I awoke with a sudden intake of breath, startled out of my sleep by the sound of someone, or something, tapping at the window pane. Funny. I’d slept through nights of Joey listening to Retox at full tilt, but that was back in London where our flat looked out on King’s Cross. Here, where the silence was so deep it could swallow you whole, the slightest sound, apparently, carried. Suddenly on edge, I sat up, reaching out to assure myself that Joey hadn’t suddenly gone missing or something weird.

There it was again, a gentle, if insistent, tapping on the window looking out into the garden. We’d drawn the curtains before crawling into bed, more of a habit than anything else, so I couldn’t see out, but I was certain that it wasn’t just a stray branch being blown about by the wind.

I debated the wisdom of ignoring it and trying to go back to sleep. Finally, a mixture of curiosity and paranoia won out. Slipping out from under the covers, I grabbed Joey’s jacket from off the floor as well as the torch from the night stand and tip-toed over to the window, pausing long enough to take a deep breath before pushing the curtain slowly to one side and peering out into the pitch.

“Fuck,” I exclaimed, though quietly enough not to wake my man. Staring back at me was a girl about my age with blonde curls, one that I immediately recognized as the one from the pictures. Thing is, if it was her, Alice, she should have been Gran’s age, not mine.

In a state of mild shock, I watched her lips move, as if she was asking a question, her brows lifting momentarily. I shook my head and shrugged, tapping on ear. Hopefully, she understood the message; that I couldn’t hear a word she’d said.

In response, she pressed her nose to the pane, puffed her cheeks full of air before letting it slowly out before trying again, this time her lips moving slowly, forming what looked to me like a single word; Open.

Yeah, like I was about to open the window to some ghost walking about in the garden of my recently deceased Granma’s home. Isn’t that the kind of shite that got you killed in every horror movie ever made? I shook my head, mouthing the word ‘no’ in response. In return, she gave me an exasperated look and then, without warning, turned away and disappeared from sight or, at least my limited vision through the parted curtains, leaving me staring out at a pair of gleaming eyes and a set of feline teeth posed in an impossible grin.

“Don’t freak out,” I told myself and then, promptly, ignored my advice, reeling away from the window, whispering Joey’s name over and over in panic as I scurried to the bed and began shaking him awake.

“God, not again,” he groaned, doing his best to turn away from me and bury his face in the pillow.

“Goddammit, wake the fuck up!” I cried out through gritted teeth, smacking him the back of his head with my open palm.

“Knock that shite off, ya mad bugger,” he growled, grabbing at my wrist, his big hand engulfing it and, effectively, halting my frenzied assault. “What the fuck, B?”

“It’s out there, the fucking cat, the one from the photos, Joey. It’s out there and it’s trying to get in.”

“Hey, it’s just a dream, it’s okay,” he said, soothingly, trying to pull me into his arms. Any other time I would have thought the gesture sweet. Not this time.

“Not a dream. Alice woke me up, and then, she disappeared and it was there. I saw it, Joey. Fucking staring at me. It’s out there, I swear to fucking God!”

“Wait a minute? Alice woke you up? Listen to yourself, B. Just a bad dream. Come back to bed.”

Thing was, he was probably right. Probably a moth or something banging into the window, probably dreamed the whole thing. I did my best to convince myself for about all of two ticks when we heard the front door open, the hinges squeaking eerily.

“Joey?” I whimpered as he froze, his head turning towards the front of the house as a voice rang out softly.

“Beks?”

Suddenly, I was awake, staring into Joey’s concerned face, the feel of his hand on my shoulder grounding me, pulling me from my nightmare.

“Wha-?” I managed to croak out, my voice shaking, my heart thumping against my ribs so hard I was surprised it wasn’t shaking the whole house.

“You were having a bad dream, love,” he said, his voice soothing as he gathered my up in his arms. “Something about something trying to get in?”

Instinct took over. I needed to scrub the nightmare images from my head before they took root in my psyche. I reached up and grabbed a hank of his hair, pulling my face to his, mashing my lips against his mouth.

“Take me,” I growled, coming up for air for a brief moment.

Not like he needed the invitation. I could feel him against me, his cock already straining at his boxers, the weight of him coming down on me. I opened my thighs and hooked my ankles behind his calves as we begin to grind against each other, shedding all semblance of civilization. Primal need drove me, infecting him as well, consumed by passion. I could feel the heat of his cock as I peeled his shorts down his hips, releasing it. It nestled against my twat perfectly, sliding along my wet slit until it was coated in slick moisture.

“Take me, Joey,” I moaned, the words barely out of my mouth before he plunged his swollen cock’s head into me with brutal precision.

“Yes,” I managed, our mouths merging once more, my nails raking down his backside, cupping his arse as he began to pound my needy cunt, my hips thrusting, cunt clenching, forcing him deep inside of me.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck me.”

“God,” he groaned, fingers gripping my hair as he crushed my mouth with his, other hand finding the crevice of my arse, fingertip pressing against my tight little pucker, pushing, probing, and forcing its way in. There was nothing gentle or loving about it. Animals in heat, really. I grunted, muscles pushing out as he slipped his finger in, filling both holes, using me to sate his lust, just as I was using him to erase my unsettling vision.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling a wave of dark euphoria sweep through me, my hips bucking, smacking against his audibly. “Harder.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunted, driving his wet meaty cock deeper with each pronouncement, his finger curling inside my bum as I felt him tense.

“Fuck!” He shuddered, and I felt him release, pumping his cum into my welcoming cunt, pushing me over the edge with such abandon that I come close to blacking out as my orgasm swept me away. In that moment, there only him; his cock, his finger, his mouth, his hand in my hair. Nothing else existed for me but the feeling of intense pleasure that shook me to the core and sent my thoughts reeling as I clung to him, shuddering from crown to heel until, finally, I was spent.

We collapsed, him on top of me, his cock softening inside of me as his cum seeped from my grasping cunt to stain the sheets of the borrowed bed.

“You’re the best, Joseph Bibb,” I murmured, words muted as I took the opportunity to kiss his chest.

“Christ,” he managed. Not that I needed that much. His eyes told me all I needed to know. As long as he lived and breathed, I had nothing to fear.

oOo

“Hungry?”

“Starved.”

That exchange about an hour later, both of us having drifted back to sleep.

“Crackers and cheese, I think,” he groaned, sitting up, doing his best to keep his arm around me.

“Remember that place we passed? How’s the full monty sound?”

“Brilliant. Get yourself something too, love. I’ll be wait-”

Laughing, I did my best to smother him with a pillow before nipping into the loo to fix my face, and wash up a bit. Pausing in front of the mirror, I regarded my reflection. Despite everything, everything being the still open wounds around the events of Gran’s death as well as vivid dreams of last night, I was wearing a smile, courtesy of Mr. Bibb.

oOo

Breakfast was a cheery affair. The day promised to be lovely, the sun chasing off the clouds by the time we piled into our hired 4-banger. I drove, as always. Joey was a champ on motorbikes, but useless with a stick. Around London, we either took the tube or hired a cab. Even if we’d been able to afford a motorcar, there was nowhere to stow it on our street.

Afterwards, my mood restored, we returned to Gran's, deciding to call it a day around tea time and head back. That should, I figured, give me plenty of time to go through most of the library while Joey covered the rest of the house for anything not already picked over by my family.

Oh, the best laid plans, of mice and men…

oOo

“Can’t be out of petrol. Tank was half full earlier.”

“Electrical, maybe?”

“Maybe. Not like I’m a bloody mechanic, Bibb.”

“Guess we could try giving it a push?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

In other words, we were fucked. Probably cost us a small fortune to get someone out here on a Sunday to take a look at the bloody thing, let alone fix it. With a sigh, I pulled out my mobile.

“Bloody hell?”

It was dead too.

“Umm, Joey?”

“Mine too, B. I don’t understand it.”

“This is not good. We’re in the middle of nowhere,” I said, trying to keep the panic clawing at the pit of my stomach out of my voice.

“Depends on your point of view, really.”

Had the words come out of Joey’s mouth, I probably would have thumped him. Unless he’d learned a bit of ventriloquism in the past hour or so, we were suddenly not alone.

“Christ, Beks. It’s the girl from the pictures.”

He sounded rather unsure. Not that I blamed him, once I’d given a quick turn around and found myself staring at the spitting image of the girl that my Gran had been carrying on with sixty odd years ago.

“Impossible.”

“Oh, nothing’s impossible. Improbable, perhaps, but never impossible. You’re Rebecca. I recognize you, although you’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve last set eyes on you. You were always Helen’s favorite, you know. She never much cared for your sister. No curiosity, just like her father. A shame, really. Oh, but where are my manners. I’ve a kettle on, if you’d like to come ‘round.”

“Round where?” I murmured numbly, unable to keep from staring as I reached back and fumbled for Joey’s hand, as if he could somehow anchor me to reality despite being adrift as well.

“Why, the garden, of course, silly,” she laughed, shaking her head, her golden blond curls catching the sunlight so that they sparkled almost as much as her sapphire eyes. “The cottage is a bit stuffy these days and you have to admit, it’s rather lovely out. Shame to waste it.”

Wordlessly, we followed her, giving me time to sort things out a bit. She was dressed in a blue sundress, but otherwise barefoot. Really, she still looked pretty much like the hippie girl of my Gran’s youth. As I’d said before, it was impossible, and yet, this time, unlike the creature from last night, this was no dream.

“B?”

“Yeah, freaky, right?”

The garden had been a lovely place, once upon a time. I remember how much care Gran had put into the flowerbeds and the rose bushes. Now? It looked in desperate need of some TLC. Weeds had sprung up through the flagstones. The flower beds had taken over one half of the yard, and vines of ivy, as well as rose bushes, had spread like errant fingers until they covered large portions of the brick wall that shielded it from the wood beyond.

There was a small table with a quartet of chairs on one end of the overgrown garden. Earlier, when I’d looked out, it had been bare. Now there were porcelain teacups, cream and sugar bowl, and a teapot carefully placed on linen.

“Sit, please. I’ll pour.”

Her voice was a bit posher than you’d expect. We sat, mute, watching with lingering disbelief as she filled our cups, and then her own before joining us. “There... Much more civilized.” Alice smiled brightly, carelessly dropping a pair of sugar cubes into her tea. “Sincere apologies. I suppose you must think this strange.”

“One word for it,” Joey murmured, squeezing my hand under the table before helping himself to the cream.

“Strange, right,” I added, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “You knew Gran?”

“Intimately,” Alice replied, her smile growing a little sad. “We were lovers, once upon a time. Of course, that was ages ago. Now, or should I say until recently, we were just friends.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, brightening again. “She’s still up here.” She tapped her temple twice with her fingertip, her eyes crinkling with unvoiced laughter. I found myself getting beyond the impossibility of the moment to thinking that, perhaps, she was a bit daft.

“I’d have put out cakes, had I time,” she continued, sipping at her tea, her eyes suddenly shrewd as she regarded me, trapping my gaze and holding it uncomfortably. “Bit of trouble brewing back home.”

“Where’s home?” Joey interrupted, giving me a chance to let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Not so far away,” she murmured, her eyes lowering as she took a sip of her tea, her gaze growing far off as she stared into her cup. “And yet, a life time.”

For a moment she sounded weary, but it was a fleeting moment, and the corners of her lips rose once again, the years that had weighed on her a moment ago lifting suddenly.

“She never told you about me.”

It was a statement, not a question, and I simply nodded my head once, one shoulder rising in a shrug, pausing to gaze out over the garden wall at the wooded landscape beyond.

“She told me stories when I was young. Not of you, but of a wonder-“

“Fucking hell,” Joey interrupted suddenly, drawing both our attention, especially since his outbreak was punctuated by him slamming the flat of his hand down on the table, his gaze capturing mine with an intensity usually reserved for fucking.

“Your Gran’s stories, B. That weird cat. Alice. Makes sense if you think about it."

Sometimes I could be a bit slow, admittedly. This had been one of them. Realization suddenly dawned, bursting inside my head like a supernova as I turned my attention towards Alice.

“You’re that Alice? Alice in Wonderland?” I asked, feeling silly the second the words fell from my lips. Seriously, it was a daft thing to even think.

“Of Wonderland, if you’d prefer, Rebecca, and yes, I am that Alice, although I suppose the Alice you think you know and I are worlds apart.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Your tea is growing cold,” was her reply, followed by a measured sip from her own cup, her eyes glittering over the rim at me, a hint of amusement passing over her expression making her appear somewhat dangerous.

“Impossible.”

“Improbable, perhaps,” she returned cheekily. “Now we’re just going around in circles. You’d best be careful, lest you become mad.”

“That’s just a story.”

“All stories are steeped in truth. Perhaps the story you’re familiar with was culled from the imagination of a foolishly romantic gentleman.” She leaned back, and folded her hands upon her lap, and gazed up at the clouds. “But yes. Wonderland is a place. It exists. Right over the garden wall, as a matter of fact or, more accurately, through it.”

She drew my gaze, Joey’s as well, to the farthest corner of the small yard where the mortar had long ago crumbled into sand, and the bricks had given away to form a small hole just large enough for a rabbit to fit through. That thought gave me a bit of a giggle as I pictured a white rabbit with a velveteen vest and a pocket watch scampering though it mumbling excitedly about being late. For a moment, she had me going. And then Joey let out a bit of a guffaw.

“Almost had me going, too, B. Too many sugar cubes in her tea, I reckon.”

As for Alice, she simply shrugged, her gaze never once leaving my face, an enigmatic smile on her face.

“Perhaps you should have taken it unsweetened.” Her voice was demure, her lips parting revealing even white teeth and an almost feral grin. “Not that it would have mattered. Hatter’s special brew. Hope you’re up for a bit of an adventure.”

The world suddenly began to grow, or at least the things in it; the china, the table, the entire garden… “I don’t feel so good,” I managed, feeling a wave of vertigo-like nausea rising up within me.

I’ve never claimed to be a saint. I’d done drugs before; molly, oxycotton, shrooms, even acid a few times. This was kind of like all of them mixed together. Let’s just say my head got very weird for a while and then just sorted itself out into a different perspective. Best I can describe it the feeling of blanking out for a moment and then coming to, starkers, sitting in a pile of giant blankets or tarps or something and staring up into the inhuman eyes of the fucking panther from my nightmare. It looked like it was about to eat me, too, which, literally, scared the piss out of me.

“Joey,” I moaned as I felt my bladder betray me. Thing was, I knew what had happened, but my brain wasn’t really ready to accept it yet. I’d shrunk down to mouse-size, not good when you’re being stared down by a giant freaking cat.

“Never mind Joey. Just you and me, lambkin, for now,” the panther whispered with a shite-eating grin.

It talked. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Probably danced and played the fiddle too.

“Don’t eat me,” I pleaded, doing my best to scramble to safety and, instead, finding myself on the edge of a freakishly huge chair staring down at the overgrown flagstones. If I managed to tumble off, best I could hope for was a couple of broken limbs.

“Eat you? Why ever would I eat you?” It purred, whiskers quivering, its pink tongue sliding across pointed teeth. “Hardly be a snack. Besides, I’ve already had a lovely breakfast and eating you uncooked doesn’t appeal to me in the least. I just wanted to have a bit of a chat, is all, Rebecca.”

“Where’s Joey? And Alice? And… what are you?”

“So many questions. And so many answers for each,” it spoke, its grin growing even wider, if that was possible. “Not here. Elsewhere. Mad. You can put them into any order you wish. They will still be perfectly correct.”
 
With cat-like speed, a paw darted out, pinning me to the wooden rungs of the chair back, its claws digging into the wood on either side of me. Terrified, I began to whimper, shaking so hard that my teeth chattered.

"I so love a captive audience. Now, where to begin," it mused, its gaze flickering past me before disappearing behind furred eyelids. "At the beginning, I suppose. Or, perhaps at the end. Sometimes stories told backwards make much more sense. And, I suppose ones told from the middle outwards make even more sense, although they often take longer to tell. Wouldn't you agree?"

Tears streaming down my face, the feel of fur tickling my bare flesh, I managed a faint nod, one that seemed to satisfy the monster, at least for now.

"Perrrrrfect. From end to beginning then. Why don't you start?"

"M-me?" I stuttered. Even had I my wits about me, I would have lost the thread completely.

"I don't see anyone else about, do you?"

I opened my mouth to object, or perhaps to simply scream, I'm not really sure to be quite honest. I never got the chance to do either, however, seeing as how we were interrupted by yet another hallucination from a story book gone off the deep end.

"You're going to make her late. Mustn't be late. She gets very cross when she's kept waiting."

"This is not happening," I muttered, knowing, without looking, that the voice belonged to a giant white rabbit with a gold pocket watch. What other explanation was there? Other than that I'd gone completely bonkers.