Page 29 of Locked in Wonderland

Chapter Eleven

I managed to stop myself from walking straight into him, though only barely, my boots scraping against the concrete as I staggered back a couple of steps. “Fuck. I didn’t see you there.”

The man’s lips curled slowly into a smile, white teeth flashing in the darkness. Between his dark skin, black suit, and the weak alley lighting, that smile was almost all I could properly make out, hanging there long after any normal person would have let it fade. He gave a slight bow and mimed tipping an imaginary hat.

“Tom Cheshire at your service.”

My pulse was still trying to hammer its way out of my chest as I moved to step around him.

“It’s considered polite,” he said, still smiling, “to offer your own name in return when someone’s had the courtesy to provide theirs.”

“Lysander.”

“Do you have a surname, Ly-san-der?”

He stretched the syllables of my name out in a way that somehow made it sound both mocking and oddly intimate.

“Carroll.”

“Lysander Carroll. He tasted the name as if it were fine wine. “An excellent name.”

“I’m thrilled you approve.”

Apparently, my sarcasm bounced right off him, because the smile never even wavered. I was beginning to suspect a nuclear holocaust wouldn’t wipe it away. The mushroom cloud would rise, and Tom Cheshire would still stand there grinning pleasantly through the fallout.

I looked up, partly as an excuse to avoid looking at him. The sky overhead glittered with stars, sharp and clear against the blackness. No clouds. No sign whatsoever of the dome beyond the faint knowledge that it existed. Whoever had built the thing had done a terrifyingly good job because if I hadn’t already known it was there, I never would have guessed.

“Where are you headed on such a fine night, Lysander Carroll?”

“Is it a fine night?”

“Is it not?”

Answering a question with another question. Great. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Ah.” Tom nodded as though I’d confirmed a theory of his. “We’re all looking for someone. It’s characteristic of life, isn’t it? That constant search until the day you die. Whether that be tomorrow, next year, or fifty years from now.”

I didn’t much care for the emphasis he placed on “tomorrow.” Either my paranoia had reached fever pitch, or it sounded like a threat. And if it wasn’t a threat, I had little interest in philosophy. Either way, continuing to converse with Tom Cheshire didn’t feature highly on the list of things I wanted to do.

“Well,” I said, “I really am looking for someone, so if you’ll excuse me…”

I’d barely made it three steps before he spoke again. “Where will you look? Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

I glanced back over my shoulder. “I doubt it.”

Tom’s smile widened fractionally. “Of course. I’m sure you know Wonderland’s layout as well as I do.”

“The layout?”

“Where to go.” A deliberate pause. “Where not to go if you know what’s good for you.”

“There are places I shouldn’t go?”

I didn’t think it was physically possible, but the smile grew wider still. Any more, and his face would split in half. “There are far more places you shouldn’t go than places you should.”

I took the bait. “Where?”

Tom lifted one elegant hand and gestured vaguely off to my left. “Over there, for a start.”