Lost in Wonderland Page 5

  “Please, don’t hurt me!”

  It raises one finger that ends in a long, curled, dirty talon. It edges toward her and places it to her lips.

  “Please,” she sobs.

  A small amount of pressure is applied to the talon and a red swell appears beneath it. Marion cries out as the blood begins to drip down her chin.

  Teeth clatter as laughter erupts from the creature’s twisted lips. It sounds like air slowly being let out of a balloon.

  “Please,” Marion whimpers. She tries to pull her hands from the plastic, but her struggles just make deeper cuts into her soft skin.

  It likes this reaction and enjoys the hue of her blood and how it dribbles down her face. It moves the talon, making another mark. The two trails of blood join each other and become thicker and quicker in their movement. She has lots of skin and it has lots of time, so it decides to tear off her clothes and cut her again and again. It does this for so long that she stops speaking, and only the trembling, uneven heave of her chest betrays the fact that she is still alive. The monster can now only see red in front of it. So many gashes that, when it lifts its hand to them, the skin falls clear off. It stares at the pieces left on its fingers, how strange they looks devoid of form or purpose. How tacky the thin membrane feels between its fingers and how resilient it seems when pulled from her muscle and sinew. It expects more blood than there is and wonders whether something has gone wrong, or perhaps something has gone right?

  She mumbles. Shuffling, it moves closer to hear; she’s saying goodbye. Funny how they always know it’s time, sometimes even before it does.

  It likes Marion and her sticky skin, the smell of her insides, and the way her last breath smells of sweet peaches.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mouse

  “Hello, Mouse,” he says. “I’m Hatter. I’m here to help you.”

  My eyes remain narrow and my grip on the knives tightens.

  “But I don’t want to go among mad people,” I say.

  “Oh, you can’t help that. We’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad.”

  “How do you know that I’m mad?” I ask.

  “You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.” He grins at me and doffs an imaginary hat.

  He’s quoted the Mad Hatter perfectly. I drop the knives. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s not what I had expected; my imagination had concocted a much skinnier, madder version of the man that now stands before me. Something wild and bouncy, like a human Tigger.

  “I came for you. I apologize for the mistake.”

  “Mistake?”

  “We assumed that the abductions were the work of just one man, when they were actually something a bit more … well, sinister.”

  “I see.”

  “May I join the tea party?” Hatter bows and grins. I start to see the slight madness that lurks beneath the normal exterior, but just when I think I have a hold of it, it slips from my grasp and I’m left with a strange but very normal-looking man.

  “It wouldn’t be much of a tea party without you.” I grin back at him, but I’m no good at it. My cheeks hurt too much if I really smile.

  Hatter is a good foot taller than me. His very presence is exciting, to say the least. Neither Cheshire nor Rabbit have met him, and Mom and Dad don’t talk about him much, save for the good ol’ origin tale of Wonderland that they relay to us like a bedtime story.

  “Does this mean the Suits are not coming?” I ask.

  “They are, just not yet.”

  Hatter heads straight toward a study which has several high-end computers lining the massive oak study tables. Each is separated by a green stained glass partition and a Tiffany lamp.

  He sits down, turns on a computer, then begins to tap away at the keys with a speed and dedication that many would find either impressive or irritating. I perch on a nearby desk and study my shoes.

  Hatter, lost to the glow of the computer screen and the feel of the keys, begins to talk to himself. It’s mainly a kind of geek gibberish. After a while he stops and turns to me. “There, all done.”

  “What did you do?”

  “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Mouse.”

  “So what, this was some kind of rich man Hostel murder club thing?”

  “Not exactly.” Hatter takes a breath and motions for me to look at the screen. There’s a photo of a young woman and her father on there, and the headline by them reads, “Malone sells company and retires from construction industry.”

  “Okay, what does this mean?” I give up reading the rest of the article.

  “This fraternity house has an enclave of powerful members. They got that way by blackmailing people, powerful business people who have young daughters. Do what we say or we’ll do things to them. Some heeded the warnings, others didn’t.”

  “But I was just a random. Some of the girls that came forward in the file, they were from lower-class backgrounds. No motive there?”

  “Practice.”

  Acidic bile creeps up my throat.

  “So, now what? Have you hacked them so we can track them all down?” I start to wonder how long this job is going to take and how many times I’ll have to play pizza.

  ”No, don’t have to. I took away their toys. Much more satisfying than killing them, plus their deaths would be noticed and we must still keep Wonderland’s secrets above all else.”

  “What toys?”

  “They’re all very broke now. They’ll figure it out sooner rather than later. Then they’ll be far too busy scrambling for lost fortunes to abduct any more young women.” Hatter arches his fingers together and laughs.

  “Okay. Where’d the money go?” I run my hand down my forearm and stroke my chip.

  “Where it came from,” he replies, nodding to the Malone article.

  “Cool.”

  “We should leave. I can’t stand the Suits.”

  I nod, then look down at Hatter’s shoes. He has big feet, almost verging on clown size, and his shoes are Spats. I smile up at him. Business up top and party down below, he isn’t normal at all. I was wrong. Hatter really does live up to his name.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Shilo

  “Today the search for Marion Peyton has been called off.” The newsreader is overtly tanned for someone reading local news for Alaska. He looks like an orange that’s been on the shelf too long. Shilo looks up at the caged TV and wishes he could quiet the noise of the other patients.

  “It’s believed that her disappearance from the small town of Little Bell is yet another mystery in a series of enigmas that seem to be lining up throughout our beautiful state.”

  “Mr. Custard!” he calls out, and all the other patients look at him.

  Mr. Custard scurries into the TV room.

  “What is it?”

  “Look at the TV. Listen to what they’re saying. They’re talking about Little Bell.”

  “Marion left her home three days ago and has not been seen since. Her disappearance was reported to the police by her husband, Geoff, after he called her and received no answer. Marion was new to the area and had moved here from Chicago.”

  “The Kushtaka,” Shilo whispers.

  “It’s killing again. Kayla is in trouble. We have to get out of here.”

  “But I didn’t get my release papers.”

  Another patient stares up at Shilo. “You talking to me?” he asks.

  “Do I look like I’m talking to you?”

  “There’s no need to take that tone with him, Shilo.” Mr. Custard smiles down at the other patient. Shilo looks carefully at the various criss-cross scars up and down his arms. If anyone could use an imaginary friend, it would be this guy.

  “Sorry,” Shilo mumbles.

  “That’s okay,” says the man, “they won’t let me out either.”

  “Does anyone get out?” Shilo asks.

  “Some get out,” the man mutters, “but not the way you think.” He winks.

  Chapter Twen
ty-Seven

  Mouse

  “So, you got to meet Hatter. What was he like?” Cheshire grins at me, and Rabbit moves forward like I am about to regale them with an epic tale.

  “He was okay.”

  “Come on, you can say more than that,” Rabbit pushes.

  “He wears Spats,” I declare.

  “You give us shoes.” Cheshire laughs. “Trust you to only remember the shoes.”

  Our talk is interrupted by Mom shouting up that dinner is ready. We all move to go downstairs, but Rabbit grabs my hand. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I should have followed. I don’t want to even think about what could have happened if there had been more of them.” She rubs my hand.

  “It’s okay, we’re supposed to work alone, remember.”

  “I know, but…”

  “No, we did everything by the book.”

  “Don’t scare me like that again, okay.” Rabbit drags me into her arms. Her sweater is pink and fluffy. It makes me cough.

  She lets me go but still clutches my hand and we walk downstairs together.

  Mom and Dad do not look happy, but Mom hands me the sticker book anyway.

  “This was more Hatter’s work than mine,” I say, pushing it back.

  “No, you still took one of them down. He was prolific. We tested his DNA. Take a flower.” Mom thrusts the book back at me and I’m not sure whether she’s mad or proud. I pick a small rose and unpeel it. I place it on the frame and once again look into Alice’s eyes.

  My dad puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a wrestling hold. We stumble back and I see Rabbit smiling and feel the weight of the skinny Cheshire as he leaps onto Dad’s back. We struggle for a moment, all laughing, all trying to be the one that gets Dad into a check-mate position.

  Mom shakes her head and begins putting out plates. “You’ll break something,” she says to us.

  “One of Cheshire’s twiggy arms, at this rate,” Dad yells as he throws him over his shoulder onto the couch. Rabbit takes this opportunity to barrel into Dad’s stomach; she winds him just long enough for me to free myself from his arms.

  “Okay, okay!” Dad shouts, putting his hands up in surrender. “You two are a tag team to be reckoned with.”

  “Yeah! Team Woodland Creatures!” Rabbit grabs my hands and starts dancing around with me.

  “Am I part of that team?” Cheshire asks.

  “No, honey, you’re far too domesticated for that,” Mom replies, ruffling his ginger hair.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Shilo

  “Look here!” Mr. Custard yells, pointing to a gap in the fence. “It is right where he said it would be.” Shilo looks at the chicken wire fence and realizes that the scars on the man’s arms weren’t from suicide attempts at all but from escape attempts.

  Shilo begins to back away. “I can’t go through there. I can’t go into the woods.”

  “But you’re safe. There’s nothing here. Remember the Kushtaka is in Little Bell again, and that’s miles away. It’s not here. It can’t be in two places at once.”

  The hole in the fence is just big enough for Shilo to angle his way through. As he does he pauses, then let’s himself fall back onto the hospital lawn. “I can’t, Mr. Custard. I just can’t.” The phantom scents of pine needles, fresh snow, and blood start to overpower him. Gathering his arms around his knees, he begins to rock back and forth.

  “It’s for Kayla, remember. It will go after her. It tasted her blood. You need to do this for your little sister.”

  “Kayla has a new family by now. They can care for her.”

  “Not like you. You’re her older brother. You’re supposed to protect her. It’s your job.” Mr. Custard kneels down, pulling his plastic yellow pants up slightly as he does.

  “Who will protect me?”

  “I will, Shilo. I will protect you. I promise, he’s not out there, not now.”

  Shilo looks at his palm, the one that Kayla slipped from all those years ago. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. He hadn’t had time to put on any gloves, and it was winter. His hands had been numb from the cold. He hadn’t looked down to see if she was still with him. He had just kept running. Running as fast as he could to catch up and save his mom from those black eyes and blood-drenched whiskers.

  There are more lights on at the hospital now and Mr. Custard stands, taking a look around. Bed check will happen soon, and they will discover Shilo is gone.

  “Get up,” he says. “Get up now or I’ll go away forever. You’ll never see me again.”

  Tears well in Shilo’s eyes. “No, please.”

  “I will! Now get up and get through that hole!”

  Shilo stands, lumbers to the gap in the fence, then folds himself through. “I can’t see through the trees,” he whimpers.

  “I’ll guide you. Just follow my yellow coat, okay?”

  Their journey through the woods is slow, and there are eyes everywhere. Shilo sees them all, but Mr. Custard keeps him moving past the hungry stares, through the twisted trees, and soon they reach a shiny black road. They walk up it together for about half an hour, until a car’s headlights illuminate Shilo’s shape. He jumps at the shadow it creates on the asphalt and Mr. Custard laughs a little at him—not too hard, though. He’s been exceptionally brave today.

  Shilo flags down the car. As it slows next to him, he sees the driver is a college boy, all muscles and fat lips.

  “It’s an emergency. I need to borrow your cell.” Shilo repeats Mr. Custard’s careful words to him. The boy pulls out a phone and hands it to Shilo. He dials. For a moment the ringing is almost hypnotic. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply for the first time in a long time. Then someone picks up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, this is Shilo, is Bob or Jon there?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mouse

  After dinner we break out Monopoly. It’s a rare occasion that all five of us are in the house together, and the money-driven property war we dubbed Monotropolis is still being played. It’s been going on for years. We play until arguments begin, then go to bed. It’s so familiar that it feels like a cleansing. I’m now back to fully being Mouse, not an abduction target, not a crazy attacker’s dream, and certainly not fodder for a serial killer. I sleep well that night and wake to the smell of bacon and the sound of laughter.

  When I get downstairs there is a file on the table. It’s entitled “The Alaskan Abductor.” I’m instantly drawn. I was born in Alaska, and my mother’s tribe, the Tlingit, originated there. I want nothing more than to grab a cup of coffee and start reading, but I know better than that.

  “Breakfast!” Mom shouts.

  We all sit down and eat together, Rabbit and Cheshire making sly comments about their Park Avenue takeover in last night’s game, and Dad is being all pissy about the fact no one would lend him money to get out of jail. The file stays in my vision. Every time I cut up a piece of my eggs I see it, waiting for me, calling to me. Mom and Dad know where I’m from; surely it’s my next assignment?

  When everyone is finished eating, Dad reaches for the file, pulling it away from me. “Okay, so it looks like we have an unsub stretching the breadth of Alaska.”

  “Alaska is massive,” Cheshire remarks. “That’s a big comfort zone for just one killer.”

  “Yes, our thoughts exactly.” Dad flips through the file. “Alaska is pretty well known for people going missing, most never turning up, but Hatter has linked at least twelve cases to this killer.”

  “What’s the victimology?” I ask.

  “Women.”

  “Well, that’s me out,” Cheshire sighs, “although I do look good in a dress.” He winks suggestively at me, his remark now funnier as I see he’s attempting to grow a small ginger mustache above his smirk.

  “What’s the plan?” Rabbit asks.

  “I grew up in Alaska. I probably know some people already that could help…”

  I’m cut off by Mom. “No, Mouse. This one is Rabbit�
��s case.”

  “But I’d be better suited,” I whine.

  “No, the women that are being taken are older. Even in makeup you barely pass for eighteen. Rabbit, here you go.” She passes the file over to her and for a moment Rabbit’s gaze darts to me and I notice she’s not wearing her normal contact lenses. Instead her eyes are vivid pink and quite beautiful.

  “I’m on it,” she says, taking the file and leaving the table to pack. Cheshire trails after her.

  I purse my lips and realize that if I say a word of what I’m really thinking, it’ll come out sounding like a child’s tantrum.

  “Sorry, Mouse,” Dad says.

  Mom puts her hand on mine. “We almost lost you last time. Bad intelligence. It’s rare, but it can happen. Let Rabbit deal with this one and you can have a bit of time off. We can go shoe shopping.”

  I nod and get up, but as I walk out of the room I hear Dad say, “We can’t think like that, Sandra. They’re not our children. They’re our operatives.”

  I don’t bother waiting around to listen to her reply. I simply pick up my purse and head for the door. I take the bus into town and head straight to the nearest shoe shop. I find a pair of the cutest fur-topped snow boots. When I go to pay with my credit card the store clerk raises an eyebrow. “Does your mom know you have her card?” she asks.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rabbit

  “I really hate the cold.” Rabbit exhales into the fresh Alaskan air. She sees her breath appear then vanish within moments. Her boring brown contact lenses begin to feel like they are sticking to her eyeballs and for the first time in her life she wonders if they can actually freeze on to them.

  “I’m late, damn it!” She looks at her tarnished gold pocket watch and begins to run from the airport’s enclave toward a waiting taxi.