“What nonsense is that, Waltraud?”

“I would ask the patient, but I don’t think this patient talks.”

“It’s mute?”

“Mute is someone who once talked—or is supposed to talk.”

“You’re really not making any sense, Waltraud.” Tom sighed, fed up with his employee’s stupidity. “What is the patient’s problem?”

“It refuses to get its head chopped off,” Waltraud said. “The Queen demands the patient to obey her.”

Dr. Tom pushed the button on his desk to check on the surveillance cameras. He spotted Waltraud standing in the hall next to a flamingo in a cage.

Previously, he’d always thought it was only the Pillar and Alice who wanted to make fun of him. Now the Queen of England, too?

He swallowed a handful of his pills, without water, and said, “A royal flamingo.” He hissed to himself. “Waltraud. Tell the Queen I will take care of the situation myself.”

“I will.” Waltraud waved at the camera. “And she left you an invitation, too, doctor.”

“Invitation? From the Queen herself. What’s it about?”

“It says an invitation to ‘The Event’ on the envelope.”

“Bring it to me immediately.”

Chapter 11

9:39 a.m.

The blood on the man’s chest is nothing but red paint. Was this meant to spook us? I honestly have no idea. All I know is that there is a bomb I need to stop.

“The first time it’s only paint, the Hatter told me," the homeless man explains, looking shocked. “The second time the TNT will explode.”

“Then why did you fall back?” I say.

“I was just shocked by the impact of the paint ball on my chest,” he says.

I look up, trying to locate where the shot came from. I am thinking from the roofs, but I am not sure.

“What do you want from us?” I raise my hands and shout upward. Instead of asking what's wrong, people walk away from me. “Show your face, ugly Wonderlander!”

The Pillar raises an eyebrow, as people stare warily at me. “She's got a Certificate of Insanity,” he remarks playfully to the crowd. “She has the right to do that.” He swirls his finger around his ear.

“Do you have a problem with that?” I snarl at the passing crowd. I have no idea what’s gotten into me, but I am getting sick of all these secret Wonderland games.

“Screaming always feels good.” The Pillar acts as if he is my counselor or something. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”

“Get your hands off me,” I snap. Screaming does feel good. Not just because I’ve wanted to scream at anyone for a while, but because it helps me remember the solution to the riddle. “I know the answer to your question now.” I turn back to the homeless man. “In the book, the Mock Turtle says, ‘We called our teacher tortoise because he taught us.’ Tortoise sounds like taught us. A play on words, like the Pillar said.” The Pillar’s smile is ten miles wide. “It’s in the ninth chapter, called ‘The Mock Turtle's Story.’”

“Right answer,” the homeless man says. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” I say, proud of myself. “How come you didn't remember it?” I ask the Pillar.

“Maybe I did.” I can’t tell whether he is joking or not. “Maybe I'm not fond of homeless people. I think they should get a job.” He cocks his head.

“Unbelievable.” I shake my head at the Pillar’s cruelty. I am definitely not fond of him today.

“So we saved a homeless man from being killed in a silly game,” the Pillar says. “How are we going to catch the rabbit?”

Before I contemplate the question, the homeless man answers it: “By answering the second question.”

It takes me a moment to realize what I am looking at. The homeless man simply pulls the dynamite off, sneering at me and the Pillar. It’s not dynamite. It’s a hoax. The homeless man grins, showing his silver tooth, and few other absent ones.

Chapter 12

9:43 a.m.

“I guess you have a job after all.” The Pillar grits his teeth. “A brilliant actor.”

“Oh, but thank you. I can’t believe you two took the bait too easily.” The homeless man grins.

“Why would you do that?” I ask him.

“The Hatter pays well,” he says. “Which reminds me, he wants you to answer the second question now.”

“And why should we answer that?” I say.

“Because of this.” He wraps a bracelet around my wrist. I shriek when I look at it. It's made of steel, and I can’t pull it off. It’s blinking a small red light. “It’s another small bomb.” The man smirks. “It won’t kill you, but it will blow off that cute little arm of yours. Do you happen to know where you got this tattoo, by the way?” He points at the one on my arm. I can’t go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

Angry, I raise my hand to punch the man, but the Pillar stops me. “Don’t punch him,” the Pillar says through gritted teeth. “The Hatter is playing his cards well.”

“Why wouldn’t I hit him?” I snap. “I have a Certificate of Insanity.”

“If you hit him, you won’t know how to rid yourself of the bracelet.”

“How do we know it’s really a bomb?” I touch it, wanting to pull it away.

“We don’t,” the Pillar says. Then he shoots me a sincere look. “But I can’t risk that.”

“Aw.” The creepy man sneers. “I’ve always loved sentimental moments. Papa and his little girl, the best.”

“He’s not my papa,” I blurt at the man, and shy my eyes away from the Pillar.

The Pillar’s face knots. He seems to have changed his mind about hitting the man. “And I don’t care if she lives or dies.”

I am rather shocked now. I don’t know why. Am I expecting him to stand up for me after saying he couldn’t risk my death? I suppose he just couldn’t, because of whatever reason he has been helping from the beginning. Who are you, Pillar? Sometimes I don’t know which side he is on. “Seriously, I’ve hated homeless people all my life. If you don’t tell us how to free her from the bracelet, I will eat you for dinner. Wait. That’s not quite impressive. I will kill you, cremate you, and then smoke you and get high on your grave.”

The way the Pillar says it forces the man to slightly wince. “Like I said, answer the question.” He does his best to not sound intimidated. “‘Who is really described as mad in the Alice in Wonderland book?’”

“The Mad Hatter, of course!” I reply.

“Wrong answer.” The man grins again. My bracelet vibrates and blinks faster.

How could that be the wrong answer? What have I done?

Chapter 13

9:49 a.m.

“It’s not the Hatter,” the Pillar says.

“But—” I try to say something. I am sure it’s the Hatter that is called “mad” in the book. Everyone knows he is called the Mad Hatter.

“No,” the Pillar says. “The Hatter was never called ‘mad’ in Lewis Carroll’s book. Not once. It’s a universal misconception.”

“Really?” I retort in disbelief. “Then who was called mad in the book?”

“The March Hare,” the Pillar tells me, but he is staring directly at the homeless man. “You have no idea how an original text can be twisted though the years, only because someone misheard or misremembered the original story.”

“He’s right,” the homeless man says.

“March Hares were known to be called mad in Victorian times,” the Pillar elaborates. “Probably because they went bonkers in the mating seasons.”

While I am shocked by this new fact, I watch the homeless man push a button on some device in his hand. My bracelet stops blinking, and I can pull it off.

Instantly, the Pillar pulls the man by his collar again.

“You don’t want to kill me yet.” The man waves his hands. “Not before the last questions, do you?” He smiles and shows that silver tooth. "Or you will never find the rabbit and stop the bomb."