Kitabı oku: «Alice in Zombieland / Алиса в Стране зомби», sayfa 7

Alice hesitated, her stomach twisting. “Tea,” she muttered. “The Cat did say tea. But…” She trailed off, taking a tentative step closer.

The man in the top hat looked up first. His grin was wide, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Ah, our guest of honor has arrived!” he said, his voice both warm and unsettling. “Come in, come in! There's plenty of room.”

“But I didn't – ” Alice started, then stopped herself. She wasn't sure what she was going to say anyway. She approached cautiously, her eyes darting between the three figures. “Were you… expecting me?”

“Expecting? No,” said the man, tipping his hat. “But isn't it delightful when someone unexpected turns up?” He gestured to an empty chair. “Sit, sit. You must be tired.”

Alice hesitated but sat down, her back straight and her hands in her lap. “Thank you,” she said cautiously. “But I really shouldn't stay long.”

The hare let out a wild laugh, slamming his paw on the table. “Shouldn't! Shouldn't! But you're here! That's what matters, isn't it?”

“Oh, don't mind him,” the man said, pouring tea into a cracked cup and sliding it toward Alice. “He's a bit excitable. Allow me to introduce us properly. I'm the Mad Hatter, that's the March Hare, and our dear friend here is the Dormouse – though he's not particularly chatty these days. Tea?”

Alice offered a polite nod, folding her hands neatly in her lap, and stared at the cup. “I don't know if I should – ” She raised her head suddenly, remembering. “My name is Alice, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” the Hare interrupted brightly, waving a paw.

“Of course you should,” the Hatter said, his tone turning sharp. Then, just as quickly, he softened. “But only if you'd like.”

The Dormouse stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before slumping back into the table.

Alice's eyes flicked to the Dormouse, and for a moment, something about him made her pause. There, just above his collar, the fur was thinning, patchy in places, with a faint discoloration creeping beneath. Its movements were sluggish, delayed, too slow to seem fully conscious – eerily similar to what she had seen in the forest. Her grip tightened on the cup. Alice cradled the warm porcelain between her hands, her fingers finding the crack running down one side and scratching at it absentmindedly, as if trying to ground herself in the motion. “I saw… creatures in the forest,” she said. “Horrible creatures. I think they were dead, or – They didn't catch me because they were too slow – but they wanted to. They were going to. I saw it. They would've if I hadn't run.” She tore her gaze away from the Dormouse, fixing it instead on the Hatter. “And there was… someone else. He didn't look right – not like the others. Better – and somehow worse. Like he'd wandered in from another nightmare altogether. The Cat called him the Red King.”

The Hatter froze mid-pour, his teapot trembling slightly in his grip. His grin faltered, just for a moment, before he quickly recovered. “Ah,” he said lightly, setting the teapot down with deliberate care. “The forest does have its… peculiarities.”

Alice's brow furrowed. “Why are they like this? Was that really some king? Is it true that – ”

“Best not to dwell on such things,” the Hatter interrupted, his tone unusually sharp. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “The forest likes to play tricks on wanderers, showing them things they ought not to see.”

The Hare twitched nervously, muttering under his breath, “Not supposed to see… not supposed to be there… oh dear, oh dear.”

Alice frowned, her curiosity growing. “But he was real, wasn't he? I touched – ”

The Hatter's hand shot up, silencing her. “Let's not discuss the matter now,” he said, his grin tightening. “You never quite know who's listening, and some names carry weight that echoes. You'll learn soon enough – but for now, we need to follow the path.” He lifted his cup in a mock toast. “To tea and time,” he said cryptically. “And to Alice.”

“To tea and time!” echoed the Hare, clinking his cup against the Hatter's with such force that a crack appeared in its side.

The Dormouse stirred just enough to mumble, “Tea… time…” before slumping over again.

Alice watched them with tight lips, her fingers still cradling the cup without raising it. The liquid in her cup looked like pond water left too long in the sun. Everyone kept talking about some path – follow the path, follow the path, follow the path – as if everyone else already knew the rules of the game, and she was left to guess with no instructions. Just nudges. Riddles. Smiling warnings. It was maddening. She scratched at the edge of the cup and muttered, “Right, the path again.”

A loud chime interrupted her, ringing out from nowhere and everywhere at once. The Hatter sat bolt upright. Then – without so much as a blink or shuffle – he was suddenly sitting at a different angle, legs crossed the other way, his teacup in the opposite hand. Alice blinked, startled.

“What just happened?” she asked, frowning.

“Ah, that?” The Hatter tapped his nose. “That's what we call a slap from Time. He gets fidgety when ignored. Tea time is near, you see – but I have a peculiar feeling it may never arrive, so we may as well get started.”

“To tea time!” cried the Hare.

“Nowish!” added the Dormouse, half-lifting his cup.

Alice looked bewildered. “But… your clock just rang five.”

The Hatter pulled out a battered, rusty watch and held it up with a shrug. “Did it? Strange. Mine says it's just past four.”

Alice blinked and leaned slightly closer. Sure enough, the little face showed just after four. Intrigued, she reached out a hand, fingers hovering to take a better look.

“Ah – no, no, no,” the Hatter said quickly, whisking the watch just out of her reach. “One does not simply handle Time. He's touchy, you see. Temperamental.”

Alice drew her hand back, cheeks coloring. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly.

The Hatter set his cup down with a conspiratorial grin, leaning closer. “You see, Alice, time and I used to walk the same path for a while. Oh yes, we were quite the pair. I danced to his tune, and he kept things ticking along nicely. But then – ” he tapped the side of his hat, his grin twisting into something sharper, “ – then there was a disagreement. Different paths. Different clocks. And here we are.”