Allice in Mysterious Land (ON HOLD)

32: Daunting

"Uh, who's there?" The old man shambles forward with his cane. A seashell-like device peeks from his ear. His left eye is closed, covered by a spectacle which contrasts his wooden-brown skin.

"I'm Sandra Hua, Sir. From Dogson City. We're only here to talk." Sandra shifts her weight from a foot to another as her eyes avoid the president's black, expressionless one.

"I might be old"—he warns as he slowly lifts his cane from the ground, waving its rattlesnake-tailed tip at the girls—"half-blind, and almost deaf, but am not weak."

Despite his bent knees, the purple cloak around his suit still radiates power. The way he speaks with dignity... it's believable that he was the one who brought Biliya Republic to its independence five decades ago.

"My staff keeps on telling your barbaric behaviors. Moreover, of the blonde-pigtailed girl." He shuffles forward with eyes trained on Arsy. "You two stirred chaos in the Flagged House." It's like water hasn't touched his throat for ages. His lopsided smile, however, calms my insides a bit. "But since you two are so young and... spirited, I'll let it pass. I hope you're here for a good cause."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. I turn my head to Roy, who's still scowling at his phone with Xin-Yo perching on his shoulder like a curious cockatoo. "The president doesn't seem bad."

Roy throws a cynical smile. "What did I tell you, Allice? Don't trust people that easily. Remember what Beatrix told us."

Shaking my head to myself, I mutter, "But you believed Beatrix Kamal's words about the president immediately." I return to the screen and lean back on the chair to stretch my stiff muscles.

Though the crowd has long left my side, they aren't busying over their usual activities either. Their minds are still here—with the troubled girls.

Mrs. Sybil sighs as she scrolls the screen of her phone while pacing around. "Is there a way we can cut Ivon Fray's access to Deep Tombs' secret cameras?"

"If there was, I would've done it by now," Roy mutters like there's a storm cloud above his head. "There's nothing we can do but wait. We should see what he's up to."

"And make Arsy your martyr?" The storm brewing in Mrs. Sybil's eyes grows more dangerous than Roy's, and it makes my heart skip a beat. "You must do something. You're a genius, aren't you?"

Roy rubs his eyes with furious knuckles, while he bites his lips with a force that might rip it open. "We should be more realistic. Worrying over them will get us nowhere. We should probably prepare for the worst—"

The worst? What does he mean? "You don't think they'll die—"

"No, Allice," he snaps. "I won't let that happen. The worst I meant was what Sandra said the night before she left. Do you remember?"

With one last glance at the girls and the president, I trace back the events from four days ago. After closing my eyes, the words echo in my head like a phantom, making me curl my fist in panic.

If the relocation continues after all we've done to convince the president, Plan B's on you two.

"Are you talking about the spare plan?"

Roy lowers his head as he leaves his sitting position. "We should link all of these chaotic events and bring the world's attention to Dogson. If we can't get the president's, then the world's must do..."