Insanity is Subjective ch 8

       They left that evening.
       Alice had packed a small briefcase with necessities. There was not much she needed, so there was a general amount of space left, space that she soberly left empty.
       How strange it was, to see such fullness and such emptiness side by side.
       And how much stranger it was now that she was rushing down an alley under the cover of darkness with two insane criminals leading the way.
       No one spoke. Dodging trash bins, cats, broken glass, and other debris, they hurried through the labyrinth of Gotham's back alleyways. Several times they backpedaled, overlapping their footsteps so as to avoid detection. Alice could not help but grimace every time she turned behind her and caught sight of Jervis in his Arkham orange jumpsuit. If anyone saw, they would be caught.
       That was not an option to her.
       On they scampered, light footed and sharp eyed, with not a moon or streetlamp to guide their winding way.
       Suddenly, Scarecrow stopped. Alice thought for a moment that someone lingered close by, and she halted, hugging the damp wall as she stifled her gasping breaths.
       He pointed to a dilapidated building that crouched hesitantly on the edge of the river that ran between the island and the mainland. It was a hunched, ugly thing that hid behind shining skyscrapers and malls.
       That was their destination.
       She understood, and nodded to prove it, but Jervis hissed quietly, "S-o c-c-ose to t-the w-w-ater, J-Jona-than?"
       "A quick getaway, if need be."
       "C-C-Crocksss's n-ot in A-Ark-ham. A-are y-y-ou sssure t-this is w-w-ise?"
       "It's the closest place we can get to at the moment. I don't like it either, but I doubt Crock'll bother us much… not after the last time he had to deal with me."
       He shivered, and turning to the other two, he grinned unsteadily, his eyes wide within his mask.
       "Did you know," Scarecrow breathed, his voice a rasping hiss, like that of dead corn husks, "That Killer Crock is afraid of tight spaces? And not being able to breathe? Isn't that funny?"
       Alice felt her pulse quicken fearfully, not only from the look in his eyes, but from the movement she felt from Jervis behind her. Had this been a trap, one that she herself had set? Her eyes darted about, wondering. What way? Where do I go? How fast can I get out? But the movement from Jervis held no malintention. Quietly, he reached an arm behind Alice, careful not to touch her, so as to place a hand on Scarecrow's shoulder, clenching it in a silent reminder.
       The Scarecrow shivered again.
       "Not the time," he muttered, turning his head back to the building, "Not the time."
       The arm went back to reside with its owner.
       Alice relaxed.
       The mismatched party scuttled on.
       Eventually, they made it. Alice craned her neck upwards, her back flat against its rusting walls, to look at her new, temporary abode. The windows were shattered, their jagged glass teeth shredding the lights given off by the mainland. Graffiti littered the outside of the building, as did empty soda cans, old newspapers, and other useless paraphernalia.
       'Home sweet home.'
       The Scarecrow huffed impatiently as he attempted to pick the lock, which was so rusted that Alice reasoned that the tumblers were ruined and that there was no point.
       "Why-?"
       "No."
       Alice huffed irritably. She had been about to ask why they did not just go through a window, and was now wondering if she could get away with questioning him as to why he had to be so very rude when she was only trying to help, but the grating tone in his voice warned her that he was in no mood to be tampered with.
       From behind, Alice heard a quite sigh. She felt Jervis crouch and, turning her head slightly, she spied him running his hands through the sandy dirt and weedy grass, his eyes darting about the ground as he looked. Eventually Jervis stood and, clutching something in his hand, Alice watched him move away from the wall and go towards the door and padlock that the Scarecrow was fighting with. He laid a gentle hand on the shoulder of his friend, who grumbled something about cheap locks and metal cutters, before grudgingly moving aside. Jervis knelt in front of the lock, picking at it with whatever he had found on the ground. There was a loud, jarring 'shunk' that rattled through the night as the rusted tumblers gave way under Tetch's influence. Everyone jumped and cast their eyes about nervously, but once the area was deemed as deserted as before, they set themselves about the task of removing the lock and chain as quietly as possible. After a series of nerve-wracking moments, they gained entry, slipping inside as if they were no more than shadows.
       Alice looked about her surroundings. Everything had a thick layer of dust, giving the already dark colors a muted look. Boxes, barrels, and other such things were stacked and scattered in equal measure about the place. There was debris of all sorts that littered the ground; rat poison, old posters, more newspapers and soda cans.
       How dreary. How very, very dreary.
       "Don't move anything," said the Scarecrow as he strutted through the mess, tossing a flashlight from his trench pocket to both her and Jervis as he went, "We don't want anyone to know we've been here."
       Alice nodded, but his back was to her so he did not notice. She could not help but frown quietly as she gently toed her way about the place, looking in corners and behind piles.
       "B-e c-car-ful!" came a shuddered warning from behind her.
       "Of what?" Alice asked, turning to face Jervis, who stood behind her a ways.
       "'If you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison', it is certain to disagree with you sooner or later'," he said while he pointed his flashlight close to her feet, the shivering of his voice giving a silent pause in reverence for his beloved Carroll.
       Alice looked down and, indeed, found that she had almost stepped in a box of rat poison, one of many that littered the ground in the corner of boxes where she was currently standing.
       "…Oh dear," she muttered, her frown deepening. As she made her way back out to the main floor, she asked, "Do you think there are many creatures here?"
       "W-Well," Jervis said, eyeing her precarious position with caution, "c-conssssi-der-ing h-how mmmuch is llleft, a-nd how o-ld it is t-oo, I w-would th-ink n-not, b-b-but one c-can nnnot b-e t-t-oo sssure…Th-ey mmmay sss-till be h-here, b-but f-far llless mmmunchy th-than th-ey w-w-ere."
       Alice made a disgusted noise of agreement as she finally got herself clear of the immediate potential danger, then turned to face him.
       "What creatures do you suppose live here, then?"
       With this statement, she was rewarded with a chuckle and a twinkling, not completely sane look.
       "Why, a mad hatter, a march hare, and an Alice, of course," he replied, gesturing wildly with his arms to the gaping room, "but it is only temporary. They are all both fleeing and finding the Walrus, who has taken the Alice's beloved clam hostage. Whether that will work or not is yet to be decided."
       "Oh!" replied Alice, stepping back hesitantly as he gestured about, wondering how to respond. How curious it was to hear him speak without a stutter. She had heard him do it before, but it had been a rare occasion. Alice was not sure as to whether she should have him return to his rightful mind or continue on this path of momentary insanity. To have him sane would bring some comfort, but to have him insane might shine some light on what he was honestly thinking of the situation.
        'And Alice went down the rabbit hole.''
       "Do you think they will find the-...the clam?"
       "Perhaps," shrugged the Hatter, who had begun to poke about in a rather childish manner, "Perhaps not. The Walrus is a tricky fellow, worse than the Carpenter."
       "Can you please explain-?"
       "No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time!" cried The Mad Hatter, turning to face Alice, aghast.
       "But-!"
       "Fret not, dear heart! I shall make this whole problem disappear, like a frog into soap bubbles."
       Alice had no idea what he was going on about frogs and soap for, and she refused to smile at his familiar endearing term. "How?" she demanded. Alice needed to know of a plan, an idea, on how to get her sister back. Perhaps he had one. Perhaps…
       "Why, shall make a pot of tea, of course!" The Mad Hatter cried, holding a finger up into the air as his face took on an enlightened expression, "Yes, that should do nicely. Nicely, icily, fustily-" and on he went with words that ended in 'ly' and almost rhymed, darting about in a jovially frantic manner once more. Alice was had not the faintest idea of what to do, and was therefore thankful when the Scarecrow came back.
       "Ah!" cried Jervis, "The good March Hare! How wonderful! NOW we shall be able to have a proper tea party!" and he rushed to hug the Scarecrow.
       The Scarecrow was less than pleased. Holding out a hand to keep his mad friend at bay, he turned to Alice and glared.
       "What did you do?"
       "Nothing!" she said indignantly, "I merely asked him what he thought was living here!"
       "And then she asked about the claaaaams!" the Hatter sung, leaning against the Scarecrows hand with his forehead, arms dangling, "And The Waaalruuus!"
       Alice could see that behind his mask, the Scarecrows face was wrinkling in disgust. He turned to her and said, harshly, "Don't encourage him. Ever."
       "But I-!"
       "And you-" the Scarecrow snapped, cutting her off as he turned to Mad Hatter, who was turning in circles while still having his forehead pressed against his friends palm, "NOCK IT OFF!"
       Whether it was from the sudden change of tone, volume, or commentary, The Mad Hatter jumped and, reverting back to his shy self, he muttered apologetic, "Sss-orry."
       The Scarecrow shook his head, growling quietly to himself before saying, "It's late. I need to sleep. I don't care what you two do, but if you wake me up, I won't be happy," and then storming away into the dark.
       Alice looked from his disappearing form to Jervis, who cowered awkwardly beneath her gaze.
       "Sss-o v-v-v-ery sss-orry..."
       She sighed.
       "It's alright," she said, shaking her head, "He's right though, it is late. If we ever expect to be able to function in the morning, we're going to have to rest."
       Jervis nodded, then pointed with his thumb to one of the piles he had been rooting around in previously.
       "'Just look down the road, and tell me if you can see….'" He muttered, letting the quote come out smooth and crisp before he knotted his tongue together again. Alice, curious, walked over and found a large box with its lid off, revealing mounds and mounds of scrap cloth. She smiled.
       "Are you sure you don't want to use this one?" she asked, "It was, after all, you who found it," but Jervis shook his head, hands doing the same in front of him, before nervously scampering off into the dark, flashlight bobbing as he did so. Alice sighed again, watching his receding figure vanish into the darkness before turning back to the makeshift cot. Shining her flashlight into the fluffy mess, she poked at it hesitantly, half expecting large, mutated spiders to come creeping out of it, so as to complete her day of madness. None did, however, and so she settled down. Flashlight and briefcase clutched tightly to her, she fell into a fitful sleep, a sleep filled with evil walruses, clams held hostage, frogs dressed in soap bubbles attending tea parties, and large spiders stitching patchwork quilts.