keys. Taking them by force from you isn’t the trouble. They believe they are stronger,” Mr. Tick says. “So the idea is bring the keys, have them in your possession, and fight us when we try to take them from you. They’re up to that challenge.”
If I accept, we’ll have to have a plan to hide the keys immediately. Maybe I can find a way to send a message back to the future. It’s risky.
“What do you think, Fabiola?” I say.
“I say no. Because you’re the only one who knows the whereabouts of the keys. Sooner or later, you’ll find them here without their help. They need us. We don’t need them.”
“Wouldn’t you want to know for sure if you’re the Real Alice?” Mr. Tick asks me. “Think of it. All the evidence you gathered from the past could have been given to you. Maybe the sneaky Pillar played you into thinking you were the Real Alice. How do you know he didn’t plant the keys you found in the basement of your house and made you think you’d found them yourself?”
“I met Lewis Carroll’s ghost in here,” I say. “He told me I’m the Real Alice.”
“It’s a ghost. An apparition. Who said it can’t be manipulated?” Mr. Tick argues. “But the future never lies. You will definitely know if you’re the Real Alice by finding all the keys there and knowing what happens to you in the future.”
“I’m not so keen about my future without my past,” I say. “I think I’ll decline. Please leave now.”
“She leaves us no choice, Mrs. Tock,” Mr. Tick tells his wife.
“I hate it when people don’t accept our kindness.” Mrs. Tock shakes her head.
Suddenly the March Hare stiffens in place, as if electrified by an invisible current. He falls to the floor.
“We planted this. Cyanide in his milk,” Mr. Tick says. “To wake him up, he needs an antidote. And only we have it.”
Fabiola reaches for her Vorpal sword, but neither of the two loons flinch.
“I wouldn’t do that, because the only way to save the March Hare is to go back in time and relieve him from his poison,” Mrs. Tock sneers, all the joy in the world flaming in her eyes. “Cyanide is incurable.”
“Besides, it’s time that cuts like a knife. Not a Vorpal sword,” Mr. Tick mocks Fabiola. “So please sit down and accept our offer.”
I stare at their ugly faces without flinching. I muster the look of the unafraid, but my knees are shaking. Not the March Hare. Please don’t kill him.
“Think of it as a school trip on a bus,” Mr. Tick tells me. “Except you don’t have to kill your classmates this time.”
“You’ll also get to know Jack’s fate in the future,” Mr. Tick says. “I think you want to know about that.
“Shut up, you creeps.” I grit my teeth. “Let’s do it. Send me to the future.”
Chapter 6
MARGARET KENT’S OFFICE, BRITISH PARLIAMENT, LONDON
Margaret Kent had her acquaintances gathered around her. The Cheshire, Carolus Ludovicus, and a crew of Red mercenaries. She sat back in her chair, imagining she would be Queen when this was all over. It was simple, really. She would get the keys, chop off the Queen of Hearts’ head, and play football with it in a festive celebration broadcast on live TV.
But it was a long road to freedom.
“Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock offered Alice the deal, and she took the bait,” Margaret said. “It’s only hours and the Six Impossible Keys will be ours.”
“Meow.” The Cheshire moaned happily, still disguised in Jack’s body, which made him look weirder.
“Don’t meow in my office.” Margaret groaned. “This is Parliament, not a barn.”
Carolus laughed next to the Cheshire. He had just gotten his Lullaby shot, a sedative that kept him calm enough not to kill anyone, or to look for Lewis Carroll to kill him.
Margaret actually felt nauseated, having a man looking like Lewis Carroll and another looking like Jack Diamonds in her office. It seemed so wrong, but she didn’t want to give it much thought now.
“My point is that sending Alice into the future is taking place at the Inklings,” she said. “It’s your job to surround the place, and make sure to get the keys by force when she wakes up.”
“What if she tries to trick us?” Carolus asked.
“Then you bring her to me. We’ll torture her until she tells us where the keys are.”
“Could I volunteer to do the torture?” the Cheshire said. “I’d like to see the look on her face, being tortured by Jack, the love of her life.”
Margaret smirked. “Nasty idea. Brilliant.”
“We’ve always been two messed-up individuals,” the Cheshire said.
“Me too,” Carolus said eagerly.
“One happy family.” Margaret rolled her eyes. “Wait and see how much we’ll want to kill each other when we find the keys.”
“Meow.” That was Carolus this time.
Margaret glared at him.
“You said you don’t want the Cheshire to meow, not me,” Carolus said.
“Your meow sucks,” the Cheshire said.
“Yeah?” Carolus said, and stared him in the eyes.
“Yeah,” the Cheshire retorted. “It lacks cat subtlety.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Something only cats can do,” the Cheshire said.
“Like grinning?” Carolus grinned, mustering a Lewis Carroll look. Which really irritated Margaret.
“Your grinning would scare only a child,” the Cheshire argued. “Mine makes a soldier piss in his boots.”
“You mean a cat piss in his boots. Want to punch me in the face to show me how to grin and meow? Ha!” Carolus began to lose his temper.
“Seriously,” the Cheshire said. “You’re nothing without a pill thinking it’s a man. You’re a ghost of a man at best.”
“Girls!” Margaret rapped her hand on the desk.
“He started it.” Carolus grunted.
“What?” The Cheshire rolled his eyes. “Is this high school on mushrooms all over again?”
“You never went to school,” Margaret shouted. “Stop it, and let’s talk about the Inklings.”
“What about it?” the Cheshire said.
“I heard rumors it has a secret tunnel you can use to escape,” Margaret said. “So go make sure Alice won’t escape when she wakes up.”
“Will do,” Carolus said.
“Aren’t you coming?” the Cheshire asked Margaret.
“No.” She sat back in her comfortable leather chair, tonguing a pen in her mouth. “I have to tell the Queen about my plan with the keys.”
“She doesn’t know yet?” Carolus said.
“Not yet, and there is a reason for it.” Margaret smirked.
Chapter 7
SOMEWHERE IN THE FUTURE
I wake up in a big bed inside a white room with cushiony drapes and modern furniture. I am suffering from a headache. Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock told me it would subside soon. It’s surreal to imagine another version of me lying on a couch a few years ago in the back room in the Inklings, while I am here in the future. All at the same time.