Page 33 of Escaping Wonderland

Shadow smiled at her as he replaced his hat. “He’s quite mad, Alice. Best not try to make sense of everything he says.”

“Why did he call you all those names?” she asked.

“Because he has a tendency to be rude, I suppose.” Shadow stepped to the center of the room—causing Jor’calla to back away farther—and sat on the floor with his legs folded beneath him. “We have some questions for you, Jor. Feel up to giving answers?”

Jor’calla retreated onto his bed, still shaking his head. “Away, away! Do not speak in steel, Wandering Void. Death has returned to Wonderland, and now it will not go.”

Shadow glanced at Alice over his shoulder. “See? Stark raving mad.”

Alice slowly approached Jor’calla, placing herself between him and Shadow. “He looks like he’s scared. What did you do, Shadow?”

Shadow crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t doanything, Alice, and I don’t appreciate your accusatory tone.”

“The Hatter is no more,” Jor’calla whispered hoarsely.

Shadow scoffed. “I only stabbed him a little. He’s come back from worse. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

“No, no,” Jor’calla whined. “No coming back now. No one coming back—none but the Red King. He rides with his faceless army, and his touch is forever-death. The Hatter is gone, and the Red King hunts.”

Alice stopped once her thighs hit the bed and reached toward Jor’calla. She lightly patted one of his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.” She glanced pointedly atShadow, who put on an offended pout. “We’re here to see if you could help me.”

Jor’calla looked from Shadow to Alice, his mandibles twitching. He shifted the arm that she’d touched, gently wrapping his long, spindly fingers around her wrist, and his eyes—though still impenetrably black—seemed to clear. “You…you are different, Alice Claybourne. Not like the others. Youknow. Do not let yourself forget, never forget. Remember how you came here—it is how we all came here, but the rest released their memories.”

“How…did you know my name? How do you know all this?”

“I hear you. I hearthem. All of them, all the time.” He lifted two hands and clamped them on the sides of his head.

Alice’s eyes widened. “You can hear thoughts, can’t you? Even the ones out there, where we’re sleeping?”

Jor’calla nodded. “Never quiet, never silent. All buthim. All but the ghost.”

She frowned and turned her face toward Shadow. “Why is he different?”

“He isempty. Dangerous. Chaos that walks.”

“He is also sitting right here,” Shadow said in an exasperated singsong. “We didn’t come to listen to how much you don’t like me despite my obvious charm and charisma, Jor. She wants a way out. Is there one?”

But Jor’calla was staring at Alice; if he’d heard Shadow, he made no indication. “The Red King is from beyond. He did not come like us. Wonderland is too full, too many, and death rides to collect hearts. Cull the people, cull the city… What is dead is dead. Flee, Alice, flee far and pray you never meet the king again.”

“Again?” she asked, brow creasing.

Jor’calla dropped his hands and clutched the bedding in his fists. His mandibles moved rapidly as he muttered; the wordswere too jumbled, too indistinct for Alice to decipher. He shook his head throughout.

He was a broken being who’d been horribly mistreated; Alice guessed many of the people in this asylum were just like him.

She leaned closer and gently placed her hands on his arms. “Jor’calla, how do we get out of here? How do we leave Wonderland?”

“Remember,” he replied. “Remember, and wake.”

“Howdo we wake up?”

Jor’calla released a distressed, chittering sound and leapt back suddenly, pressing himself against the wall behind the bed. “He comes! He comes, he comes for me.”

“Who, Jor’calla?”

“Red Death, Red King, King of Hearts.” Trembling, Jor’calla tipped his head back. “Too much noise. Couldn’t hear…and nowhehas come, now he is here.”

“Finally, something that makes sense,” Shadow said.

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