Texasin the Fall is fucking ridiculous. One day we’ll have a beautiful, crisp day, and the next we’re sweating our asses off. The list of things I hate about living in Wonderland, TX grows daily. The heat coupled with the fact everyone here loves to compare our town toAlice in Wonderlandare both at the top of my list. There are no fantastical creatures here. There are no spectacular people. This town is pathetic. I’m not much better. I’m one of ten thousand sad souls wasting away while living here, wishing I could be anywhere else.
I’m dreading tonight. I would rather be in the cool air conditioning of my room. But then again, I’m not sure I would be safe at home. So here I am, standing at the bus station, waiting for the bus driver to pull along the curb. It’s twenty minutes late. Let’s add the bus system to the list of things I hate.
I place earbuds into my ears as people approach. I don’t enjoy talking to strangers, and these people look way too friendly.
The ten o’clock news should start any moment, so I turn my phone to the local news station. It’s fun to hear all the wonderful lies these dumbasses try to pump out about the town.
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled news for a breaking news report. The serial killer dubbed ‘The Mad Hatter' has claimed another victim.”
The news anchor stops talking as the camera pans away from her. There’s a blonde woman, who is introduced as a psychologist, talking now. The smile on my face probably makes me look like a freak, but I can’t find a reason to give a damn. The news station considers the blonde woman an expert on serial killers. I laugh at the absurdity she’s spewing.
The news anchor continues to ask the psychologist questions and read the report that was obviously provided to her. She is such a puppet for them. Word for word, she drones on about how “The Mad Hatter” is a public menace. Another news anchor joins in, and I immediately recognize him as the father of the two boys I’ll see at the club tonight. I don’t like him. He believes anyone from the west side of town is trash. Good thing he doesn’t know his sons are slumming it. They love to come to the west side and go to the Jabberwock Bar. It’s where they meet easy women and get their drugs. If he knew they were doing this every weekend, he’d have a heart attack. Maybe I should send him pictures …
My mind returns to the news. The smile I had a moment ago is long gone as I try to tune out what they are saying, but it’s hard.
“The police suspect ‘The Mad Hatter’ in multiple ongoing murder cases. They have no leads on the case—not even a description of what ‘The Mad Hatter’ looks like. These crimes are heinous and should not be taken lightly. The people of Wonderland are being encouraged to stay inside their homes during the hours of ten o’clock at night and six in the morning. The police station has a twenty-four hour hotline for anonymous tips. If you know anything or see anything, please utilize it.”
My bus finally stops in front of me, and I step back to let passengers off. I bite my lip as I step up and make small talk with the bus driver for a moment while I put change into the coin slot. I sit down on the second seat to the left and continue watching these three prattle on.
People are staring at me and what I’m wearing. I’m in a tall top hat, a pink wig, and a black and pink shirt. My black cargo pants house the many items I will need for tonight. Let them stare. It doesn’t bother me.
“The most recent murder brings the death toll to eight. How many more need to die before the Wonderland Police Department catch this killer?” the male news anchor asks, with heated urgency.
The psychologist nods her head as if agreeing with the man. “The crimes indicate someone seeking attention. They may even feel as if they are an avenging angel. The murders are not random either. The killer has a pattern—young men between the ages of seventeen and nineteen. All of the bodies have been brutally mutilated. So far, the victims have been from, or have recently graduated from, Wonderland High School. Parents of the victims’ friends are encouraged to cooperate with WPD.”
As the psychologist continues, I listen to see how correct she is.
“We assume the suspect keeps a meticulous schedule and needs things to be organized in their life. The pattern is showing a decline in their mental state with each kill. If we look at the first victim, the throat was sliced. What we now know as the perpetrator’s signature, a white rabbit calling card, was left on the body. The most recent victim's throat was sliced,andtheir tongue was cut out. The phrase ‘Now we are even’ was written on the body. Another white rabbit card was left with the body. We can confirm that the white rabbit card has been left at each of the eight murder scenes.”
My mouth goes dry as the psychologist keeps talking. I don't like how she’s classifying me and acting as if she really knows what is going on. The audacity of her assumptions infuriates me.How dare she?I take out my red book and put the bitch’s name in it. Fuck her. She just signed her own death certificate. I place the book and my phone into my back pocket. I don’t want to hear any more garbage. The bus driver takes a corner too fast, and I am thrown to the right. I hang onto the bar in front of me to keep from falling to the floor of the bus. I feel the knife in my boot slip. Righting myself, I push my hand down my boot to keep the knife inside. No reason for anyone to see that.
* * *
Grand Royaland Queen Street intersect at the Jabberwock Bar. In a rather drab area, with lowlights and shady back alleys, the bar is like a bright star.
My phone goes off, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Knave:You still coming tonight?
Me:Yes, almost there.
Knave:He’s not been seen yet.
Me:Ok.
I put my phone back in my pocket and thank the bus driver as he opens the door for me.
“Are you sure you should be out here tonight?”
I can hear the concern in his voice as I take the last step onto the sidewalk. I turn back toward him and wink. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern.” Pulling out my mask, I turn toward the bar and slide it on. Tonight, is about anonymity. There are too many people at this bar that could see my face and put two and two together.
The front of the club has a line around the building and out onto the street. I go over my plan, mentally organizing what needs to be done as I walk around to the back of the club. I’m not quite eighteen yet, so I have to sneak in. Knave, my best friend from high school, is out by the door, just like he told me he would be. I grin at him as he winks at me, knowing I’m too young to be here. The club is full of neon lights, and it is cringe worthy.Yuck.
The club’s theme is The Red Queen vs. The White Queen. God, this town is such a fucking cliché, even the owner considers herself the goddamn Red Queen. Then again, so am I. After all, I’m dressed like a prettier version of The Mad Hatter. I canvas the crowd. My target isn’t here. I sigh and wait in a dark corner, brooding. It takes an hour for him to arrive. When he does, he’s dressed like Tweedledum and his brother is Tweedledee. My skin crawls at the sight of them.
Using my cell phone as a makeshift mirror, I fix my mask and reapply my lipstick. I give myself a pep talk.Be prepared, he’s handsy. Don’t flinch. Remember, he’s here for an easy lay. It’s not working, but with a confidence that I can only perfect in this getup, I walk over to Jon and Tom.
One at a time, I remind myself. I’m not here for Tom tonight. Only Jon.Calm yourself.You cannot kill him here in front of everyone. I tap Jon on the shoulder. As he turns around, I watch him. For fuck’s sake, he’s already halfway drunk. When he sees me, he smirks. He thinks he’s so charming. In reality, he’s a douchebag living high off stupidity. “Why hello there, pretty lady!”
