I, Neil: An Alice in Deadland Adventure (Alice, No. 8) Page 7

  She snaps her fingers and a thin man appears, carrying a suit. As he tries to grab my coat, I snarl at him and he yelps in fear and steps back.

  'My clothes are fine.'

  'Oh, my, that deep voice. I can see you making such a connection right away. Look, err… what do I call you?'

  'My name is Neil.'

  'Well, Neil, this is all about image and perception. We need you to be the 'good Biter', the one who holds out hope that every Biter can be like you, and that President Robertson is the one man who can make this happen. That's the message track. I have it all written down in cards if you'd care to read it for your statement. But I'm sorry, we need you cleaned up. I need noble savage, not bloodthirsty native.'

  I have no idea what she's saying but it strikes me again how complicated humans make their lives. These are all fancy words—perception, image, message track—but what it all boils down to is the desire to indulge in make-believe instead of facing reality.

  'Colin, don't be a sissy and help him out.'

  The man called Colin approaches me again and drapes a coat over my clothes.

  'Amber, makeup.'

  A girl comes up and starts trying to clean up my face. I'm afraid years of blood won't go away so easily but she tries hard, and in the end seems satisfied with her efforts, or maybe she has just given up.

  'Amber Doty, I won't have bloodstains on his face on national television. Try again.'

  Sheepishly, she dabs again at my forehead and then scurries away. Now Charlotte takes me by the elbow and guides me to a chair.

  'This is the biggest television event of the year, and we want to make sure everything goes off just perfectly, so we'll take a few minutes to make sure all the tech is working. In the meanwhile you can rest and go through the message track.'

  John and I sit down and I take a closer look at the ruins. There are huge structures of strange shapes, many long burnt, but clearly someone has been making an effort to clean it up. Lights flicker on and they outline the word 'Disneyland'. A strange figure comes into view. It is a man, but he is wearing a costume, with a furry body and large circular ears. Seeing him brings back memories.

  Neil shopping for a costume. No, it is me shopping for a costume.

  'I really need a Mickey costume. The kid wants to meet Mickey for his wish and I must get it perfect.'

  The man behind the counter is rummaging through his things and finally triumphantly fishes out a pair of ears.

  'Here you go. Your bloody Mickey ears. The rest of the costume will be in here somewhere.'

  I see myself at a large gathering. A small child is laughing as I approach him. He giggles in delight.

  'Mickey.'

  Then there's Neha, coming towards me, smiling.

  'Neil, I've seen a lot of people do this job as a wish granter, but you really are a natural at it.'

  'Neil, wake up!'

  'Neil!'

  My eyes snap open. John is calling out my name and Charlotte is looking on with concern in her eyes.

  'Is he okay? I mean, is he good to go on cam?'

  Neil has told me even more about who I was and what I did, and a strange feeling comes over me. I used to help sick children make their wishes come true. What a different life that was. No blood, no killing. Could such a world ever exist again? Could I ever have such a life again?

  'Sir, we really must be going. The live feed is set up, and the whole of the Homeland is waiting for you.'

  I get up and walk towards Charlotte. As she nudges me towards a man who is holding a large camera, she whispers.

  'Break a leg.'

  That's strange. Normally I go for the throat rather than the legs.

  ***

  Charlotte has told me several times what to say and when I look into the camera, I find myself forgetting all of it. I have never done this before, and a voice whispers into my ear that Neil has never done this either. His was a simple life, not one spent in front of television cameras, and he would have been very shy under such circumstances. I feel uncomfortable in the coat they have draped over me, and with the bright light now flashing into my eyes. The man behind the camera says, 'Ready in three, two, one… we're live.'

  I just keep looking at the camera wondering what he wants me to do. Charlotte waves frantically with her arms and mouths, 'Speak!'

  John is standing next to her and he is laughing. Finally I look at the camera and I begin, speaking not the words Charlotte wants me to say, but whatever comes to my mind, perhaps from Neil.

  'For years, I had no name. I was just another Biter living with others like myself, hiding from humans, fighting when we had to in order to survive. Then I got a name. Bunny Ears. That's what Alice calls me and for some time now, that is the name people have known me by.'

  Charlotte initially seemed upset that I was not speaking her words, but now she encourages me, smiling as I continue.

  'Now I know that I had another name once. Neil. That was me. I still don't remember everything, but I do remember a lot. Going to school, washing dishes in a restaurant, helping sick children, and falling in love.'

  I pause, trying to put into words everything that is on my mind, trying to sort the words so they make sense. I am talking more now than I have ever done since I became a Biter not because of a deal with Robertson, but because I want to tell my story. Neil wants to tell his story. For in the telling of the story, it becomes real—no longer a barely remembered past.

  'Neil was a good boy, who helped others, who was willing to give his life to save the girl he loved. Now that I have started to remember, I want to learn more about him, because then perhaps all his goodness, all his love, will not have been for nothing. I am nothing—just another Biter, who has nothing to look forward to in life. I fight, I hunt, I protect those I care about, and one day a bullet or blow will smash my skull in and it will all end. But by remembering Neil, by giving him a voice, perhaps my life can be worth something.'

  I pause. John has stopped laughing and is looking at me intently, and Charlotte is wiping away tears from her eyes.

  'I don't understand what plans big and powerful people have and how they think I can help them. All I know is that back in Wonderland are people I can call my own, and if I can help people and Biters here live together like we do there, I will be happy to help. I have heard of how scientists and doctors want to see how to make more Biters like me. I never went to a doctor or took any of those pills humans seem to like so much. What brought out Neil, what made me remember was the simple fact that I found people who were willing to treat me as a friend, not something to run from or something to kill.'

  I stop, not having anything more to say and not knowing what else I should be saying. I remember Robertson's need to be seen as having a solution, being the one who helped the Biters of the Homeland like me, and I also remember what Adam Tunks wants me to do. I don't know how to explain it all, so I blurt out.

  'That's all I have to say.'

  John claps and Charlotte is still wiping tears from her eyes.

  'That was beautiful.'

  Before she can say more, a very large man in a dark suit and wearing dark glasses catches her by the shoulder.

  'Put on the stock. He didn't stick to the message track.'

  Her face goes pale and she motions to her people. Within seconds, on a large screen near us, Robertson appears.

  'My fellow Homelanders. Neil is here on my invitation and our finest minds will now work with him to unlock how to restore every other Biter to their former selves. We can and will be reunited again. If you'd like to see your brothers, sisters, parents and friends whom you thought had been lost forever to the Rising, please co-operate with the government. Together we will rebuild this great nation of ours.'

  John is now standing next to me.

  'Typical politician. He had to get the last word in. Well, buddy, what do you think we should do now? We have something Tunks wants us to do, and something Robertson wants us to do.'

  Charlotte
is now calling out to us.

  'Hurry up. The helicopter will take you to meet the President.'

  I look at John.

  'We do what is needed to keep Wonderland safe.'

  ***

  EIGHT

  It is a very long helicopter ride, one that gives me a lot of time to think. Tunks is trying to hold us hostage to his threat of getting the Red Guards to use more of the rockets he has given them. He wants us to clear the way for him to become more powerful in the Homeland by removing Robertson. Robertson in turn is holding us hostage by implying that his own weapons supplies to the Red Guards will continue unless we help shore him up among the people of the Homeland, first by having me here as a symbol of hope they can rally around, and no doubt with other demands to follow. What is common is that both of them are focused on building up their own power, removing obstacles in their paths, happy to destroy or threaten lives in the process. What is it about humans that they covet power for its own sake and don't worry about those in whose name they supposedly rule? Perhaps that is why someone like Alice is as special as she is. She has never sought a title, never sought to have privileges others do not, never put others in harm's way to further her selfish interests. Yet men like Robertson claim to be the President of a great nation and Tunks wants an empire of his own, but Alice has no title and no empire. But what matters more? Having a title that proclaims you as a leader or being accepted in people's hearts as someone they would follow? Why then do humans spend so much time and energy seeking those titles?

  On this, I know that Neil had the same beliefs as I have now. He too never cared much for leaders who gave big speeches and made big promises when it came time to ask people to support them but then did little when they got power.

  I have been silent all this time, looking out the window, when John gasps. Out the other window lies what looks like a vast, blackened ruin. Here and there I can see some crumbled stones and rocks, hints that perhaps this area was once more than the ruins we see before us. I cannot see many signs of life, though here and there, a Biter and a few military jeeps speed along the terrain. It looks as if a giant had swept aside everything that once stood here with his hand.

  'What is this place?'

  John looks at me, grief etched in his eyes.

  'I had heard of the nukes being used during the Rising, but seeing it is another thing altogether. That is what is left of Washington DC.'

  ***

  The helicopter takes us deeper into the city and I can see signs of rebuilding. As the helicopter hovers to a stop and starts descending, a giant sign hangs suspended between two partially constructed buildings.

  'Rebuild DC, rebuild the nation.'

  We are near a white building that I recognize from the videos I have seen of Robertson. John has told me that this is the building where the President of the old nation of America used to live, and while it is still an incomplete shell, it is impressive. It is ringed by armored vehicles and soldiers carrying guns, as if they expect to be attacked at any moment. As I step off the helicopter with John, I start to see why they are so on edge. All around us are ditches and there are men filling them in. I walk towards one of them, and a man in a dark suit calls out to me.

  'Sir, we need you in the White House immediately.'

  I ignore him, and keep walking toward the ditch, guided by the smell. A smell I know all too well.

  The smell of death.

  'Come back here. That is not the way.'

  I ignore the voices and keep walking towards the ditch. I can hear John behind me asking the men to back off.

  I step towards the edge and peer down. I can see several bodies. Shot and blown to pieces.

  Most are Biters, but a few are human. John is now beside me and he turns to glare at the man in the dark suit.

  'What the hell is this? Is this how you bastards are rebuilding America?'

  The man takes a step back and reaches under his jacket.

  'Sir, my job is to escort you into the White House. Please co-operate.'

  I think about the choices I have before me—to do what Tunks wants me to do or follow Robertson's orders. Seeing the massacred bodies, I am leaning towards ripping Robertson's head off the moment I see him.

  Of course, as I soon find out, Robertson may be many things but he is not stupid. We do meet him, but he is ringed by armed men, and he remains sitting behind the large table in his office. I will not get within even six feet of him without someone blowing my head off. John protests as two men grab his weapons and take them away, but seeing the dozen armed men around us, he does not fight. Robertson stands up and takes a step towards us when Kempton steps in from behind him.

  'Mister President, that's probably not such a great idea.'

  Robertson waves him off.

  'Kevin, come on. Look at him. He is perfect. Just what we need. Not just a Biter who talks, but one who just made a speech that has increased my approval ratings by six points. In one afternoon! Imagine that.'

  He takes another step forward and stops. I am looking into his beady eyes and he can probably see reflected in my eyes what I feel.

  'Son, you don't have to like what you're doing. Just know that you're helping your people and mine.'

  I let out a low growl, and two men step between us, their rifles pointed in my direction.

  'Robertson, explain the bodies outside.'

  He shrugs as if it were a minor detail.

  'Biters are, well, Biters. They will come in blindly to attack unless there is someone to guide and control them. We need to clear up this area to rebuild the capital and if some of them resist, we need to resettle them, or in a worst case, undertake some punitive action.'

  'And the humans?'

  'Bandits, terrorists.'

  Having dismissed the cold-blooded murder of so many in a few words, Robertson retreats back to his desk and studies a map before looking up at me again.

  'See this map? This used to the United States of America, and now that there is no leader out there with such a breadth of vision, I want to rebuild and reunite not just the old USA but all of the Americas, from Alaska to Argentina. But to do that, I need stability. The stability to get old production lines running—cars, machines, weapons. A population that will rally behind the government, not fritter away resources in fighting little turf battles. That's where you come in, my friend.'

  'I am not your friend.'

  He smiles, his eyes locked on mine.

  'But you will do as I say. I care little for your small city out there. We needed food, but our flights show that vast areas of South America may still be capable of producing food—we just need to build up our forces and rally the population to occupy them. Then you can do as you please with your so-called Wonderland. But to do that, I need two things. I need to bring the Biters under control and I need to give the people something that will rally them behind me.'

  He stabs in the air with a finger in my direction.

  'Hope. Hope that things can get back to the way it was, and hope that I am the person who can lead them there.'

  'Are you crazy or just stupid?'

  No sooner has John said the words than he doubles over in pain as one of the guards slams the butt of his rifle into John's stomach. Two more men point their rifles at John's head as Robertson addresses me.

  'Your friend will stay here as collateral while you start your duties. You leave tomorrow. Have these two led to their cells and make sure the soldier has no weapons on him.'

  ***

  Adam Tunks doesn't look very happy. In fact, he is virtually frothing at the mouth.

  'You met Robertson and didn't kill him!'

  John and I are in the small room where they have locked us for the night. They took all of John's weapons but left him with the small tablet he carries and it is on this device that Tunks is now contacting us. It seems that Robertson does not care if we get in touch with our friends. John says that he probably wants us to share what we have seen and heard, to make Alice
take Robertson seriously.

  'He was surrounded by guards. We couldn't get close to him.'

  'Do it right next time!'

  With those words Tunks disconnects the call leaving me and John in the darkness, contemplating what we do next.

  The silence in the room is shattered as the tablet beeps.

  It is a call from the Looking Glass.

  As the screen flickers to life, Danish sits in front of the camera and Alice stands just behind him. She looks anxious.

  'We've been trying to call for so many hours but you weren't reachable.'

  'We've been all around this country and just reached Robertson a little while ago and got some satellite coverage for this tablet.'

  'What happened?'

  When he finishes telling her everything that has happened, Alice's expression changes to one of anger.

  'That explains it. This evening, another large rocket hit the outskirts. Nobody was killed, but it seemed like it was a warning shot. Adam Tunks is sending you a message.'

  I let out a growl of anger and disgust. What kind of men are these? So caught up in their own pursuit of power that they would sacrifice anybody's lives to get it.

  'Alice, Robertson deserves to die, but will killing him really stop a man like Tunks?'

  'No, Neil, it will not. We have seen many tyrants over the years, and they are like the man-eating tigers that my dad told me were once found in India. Once they taste blood, they become even worse.'

  'I wish I had killed him when we met him.'

  'No. You would have just thrown away your life. There is only one way to fight men like these, and that is to turn their greed against them.'

  We spend many minutes talking about ideas to do just that and by the time the door swings open and two men come in to take me away, I am itching for my chance to take revenge.

  ***

  I see Neil, but he is talking to me as if he is a separate person, not the person I once was.

  'I was never a hero. I was the guy who worked in the background. The guy who never came into the limelight. I dreamed of getting a decent job and living a simple life. Other than my silly dream of getting to Vegas.'